Chapter Six
Mynowelechw Shushah
Hwedolyn’s Quest for Vengeance
Hwedolyn Ææ yidqh Æcad a dIl Æmaam Moamhachw
Ten leagues to the south of the Mountains of Vamyhîlae, at the edge of the province of Cheretha, far from any towns or villages, there stood a small tavern on a plateau.
The taverner, Kurtog, a tall bearded man, came out of the tavern still wearing the apron he always wore when he was cooking up soup for the patrons. He was getting wood from the woodpile for the fireplace.
Having an inkling that someone was watching him, he stopped and looked around. In the corner of his eye he saw a black shape, crouching over the lintel of the tavern roof like a vulture.
A voice whispered, “Taverner! Do not turn around!”
It was Halomlyn, and he had spoken because he could see that the taverner was about to turn around to see who was talking, and although he would not see the gryphon clearly on such a black, moonless night he might at least see his dark shape silhouetted against the bright stars, and an intelligent man would know what manner of beast or monster it was that crouched on his roof.
Halomlyn said, “I have a deal for you, taverner, a business proposition. A goat, in return for a barrel of mead, every month. But you have to be able to keep a secret. Tell nobody about me, or the bargain is void. You will leave a barrel of mead at the edge of the plateau, every month on the first night of the new moon. In the morning you will find a goat tied to a stake at the very place where you left the mead.”
“Alright. I agree!” he said quickly, for the taverner knew that a live goat was worth at least three barrels of mead. “When…?”
“The first barrel will be due on the next new moon. Now, count to one hundred and don’t turn around, lest you see me, or else the bargain will not stand.” And Halomlyn with a great flap of his wings soared up into the dark clouds.
So the three gryphons had their beloved mead again with their meals.
But Hwedolyn had not forgotten his grief, nor his desire for vengeance. He mourned his cousin greatly, and the terrible injustice of his death at the hands of the elf-mage was like a thorn in his side that stung him to the quick every moment of the day and night. Every single minute since the event it seemed that he thought of the vow he had made to avenge Atdaholyn if ever he was hurt, and his life seemed pointless unless he could fulfil it.
His mother Tiawéflyn quietly said, “We must go on with our lives and put the past behind us,” and his father said, “There is no point in seeking vengeance, for those who do so merely perpetuate the cycle of injury and revenge, of violence and retribution. Do you not know that the gryphon-lore was given to us to protect us from ourselves?”
Hwedolyn found that his inmost being rebelled against his parents’ wise and gentle counsel, even though he knew that they were right. He just could not do it. His heart had been soured, and you cannot turn sour mead sweet again by willing it so.
He asked his father one day, “Is there any way to defeat an elf-mage or Chancellor rather than simply destroying the talisman in which he stores his magic? For, if he did not put all of his power into the talisman, he can eventually get it back.”
“Not that I know of,” said Halomlyn, “I only know what your grandfather T’kshamuae told me of his time fighting in the war of the Jewel of Ellethanien; you can make high whistling sounds so high-pitched that only elves or gryphons or snowdragons or dogs can hear it, and you ought to stay more than twenty yards from a Mage, lest he wyrd you, just as we did at the village. You must not stay in one point or ambit for too long, and your best hope is to destroy the mage’s talisman, if he has one. Oh. And if they are able to read minds, for many Mages can, call on Ellulianaen! For it is said that evil Mages and creatures who can read minds cannot abide the name of the All-Father, nor can they stand to listen when a true-hearted gryphon speaks His name. But to finally defeat an elf-mage? Only another Mage would be able to do that, or I would reckon so. Why are you asking, gryphon-cub? I hope you are not filling your head with fancies of vengeance for your cousin’s death. Why, you would not even know how to find the elf that did it, much less hurt him in any way.”
Hwedolyn said, “No particular reason.”
He had no idea how to tell his father that he was leaving.
A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 21
