~
On their way back to the north, the six gryphons made a detour to return Hinfane, Viv, Galt and Uz to Hinfane’s tavern. Hinfane invited the gryphons to stay for a little while in the eyrie that she had made out of the stable, and put on a feast for them at her own expense.
But on their second day of feasting and mead drinking, there came a knock at the door of the stable. Hwedolyn opened the door to see Tesed the miner standing there with a pitchfork, and he had a miserable, angry expression on his face.
Behind him were standing many of the townsfolk, who had joined in the feast the night before, and many of the merchants who stayed at the tavern, but Viv and Galt were not among them, nor were Hinfane or Zhallad or the young Duke.
“We want you to leave,” said Tesed. “We don’t want you here, gryphons. That elf-mage would not have come here if not for you. And the Nomoi came afterwards, to collect taxes from us, saying that we hadn’t been paying our taxes. We think the elf-mage returned to his evil masters with tales of gryphons that oppose the will of the Empire and a town that helped the gryphons, and that is why the Nomoi came here to punish us.”
A voice came from the back of the crowd. It was Ondu. “Rubbish!” she said, “That elf-mage came here to torment us, not because of the gryphons. And who knows but that the Nomoi might have come anyway, and taken the taxes, and many of you would have been dead in the bargain on the day the elf-mage attacked the tavern, were it not for the heroism of the gryphons, and Zhallad! Let them alone, you cowards! It’s the Nomoi you’re really afraid of, isn’t it?” Her shrieking voice sounded like the cawing of a crow.
Tesed said, “With good reason, Ondu – look at this – we are commanded to report any sightings of gryphons to the authorities.” Tesed held aloft a sheet of paper, stamped with the official Nomoi seal.
“They are the enemies of the Nomoi Empire, and having them here endangers us all!” said another miner, and the whole crowd agreed.
But Ondu screeched, “Do that and you only show everyone what cowards you are! Anyhow, look at what happened to my husband – if anyone was afraid of the Nomoi, and careful because of it, it was he – and nothing bad happened to him, did it?” A bitter note of sarcasm jangled in her voice. “And I encouraged him, I told him to fear them and do everything they said. And where did it get me? Hey! Tell me! Where did it get me?” Everyone in the crowd went quiet, for they all knew that he had been killed by the elf-mage. But an undercurrent of angry murmuring began after she had finished talking.
Tesed said quietly, “Nevertheless, gryphons, if you do not leave by sunset today, we will make you leave, or kill you, or die doing so. We do not want our village made a target of the Nomoi Empire’s wrath. Leave, by sunset today, or we will make you leave or kill you. That is our ultimatum.” And the crowd dispersed into their houses, still whispering amongst themselves.
Hinfane arrived soon afterwards, with Zhallad and the young Duke, and Viv and Galt. Hinfane did not want to see the gryphons go, and said, “Don’t bother leaving, they’re just bluffing. Those villagers are full of hot mine-gas, they wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt anyone.”
Hinfane’s eyes filled with tears when the gryphons told her they were going to do what the townsfolk said and leave before sunset that night, and that they would never return to this tavern or the town of Hathion Kathuiolké, for gryphon-lore told them to abandon any place where they were not wanted, to take their peace, and shake the dust off their wings, and leave without looking back.
But they blessed the widow Hinfane in the name of Ellulianaen, and thanked her for everything she had done for them, and told her where the mead-barrels were that Halomlyn had hidden near the river, long ago, for there were many of them, and well-aged at that, and they could not take all of them with them. And the gryphons told her what boroughs their eyries were in, and said that they would keep watch for her, and greet her if she was ever in the area.
And so, Hwedolyn and Gwendolyn went off to make their eyrie, not terribly far from Halomlyn and Tiawéflyn’s eyrie.
Not long after that, Gwendolyn’s parents grudgingly accepted the match, despite all their former threats and objections, and moved north to the Mountain of Garryan on the eastern border of the province of Sh’llaryan to be closer to their daughter and son-in-law. Some other of Gwendolyn’s relatives lived there also, and eventually they all accepted Hwedolyn as well, once they had seen the beautiful eyrie he had found for her.
In the comfort of Hwedolyn’s new eyrie with his new gryphon-mate, everything that had happened, the demise of the elf-mage and the dragon, and the battles, and the prophecies of the elf and Hwedolyn’s vision of the Other Realm, faded away, until it all seemed like a dream he had dreamed long ago.
And soon, Thwyrlyn and Milélyn also moved to an eyrie that was somewhat closer, so that they could visit their nephew and his gryphon-bride on the occasional new moon, in case they had cubs one day. But that will be another tale to tell!
And Hinfane and Zhallad lived together happily for the rest of their long lives, and the young Duke grew to be a great man and took his Dukedom and became a partisan and an adventurer, but that story is told elsewhere too.
Epilogus
Æynaluyl
The following fragment was found recently, and has some bearing on events subsequent to book I of the Hwedolyn, or the Gryphonomicon Gryphon Dragon Histories, as this history has come to be called.
The Succession
yn Æchlai Diqyd Melet
Emperor Lhaghr’n’fumu decided that he had had enough of the intrigues of the Nomoi Court. He spoke to his advisor, an old wizard named Thrurim, in the roof garden of his summer residence.
