Shaw shot me an unmistakable warning glance. I immediately understood.
Grimshaw hasn’t told his kids yet about the Council’s decision.
Given the bad blood over the issue already, I wondered if it would permanently strain or snap their relationship.
“Perhaps the Council shall yet see reason,” Holly put in, indicating a rapidly approaching gray form flying down from further up the mountain slope. “That looks like Elder Ulrik on the wing.”
The young reeve was right. Ulrik, his polished armor gleaming, came circling in to land next to Shaw.
“Apologies if I am interrupting a family gathering,” he stated. “The Council needs Shaw’s presence as they deliberate on a most pressing matter.”
“I shall come at once, Elder.” Shaw narrowed his eyes as he added, “Dayna, I shall return later this evening. I’m sure that mine own True Born can keep thee safe in the meantime.”
With that, Ulrik took off in a flurry of wingbeats, Shaw following close behind. The remaining griffins kept quiet and watched until the two vanished into one of the upper grottoes of the mountain.
“Come, Dayna,” Holly said, presenting her flank to me. I mounted up as best I could as she continued. “We do not have as much time as I would like, but we need to practice for the spar on the next morn.”
“Your father seemed…concerned over this match,” I observed as we took to the air. Holly’s brothers did the same and we circled around to the north side of the mountain face towards the training ground allocated to the Reyka Pride.
“The Valkir have been overcome by battle lust in the past,” she said, unconcerned. “When they smell blood, they can lose control.”
“That doesn’t…you know, bother you at all? This match is supposed to be for blood.”
Holly made a feminine version of the griffin snort. “Those who lose control of their instincts tend to lose the match. Valkir are brawlers, not warriors.”
“And what of this ‘seeking advantage in strange ways’?”
“My father refers to magic. It is said…” Holly paused for a moment, as if deciding what to say, then continued. “It is said that they have sought out magic to help them. Making deals with others to advance their cause. The Valkir have oft spoken against our people’s service as Andeluvian mounts, and have wanted to abolish the Council outright.”
I chewed that ripe chestnut over in my mind as we approached the training grounds. Again, this supposedly ‘orderly’ griffin society wasn’t all that it seemed. Holly made a couple of passes over a huge oval area bounded by a hedge of thorny bushes. Towards each end of the oval, roughly where the goal posts would be in a football arena, were raised stone platforms topped by a jumble of ten-foot tall pillars. The remaining area surrounding the platforms was a cat’s cradle of boulders, ravines, twisting vines, and scrub brush.
The area had a sinister look that made my insides run cold.
Holly landed at the edge of one of the platforms and let me get off. Wrapped around the pillar in the center was a black and red Andeluvian pennant. Suddenly things became clear: this was simply a griffin version of ‘capture the flag’.
I pursed my lips, considering. “I’m guessing that this platform is the ‘nest’, and I get to be the one who watches over the flag.”
Holly looked surprised. “You have done a pride-spar before?”
“Not exactly, but some of the concepts between our worlds seem the same.” I had visions of a bunch of grade-schoolers, mostly boys, running across a grassy green soccer field, tackling each other in an effort to ‘tag’ someone. Of course, instead of grade schoolers, these were fully-grown griffins at play. “I don’t think your version of the game uses a ‘jail’, though.”
“What is a ‘jail’?”
“A place to confine prisoners.”
A shake of the head as we walked towards the center of the platform. The space between the fluted stone columns was easy enough for me to navigate, but Holly had to pick and choose her route with a little more care, lest she scrape her furled wings.
“No, we don’t use a ‘jail’. That strikes me as odd. When would you have the time to escort defeated foes there? These spars are never more than a few minutes long.”
I suppose that did make sense. Given the speed at which griffins moved, it wouldn’t make sense to put some on prisoner detail. “How do you ‘defeat’ your foes, then?”
We reached the center column, where the banner dangled just out of my reach. Below it was one of the scrubby thorn bushes, this one growing from a crack in the old flagstones. Holly reached along one branch and drew out a small round fruit. She mashed it and rubbed the residue against the column, where it left a pomegranate-colored smear.
