Duplicitous Magic

by Linn Tesli

  Her hope was short-lived.

  Everine opened her eyes to find a thick layer of smoke clouding the air ahead as they neared the top of yet another huge bank of sand. The daunting smoke spread endlessly in either direction.

  Birken signaled for her to stop. They dismounted, leaving the unicorns and Ayva at the base of the ridge before crawling to the top of the sand bank. Together they hunched down and peeked cautiously over the edge.

  A sense of terror clogged Everine’s throat at the sight below. An enormous Silverling encampment stretched across the plains as far as her eyes could see.

  Tents were densely packed across the plains. Zila’r-nath banners, portraying an enslaved, prancing silver unicorn, rose above the tents, fluttering in the breeze. The plains of Caradrea leveled out at the edge of the camp and would provide no shelter to conceal them. Beyond the encampment Everine saw nothing but desert.

  “We can’t possibly pass them unseen,” Birken whispered as they edged back down the slope. “They’ll have scouts patrolling all over this place, and Silverlings have extraordinary sight, like that of a hawk. They can see much farther than either of us.”

  “Could we try to go around?”

  “If you’ve no sense of self-preservation, I guess you could give it a crack.”

  Everine stuck her tongue out. “Okay, I get it. We turn around, then. We’ll head back the way we came for now.”

  They climbed onto the unicorns with less confidence than when they first touched Caradrean soil.

  When they entered the mountain pass again, the sound of thundering hooves rolled through the passage ahead of them.

  Still on the other end of the pass, a band of Silverlings riding unicorns with sawn-off horns closed in. Everine shook with fear as she looked over at Birken.

  “This way!” he shouted.

  Everine turned Dandelion to follow him away from the pass. Birken stopped and dismounted Blaze when they approached the northern foothills of the mountain. He hurriedly removed the belongings from Blaze’s back before taking off the unicorn’s saddle.

  “What are you doing?” Everine cried.

  “Get Ayva—and release Dandelion. We take only the essentials we’ll be able to carry while climbing.” Birken dumped their belongings to the ground.

  “What?”

  “The unicorns can’t climb this mountain. It would be the death of them. But it might be our only chance of escape.” Birken stroked a hand over his head. “They belong to the plains of Caradrea. They’ll find their way.”

  “There’s no chance I’m leaving Dandelion to be slaughtered.” She shook her head wildly, holding the creature close to her. The yellow unicorn nudged her gently with her muzzle.

  “Ev, you have to. Besides, she’s a weed, remember?”

  Tears filled Everine’s eyes as she looked at Dandelion. Everine brought Ayva from the basket and placed her securely back under her cloak before fastening a waterskin to her waist. She put the bow and quiver over her shoulders and placed the dagger in her boot. Dandelion lifted her front hooves high in the air and backed away from Everine. The unicorns set off in a gallop.

  “Be safe,” Everine whispered after them.

  Hooves pounding against stone echoed through the pass.

  Everine tightened her cloak around Ayva and followed Birken up the ridge of the mountain. Though she had dreaded the thought of them before, now she wished desperately for those frightful stairs she had seen on the far side of the mountain. As it was, they faced what nature alone had created.

  The first part of the climb was bearable, broken by flat areas and natural erosion to guide them. After a time, however, it became increasingly difficult to scale the steep peak. Beads of sweat trickled down the nape of Everine’s neck as she ascended the treacherous mountain. Loose rocks made it difficult to latch on to its exfoliated stonewalls.

  Her dress caught on stony spikes, and the increasing wind pulled at it. The climb had steepened, and the sun was dropping to the horizon when they found a small ledge where they could rest.

  “You won’t be able to climb much further in that dress,” Birken said.

  “I don’t think I can climb any further at all,” she confessed.

  Birken leaned against the wall, wiping his brow. He eyed Everine before his gaze shifted, and something like a shadow drifted across his face. “You’re going to have to find a way,” he said, folding one clammy hand around her chin, and turning her face downward.

