by Alec Silva
As a precaution, the warrior had dyed her hair black and wrapped the sword in rags, causing her to go through as someone of little importance.
"But why the interest, girl?", asked the traveler, after a generous swig of mead. "Hath interest in acquiring a dracogriffon egg?"
"I am traveling to the East", she replied, naturally, "and if I'm lucky, yes."
Her bulky lips showed an enigmatic smile.
"Well, I said everything I know", said the man, "now it is your turn to fulfill the other part of our agreement.”
Vannora leaned a little on the table, whispering:
"Unless you want to have the same end of the men killed in the ambush to get the egg, I advise you not to require me anything. And not to cause me trouble."
"You are...?", stammered the informant.
She nodded, standing up. She turned, beginning to leave, a steady hand in the package that contained her precious weapon.
"She's... she's...", shouted the wretched.
In a withering spin, the stranger let go of the rags and pulled out a small knife, throwing it accurately in the throat of the hapless informant, who was standing. He choked on the blade and the blood, falling to the ground in agony, hands over the wound, watching the killer, who was now surrounded by ten mercenaries who accompanied him.
"You killed our contractor", complained one of them, the tallest, one-eyed. "Who will pay us now?"
The girl looked up indifferently. Obviously, they would not let her get away so easily.
The Nykh butchered and gutted half of them in a single movement; the bloody blade leaned against the jugular of the big man, who shuddered at the touch of burning steel shimmering.
"I do not care who will pay you, it is not my concern", said Vannora coldly.
Althair approached the crowd that accompanied the brief massacre, dodging quickly from restless legs that went from one side to another. He noted that the adoptive mother was in danger because a man had drawn a crossbow and pointed at her head.
Acting on instinct, he ran to the warrior and made a short flight and grappled him, digging his sharp teeth into his neck; He spat fire and tore bones, arteries, and veins.
Her eyes ran to the place where the fuss began, identifying the puppy, who finished killing his first human victim.
"Althair!", she cried, in a tone of despair.
The creature lifted its head, blood dripping from the mouth, pieces of flesh hanging from his teeth. Wasting no time, he flew quietly to her and landed on her left shoulder, scratching her painfully and almost unbalancing her.
The girl ran as it was possible, knocking what was on her way to delay the pursuers. There was no way she could return to the ship, endangering the crew that received her so well. She saw a jungle of trees devoid of leaves; it was where she should go, away from civilization.
"Fly, Althair!", she ordered, aware that the weight of the dracogriffon made running more difficult.
The animal obeyed; it went toward the trees and disappeared for some time in the shadows.
Vannora ran into the forest, panting, the cold air burning her lungs; she heard the cries of the people who persecuted her and the howls of wild dogs.
She threw herself in a flooded ditch and plunged; hiding among some bushes and being silent, listening to the sounds of what could be a hunting call. She smeared herself up with mud to disguise the smell in an attempt to confuse the track of the animals; then held her breath to the fullest and remained motionless.
Hours passed before she could leave.
More than ever, she was sorry to have decided to help the dracogriffon return to its land. It was easier to kill it, avoiding that entire unfortunate situation that she was going through, held to a stupid promise.
IV
Althair realized that the girl was disappointed. She stopped teaching things, and just walked around the forest during the day and of the night, sneaking, and slept a few hours at dawn, sparking a small fire when it was allowed — and without help.
The dracogriffon spent a lot of time flying from branch to branch, watching her carefully, and feeling uncomfortable with that peculiar situation. Sometimes he walked beside her, being completely ignored.
The days were advancing without much change on the climate or the relationship between the killer and the hybrid animal, but he soon had the first change of skin, getting a few centimeters in height and length, starting to change color patterns.
If on one hand Vannora's will was to kill the creature that made her waste more than three weeks, on the other she wanted to continue with it and find out what would result. It was a conflicting emotion.
She was living on the edge, as his Master always warned that might happen. Fed on roots and leaves; when she was lucky, some fruits and small mammals, always leaving a piece of meat to her mate — saying nothing; she just put in a corner and walked away, going to do something else.
They walked for nearly two weeks through the Hyperborean forest until they reached a balmy part, with the temperature a little warmer, but nothing to compare to what the warrior was accustomed.
The treetops were orange tones, the animals were more abundant, not only wolves and snow hares; It had a greater number of living antelopes, poultry, bears, and foxes. Snow was still visible covering some areas, but nothing compared to before.
The change in temperature made the pup become ill, forcing her to further delay the journey. If not for the dying wolf skin found days earlier, he would have died frozen; but it was still bad, too weak to continue.
Althair, already twice the size it was when he killed the man in the tavern, patiently collected some old branches, piled them in a corner, under the trembling human's sight; when completed, breathed out. Then he entered the woods, returning half an hour later with a large hare between his teeth, dragging it.
To the amazement of Vannora, he gutted it on the place where it was slaughtered, leaving to the warrior only the chore of skinning it and preparing it for baking.
