Chapter Nineteen
Mynowelechw Tusocwah Cwig
Dragon Moon
Chwæmmaim Tlyn
Seventeen nights before the elf-mage went to the desert and enlisted the dragon as his mount, Chalyom had dreamed another dream.
In her dream, the Gryphon-King was standing on an endless sapphire ocean, his white fur and his wing-feathers shining brighter than the burning sun. Chalyom bowed her head, for his face was too bright to look upon. Then he spoke, and his voice was like the thundering of the sea.
“Hwedolyn’s father and mother, and his uncle and aunt, will arrive tomorrow, with Glaïfym’chadul’lin, gryphon-friends, four of them: two men, and two women. Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn will land here one day later. They shall be allowed, for a while, to recuperate, their rest to enjoy. Many destinies are to be decided soon. Hwedolyn is to be tested sorely, but fear not, he will pass through the fire with his feathers intact.”
Chalyom thought she could hear a hint of humour in the Gryphon-King’s voice as he said these things, and she was glad, for in truth she was fond of Hwedolyn, and wished him no ill, even though she had disagreed with him.
The Gryphon-King continued, “Arise, Chalyom, and meet them where the flat-topped hill stands, on the northwestern side!” And then, in her dream, she found she was standing on the flat-topped mountain, and the four gryphons were approaching from the north, carrying the four gryphon-friends upon their backs. Then she said, “But Gryphon-king, I cannot fly!” And she heard his voice saying, “You will fly again today.”
And she awakened and saw that dawn lit the sky.
Immediately she stood up and – even though she had been unable to fly for many years because of the feathers that were missing in her wings – she glided out of her eyrie and found that her wings supported her and she could fly again, if a little shakily at first. She flew directly to where the Gryphon-King had instructed her, and waited upon the flat top of the mountain, facing north.
Presently, she saw four gryphons flying, far away, on the world’s horizon, wending their way directly to where she stood, and soon, with her sharp eyes – for her vision was still far better than most beasts and birds, better than an eagle’s, even at her age – she could see four humans riding the four gryphons.
When they had nearly reached her she went aloft and greeted them, saying in the gryphon tongue, “I am Chalyom, the oracle of Hwendoryllyan, and I bear news of your son.”
They were amazed when she told them that she knew Hwedolyn’s name and so they followed her to her eyrie, where she gave the gryphons and the humans goat stew and golden mead, and shared everything she knew, including the dream telling her when Hwedolyn would return.
Because she had been waiting on the mesa to meet them, the gryphons believed all that she told them, and they awaited Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn’s return expectantly, in comfort, for Chalyom’s eyrie was larger than it seemed, and had many comfortable caves, more than enough for four humans and four gryphons, with caves still to spare.
And Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn arrived the very next day, just as Chalyom’s dream had predicted.
Halomlyn said, “My cub, how glad I am to see you,” and when he embraced Hwedolyn and covered him with his wings, he wept sorely, for he blamed himself for his cub’s leaving in the first place.
Hwedolyn embraced his mother Tiawéflyn, and his Uncle Milélyn and Aunt Thwyrlyn as well. And he greeted Hinfane warmly, and the other humans, Viv, Galt, and Uz, and Chalyom started a fire beneath the pot, rolled out a barrel of mead from her stores, and the feast began.
The fine stew and the golden mead and the fireside stories and epics and odes and heroic couplets continued for many days. Privileged were the sons and daughters of Udim to be present at the feast, for few indeed are those men and women who share a gryphon-feast, even among the Glaïfym’chadul’lin. The humans witnessed many wonders, such as watching the gryphons speak of the heavens and the stars, for gryphons know their movements, and can calculate times and seasons in their heads –a talent that few even among mighty wizards and Mages have ever possessed, or perhaps none.
Testing his son’s ability to grasp complicated mental calculations, Halomlyn said, “There is to be an eclipse, next month. When will it be, Hwedolyn?”
Hwedolyn replied, “Why, the day after the last night of the new moon, of course, at midday,” and the humans marvelled, for, to predict an eclipse is something even the mightiest wizard finds difficult with all his charts, but to know when the new moon changes to a thin crescent, this even the greatest astrognomer cannot do.