  At the foot of the mountain, a group of what looked to be more than a hundred Silverlings were dismounting their enslaved unicorns. Everine’s heart raced. She scanned the foothills, relieved not to see their former mounts anywhere. But her relief was short-lived after the largest of the Silverlings pointed a finger straight up at her, shouting something to the rest. The throng of Silverlings dismounted their unicorns and started to tackle the ridge of the mountain in furious pursuit.

  Everine stroked Ayva absently on her head, and she responded with soft grunts.

  “Knife,” Everine said, extending her arm. Birken handed her his knife, and she made two long cuts down the front of her dress, from hips to hem. Then she handed the knife back to him. “Make a cut down the back of my dress. It needs to run from the top of my thighs to my feet. Be quick about it!”

  Touching her waist carefully with his left hand, Birken sliced through the thick material. He released her and moved back.

  Balancing on the narrow ledge, Everine pulled the front of her skirt between her legs and wrapped it around her waist. She tied the rest around her ankles to form makeshift pants. She checked once more that Ayva was secure and Birken nodded his approval.

  He stifled a laugh. “Go on, then.”

  As they resumed their climb, Everine saw that the Silverlings were gaining ground. Birken picked up a loose rock and hurled it at one of their pursuers. The Silverling plummeted downward from the impact.

  An arrow flew towards them and bounced off the mountain wall not far below their feet. Another almost hit Birken’s neck. “Faster,” he shouted.

  Fatigue rolled over Everine, but she willed her legs to move faster. In her haste, her hand slipped, and she lost her grip. She nearly tumbled down the mountainside, but Birken’s hand grabbed onto her arm, flinging her to his back.

  “Can you hold on to me?” Birken asked.

  “I’ll try,” Everine gasped.

  Birken quickened his pace, and the gap between them and their pursuers grew.

  Everine had no idea how long they had been climbing when she caught the sound of something sailing past them through the air. It was dark now, but the moon cast an eerie light.

  A flock of griffins had surrounded them. Their size was greater than Everine had imagined. They varied a great deal in size and color individually, but the wingspan of the largest griffins was roughly equal to the height of six men. Their eyes and beaks were much like a hawk’s, and their bodies, though they resembled those of lions, were covered with feathers. The rest of them was blanketed in soft fur.

  Birken cried out in pain. Everine saw that an arrow had gone straight through his right calf. He stopped for a heartbeat, but then clenched his teeth and resumed his climb. Somehow ignoring the pain, he continued to gain speed as he went.

  A copper griffin swooped by, diving towards the Silverling with the bow. The griffin grabbed at his arms with its claws before it skewered him between his shoulder blades with its beak and threw him aside. His screams faded as he fell out of sight. Everine flinched, but was glad to see him go.

  griffins were said to be proud and kind, apt to shy away from a fight if they could. Still, after what she had just witnessed, Everine felt she would not want to anger them.

  Down the spine of the mountain, their remaining attackers continued their ascent. The foggy mist surrounding the mountain peak was a blessing, shielding Everine, Birken, and Ayva for the last part of the climb. It would not be long before they reached the top.

  No more arrows came their w
ay. Though it might have been thanks to the shield of mist, Everine thought it was likely because the griffins didn't tolerate the Silverlings’ attacks. Everine was thankful that the creatures had come to their aid.

  With a final burst of effort, Birken heaved himself over the ledge above them, pulling Everine up after him. They had reached an enormous plateau that stretched out from the mountain’s very peak. Birken collapsed to his knees, panting from the climb.

  Several yawning caves opened into the peak of the mountain. Scattered across the plateau Everine saw nearly a hundred griffins, many relaxing on the stony ground or strutting serenely across it.

  The air brushed Everine’s face as a griffin swooped down. He alighted with ease a few feet away before he trotted over. His eyes echoed the light blue of his feathers, which covered his neck, the ridge of his back, and his enormous wings. The rest of him was coated in thick fur as white as snow.

  “Birken, you great fool,” the griffin said good-naturedly. His deep voice surprised Everine. “you're injured,” the griffin observed. “And you’ve brought company.”