“We coat our beaks and talons with this dye, and use it to mark first ‘touch’ when we tackle and take down our foes. Touches to the wings, the neck, or to more than one limb is grounds for calling a ‘kill’.”
I ran my finger through the red smear. The fruit dye felt tacky, like drying glue, and it had already turned darker, as if it were blood trying to clot. Yeah, that helped my already fraying nerves right there.
“That’s first touch. I assume first blood is the same…only with griffin-colored dye.”
My companion nodded gravely. “That would be what Thundercrack and the Valkir have in mind. But you need not worry. My two brothers’ lances, as well as my own, practice the Way of the Serpent, and they shall have mastery over that pride.”
Mastering one’s pride. That sounded more than a little ironic to me, given the situation.
“Not that I don’t already have full confidence in you, your brothers, or your lances,” I cautioned, “But just in case any of the enemy makes it in here, do you have some griffin art to teach me so I can hold them off? I think the Elders would be more than a little put off if I took my gun out and shot someone. Even if it were Thundercrack, which might be an improvement on things.”
Holly did her best to hide her amusement as she hunted for something in the shadow of another pillar. She let out a chirp of pleasure as she found what she was looking for and handed it to me. At first glance, I thought it was a walking stick. Then I noticed that the twisted length of wood was tapered at one end, while the other sported a large, wicked looking knob at the top.
“We griffins have thirty-six different Martial Schools,” she informed me as I turned the stick around in my hand, getting its feel. “The ones we choose to follow depend on our age and our skills. Sea Wind or Cloud Kick for younger gryphlets, who must rely on speed. Winter Storm or Lightning Strike for our strongest flyers. Rolling Mountain and Stone Hammer for those with the most brute strength, usually the mature drakes.”
I quirked a grin at her. “And what about this ‘Way of the Serpent’ I keep hearing about?”
“Well, obviously that’s reserved for the smartest.”
“That sounds pretty cool,” I admitted. “Maybe I could get into this griffin thing after all. Which school are you going to teach me?”
“It’s not so much a school…” Holly hedged. “Though I suppose you could call it ‘talon popping’. Yes, that’s what we can call it: the art of talon popping.”
I gave her a sardonic look. “You’re kidding me.”
“It’s the first type of defense that all chicks learn.”
“Great. It’s a ‘chick thing’. Level with me, Holly. What does that mean, exactly?”
Holly turned to face me. “It means that it can be used by those who cannot yet fly. Earth-bound, and with less strength than a mature griffin, they must rely on a club. While this weapon cannot bring down any but the clumsiest attacker, it can stun, and it can certainly beat off a talon that is grasping for the nest’s banner. Is that ‘level’ enough for you?”
I hit the pillar to my right with my stick-club with a smash. Yes, that would ‘pop’ the talon bone of any griffin unlucky enough to grab onto that surface. Holly continued to watch me, seemingly delighted or bemused by my response.
>
“What is it?” I asked.
“You continue to surprise, that is all. You are smaller and weaker than any one of us, that much is true. But you have spirit. You have grit. These qualities of yours...it makes you exotic. It intrigues me.”
A distant caw echoed in my ear, similar to the one I’d heard summoning Linden to patrol.
“The lances?” I asked.
“Aye, they are getting ready to practice.”
Holly and I walked back out to the edge of the platform. At the farther end of the oval I recognized Blackthorn’s bulk right away, then Ironwood’s light gold coat. I recognized many of the other members of the Reyka pride with them. Another couple dozen griffins had joined them, most with black bars or spots along their wings and beaks.
“The Korlson Pride has agreed to this practice spar,” Holly pointed out. “They are fair enough warriors, and they are double our numbers, but not really our match. I must go join the fray. Watch our maneuvers, so you know what to expect on the morn. And if any try for that banner…”
I made a menacing motion with my club in response. Holly gave a chirrup of approval and took off towards the waiting group. I found a nearby column that had snapped off at convenient seat height and made myself as comfortable as possible while the lances set up. One of the Reyka griffins flew in with a large trough, gripping the long object via a metal handle held in his beak.