Then they asked Hwedolyn to tell the story of his journey, and he did, starting with the cave and the dwarf, then the wyverns, and how he met Gwendolyn, and she added little comments that made them all laugh. And Hwedolyn finished by telling them how cleverly he had hidden the elf-mage’s talisman, in the southern mountains, on an eagle’s eyrie. Halomlyn made Hwedolyn tell him exactly where it was, for gryphons have very specific terms in their language for the telling of direction and location in three ambits, and Halomlyn thought the knowledge might well come in useful.
Halomlyn and Tiawéflyn watched as Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn went hunting together, and how they spent many hours talking, and many other hours silent, content simply to exist in each other’s company.
How the gryphons wondered if Hwedolyn was thinking of making an eyrie with Gwendolyn! For the two were clearly very suited to one another and were great friends as well, but Hwedolyn spoke nothing of this, neither to Gwendolyn, nor to anyone else, though the same thought must have occurred to him.
And in the days and the nights they all hunted and feasted and drank mead and told stories.
Eighteen days later, Hwedolyn awoke with the thought of asking Gwendolyn if she wished to start an eyrie with him. Dawn was breaking, and sunlight shone through the cave door, and every single bird seemed to be singing at once, for joy. He klopped through the caves, to the central cave, hoping Gwendolyn would be there.
Chalyom, stirring a stew in the large pot, told him, “She has gone to get another goat for breakfast. She said she would be hunting just south of where the two rivers meet.” So, immediately, Hwedolyn left the cave on the wing, and set out to find her.
Some distance away he saw her, and she saw him as well, but then she dove and ascended with a goat in her talons. Though she was a long way away, he fancied that her eyes smiled, for they had had a friendly competition going to see who could catch the first goat for the day.
But suddenly something stirred the clouds above her, and Hwedolyn gave a great and mighty flap of his gryphon-wings, and dove as swiftly as he could towards her, like an arrow to the place where she was hovering, for great doom had taken hold of his heart, even as he saw what had stirred the clouds above her.
Seeing his terrified expression, she looked up, and dropped her goat, for she beheld a great and dreadful dragon swooping out of the clouds, descending upon her, as swift and terrible as death! Upon the dragon’s back rode the elf-mage, on a leather saddle, holding an iron chain attached to the dragon’s mouth for reins. Hwedolyn knew – he could see – it was the same, the elf-mage who they’d fought at the bridge, the elf-mage, he was certain, who had killed Atdaholyn!
Gwendolyn attacked the dragon bravely. She breathed fire at him, and his scales shook with the ferocity of her flame, and the elf-mage’s cape caught fire, even as he tried to control the great and terrible beast. Hwedolyn was far too far away to do anything, but he leapt onto the wings of the wind and flew towards her as quickly as he could. With dread Hwedolyn watched his golden glorious gryphon-mate to be, swooping in and out of the clouds, even as the dragon breathed fire at her, missing her each time by a hare’s whisker.
But she was outwitted. The dragon anticipated her move, even as she was beginning to flap her wings for another attack. Before she had even finished that single flap, the dragon had grasped her with its crooked claws. It was returning to the clouds, and it had her in its grasp. Hwedolyn we
pt,for it looked as though Gwendolyn’s wing had been broken, and he knew that it was all his fault.
Hwedolyn’s swoop continued, but he had been too slow, he had missed her, she was being carried away by the dragon, so he stretched out his wings and circled the trees below, and for a terrible moment Hwedolyn was torn between returning to seek the others’ aid and following the dragon that was carrying Gwendolyn away. Then a voice called to him from the ground.
“Gryphon! Fear not!” It was the voice of Kereth Chufire, but the gryphon knew immediately that it was not the elf-mage in disguise, for his voice had humanity in it, and compassion, and the knowledge of the sweetness of life in the shadow of mortality. In any case it could not have been the elf-mage, for he had been on the dragon’s back. If that was indeed the same elf-mage.
Kereth Chufire said, “Follow the dragon. I saw your eyrie as I was coming south, near where the smaller river meets Lake Iolhamu, for I saw the gryphons wheeling about it in the sky. I will ride there, gryphon, and tell them what has happened, and which way the dragon goes. The other gryphons will follow forthwith, and I will be behind them and you upon my horse. Tell me, where are they likely to go, if you know? What does the elf-mage seek?”