He said, “My son Rhaglan desires the throne, that much is certain. Thrurim, you know that it is only out of love for my fellow elves, and some small concern for men and dwarves, who suffer somewhat under our reign I would warrant – (though no more than they deserve) – it is only for these two reasons that I have stayed in this position for this long, otherwise I would have abdicated this throne long ago. My son has even less conscience than the average elf, and lives his life completely selfishly, he is more fey than any other elf, shallow and simple in his ways, yet as ruler would be brutal and his reign would be bloody. But lately, men and dwarves had been rebelling in the provinces, and when they aren’t rebelling they are in my courts, fomenting intrigue, indeed, intrigue of such great complexity that even the elves themselves are no match for it.”
And the wizard Thrurim nodded, and said, “Yes,” for, long ago, at the risk of his neck – for he was only a mortal man – he had discovered that this was the best course of action.
Emperor Lhaghr’n’fumu continued, “Well, the long and the eternal of it is this: despite his inappropriateness to rule I feel that I must withdraw to the mountains and meditate on the spirit that animates all life, and leave this kingdom to my son.”
Thrurim made a funny sound then, which the Emperor failed to interpret, though well he knew all the languages of men and elves and dwarves. The sound was actually a cry of distress, muffled by the closing of the mouth. Thrurim began to mentally catalogue the things he must do in order to pack his possessions and flee to the north, where the partisans held the icy plains that nobody else wanted.
The Emperor said, “Yes, his reign will be bloody, and his rule brutal, but it is no more than men and dwarves deserve.” And as the Emperor looked at the wizard, the wizard looked back into his unsettling, cat-like eyes and realised that, truly, elves are not men. They are different from us, he thought to himself. They are as far from being men as the top of a mountain is from the bottom of the sea, for he saw no feeling in those eyes, no fellow… humanity, at all.
The Emperor continued, “You must tell my son. I trust you with this task, as I would trust no other. For the line of succession must be secure, and I know you to be an honest man, though few men are, and fewer elves, for though their words be true they never mean what they appear to be saying, ex
cept for me: I am honest, and do not lie, so therefore will Ellulianaen reveal himself to me, or whatever god or gods it is that moves the heavens and made the earth. But whatever happens to my empire is in the hands of the gods. And now, I leave.”
And the Emperor left Thrurim standing there, trembling with every bone in his body, in mortal fear, for he knew that his life was forfeit as soon as he had delivered the news to the young prince Rhaglan.
Thrurim stood there in shock for at least twenty minutes, then looked over the battlements of the Emperor’s summer residence to see the Emperor himself walking down the path and away, no sword by his side, no armour, no bodyguard, his cloak flapping in the breeze like a flag at half-mast.
Thrurim then went straight to his wizard’s den, and consulted some books. There was a spell he needed that he must use – a spell that may well take all his power. He wyrded three rabbits and a reindeer, collecting the power he needed from their life, then watched them shrivel and die, and thought, “Such is the fate of us all. But not the elves, or at least, not those that possess the power of magic, which is most of them, after all.”
Then Thrurim asked his servants to ready his possessions, and had them load them onto his carriage, and he commanded his bodyguard to wait for him to arrive, telling them to leave without him if he was not at the carriage within the hour, for they were faithful men and had served him well, and he had no wish for them to share his demise, if that was to be his fate.
He then walked through the corridors, trembling, half for fear, and half for the power that surged through his Nyashallae, for he had never wyrded any live creatures before, and only kept them in their cages in case he ever had an emergency like this.
He knocked on the door to the chambers of Rhaglan, prince of the Nomoi Empire. Rhaglan answered, “Who dares to disturb the Emperor’s son at this hour?”
Thrurim said, “The Emperor.”
And Rhaglan came to the door, and seeing Thrurim, said, “You lie, man, as all men lie, and I shall kill you for it. Elves do not lie.”
“Nay,” said Thrurim. “I speak truly. You yourself are the Emperor. Your father has abdicated. He travels to the mountains to meditate on the meaning of life. You are now Emperor, Emperor Rhaglan.” And Thrurim bowed to him most respectfully, and it cheered Rhaglan’s heart and almost made Rhaglan change his mind about killing him.
The Emperor Rhaglan smiled, and said, “Tell me, Thrurim, have you feared this day? It is certain to be the day of your death, for long have I resented your meddling in my fathers affairs, and your acquiescence to his plans of mercy and kindness to the pathetically feeble creatures you are – men and dwarves and gnomes and suchlike. We elves are the only ones who deserve life, for we have it in abundance. You merely borrow it. Come closer. Let me see what fear looks like in a man’s eyes.”
And Thrurim came closer, and lifted his face with a stubborn set to his jaw, and Rhaglan put his own hand upon Thrurim’s cheek, in a mockery of a human gesture of affection. He did not see Thrurim raise his hands, for Rhaglan was looking deep into his eyes. “I see no fear there,” said the elf-Emperor, and stepped backwards in shock.
Thrurim raised his hands, and was suddenly wyrding at least three worlds, he was sucking power from many other ambits, and Rhaglan felt himself falling into the whirlpool of places and times that was beginning to revolve around Thrurim. The elf-mage looked down and saw many ambits, all at right angles to one another, and every direction was down, and at the bottom was Thrurim, wyrding the worlds, looking up at him with an insane smile upon his face.
The elf-mage lifted his hand, and flew away – Thrurim gasped – he had not known that Rhaglan had this magic. That was the last thing Thrurim thought – for in the next moment he had wyrded himself and disappeared, and Rhaglan watched him go, falling into the well of nothingness that he had created.
And many say that this incident was the reason that Rhaglan hated mortals.
A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen Page 49
