Song of the Summer King (The Summer King Chronicles)

by Jess Owen

  That only meant he kept wings closed to his sides. He hadn’t sparred with Halvden since they had come to Windwater in spring.

  The bigger gryfon padded up, his feathers molted to an even brighter emerald, while Shard’s had done nothing but turn a deeper, roiling blue-gray like a storm cloud, his prime feathers lighter as a sunlit edge. The other males had gained an inch of height and girth while he remained short, wiry and toughened from his nights with Stigr.

  Shard managed not to sigh. At least it will be swift.

  “You will pay now,” Halvden growled under his breath, “for the disrespect you show my father.”

  A hundred retorts snapped up and Halvden reminded him suddenly of the vengeful wolf brothers, Ahote and Ahanu. Rebellion swelled in Shard’s chest. He had learned so much. I can’t just hand Halvden this fight. Not if he’s going to make it about Hallr and Windwater.

  Think of the fox, Stigr’s voice said in his mind, small and quick, who lays false trails.

  Shard drew a breath, locking eyes with Halvden, and spoke as evenly as he could. “I have no quarrel with you, Halvden.” As planned, his calm response made Halvden blink. “I wish we could get along better.” At least that was true. One green ear flattened. “So fight well, friend,” Shard went on quietly as they circled each other. “Kenna is watching.”

  When Halvden’s gaze flickered for one second to the violet gryfess, Shard lunged. He nearly swiped talons through Halvden’s green ear before Halvden leaped away in surprise.

  Think of the sparrow.

  No, his mind muttered, oddly in Stigr’s voice. No wings for this spar. Unbidden, a thought rose, even as he ducked and whirled to evade Halvden’s rebound lunge of attack.

  Think of the wolf.

  Shard kept his wings tight to his sides, trotting a few steps back. He thought of Ahote and Ahanu and movements they had made during their attack.

  Halvden huffed, ruffled his wings and laughed too loudly, to make sure he had everyone’s attention. “Still quick to run, son-of-Sigrun.”

  “Still heavy and slow, son-of-Hallr.”

  Halvden’s angry shriek and the surprised trills of laughter from some of the onlookers gave Shard a burst of energy and hope. Maybe this won’t end as quickly as everyone thought.

  Halvden shoved up, wings flapping hard to take flight, a gryfon’s advantage. Shard darted in, talons splayed and beak open to catch the fan of Halvden’s tail. Feathers crunched satisfyingly in his beak and Shard yanked, shoving forward in a hard run to drag Halvden from the air.

  Pain and shock filled Halvden’s voice and he closed his wings to drop on Shard. Shard lunged sharp to one side, jerking Halvden off course by the tail. The big gryfon hit the ground shoulder-first. Shard leaped in before Halvden could right himself and the green warrior snarled curses as he flung up talons up to defend his neck.

  I’m faster! Shard realized with crazy, stupid glee.

  Halvden caught him by the wing joint and flung him away. Shard rolled to his feet and darted in again, bruised but determined to use his strongest advantage. Always, the size and muscle of his Aesir peers had cowed him, and he lost his fights.

  But sparrows drive hawks from the sky, and two wolves got the best of me.

  His training with Stigr made Shard aware of his own speed, agility and advantage more than anyone ever had. He crouched, pretending to catch a breath, and when Halvden lumbered forward, he burst into a run.

  “Stop!” Halvden bellowed. “Filthy cheat!” But the jeers of other gryfons drove Halvden on. I’m only acting as a wolf would, Shard thought. Halvden loped forward and took to the air again. His damaged tail altered his flight and Shard took advantage, zigzagging to keep Halvden faltering. The treeline loomed ahead.

  “Don’t you dare!” Halvden warned. Shard slowed his run now, letting Halvden narrow in to dive.

  “A wolf would run!”

  “Coward, fight!”

  “If you like,” Shard muttered, stopped, and spun to face him. The nightmare of Halvden in a full, killing dive blocked Shard’s sky. Talons splayed, beak open in a triumphant shriek. Shard pictured him as Lapu the boar. I’ve made him charge.

  He planted his feet, raised his head. It almost looked as if Halvden truly meant to kill him.