And for a moment the gryphon doubted that this was the human Kereth and not the elf-mage in disguise, and wondered if it was all a trick, so he looked again. The worry and concern written upon the man’s face was so genuine and the lines of compassion around his eyes so tired and true that Hwedolyn could not doubt that this was a man and not an elf. Even so, he said cautiously, “The elf-mage seeks his talisman. He has found us, probably by magical means – perhaps he has some magic to find his talisman as well. If he does, that is where he will go, and Halomlyn my father knows where it is.”
“I will tell them to leave straight away.” And off he galloped, and Hwedolyn flapped his wings but once, but twice, ascending into thunderclouds like a vengeful Mihalaetat, and, seeing the dragon flying above the roof of the world to the south, he followed him. Never had Hwedolyn flown with such effort and haste, but the dragon was wiry, muscular, and slim, and swift and powerful from fighting battles in the desert and living off the flesh of other dragons, and he was faster than Hwedolyn.
The elf-mage rode the dragon directly south, and flew for three days and three nights without stopping once. It was half an hour before dawn when they arrived in the mountains, and a thin line of light was beginning to show on the horizon, though the sky above was still dark. He halted at the foothills, and hovered facing the gryphon; who also hovered in the black sky, under the dark new moon, every wing-muscle aching, his heart pounding with rage, and sweat pouring off his gryphon-brow.
The elf-mage sneered, “I cast the rune-sticks, gryphon, so I know. The talisman is here, somewhere, but without the talisman itself, I cannot cast a spell to know the exact position! Where did you put it gryphon? Tell me, or I will cause the dragon to drop your gryphon-wife.”
Gwendolyn hung limply, for, just as Hwedolyn had thought, her wing was broken and she was in agony. But she said weakly, “Don’t tell him, don’t let him continue his evil ways, hurting others. I am willing to die!” Hwedolyn realised that if the dragon dropped her right now, she would surely plummet to her doom, for a gryphon with a broken wing cannot fly, cannot even glide.
Hwedolyn feared that his foolishness in seeking vengeance for Atdaholyn’s death was to cause Gwendolyn’s death, and that this would be his punishment for not listening. Silently, in his heart, he called out to Ellulianaen, as never before, “Ellulianaen, save her. I don’t care what happens to the elf-mage now! Save her! Save Gwendolyn from this fate!”
Even so, Hwedolyn had kept his wits about him and he said, “Elf-Mage, I will tell you where your talisman is, if you let me take her now and tend to her wing.”
The elf-mage simply laughed, and Hwedolyn hated him at that moment, even more than he had hated him when he had killed his gryphon-cousin.
The elf-mage said, “You lead the way, gryphon, and when I have the talisman in my very hands, you’ll get back your gryphon-wife, dead or alive, dead or alive, dead or alive!”
So Hwedolyn flew slowly, pretending not to know his way through the mountains, taking the most circuitous flight path possible, down into valleys and up over peaks, then retracing his flight path again in a manner designed to confuse the dragon, whom the gryphon estimated was not the most intelligent example of his species.
But the elf-mage said, “Speed your flight, gryphon. Wend your way faster through the air, or I will command the dragon to squeeze her broken wing.”
So, he flew faster, yet still taking a longer flight path than was needed. He flew in a very long curve over and between the mountains, such a large curve that he hoped neither elf-mage nor dragon would grasp it, hoping beyond hope that the other gryphons would soon arrive, or that they were already nearby in the clouds, watching and waiting.
Half a day had passed before they reached the cliff upon which the eagle’s eyrie stood, and it was almost noon. The eagles were wheeling about in the sky above their eyrie.
The elf-mage looked up and guessed that the talisman was in the eagle’s nest, and decided to gloat, for, ever do evil elves love to savour the moment of victory and power over others, even when it would be much wiser to kill one’s enemy and be done with the business. And this is what he said to Hwedolyn: “It is in the eyrie. I have it now, it’s as good as in my hand.”
Hwedolyn said, “Then tell the dragon to let Gwendolyn go.”
The elf-mage replied, “No – first I want you to tell me – why did you steal my talisman, gryphon? This could have ended so much more happily for you if you had left me alone.”
“You killed my cousin,” said Hwedolyn.
And the elf-mage whined strangely, “How do you know that it was I that killed your cousin, gryphon? Do I resemble the elf-mage that murdered your cousin?”
“No,” said Hwedolyn, “You don’t look anything like him. But you can change your appearance.”
“And how did he die, this cousin of yours?”
“Lightning.”