That gesture touched her, after all, it was not expected something so kind of a creature famous for being cruel and bloodthirsty; both dragons and Roc were known to attack humans, kill them and eat them; So the same was expected of dracogriffons, which were probably descendants of crossbreed of both species.
For two or three days, the scene was repeated.
The animal took a makeshift container, made of a hard shell of a fruit, and walked a few miles to bring water, sparing her the endeavor.
On the last day, when Althair returned from another successful hunt, the girl who was usually cold and calculating, called him affectionately and embraced him, whilst admiring the wolf-size the dracogriffon had acquired.
"Thank you", she said, almost crying.
Were If an enemy to see her in that moment, he would observe the contrast between one of the cruelest disciples of Ronan and the fragile young woman, full of fears and traumas, stifled by the inability to demonstrate what she felt.
It was only in the third or fourth day that the two resumed their journey.
Vannora returned to train him but now allowed herself to laugh, playing as she had long stopped doing. She taught him to interpret her gestures and signs, after all, when they were in a confrontation, talking could spoil a good strategy.
When they found a waterfall, they had a wonderful time between dives and swims.
The dracogriffon — which was already taller than a lupine animal — caught some fish, ensuring the meal.
It was astonishing the speed of the changes occurring in the skin of the hybrid creature. Each change emphasized the draconian features, enlivening colors, turning him more graceful. The bird of prey's details also stood out, especially the forelegs, the scales, very similar to feathers, covering the top of the head and part of the wings; the tip of the snout bent down, accentuating the aquiline similarities he had with the Roc.
It was the second month walk through the woods when finally they came to a desert.
"We can no
t cross yet", said the warrior, looking at the dull and red immensity.
It was wise of her, because if they tried, they would surely die.
They shored the desert for almost two days before sighting a town a few miles away.
"I'm leaving you here", she said. "Do not follow me this time, okay? I'll go see if I can get a mount for me and then I'll return. We will follow a path rarely used, where we can go to the mountains, where there is more water and animals to hunt for."
Althair leaned on a tree and slept quietly, awaiting the return of his adventure's companion. He woke up only when he heard roars mixed with chirps.
His senses warned. It was not a bad thing, but a good feeling. Nature warned him that he was close to one of his kind; and the sound that was repeated made sure of it. He also issued his hoarse, guttural chirp; He ran through the woods, sniffing out a new scent, which stoked him.
The silver eyes saw the powerful creature that awakened him. It was massive and imposing. It had the same characteristics he had but seemed very old, almost twenty or thirty times his size. And heading for the city.
Spears were hurled by catapults, reaching the old creature's wings, which progressed, causing it to fall, crashing with violence into the scorching sands and raising a cloud of red dust.
The young dracogriffon watching that scene, howled; hesitated; He did not want to break his promise.
Several projectiles were fired, running through the entire body of the animal, that roared agonizing, dying and desperate. Althair thought to go help him, but also, the fear of death and fear of angering Vannora kept him from going.
Slobbering blood like a rabid dog, the monster also spit fire aplenty, spewing from sore throat the cries of his fate. It was a sound so dismal that even their tormentors should feel their hearts taken by the agony.
And so the young cub saw the elder succumbing by human violence, a remarkable and traumatizing vision.
He pulled away, terrified. Several images came to mind, memories of the human protector killing the men in the tavern; his first human victim, the taste of fresh blood; and contempt received by the killer.
Why should he trust her, if she also killed coldly? What if she had participated in that attack to a being already old and tired?
Althair continued running without knowing where to go. He just wanted to distance himself from that ominous place, that cruel and heartless people, unable to leave a creature find its way and die with dignity.
It was so far away that Vannora did not found him when she came riding on a horse, with supplies needed for the crossing. She searched for hours, even at night, but did not see him. Her chest ached. Suspicious of what might have occurred. He saw that death; he was confused.
Without well knowing what to do, the girl waited for a few days for the return of the creature that she had adopted, giving up only when she realized they'd never meet again. She regretted, but did not cry. Just mounted her horse and went away, leaving behind the promise to bring the dracogriffon home.
V
The colossal animal tucked in the empty nest, in a melancholic gesture, looking at the lifeless body of the woman he rescued. The head half-aquiline, half-reptilian, in a movement of dismay, rested on a rock, keeping his eyes fixed on the human. The immense wings, with some scales similar to fossilized feathers, stretched choicely, soon retracting, covering his whole bulk.
Although apparently driven by primal instincts, the monster that destroyed the vessel earlier had in mind memories in soundless images, with mixtures of emotions that shaped it and led it there, through deserts, forests, and fields. It tasted the blood and the flesh of so many human beings on numerous occasions and for different reasons; it got scars and caused terror wherever it went.
He remembered when he met a small group of its kind, the fight he had with the alpha-male, an old one — like the specimen that dramatically changed his life -; He won just by being younger, stronger and well prepared. It was the only time that he killed one of his race, because if he did, he would have been him there, in that treacherous cliff. Becoming the leader of the band, he won as many females he wanted; however he opted for the fairer.