  It’s only a spar! He met the blazing gold eyes, roared a challenge—then with Halvden’s talons close enough to gouge his eye, Shard dropped to his belly and shoved forward across the grass.

  Halvden smashed into the ground in a tumbling, swearing heap behind him. Shard turned neatly and leaped up on Halvden’s writhing bulk again, clawed a green wing aside and planted talons against his throat. Everyone fell quiet.

  “I submit!” Halvden tucked his head with a snarl. “Enough of this.”

  A sound washed them that Shard realized was a quick murmur of surprise from those watching.

  And all had been watching. Spars halted, fledges stared, even Hallr had stopped his story.

  “Stay there, Shard.” Caj actually sounded pleased as he stood and walked to them, ears perked. Shard couldn’t remember the last time his nest-father sounded pleased with him. When he spoke again his voice was neutral, trying not to show favor.

  “Halvden. Think. Submission is death.”

  “This was a mockery of a spar!” Halvden’s words gurgled against Shard’s talons and Shard loosened them, a little. “He ran.”

  Caj hissed softly. “If I were a wolf, I’d run from you too. If Shard were a wolf, you would be dead now. There is no rematch. What would you do here, if you were fighting for your life?”

  Shard held his pose, taking some satisfaction at holding his talons to Halvden’s neck. Halvden shifted, his muscles flexing with rage. “I could flare my wing, knock him back.”

  “You could flare,” Caj said. “Or?”

  Halvden twitched a hind leg. “Or…kick. I should have attacked from above in the first place.”

  “Except he pulled you down!” A helpful fledge hollered. Halvden’s gaze snapped around and the onlookers fell silent again.

  “You might not be able to anyway,” Shard said, glancing briefly to Caj, who inclined his head in agreement. “The wolves would draw you into the woods if they could, to ground that’s better for them. It’s good to think what you’d do in a close fight.”

  “Such the expert,” Halvden growled.

  Other gryfons gathered around them, surprised by Shard’s win. In the corner of his gaze he saw Thyra and Kjorn, heads high with pride. Shard’s feathers ruffed proudly at the thought that they had seen the fight. Caj tilted his head, then fanned his tail feathers in approval.

  “What else?”

  Halvden mumbled a few other ideas and then, “I panicked, that’s all. I didn’t expect him to fight that way.”

  “You mean you didn’t expect me to fight that well,” Shard said quietly. “You can say it. I didn’t either.”

  A few snickers and trills rippled through the gathered gryfons.

  Caj looked up at the gathering, snapping his beak to silence laughter. “You must always expect that your next fight could be your last. Always. Or it might be. Never underestimate an opponent whether it’s a wolf, a she-wolf or even a cub.” Shard discerned the rare gleam of approval in Caj’s eyes. “Or another gryfon. Let him up, Shard.”

  Shard bowed his head and stepped off. Halvden rolled away, ruffled, and stalked off.

  Caj stepped up to him as the others wandered off, losing interest. “Well done, Shard. You’re learning after all. If you keep improving, you’ll be one of the king’s best.”

  “Thank you.” Shard stretched his wings. The compliment should have felt like sunlight in his heart, but somehow he felt nothing at all. He wished Stigr could have seen the fight. Distracted, he saw Hallr rise and go to meet his son, where the two argued with snaps and growls.

  “You may have earned more than Halvden’s respect today,” Caj murmured. Blinking, Shard looked around and saw the gryfess hunters still lounging. Kenna hadn’t gone after Ha
lvden, after all. The violet gryfess watched Shard, and perked her ears when he looked her way.

  “Oh,” he mumbled—then Kjorn knocked into him from the side, bowling him over.

  “Well done, wingbrother!”

  Shard shrieked and they wrestled through the grass, a tangle of gold and gray. Caj barked at those staring to return to their own spars, unless they wanted Shard for the next match, or Halvden, who was hungry for a win.

  Thyra joined their tumble and moments later Kjorn, Shard and Thyra lay heaped together near the edge of the cliff, breathless and laughing into the wind. The smell of rain gusted against their faces.

  “I can almost claim you as my brother now,” Thyra chirruped, then preened behind Shard’s ear.

  A sudden longing for his kithood swept Shard, for the day before the hunt, before he began lying to everyone. The fight against Halvden proved that it was worth it, to Shard. As he’d hoped, he was growing stronger. But he didn’t know how much longer he could keep meeting with Stigr. Thyra chuckled at his silence, which Shard supposed she mistook for embarassment.