  Birken nodded weakly.

  “Please, sir…um…he is injured,” Everine said.

  The griffin looked at her with wise eyes. “My name is Ondox, miss. You’re not safe up here and there’s no way to get you safely off this mountain—besides flying, that is.” He winked one bicolored, slanted eye at her—his irises were both blue and white, framed by a black circle.

  “That’s why we came. Ondox, we really need your help. We could not escape our pursuers on the ground.” Birken’s voice was feeble.

  “I can see that.” The griffin snorted. “Exactly how far do you expect me to get you? The Silverlings are everywhere these days, and they hunt anything that moves within their range. They’ve even turned to the skies. I hear they’re recruiting Vulkan hawks now,” he said with distaste.

  Everine shuddered. The Vulkan hawks were enormous, almost the size of a large griffin. “I would like to get as far as Cazib,” she said.

  “I’m afraid that’s asking too much.” Ondox shook his head. “I fear I would not return. The space is too open for anyone to miss a griffin my size landing somewhere in those parts.”

  Birken grunted. “Will you take us to Bermunnos then? If you do, I’ll owe you a great deal.”

  The griffin pondered Birken’s words for a short while, before admitting, “It’s an interesting proposition you make. Your bargains are usually favorable. I’m still not sure, however, what you have to offer that would make me inclined to take such a risk. It would be dangerous for me to aid you more than I already have, Earthling.” He pawed his front claws lightly on the stone surface.

  “Please, take your time,” Birken said, clearly agitated.

  The fabric across Everine’s chest shifted, and Ayva made a disgruntled sound.

  Ondox slanted his head. “What’s that?” The griffin’s eyes narrowed as he stepped closer.

  Everine took a step back, placing a protective hand over Ayva.

  Birken tilted his chin at her. “Ev, it’s alright. Ondox would never hurt her.”

  Reluctantly, Everine presented Ayva to the griffin. His eyes widened with wonder. Deep within her irises lay blue skies and happy griffins flying through the air.

  “What a dazzling little apparition. Where did you come upon her, Birken? I would very much like to hear the tale.”

  Everine drew Ayva back to her and swiftly strapped her to her chest. “If it pleases you, sir, I’ll tell you as we fly to Bermunnos. Will you do us the honor?”

  After hesitating briefly, Ondox bowed his head and bent his knees to allow them to climb onto his back.

  Birken struggled to mount the griffin, but eventually they were all in place. Birken sprawled across Ondox’s back on his stomach, and Everine sat behind him, making sure Ayva was strapped securely to her chest. Everine glanced at the arrow still embedded in Birken’s calf. There was no time to deal with that now. The griffin spread his wings wide, turned, and raced for the edge of the cliff.

  Two Silverlings clambered onto the plateau. Spotting their fleeing prey, they ran, pulling out their bows and arrows. They were still stringing their bows when a pair of young griffins went for their throats. The Silverlings dropped their weapons. They leaped sideways, pulled out their swords, whipped around, and cut down the attacking griffins. The remaining griffins shrieked, and a throng of Silverlings entered the plateau.

  One huge griffin spread his wings, allowing the air currents to barely pull him off the ground before he plunged his claws into a couple of Silverlings in front of him, wrapping his wings around them. Pools of blood seeped through his pink feathers, darkening them. A group of the newly arrived Silverlings descended on the griffin, slashing and cutting through his wing joints until they fell away from his body in pieces. One of them plunged his sword into the hollow of the griffin’s beak, and the griffin fell back with a cry.

  Ondox’s squawk filled the night as he banked sideways. He hovered a short distance away from the peak.

  One more Silverling reached the plateau. He was much larger than his companions. A griffin with vibrant emerald feathers and sun-yellow fur charged him. The Silverling drew his sword, dropped to his knees, and thrust his blade into the approaching griffin’s chest. When another griffin followed after the first, the Silverling swung around once and cut the griffin’s head clean off. Another two griffins went down as the Silverling slashed through their legs.