“I’m able to wyrd the power of the sun, and the exuvious fumes of a man, but I have no power over lightning or thunder, you saw that, gryphon. I tried, but no lightning obeys me. Perhaps you attacked the wrong elf-mage. Perhaps all this was unnecessary. Whatever it was that killed your cousin is somewhere else and you must admit that it is possible that I had nothing to do with it. I do not command lightning, I have no power over it.” All this time, Gwendolyn was groaning in the dragon’s claws, terribly, awfully, and Hwedolyn couldn’t bear it.
“It was you,” said Hwedolyn, suddenly doubting everything, and feeling that he might be responsible for Gwendolyn’s suffering, and even her death. His stomach churned, he felt as though he had plummeted ten thousand feet. “I know that it was you. I am certain of it. I heard tell from someone who observed you when you were talking to Afazel, it has to be you.”
The elf-mage scratched his head and said, “Now, how do you know that this person was telling the truth? How do you know, gryphon? Who was this person you speak of? What did he look like? What was his name?” And Hwedolyn was getting very confused, for he knew that elves can never tell direct lies, and he was beginning to think that he had persecuted this elf-mage unjustly and thereby caused Gwendolyn’s suffering.
Hwedolyn protested, “He looked like Kereth Chufire – he was Chufire – I know he was, for the widow was certain of it, and she is no fool. And I recently met Chufire myself in the forest; he is human.”
“Are you sure of that? And was not the widow Hinfane fooled once before? Could she not be fooled again? Gryphon,” said the elf-mage, his voice taking on a note of great sincerity, “Do you really think it was me that took your cousin’s life? Look at me! At one time I had no wish to hurt you or your bride – no wish at all – I had no wish to make an enemy of you. I only wish you to tell me now – do you really think it was me? What if I swear by Afazel that it wa
sn’t?” Gwendolyn groaned – she was trying to say something, but Hwedolyn could not work out what it was.
And then Hwedolyn had a very clever idea. He realised that arguing with the elf-mage would do no good whatsoever. Even if he was wrong about him being the elf-mage that had killed his cousin, he still had to save Gwendolyn, and at that moment remembered something very important. He remembered the hint the noble elf had given him in the vision, when he and Chalyom had travelled to the other realm, and, more importantly, he remembered his astrognomy, for the time had come.
Hwedolyn addressed the dragon, “Dragon, you serve your elf-master because he is a mighty elf-mage, and has power over the earth, but gryphons are even mightier.”
The elf-mage said, “What are you saying? This conversation is over,” and reached down towards the eagle’s eyrie, “Dragon, move closer to the eagle eyrie so that I may get my talisman. It’s just down there.” It was tantalisingly close, but he couldn’t quite reach it. “Dragon, move a little closer.” But the dragon was not listening. He was intent on every word of Hwedolyn’s.
“Dragon!” Hwedolyn cried, “Gryphons serve Ellulianaen, the only one who has power over the heavens, and in a moment you will see that, for, when I ask him to, Ellulianaen will hide the sun!”
The elf-mage said, “He’s lying! I command you not to listen to him!” But the dragon was listening. So in that moment the elf-mage decided to wyrd Hwedolyn, to stop him from talking and upsetting his dragon, but even as he raised his hand Hwedolyn swooped out of the way, and the elf-mage wyrded solid rock. For a moment his face took on the texture of stone, and he gasped and teetered and tottered on his seat on the dragon’s back, and Hwedolyn was sure he was about to fall.
Hwedolyn flew back up to face the dragon, and continued, “That is how mighty gryphons are, dragon, for our brothers dwell at the gateway to the courts of Ellulianaen, and the King of Gryphons will hear me! I will ask him to hide the sun. Ellulianaen, let the sun be hidden right… now!”
And, Hwedolyn realised that, though the sun was at the point of noon and shone through a gap in the clouds, he was not certain that the eclipse was due at that exact moment, for heavy snow-clouds hid the rest of the sky, so that he could not see the moon on its inevitable journey towards the sun. But to his great relief a moment later the dark disc of the moon slowly covered the sun’s bright face with her own dark face, and the whole world passed into darkness.
Hwedolyn cried out, “Behold the power of the Gryphon-King!”
“No!” cried the elf-mage, “He lies! Gryphons – they are smart – can calculate the orbits – he knew when the eclipse was due! What a terrible coincidence. Stupid dragon! Idiotic serpent! Anyway, I can hide the sun.”