  “Running the settlement here, beating humility into Halvden, what’s next, I wonder?” Her ear turned toward her gathered friends, the gryfess hunters nearer the woods. Shard heaved a happy breath, then grunted and shoved Kjorn off him.

  “And since we know you fly even better than you fight,” the gold prince said, “it would be impossible for you not to win a mate.”

  “A mate?” Shard laid back one ear, confused. Kjorn stretched his wings and laughed.

  “Shard, where have you been? Tomorrow is the Daynight. We will have songs and feasting, pledges and flights.”

  The Daynight. Of course he’d known it was coming. The days stretched longer and warmer, the sky never quite going black. Tomorrow night the sun wouldn’t set at all, but hover along the horizon from dawn until night, bright Tyr watching them the long day and night as they made their pledges.

  No, Shard thought with blazing clarity. He doesn’t stay to watch us. He seeks his mate. Tor will share the sky with him for an entire day and night.

  That must be the way the Vanir see it, not the way of the Red Kings. They saw that Tyr oversaw the pledges, the long day celebration that began summer, but Shard realized he must only be hunting his bright silver mate.

  Kjorn nipped at his wing and Shard refocused. “Did you say something?”

  “Ha!” Thyra bounded away laughing, and flared her wings. “You see, he’s been too busy studying under you and Caj to think of it. Shard.” She trotted back and he lowered his head a little, oddly uncomfortable. “There’s no rush. If there isn’t a female who’s caught your eye—”

  “Well there is some rush,” Kjorn cut in, blue eyes glinting. “If you don’t mate now, it must be next year. An out of season mating wouldn’t be wise. Not with the uncertainty of the settlement.”

  Shard shook his head, thinking of his uncle Stigr, thinking of Thyra and Kjorn. Where did the spring go? “Then it will be next year.”

  Kjorn looked unhappy. He ruffled his feathers and looked toward the horizon. “Whatever suits you, Shard.”

  But with that, he leaped twice away and pushed into the air. Shard jumped to follow but Thyra caught his tail in her claws. He stopped, turning his head. “What’s the matter with him? What does he care if I mate, or not?”

  “You’re his wingbrother. You learned to fly together, to fight together, to hunt together. Together, you killed the boar.” His nest-sister’s bright eyes studied him closely. “He thought you would do all things together.”

  “We can’t mate together,” Shard huffed, but his ears flattened. She was right. He should have matched Kjorn’s progress, should have been looking for a mate. But his nights learning from Stigr left him exhausted and barely able to focus on fighting with Caj during the day. He had to watch Hallr. He had to be alert for wolves. He had forgotten. It wasn’t important, not right now.

  Maybe I will be like Stigr, he thought, and felt a little better before realizing he didn’t know if Stigr was bachelor on purpose or not.

  Thyra was watching him. “A lot of things are happening quickly, I know.”

  Shard studied her, and realized just how much he hadn’t noticed. “You’ve chosen each other already, haven’t you?”

  She blinked twice, ducked her head and ruffled her feathers. “Yes. Of course.”

  The sound of sparring gryfons filled the moment of silence between them. “That’s good. That makes me happy.” It was true, though a little part of Shard wriggled with regret that he wouldn’t be sharing his own mating celebration at the same time.

  “You’ll find someone. If you like, I could help you get to know some of—”

  “No,” Shard murmured, lifting his head. “No, thank you. Next year. When it’s right.”

  “All right.” She began to turn and paused, studying him. “You’ll always be my big brother. No matter what.”

  Shard tilted his head. Those words sent sunlight into his heart. “No matter what?”

  She bobbed her head. Shard crouched to pounce but she braced talons on his shoulder. “I should go talk to him.” She lifted her beak to the gray sky, where they could see Kjorn wheeling like a mote of sunlight.

  “Of course,” Shard murmured. She bumped his shoulder and pushed into the sky. He watched her go.

  “Shard.”

  He leaped forward, feathers sleeking tight in surprise. As he turned, he had to force a laugh at his own jumpiness. The laugh shriveled when he saw violet Kenna, shiny even under the gray sky, her eyes bright with amusement.