  The remaining griffins scattered. Some continued to attack the Silverlings, taking down or injuring some of them, but those who stayed eventually fell to their deaths.

  The griffins fled from their home, bounding away from the cliff, as yet more Silverlings arrived on the plateau. Glancing back, Everine met the eyes of the largest Silverling for a split second before Ondox flew into a thick cloud and hid them from sight. The wind rushed through her hair as they left Griffin Peak behind.

  As they flew, Everine made a feeble attempt at binding Birken’s wound with fabric she had torn off of her mangled skirt. She didn't dare pull the arrow out so she wrapped the fabric around the shaft as tight as she could. She frowned. He would need to be properly attended to soon. She feared he might lose too much blood.

  “I’m sorry about your friends, Ondox,” Everine said while she worked.

  The muscles in Ondox’s body tightened. He replied with an edge of pride in his deep voice,” They died honorably. All that live will eventually return to nature’s bosom. It is as it was intended.”

  Time dragged on, broken only by Ayva’s soft gurgling. Ondox’s wings fell and lifted at the edges of Everine’s vision, his feathers rustling lightly in the wind. Everine ran her fingers through the griffin’s soft fur, which grew long enough to envelop her hands entirely.

  “Exactly how old are you, Ondox?” she asked.

  “By your timescale? I’d say about one thousand, two hundred, and fourteen years young—give or take a decade.” He chuckled.

  Everine searched for graying feathers or other signs of aging but found none. Ondox stretched his wings before he lifted them. He bent them in large bridges, then beat them downwards, carrying them through a cloud.

  Everine shivered and her throat choked up. She exhaled and tiny particles of frozen crystals formed in the thin air. “Ondox, we can not breath up here,” she croaked. Before she knew it, they had swooped beneath the layers of white sheets once more. Everine gulped down the fresh air and steadied herself with slow breaths.

  She preoccupied herself by telling Ondox of their journey from Lycobris. The griffin asked a lot of questions, but Everine didn't mind his questioning. It kept her from focusing on other pressing matters.

  The griffin was particularly keen to know more about Ayva. Everine was cautious about what she told him, but the griffin had promised not to tell anyone about her child. He had sworn on his beak and feathers to keep her secret, and Everine found that she trusted him.

  She would have enjoyed the fligh
t much more had it not been for her growing concern that Birken was slipping away. Every so often she nudged him and dribbled what water she had left in her waterskin into his mouth. As time went on, however, it proved increasingly difficult to get his attention. The thought of Birken not surviving terrified her more than she could have imagined.

  “We really ought to land soon,” she fretted.

  The griffin pondered this, but eventually he said, “It would be better if we went straight to Bermunnos, but I do know of a place where we might get some help—if the woman who lives there so chooses.”

  “Then that’s where we go.” Everine didn't hesitate.

  “Before you decide, you need to know you should not ask anything of her. No favors. She’s a magical being, but her gifts, as with all magic, are never without consequence.” His tone was grave.

  “I promise to remember that, but my mind is unchanged.”

  “As you wish.” Ondox banked left. He lost height to follow the peaks of the thousands of ginkgos and maples that created the vivid yellow and red colors of the Catyan Forest, northwest of Griffin Peak.

  Everine wrinkled her nose. The pungent smell of ash with a sweet hint of fruitiness was overpowering. The outskirts of the forest, which led onto the plains of Caradrea, looked singed. The earth was blackened, covered in fallen burnt branches. “What happened here?” Everine asked.

  “Wildfire.” Ondox dipped his head. “The forest used to cover much more of the ground that’s now become a part of the plains.”

  Natural disasters had been striking all over Aradria, and seemed only to have increased under the two centuries long rule of the Heartless King. Seeing the results was far different from hearing about them, however. Everine was sad to finally comprehend the extent of the destructive forces of nature.

  Everine yawned and left the wrath of nature to be pondered another day. Instead, she ensured she had tied them all properly to the griffin’s back.

  She sang Ayva one of Serena’s lullabies, then closed her own eyes and slept. As she drifted off, she heard a woman’s voice at the back of her mind.