Flight of the Gryphon

by Ann Durand

The large hoshdel knelt slowly in the mud beside her, the heat falling off the animal's immense belly and bathing her in its mist. The silver man's long arm reached out and hooked her around her waist. Plucking her out of the mud, he slung her over the animal's withers onto her stomach in front of the saddle horn. Before she could object, the hoshdel rose and was barreling out of the mud and into the forest at a gallop. Her heart thudded in fear as she realized the silver man was heading the animal in the wrong direction, away from the river. She tried to cry out again, but her voice faded into the noise of pounding hooves. The man's thigh was inches from her head, so she stretched her neck out and let her teeth sink into the silver suit.

  The layer of suit was thin, like a single shaving from the ternok tree used for writing. Her teeth did not puncture through it though, which was odd, since she felt the flesh beneath it yield under her bite. The silver man yelped, reined in the hoshdel and pried her loose, tossing her unceremoniously onto the ground.

  She landed in the dirt on her back, the lasso still attached to her foot. She stared up at him, the Voice still reverberating inside her head. He hopped off his hoshdel brandishing a long, slender dagger. Katera gulped and sat up, but he pushed her back to the ground, pinning her with one arm. With the other, he brought the knife to her forehead, pressed the sharp tip into it and sliced. A streak of warm red liquid trickled between Katera's eyes just before she passed out.

  Chapter Two

  Katera's eyes opened slowly. She could see nothing in the blackness. She reached out and felt a pad beneath her filled with something soft, like bird down. She felt around it. It was laid out over a hard surface. Was it rock? Stretching her arm out further, her hand hit a wall, a bumpy wall. Was she in a cave?

  Her forehead throbbed, and she remembered. Her hand flew to a small bandage over her forehead. The silver man…he had cut her. What happened after that? Who had bandaged her?

  She patted her hands over the rest of her head and body. Everything felt fine. Other than the cut, she was not harmed. But why did he do it? Her Lan Ma Ke had glowed in safety around him. Could it be that her gift had failed her?

  She heard a faint scuffling in the darkness and froze. A dim light glowed in the distance. Someone was coming. She rolled off the pad and crawled on her hands and knees over the rock floor. Whoever it was expected to find her on the pad. If she could find a place to hide...a crevice, or maybe a way out…

  Her head bumped lightly into another rock wall. She stood and felt her way down the length of it. The light behind her grew brighter. She could hear footsteps. Frantically, her hands traveled over the rough stone surface, searching.

  Too soon, the light rounded a corner and flooded the cavern. She spun around to face the intruder. Under his chin, he held a lanadik, the light-without-fire carried by the Kastaks. From the dark shadow outlining his face, she recognized the silver man with the golden hair. She glanced around the room to get her bearings. A large wooden table, rough-hewn, lay against the far wall. Another wooden structure resembling a chest lay next to it. More furniture lined the wall next to the pad on the floor. Someone lived here. Her gaze turned back to the man behind the light.

  "Well, I see you're up," he said. At the sound of his voice, her Lan Ma Ke erupted in a blaze of warmth. No, she realized, as her tension dissolved, she need not fear this stranger in the ulli suit.

  "Who are you?" she asked.

  "The last time you asked me that question, you were writhing in the mud." He crossed the floor and stuck the lanadik inside a sconce mounted on the cave wall. "Are you sure you want to ask again?" He laughed and turned to her. In a soft voice, he added, "There were words screaming in your head, right?"

  Katera nodded. She'd forgotten about the Voice. She hadn't heard it since she'd awakened ten minutes ago. Again, she touched the bandage on her forehead.

  "What…what happened?"

  The silver man laughed. "That evil voice inside your head is gone. That's what happened."

  "How? I mean…who are you?"

  "Okay, that's the third time you've asked." He smiled. "I guess you deserve an explanation. My name is…well, just call me Mikolen. I have lived in these caves for ten years."

  "That's how long Askinadon has been on Kan Mountain. You're not…you don't keep his company, do you?"