  “I just wanted to say I admired your spar.”

  “Oh,” said Shard, noticing for the first time that her eyes were gray, like a falcon. “Thank you.” He shifted one foot, glancing around. He’d expected Caj to keep him working, but the blue gryfon seemed not to see him anymore, weaving between the other fights, calling instruction. In fact, no one was looking at them, and Shard thought it purposeful. He thought of Thyra and Kjorn, and his wingbrother’s disappointment, and lifted his head a little as Kenna spoke.

  “I was just going to the stream. To cool off. If you’re also warm. That is, if you’d …”

  “Thank you,” Shard said quickly, feeling foolish. I should have been the one to invite her. “I’ll come.”

  Kenna’s feathers fluffed up with pleasure, though, to Shard, she also looked amused. He wasn’t sure if that was good or not.

  They walked through the long grass and humor left them as they stepped under the shadow of the trees, heavy with spring growth. They remained alert for wolves and other dangers that might stalk from the shadows. The scent of the woods always took Shard back to the day of the hunt, and he looked hard into the trees and ferns, half-expecting to see Catori’s red shadow disappearing from the corner of his eye.

  Kenna was speaking. “ …hold the celebration on the Sun Isle, since the new-whelped kits are too young to fly, and it would be too much of a risk, all gathering here.”

  “Yes,” Shard agreed, distracted. He forgot about drinking once they reached the stream, still peering around the woods. Listening. Little voices whispered from the trees. No, it’s only wind.

  “Shard.”

  He blinked and looked at her, and realized they were standing so close he could see that her violet feathers gleamed iridescent blue when she shifted. He wondered if her Aesir mother was somehow related to Caj. Then he ruffled and banished the thought of Caj from this moment. The blue gryfon had never given him any advice about choosing a mate beyond, “Don’t fall for beauty alone,” and that had ended the conversation because Sigrun had asked what he meant by that, and it stretched into an argument that lasted days and resulted with Caj doing his own hunting more often than not, for a fortnight.

  “Where did you go?” Kenna murmured when Shard snapped his attention back. The wind was calmer here, but the scent of rain thickened.

  “Sorry,” Shard mumbled. “There’s so much—”

  “I kn
ow,” she said simply. “A lot to think about. I see it in you all the time. Drifting off. Thinking ahead. Thinking back. Thinking too much.” She tapped him with her tail, as Thyra might do, but in a way that was altogether different. “I think it’s a Vanir habit.”

  The warmth that had surprised him at her playful touch cooled. “A Vanir habit?”

  Her gray eyes remained playful, but her tone was serious. “You are full-blooded Vanir. I think it makes you more thoughtful. You know. More than others. It’s what I like about you.”

  “It is?” He tried to catch up, to think of when he had seen her paying attention to him at all. Was she at the initation hunt? Stupidly, he couldn’t remember. He remembered the first day of settling, and the day he had talked Hallr down after he’d killed the young wolf. Both times, Kenna had spoken up, and he’d barely noticed.

  “Maybe …” She hesitated, then drew herself up. She was smaller, and Shard realized she must be at least four years his junior. Barely old enough to mate. Made older seeming by the hunting, the responsibility. “Maybe we can speak of it sometime.”

  “Of what?” His wings twitched, wanting to escape, even into the rising storm wind.

  “Of being Vanir. It’s half my blood, anyway. My father has spoken of it to my mother and she didn’t stop him.”

  “It’s forbidden,” Shard whispered, staring at her. She stepped back, glancing around. This was not how he’d expected the conversation to go. If he’d been stronger, maybe, they could have been speaking of something else.

  “I’ve seen you.” She perked her ears and stepped forward again, tensing. “Leaving at night. I’ve seen you fly out and return at dawn.”

  Her words hollowed him. Ice lumped in his belly. “Kenna, please …”

  “You shouldn’t. It’s dangerous, but I haven’t told anyone.”

  “Why?”

  She laughed, a breathless trill. “I thought you knew.”

  “Knew?”

  She bumped her head in and nuzzled under his ear, and whatever he was going to say winged off into the wind.

  Then worry rose again. If she was watching me, was anyone else? Anyone more dangerous? But, Shard thought, surely, anyone else would have told the king by now.