The trough was filled with the same bright-colored fruit dye from the thorn bush. The warriors dipped beak tips and talons into the mix, then split into their two groups. Blackthorn took his lance high up into a wide arc then immediately curved back towards the opposition’s side of the field. The Korlson griffins, seemingly unsure of how to react to this aggressive maneuver, formed their warriors into a dense wedge, effectively blocking the way between the largest griffin on the field and the Korlsons’ ‘nest’ platform. For a few seconds I thought things would remain in stasis, neither team able to gain an advantage.
Then, Ironwood and Holly’s lances leapt as one from the underbrush, taking the Korlson Pride in the flank.
A scream came from the leading ranks of the griffins.
Battle had finally been joined.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Korlson formation fell apart from left to right across the field, with griffins falling out and cursing as they landed, dye dripping from ‘cuts’ delivered to the neck or wings. The Reyka lances drove deep into the Korlsons, even outnumbered three to one, but at the very point of the action Shaw’s two children remained the deadliest, knocking back opponents right and left, scoring them with sticky swathes of scarlet.
Just when the Korlson formation looked like it was going to rally, Blackthorn charged in from the front and kicked the rest to pieces. Again, the big griffin was like a gold-yellow zephyr, shouldering or tossing aside enemies to take down others he deemed more of a threat. The three siblings met at the core of the battle, turned so that their backs were towards each other, and began to undulate their tails.
I focused on the swirl of battle raging around the three. Whenever they were challenged, all it took was a few flicks of a tail to confuse or distract one of the Korlson griffins. In that split second, one of the siblings would strike, scoring a hit on neck or limb. Disqualified griffins started piling up around the trio, lying down where they had ‘fallen’ in battle.
Finally, the nest keeper for the Korlson Pride emerged, let out a crestfallen caw, and the action stopped. From all over the field, griffins got up and flew towards a pool situated at the far edge of the sparring area to wash off their dye marks. Holly and her brothers clapped the tips of their wings together in congratulations and then rubbed flanks. They play-tussled, pawing and nipping each other between neck and shoulder like overjoyed kittens.
Eventually, Holly flew back towards my nest platform, hovering in mid-air to give me an update. Her voice was raised, flushed with excitement. “The Korlson nest keeper called a halt to sparring when she realized that we had slay-marked all of her warriors. That was a rare and smashing victory!”
“It certainly looked it,” I agreed.
“We caught them by surprise. Unlikely that will happen again. Now we begin the spar anew, and continue until the sun stands directly above us.”
Holly pivoted on one wingtip, her leonine form amazingly agile in the air, and headed back to where her lance was anointing themselves with dye for the next combat. I kicked back, dug out a raisin nut granola bar I’d managed to save from the long-gobbled MREs, and settled in to wait for the new round to begin.
The next five or six replays were fun to observe, rather like watching a good football or basketball game on television. But to my surprise they were a little uninvolving after a while. Holly hadn’t been idly boasting when she’d claimed that even at three-to-one, the Korlson Pride was no match for Reyka. Though the numbers and the strategies varied – one time the opposition tried an all-out assault and got butchered, another time Ironwood dropped his lance straight in from above, surprising the hapless Korlsons – the end result was always the same. Not a single enemy griffin got further than halfway across the field to me. Finally, as the sun moved towards noon, the sparring ceased, the Lance Captains bowed to each other, and Holly returned me to the trading cabin.
Thundercrack, looking as ever like an angry slab of muscle, awaited me there. The grim ranks of the Valkir Pride sat next to him. I was extra-glad now that I’d had a good breakfast, as it didn’t look like lunchtime was in the offing.
“If you wish me to stay,” Holly whispered in my ear, “Just say it in a manner that all can hear.”
I considered. “No. I need to deal with the Valkir without your backup. Otherwise, it looks…I don’t know, weak.”