But the dragon was not listening! He trembled in abject servitude, and gave a tremulous wail, as if every nightmare and terror that had ever tormented him cried out at once within him involuntarily. The dragon writhed in mid-air, readying himself for a swift escape. He would have bucked the elf-mage right off his back had the elf-mage not had his hands firmly on the reins. It took all the elf-mage’s strength and effort and all his magic just to prevent the dragon from throwing him off; to control the dragon or make him go anywhere now was completely impossible.
The dragon turned to face Hwedolyn, for, in order to escape, he had to make it past the gryphon. In that moment Hwedolyn suddenly understood that the dragon would stop at nothing, for he was cornered and feared for his life, and there is nothing more dangerous in the whole world than a cornered dragon. But the dragon was still holding Gwendolyn in its claw as an elf-child clings to its favourite rag-doll! Hwedolyn could not let the dragon leave until Gwendolyn was safe. Gwendolyn began biting at the dragon and breathing flame at its under-belly. The dragon, irritated, swiped at her with its claw, and she fell unconscious in its grasp.
The elf-mage cried out, “Get my talisman! Foolish serpent!” But the dragon ignored his orders and attacked Hwedolyn instead, breathing out great swathes of flame, as though the down-draught of a gargantuan fireworks-rocket was spewing out from his reptilian jaws. Hhwedolyn swooped out of the way, fearing that if he tried to respond with his own flame or attacked with his talons he might hurt Gwendolyn.
Then a vivid picture came to Hwedolyn’s mind of the dragon flying into the distance, carrying Gwendolyn off to a remote location, far, far away, and he realised that he had to attack. He darted upwards with all his strength, twisted in midair then swooped back down at the dragon, who shied away from him in fear so that Hwedolyn plummeted past it. Hwedolyn had not expected the dragon to be a coward. He made a wide circle in the air, arcing upwards again to give himself the advantage of height. Hovering above the reptile, Hwedolyn blew a very thin flame at it, careful to aim it at the dragon’s head and the elf on his back, and away from Gwendolyn. Then he leapt downwards and slashed at its wing with his talon, but the dragon’s wings were far more leathery than the wyvern’s wings had been, and Hwedolyn’s talon made little more than a scratch. Nonetheless the dragon shrank away from from him once more, daunted, and the elf-mage was still on his back crying out commands and being totally ignored.
Hwedolyn swooped to attack again, trying for the dragon’s soft underbelly, but he was getting tired and his aim went astray. Twisted around the dragon, he took a swipe at the elf too, and missed, plummeting into a controlled dive to avoid the dragon’s next burst of flame, and his swoop ended in a graceful aerial curlique.
He had not done such aerial acrobatics since he and Atdaholyn had been flying the wings of the wind in the storm, and the memory caused a pang in his heart.
He hovered below the dragon for a moment, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. But the dragon saw his moment of hesitation, and swooped down at him, roaring fire at Hwedolyn, who was slower to escape this time as well – Hwedolyn was extremely tired, and he thought the dragon was gaining in confidence – so he flew upwards with all his might, twisting and turning away from the dragon’s fire.
This was the fight of his life, he realised. Hwedolyn’s sight and intellect were sharper than the dragon’s – the dragon probably didn’t realise that he was stronger and faster than Hwedolyn was – and if the dragon attacked him but once again, Hwedolyn knew he might well not be fast enough to dart away, for his wings were tiring fast.
Rather than waiting for the dragon to attack again Hwedolyn swooped at him and began clawing at the scales on its face. But the dragon fought back and thrust Hwedolyn away. Hwedolyn plummeted like a falling stone; he was going to be impaled on the rocks below. He fell in a mighty somersault, flapping and trying to get himself upright. He managed to twist his body around so that his feet were facing the ground. He flapped once, twice, but the speed of his descent was barely slowed. He gave his mightiest effort and flapped again, just inches from the rocks, flapped again, and his talon scraped a sharp point, and his belly was just inches from one of the stalactites when he stopped falling and began to hover. But he looked up, and the dragon was flapping his mighty wings, ascending, about to flee with Gwendolyn still in his claw.
“Stay! Halt!” the elf-mage was shouting in a harsh voice. “Get closer to the talisman! Let me at it!” But the dragon heeded him not. The dragon stretched its wings, gave a mighty flap, and began to go north.