  The smile fell off his face. "No, I do not."

  "Yet, you wear the ulli."

  Mikolen pinched the sleeve of the strange silver fabric. "The ulli. Yes, that's what your people call our lab suit. I wear the ulli, because I hail from the same place as Askinadon, but I do not…keep his company." Mikolen dropped his hand, paused. "Why were you headed down river? I didn't see you struggling to get out."

  "I did not want to leave the river. I wanted to go over the edge."

  "To your death."

  He stated this as if Katera was not aware. "Yes."

  "Why?"

  He crossed his arms and looked at her with his head cocked. A strand of his golden hair escaped from the tie behind his head and fell loosely over his shoulder. She wondered, briefly, what he looked like with his hair down.

  "Because I had been Chosen." Katera lifted her chin. "And I would rather die than go to Askinadon."

  "Ah." Mikolen nodded. "One of the Chosen. Lucky you."

  Katera leveled her eyes at him. "My sister was Chosen, also."

  "Your sister, too? Really?" He sounded surprised. "That's a new one. Two virgins from the same family." His eyes swept over Katera's body outlined inside her clothes, and settled on her eyes. Her face grew hot.

  "Askinadon is a greedy rat," he declared.

  A greedy rat? How did this strange man get away with this blasphemy? And what did he mean, as you call him? What did he call him? One did not deviate from the titles that Askinadon gave himself and his servants. Did this man not fear the wrath of Askinadon? Did not the Voice scream vengeance inside his head? She had chosen to die, but why was he willing to risk everything?

  Then she remembered: the Voice was gone from her head forever. Could that be true? Was he free from the Voice, as well? She fingered her bandage tentatively.

  "How does that feel?" he asked.

  "Alright." She dropped her hand. "Why did you cut me?"

  "To remove something," he said, digging into a pocket in his ulli. "To get this out of your head." He pulled his hand up and held out a small, thin, flesh colored disc.

  "That was in my head?" Katera peered at it.

  Mikolen nodded. "This is the Voice. When this is gone from your head, the Voice can no longer speak inside you."

  Katera was stunned. The Voice lived inside the will of Askinadon, a will powerful enough to enter into the minds and thoughts of her people, did it not? How could that big booming Voice with all its power fit inside that insignificant little round thing?

  "Askinadon is a god," she said, disbelieving. "He rules over us, as well as the Kastaks, the rocsadons, the takataks…all the beasts of the realm. He resides on the summit of Kan Mountain and sees everything. He does not live in that little thing." She pointed at it. "Askinadon is all powerful."

  Mikolen threw back his head and laughed. Katera waited, surprised…and more than a little embarrassed as he paraded around the room, roaring happily. When his mirth had ebbed, he drew his head down and spoke quietly, his eyes twinkling.

  "My dear girl, whoever you are…the power of Askinadon does indeed live inside that little round thing. It contains the full extent of his power. With it, he controls his entire empire. When it is gone from your head, he no longer has any power over you."

  It must be true. Her head, though throbbing from the cut, had never felt quite so…light. Not since she was sixteen years old, before that terrible day that Askinadon had announced his presence. She felt free, free to think…free to wonder…

  "Where did Askinadon come from?" she asked, her spirits soaring for the first time in many years. "Our people…we used to be so happy. And then one day, he was just there. His kingdom simply appeared
on the summit of Kan Mountain. How did he get here? And what of the virgins that he calls to him? What happens to them? Do you know if they're alive?"

  "Whoa, whoa." Mikolen held up both hands. "That's a lot of asking. We're going to have to take this one question at a time." His eyes traveled over her clothes. "But first things first. You, dear lady, need a bath."

  He was right. Her hair, her spullera, her panna, everything, was caked with dried mud, not to mention the streaks of dried blood on her face.

  "Do you have a…"

  "Place to bathe?" he finished. "Yes. And it's ready for you. You can wash while I find you some clean clothes. When you're finished, we'll eat. Then you can ask your questions."