Again she appraised me. “You speak as one hatched from the egg. Perhaps father is right: you do have more than a little griffin in you.”
I stroked her head in thanks and bid her farewell. She frowned warningly at the Lance Captain of the Valkir Pride, but took off without further comment. Donning gloves, I set out my swabbing kits and announced that I was open for business. To no one’s surprise, Thundercrack stepped up first. Without ceremony, he opened his mouth for me.
This time I felt less like a circus trainer putting his hand into a croc’s mouth than a diver shoving his entire arm down the maw of a great white shark. Thundercrack’s mouth was cavernous – it almost looked like I could curl up and sit on his tongue – but I got my sample without incident.
“I saw the spar practice today,” he said, as I jotted his name and my notes down. “I will look forward to taking your flag from you, nest keeper. And perhaps a little of your blood in exchange for your ruse of yesterday.”
“Well,” I said carefully, “You still have to defeat all the Reyka Pride to get to me.”
“Do I?”
Thundercrack gave me a smirk and strode off, allowing the next of the Valkir to step forward in turn. I put his words out of my mind. He was simply trying to rattle me, and focused on the task at hand.
But it wasn’t until the sun began to set and Shaw had rejoined me at the cabin that I really relaxed. My friend seemed tired and a little glum, so I invited him to share the last of my pre-made food. I dug out a single portion for myself and three for Shaw. Before I could use the meals’ heating elements, Shaw had taken a new portion of kindling and wood to the embers of my early-morning fire and set it newly alight.
We ate without saying much, as I was tired as well. I’d taken many more samples today than previously, and it had taken time to wrap and store them in a cooler that I’d brought and stocked with synthetic ice. I spooned my way through a plastic tray of lasagna as Shaw crunched through a triple helping of MRE entrees. Finally, once he’d finished, he stretched out by the fire next to me like an eagle-headed Irish wolfhound.
“Thou seems no worse for wear after a day of sparring,” Shaw observed.
“That’s because no one even got close to me. Your kids…” I groped for the wo
rds. “They’re really something else. Most of the other griffins can’t keep up with them.”
“Aye. And I am one of that kind.”
I sat up. “What do you mean?”
Shaw did not look at me, but I could hear the pain in his voice.
“I could not withhold the Council’s decision from them any longer. I just came back from breaking the news. ‘Twas not a pleasant deed. Gruff words were exchanged. They flew off into the dusk and outdistanced me. And I have no more welcome at the Reyka portion of the aerie for now.”
There was very little I could say to that. I placed my hand on his head and he turned into my palm ever so slightly. I offered about the only thing I could at this point.
“This is going to be my first night spent at the aerie,” I said. “If you’re not going to be staying with the Reyka Pride, I’d appreciate it if you’d remain down here with me.”
A deep-throated chuckle rolled from his chest. “Thou art ever the kind one, Dayna. A favor thou does for me, even while pretending to ask for one. I gladly accept thy offer.”
Shaw closed his eyes and immediately began the long, slow exhalations of deep sleep. Even though I’d seen it before, it still amazed me at just how quickly and soundly griffins could go from their waking to their sleep state.
I looked up at the sky, considering. The moon rising to the east was a sliver off full, the air still, and the temperature was hardly cool enough to warrant more than a light blanket. I went back to the cabin to fetch my air mattress and sleeping bag.
By the time I got back, Shaw had rolled over so that his back was to the fire. Except for his soft breathing, one would think he was just a big golden-colored rise in the sand. I set out my mattress between him and the fire, lay my sleeping bag on top of that, and zipped myself in with my head resting on Shaw’s flank.
The distant, ever-present sounds of griffins calling to each other, and their faint wing beats on the cool evening air all faded away in the susurrus of Shaw’s purr as I rested my ear again his side. The moon continued to rise above where the fire still crackled, as if the sparks and smoke thrown off were boosting it on its journey. I marveled at where I was; even with all the danger and stress of the mysteries surrounding me.
Grand Theft Griffin Page 15