But at that very moment, Halomlyn, Tiawéflyn, Milélyn and Thwyrlyn descended from the clouds, with Hinfane, Viv, Galt, and Uz upon their respective backs. The gryphons, shocked by what they saw, hovered directly in the flight-path of the dragon, who halted in his flight path and froze in mid-air. He would have fallen had he not suddenly remembered to flap his wings. One gryphon he could fight and flee – but four gryphons the cowardly dragon would not have a hope of opposing. The dragon hovered before them, twisting and gyrating his body serpentinely in mid-air, nervous contortions borne of fear, perhaps, Hwedolyn realised.
At this moment Hwedolyn remembered that the eclipse was soon going to end, as it had begun. The fight thus far had lasted little longer than five minute
s, though it had seemed like hours.
Hwedolyn flew upwards, looked the dragon in the face and proclaimed loudly, “Let me tell you again how mighty Ellulianaen is, dragon! For he is going to bring the sun back.” The elf-mage lifted his hand aloft, to make a cloud to hide the sun, but his magic would not work without his talisman and that was stuck on the rock below, and he had no control over the dragon so he could not get it.
“He knows!” said the elf-mage, “Of course the sun comes back after an eclipse! Stupid dragon!” The elf-mage’s voice sounded pathetic and tiny now to the dragon. His reptilian eyes were watching the skies, waiting for the eclipse to end, in abject terror.
The dragon, the five gryphons, the four humans, and the elf-mage waited for a very long time, hovering and looking and listening, and nothing happened. Hwedolyn began to feel sure he had spoken too early.
Then, just as the elf-mage was about to mock the gryphon for his foolish words and the dragon, thinking the gryphon a fool, was about to renew his attack, the dark disc of the moon slowly slipped aside and revealed the brightness of the sun again, and how beautiful it was! Hwedolyn and the other gryphons glowed golden in the sunlight, glorious and resplendent as the dawn. And as the humans drew their fearsome weapons and held them aloft, glinting silver in the sunlight, the dragon gasped once more and went limp, again almost forgetting to flap his wings.
Gwendolyn, seeing her moment, slipped out of the dragon’s claws and fell, plummeting towards the rocky mountainside, far, far below, for the aweful beast had thought of nothing in his moment of fear save escaping his doom, and so he had let her go, for if the gryphon could make the fierce sun hide and then make him show his face again, what could he do to a mere dragon? The dragon looked at Gwendolyn plunging towards the earth and the thought didn’t even enter his head to chase after her. All he wanted to do was escape. He began a fearsome wailing, and twitched his wing, he was all but ready to fly away. The elf-mage began shouting, “Stop, foolish dragon! Halt! Do not fly! Halt!” But the elf sounded like a fool even to himself, for he knew the dragon wasn’t listening.
Seeing Gwendolyn fall, Hwedolyn swooped, his wings flat against his side, faster than any gryphon had ever swooped before, and in a moment he was plummeting beside her. He grasped her in all four talons, crushing her broken wing so that she cried out, but she endured it gladly. He took her to a safe ledge and tenderly placed her upon it. Tears streamed down upon her fur and feathers and Hwedolyn did not know if it was his own tears or hers, but she saw the tears streaming down the feathers of his face.
“Move, dragon! Move! My talisman!” cried the elf-mage, struggling to reach the talisman from his seat on the dragon’s back, for the dragon was still twisting this way and that like a serpent, and trembling terribly, trying to see a gap in the group of oncoming gryphons through which he could fly. “Take me closer to the talisman! Do it, you idiotic dragon!” But the dragon had had enough. He said, “No! That gryphon tells the sun what to do! You can do nothing compared to that!”
And the dragon bucked the elf-mage right off its back. The elf-mage fell, twisting and turning in the air, and plummeted down onto the sharp stone edge at the top of the cliff where the eyrie stood. Any other creature would have died from the fall, or been crippled, but elves are stronger and more resilient than any other creatures on the earth, for they are the second-born, after the Mihalaetat, and while their bodies can be destroyed some say they cannot truly die. But the elf-mage groaned. Never before had he experienced such terrible pain.
Though the elf-mage’s body was broken, and purple blood was pouring from his wounds, he was still able to reach for his talisman. But the very instant he was about to close his hand about it, an eagle swooped and swiped it out of his hand, and out of the nest, crying loudly, ‘thief!’ in the tongue of eagles. The eagle darted upwards and away.