  Katera felt a wave of relief surge through her. Her Lan Ma Ke was glowing like the moon in its fullness. This silver man…Mikolen...he must be another god-a god opposed to the horrible Askinadon. A flicker of hope sparked inside her. Maybe he held the power to fight and win against Askinadon.

  Holding the lanadik, he led her through a low tunnel to another large cavern, dominated by a natural pool. The room was very warm and humid. As he turned to light another lanadik on the wall, she noticed a trail of steam rising from the pool and drifting toward several small sky holes in the chamber ceiling.

  "A hot spring," Katera cried, elated.

  "I hope it's not too hot," he said.

  Katera stuck her hand in the water. It was quite toasty-just right.

  "It feels wonderful," she said, feeling shy. "Thank you…Mikolen."

  Mikolen smiled warmly, obviously pleased. "There is a blanket over there." He pointed to a bench. "You can dry yourself when you're done." He turned to leave, carrying his lanadik and heading toward the tunnel. "I'll be back with clean clothes."

  "Thanks again!" she called, after him. As an afterthought, she added, "My name is Katera."

  She thought she heard him chuckling as his footsteps faded away.

  Chapter Three

  Adrella shifted Rorken to her other hip and leaned into the crank, drawing the pail of water in its final yard out of the well. Rorken, just fifteen months old, gurgled his pleasure as the pail reached its summit.

  "Wa," he said, reaching out his small hand toward it. "Wawa."

  "Yes, water, for your bath." Adrella tied off the line and lifted the pail off its hook, all the while juggling Rorken around her bulging belly.

  "Baa baa," he laughed. "Wowon tik baa."

  "Yes, Rorken take a bath."

  Adrella cooed, kissing her baby lightly on the head. Swinging the pail to her side, she hoisted Rorken higher on her hip and lumbered off to her shelter, her swollen tummy leading the way. As she turned the corner toward the harem's quarters and her hosta, a dome-shaped house of clay and sticks, she froze in her tracks. A tall figure stood next to it dressed in an ulli. She spun awkwardly on her heels and started back around the corner, but it was too late.

  "Adrella!" the Kastak called. Adrella turned to face him, but did not approach. "Come here," he ordered.

  Reluctantly, she moved toward him, swaying from side to side over her enormous load of child, bucket, and belly. The Kastak drummed his fingers on his biston, the small device hooked to his belt that summoned the Voice. As he motioned to lift it, she picked up her gait, spilling a good portion of the water as she wobbled toward him. When she reached him, she lowered the pail onto the ground and wrapped both arms around Rorken. Carefully, she pinned her eyes on the Kastak's feet.

  "What is your bidding, Kastak Morchison, greatness be yours?" she asked, addressing him in the manner of respect that was demanded of Askinadon's wives.

  Kastak Morchison curled his lip, sneering down at her from his lofty height of six-feet seven-inches. He squinted with his tiny, black eyes, which appeared as dark slits in his puffy face. She knew that he hated her and would have her balancing on top the terrifying post inside the rocsadons' lair while the animals raged around her, were it not for Askinadon. Morchison had learned her opinion of him when she had acted out her mockery in front of the other wives, laughing after hours when they thought the kingdom slept, when they believed the Voice had retired for the night. She had taught the others to speak freely about Askinadon and his horrid Kastaks in those twilight hours when they assumed no one was listening. But on this night the Voice had not retired.

  She had been imitating the walk and talk of Morchison, strutting with her chest held out, her chin high, when the words crashed into her head. Adrella, you scorn the Kastak. Come at once to my palace.

  The others trembled as Adrella made her way out the door of her hosta where they had all gathered. She walked down the dirt path, past the rocsadon's high stone corrals where long columns of mist propelled into the air, and through the great gates into the courtyard of the palace. Askinadon was waiting for her, his thick arms crossed over his chest, his ulli gleaming in the light of the lanadiks dotting the walls. She lowered her head in front of him, as was the custom.

