by Jess Owen
Shard and Stigr walked in silence out of the forest, to stand on the abandoned cliffs of Windwater. No gryfon would return there. They were in mourning, regathering, watching over each other and their king. Evening wind buffeted around them and even through his aches, Shard yearned to fly.
“My greatest fear used to be exile,” Shard whispered, realizing it had, in some way, come to pass. “That I would lose my place in Sverin’s pride.”
Stigr was silent, and Shard regretted speaking. His uncle had his own troubles, Shard realized at last, his own sorrows and regrets. He sought redemption for all things through me.
“I had a vision, but I don’t know what it means. I’m the son of the Nightwing, but I’m not him, and everyone expects me to be.”
“No.” Stigr shook himself and looked firmly at Shard. “That isn’t what anyone expects. They honor his memory in you, but they flew for you. They know you, Shard, and they bowed before you. They honor you for finding yourself, for your brave and honest heart. As I love and honor you.”
Shard looked down and away at the waves, then to the sky, hoping for another flash, a vision, an answer. Somewhere, across that broad, endless stretch of blue sea, lay Sverin’s homeland and whatever had driven his pride to the Silver Isles. Somewhere, there was an answer.
Shard drew a slow breath. For now, Sverin’s pride would heal. The wolves would heal and remain in safety, and the war would be stalled. As for the rest …
You will be guided, his father had promised.
“You may have lost your place in Sverin’s pride,” Stigr rumbled, and Shard perked his ears. “But now it’s time to find your place in the the world.”
Shard watched him a moment, then without speaking leaped from the cliff and flared his wings to catch the evening wind. Stigr laughed and jumped after him. They would have peace. Shard had sworn it, though he didn’t know the way. He had lost the pride, but even at that moment those loyal to him flew to gather the lost Vanir. His mother lived. His father’s spirit was at rest. Shard knew who he was, if not which way to go. As the songs promised, by seeing Sverin and Aesir clearly, he had come to know his own heart.
“It was only in knowing the other,” Shard whispered into the breeze, “that they came to know themselves.”
Shard spread his wings wide, basking in Tyr’s last light, and savored the rush of wind that sent him soaring over the Silver Isles, and into the open stretch of evening sky.
THE END
Acknowledgements
It’s nearly impossible to thank everyone involved in the making of a book, because who knows where stories really begin? All the authors I’ve read who inspire me, all the artists, the friends, the teachers who encouraged me and the friends who pushed me have all become Song of the Summer King.
So while it’s impossible to thank everyone, I want to call out a few key people who helped get Shard off the ground.
To my wingsisters and fellow artists in their own right: Tracy Davis, Kate Washington, Lauren Head, and Monica Hart Warren for being my “readers” and asking questions and giving answers and insight. Thank you!
To my editor Joshue Essoe, who helped me past everything from simple grammatical stumbling blocks to the big questions; the gryfons wouldn’t be flying quite as clean or high without your insight.
Author and mentor David Farland, who confirmed that yes, the story was worth telling, and encouraging me when I decided to self-publish.
To my cover artist Jennifer Miller, who went above and beyond with her magical work to make this look like a “real” book, and Terry Roy of TERyvisions.com, who saved my lettering inside and out and made me look professional.
Finally, to the generous backers of my Kickstarter project to fund the printing of the hardback version of this story. From the large to the small, thank you. To Bookworks of Whitefish, the Whitefish Library, and all the others who donated generously but asked for no reward, thank you!
This is to all of you, and I particularly want to call out those who were able to pledge over $100. In no order whatsoever, thank you so much the “Gryfon Hunters”: Rhel ná DecVandé, Anthony Bova, Charlotte “pandemoniumfire” McCarthy, Joe ‘Treyvan’ Denton, Signe Stenmark, Kevin Wegener (Silberwolf), Kate M Washington, John Idlor, and Tom Greendyk. And to the “Wolf Pack Friends:” Tracy Davis, Troy Evans & Heather McLarty, Dan! Hartmann, Snowstorm, Jessica Thorsell, Lycanthrophile, J. Patrick Walker, Chrissandra Porter, Beat Hubmann Widmer, Cody Rademacher, Roberta Miller, and Sarah Huxley. And to the “King & Queen of the Pride,” Jill Evans and John Owen. To my last backer who wished to remained anonymous, thank you.
Fair winds.
About the Author
Jess has been creating works of fantasy art and fiction for over a decade, and founded her own publishing company, Five Elements Press, to publish her own works and someday, that of others. She’s a proud member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators and the Authors of the Flathead. She lives with her husband in the mountains of northwest Montana, which offer daily inspiration for creating worlds of wise, wild creatures, magic, and adventure. Jess can be contacted directly through her website, www.jessowen.com, or the SOTSK facebook fan page, www.facebook.com/songofthesummerking .