The elf-mage slipped off the thin stony ledge with a cry far too feeble for such a dreadfully grave situation, and fell down, a long way down, towards the very rocks that Gwendolyn had been plunging towards moments ago. At the same moment the eagle dropped the talisman, realising that he couldn’t eat it and thinking such a pathetic stone had little use anyway, and it fell down above the elf-mage, twisting and turning in the air above him in a most tantalising way.
As the elf-mage plunged downwards, he used his magic to make himself fall a little slower, and stretched out his broken arms and legs, trying to catch the wind, and the talisman fell alongside him, down, down, ever downwards. With his mangled arm he reached for the twisting thing, somehow grasped it. In terrible pain as he fell from the previous impact, the thought came to him that the next one would be even worse, much worse, than the one before. What could he do? The ground was fast approaching, and though it would not be his final doom he feared pain more than anything. In the very last moment of his descent, when the stony spears of the mountainside below were mere fractions of an inch from piercing him, he uttered two little words in elvish: “Yew Tree.”
And the elf-mage and his talisman disappeared into nothingness in the blink of an eye, and a new yew sapling appeared in a crevasse several feet from where he fell.
The elf-mage’s mind, imprisoned inside the new yew sapling, began to mark time by every shiver of every leaf on his new body, in every tiny gust of every breeze, and every single moment of his captivity, subjectively, lasted longer than a thousand million years.
The five gryphons and the four humans had watched the final fall of the elf-mage, and had seen him turn into a yew tree. Halomlyn, hovering just above the other three gryphons (Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn were below on the ledge), looked up and saw the dragon loitering in mid-air about half a league the north. The dragon had been watching the elf-mage’s doom and he had silent horror written over every scale on his face - Halomlyn had never ever seen a dragon wear such a look of despondency.
So Halomlyn called to Milélyn, Thwyrlyn and Tiawéflyn. The four gryphons alighted onto the winds and chased the dragon away, with the fearsome men and women on their backs shooting flaming arrows at him and shouting and brandishing their swords.
At the foot of the mountain range they caught up with him. Surrounded by four gryphons, he trembled trepidaciously and flapped his wings in terrible agitation. The gryphons could have slashed his fire-bladder or bitten his wings, and the humans had their swords ready to strike him out of the sky, but Halomlyn spoke first, for he had decided to give the dragon a chance. He said, “Dragon, will you trouble gryphons or humans again? Will you ever hurt another gryphon or obey another Nomoi elf?” And the dragon said, “No, certainly not. I have seen the power of the god of gryphons, and I would never tempt that great god by hurting any gryphons or men, I tell you, I swear to you, I promise, by Afaz... Ahem. By Ellulianaen the god of the gryphons.”
Halomlyn said, “Be sure that this Ellulianaen will strike you down if you fail to keep your word. Go free, dragon, for we would not willingly strike down another Nyashallyamae creature, but you must never haunt the lands of men or gryphons or dwarves ever again.” And so the dragon flew away and never troubled anyone in the inhabited lands again, and it is said that he thereafter worshipped Ellulianaen instead of Afazel, the only dragon who was ever known to have done this.
The other gryphons returned to help Hwedolyn carry Gwendolyn back to Chalyom’s eyrie, and a makeshift stretcher was constructed of pine trees and intertwined vines, upon which they carried her, flying slowly and carefully so as not to jolt her wing.
When they arrived, Chalyom quickly set the bones in her wing and put a cast upon it, and did everything she could to make Gwendolyn comfortable, giving her herbs and draughts and potions to take away the pain, and covering her with blankets. Gwendolyn slept for many hours, and Hwedolyn stayed by her side.
Chalyom said, “Gryphon-cub, fear not, she will be alright.”
When Gwendolyn awakened Hwedolyn spoke to her, saying, “I am so sorry. I caused this to happen to you in my thirst for vengeance. It would seem that this elf-mage
was not even the one who took my cousin’s life, for elves, as everyone knows, never tell lies, and this elf-mage completely denied it! How could I have been so wrong? Gwendolyn, I put you in great danger, and caused this hurt to you. It was all my fault, and I’m terribly sorry! And it was futile. I should not have even gone on this quest! It was against the gryphon-lore all along. And it has not brought Atdaholyn back.” He began sobbing and weeping with his head upon her breast. “And you were hurt,” he sobbed, and she ran a talon affectionately through his fur-feather mane.