Thus chose that point, near the sea, a strait inaccessible to adventurers. No Roc or dragon would dare to go there, after all, every creature feared a dracogriffon, feared his strength, ferocity, and superiority. Big mistake, because a few weeks ago a group of hunters wandered around, destroying the nests of beasts that plagued the fishing villages and citadels nearby. And in one day he distanced himself, going to fish something to feed the female, there was a cruel event.
Upon returning, he found some medium-sized dragons around the nest. He roared with fury, warning them to stay away or have serious problems. He noted that some of them walked away with chunks of meat between their teeth, mocking the tragic end of his family.
The woman moved a little, calling the creature's attention, who looked at her with a look of anticipation, the silver eyes hopeful.
He had not killed her for good reasons: she reminded him of a human female, someone who treated him well, the only specimen of that odious race that respect him. So he saved that tiny form of contemptible life from death in dark waters, between known and unknown abysmal beasts.
It was the typical smell, that mixture of sweetened herbal and citrus tones, the perfume that he cherished so much as a young pup, one of the first he felt when he was born, that made he recognize her, having only complete certainty when he rescued her with the powerful preys legs. Yes, it was the same person who took care of him, that baptized him with the name of Althair, the "flying eagle".
He looked away briefly, staring the shells around the nest, remnants of eggs that were there before. There were still spots of yolk and whites, both in fusion phase, generating life; it was still visible, even in human eyes, the blood trail of violence from the attack. Evidence of rampant brutality of the human race, who boasted of civilization notions.
He was so deep in thought that didn't even notice the slight movement of the killer, who jabbed the burning blade of the sword in his throat, pouring a large amount of blood. He howled in despair, rising. He Spat fire into the air, while his body stirred, shaking his tail in aggressive moves, knocking the few bushes therein, and his wings opening to the fullest. It was the pain of betrayal, of retribution for saving her.
Why did she do that, if he got rid of an undignified death for a warrior?
Before his eyes, images of the body mutilated by the jaws of dragons, all butchers and insensitive, the broken eggs, some burnt human or parts of their bodies torn. Scenes from his agony, the pain of loss, of despair at the impotence of the bloody hunt animals that ate the flesh of his companion; He earned more scars on their hunts, exterminating them from the strait. Not satisfied, he razed all the towns and citadels, thirsty for revenge; then went further, over the sea, destroying vessels, in an insatiable thirst for revenge.
Five months had passed since that fateful episode.
He would die.
He felt like that old dracogriffon he saw in the desert, dying, but still seen as a threat. Nevertheless, he was not an animal on the brink of death before that blow; he was a long lost friend, he just wanted to help, but was attacked by a person he thought was a friend.
In a move to mixed instinct to kill and fury of that betrayal, the maw craved to grab Vannora, yet she fled with a leap to the side, rolling to the left, near some shells; barely rid of the attack, the warrior pushed her body forward, already with two poisoned daggers in hand. She climbed the snout of the creature quickly, jabbing her arms behind his head; the next second, she was holding the handle of Nykh and tearing the monster's neck with the murderous blade.
Pain. There was nothing to feel except the pain of the mystical sword cutting bones, veins, arteries, muscles and skin. So sure of his death, the dracogriffon shook his head, with the poison burning everything and causing pain as intense as deadly. Blood poured off his fatal injuries while his eyes were covered by
darkness.
Unable to resist so much pain, to endure the death that held him with its tentacles, Althair dropped, tumbling close to the abyss's edge. He still had vision enough to see who killed him. Did she not recognize him? Or did she do it for revenge for something wrong he did? Perhaps she was resentful that he had fled that day when she went to town. Maybe that.
His lungs were burning, and breathing made the poisoned blood circulate faster through his body. Despair. Everything was burning as if he was roasting still alive. Then peace, that wonderful and comforting feeling, before closing his eyes.
He glimpsed the dead companion brutally butchered by those opportunist dragons; she was in a huge flowery field, surrounded by beautiful puppies, for their pups! All were waiting for the desired rest.
So that's dying. Was that Paradise, the fortunate land of dracogriffons?
Vannora saw the wistful look of the creature, feeling, as seldom felt before, tightness in the chest, unusual regret for taking the life of someone, something. When the eyelids of the hybrid monster closed, she felt alone — more alone than she used to feel.
In the last movement, Althair moved to the side, letting his body fall into the abyss, a marine cemetery, where lay the remains of his family, to the tentacles of death and sleep, where, unfortunately, no one would know of his sad story.
ȹ
And, strangely, in that day, the memories that motivated the blonde warrior were replaced by memories of one of the rarest and most sincere friends she had. Maybe he was away in their homeland, the high peaks of the deserts, where he would be happy with individuals of his race.
Killing that aggressive dracogriffon made her go back to that young woman she once were when she had just started the journey around the world, looking for revenge. She was weakened by those memories.
She wished he were well, as she did years earlier when she saw him no more; however, this time, her heart was not sure. Neither Nykh that comforted her so many times was able to appease her restlessness, as she contemplated the twilight.