But then Gwendolyn said something he had never expected, “Hwedolyn, you foolish gryphon, that elf-mage was the one who took your cousin’s life. I was trying to tell you, but my voice would not work properly, for the dragon had its claw around my throat. That elf-mage was the one! Everything he said to you was literally true, yes indeed, he implied that he didn’t kill your cousin, but that implication was not true! He certainly was the one who killed your cousin!”
Hwedolyn couldn’t believe that she could know that. He cried, “How do you know that? How can you be sure of that?”
Gwendolyn said, “Silly gryphon. He knew the widow Hinfane’s name! How could the elf-mage possibly have known that if he was not the elf-mage who had stolen the face of Kereth Chufire and lived at the tavern? Neither of us had told him that. He was not able to read minds, like that sneaky wyvern. In any case, gryphon, at the last moment, you chose me, above your vow and your vengeance. You chose to save me instead of getting the talisman and letting me fall to my doom, and I am terribly glad that you did.”
She had humour in her eyes as she said this, but for a moment Hwedolyn did not see that, and he became very offended and protested, “How could you say that – I could not have left you to fall – I could not have done that in a million years!” And Gwendolyn laughed gently at him, and he laughed at himself, and quiet tears of joy ran down their fur and feathers.
And Gwendolyn said, “In the end, my gryphon, Ellulianaen caused the doom of the elf-mage, or he caused his own doom, perhaps – it was not your doing, really, and so the forthtelling was fulfiled. I would warrant that time moves very slowly for a yew tree; he will have a very long time to think about everything he has done. But I do not know if elves have the power to repent their crimes. Perhaps this one will at least think differently when he finally becomes an elf again. I only hope that his suffering does not make him worse.”
And Hwedolyn said, “I have not got a clue whether that will happen. But I will never again make such a foolish vow, though I fancy that Ellulianaen understood my heart when I made it, for it was a good thing to convince Atdaholyn to leave his eyrie.”
Gwendolyn said, “You were young, and you were trying to do a good thing,”
And Chalyom said, “He gave his life willingly. If he had died during the battle with the elf-mage, you would have seen him as a hero who had died for your freedom, and the freedom of the humans. As it is, he died because of the elf-mage’s desire for vengeance – because you had opposed the elf-mage. It is all the same, Hwedolyn. Atdaholyn was a hero who put his life upon the line, and he suffered the price of that. And you also have suffered, for you lost him. Do you think that Ellulianaen does not see these things? Do you think he will not reward you, in the end, for what you have done for the good? Perhaps, that Gwendolyn is here, is part of your reward.”
From that moment on, they said no more of his vow, or of Atdaholyn, save to remember the happy times that Hwedolyn had spent with him when they were younger, and to speak of him as a hero, and so Hwedolyn’s heart was healed.
And the seven gryphons feasted and drank mead, with great joy, and they even allowed Hinfane, Viv, Galt, and Uz to join them, and for a short while Kereth Chufire joined them as well, though he had to leave to go south after two days and join the partisans there. He had been expected a week earlier, and he had no wish for them to risk sending out a search party.
In three months, Gwendolyn’s wing had healed, and Hwedolyn asked her to be his gryphon-mate. She said yes, of course.
The very next day, after their mating celebrations, Chalyom died quietly in her sleep, and their joy was tempered with grief. They set her body on a funeral pyre, and watched the sparks of her mortal remains fly upwards as the sun descended. And Milélyn thought he saw the Gryphon-King in the clouds once more, far above him, or perhaps it was just one of the sparks, brighter and more beautiful than all the others, ascending into the starry heavens.
But that night Gwendolyn dreamed that Chalyom was flying far above the earth, among the stars, and the Gryphon-King was dancing beside her joyfully, and they both shone more brightly than the sun, but he shone all the brighter, and her brightness was his own, reflected.
And so, not long after that Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn went to tell her parents that they were to become gryphon-mates, and told them of their impending move to the north to found an eyrie of their own. But her parents became very angry! They blamed Chalyom for misleading her, even though Gwendolyn had told them that she had died, and they told her never to return to their eyrie again. And such was the only grief that attended the glad day of their mating ceremony, that Gwendolyn’s parents were not there.
A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 48