  "Your bidding is my only desire, God of Parallon and Husband of my Dreams, greatness be yours," she said, mouthing the requisite words and managing, once again, to conceal her disdain.

  "Look at me, Adrella." His voice was soft. She lifted her head in practiced obedience and stared into the cool, grey eyes of the man who tortured her daily with his perverted will. His face was pale and dry, etched with lines that crisscrossed over the loose skin of his cheeks. His hair, sparsely distributed, was graying at the temples. "Adrella. Dear, dear Adrella. You know the rules. No mockery of my Kastaks or me…ever."

  "My deepest apology, Master." Adrella knew how to appease this monster. She needed to stay on his good side for the sake of her child, for the sake of all the children and their mothers. "Your great wisdom is, as always, received in humble gratitude." She curtsied to the ground, her hands crossed over her chest in supplication.

  It had worked. Askinadon released her back to her hosta with an admonition. Yet, when Morchison learned of her ridicule of him, and astonishingly, her subsequent release without a single hour in the rocsadon's den, he openly fumed.

  "One of these days," he promised her, "I will lead you personally to the rocsadons. And when I do…when I do…"

  Only Askinadon's merciless grip upon his Kastaks had kept the full effect of Morchison's wrath at bay. That, however, did not prevent Morchison from deriding her at every opportunity. Even now, as she jiggled Rorken in desperation to keep him quiet, the Kastak eyed her with undisguised contempt.

  "So, great whore of Askinadon, why don't you hand over your little tot to me?" He asked, watching her closely. "I'd like to start training him. Eventually, he's going to have to learn, so why don't we get started early?"

  The sneer on his face grew into a sickening grin, and Adrella's heart skipped a beat. The threat was real. Only the sons of Askinadon were targeted for membership in this brutal band of slave-warriors, and while their apprenticeship did not begin until the tender age of five, a Kastak could request a charge early. Adrella rotated her hip, moving it and Rorken away from Morchison.

  "Great Kastak Morchison, why should you bother with an interest in me and mine? I am not fit to stand before you in all my humility."

  Morchison snorted happily, consoled for the moment. "You got that right, whore."

  Adrella lowered her head, hoping to appease him further. She heard him suck up his oral juices and spit at her feet. She watched in disgust as a foamy gob plopped onto the dust and floated near her toes, which were poking out the ends of her sandals.

  "Go to Askinadon. He summons you to his chambers."

  Adrella's eyes widened. "But I am eight months pregnant, Kastak Morchison. Why would the Great Master need to see me? I already carry his seed."

  Morchison laughed at her displeasure. "Dunno. Probably wants to try something new."

  Adrella opened her mouth to speak, but decided against it. She would have to go to Askinadon. In that, she had no choice. There was no sense in arguing with this ill-tempered Kastak who had little more power
to make an independent decision than she did. She curtsied before him.

  "I shall take the child to the nursery and make haste to my Master's side."

  "Go, whore. And have a great night."

  Morchison swaggered away, sniggering loudly. Adrella sighed in resignation and marched off with Rorken to the nursery, where Askinadon's newest wife, Shamana, abducted by the takatak last year, was watching over several harem babies. Shamana looked up as Adrella entered the room, greeting her with sad eyes.

  "Hello, Adrella."

  Her voice had become cheerless these past months, undoubtedly due to the hideous monotony of relentless yielding. Poor thing. She had just turned seventeen when she'd been stolen from the village. Shamana was small and had a baby face, making her appear even younger.

  "Will you watch Rorken for me, Shamana? I have been summoned."

  Shamana's eyes filled with a look of pity, but she said nothing. She flipped her long, thin hair behind her shoulders, reached out, and lifted Rorken from Adrella's arms. She set him in a large cradle with the other babies.

  "Thank-you," Adrella whispered.

  Shamana glanced at Adrella before turning her somber attention back to the babies. With one hand affixed to the cradle, she rocked it stiffly as her body moved back and forth, joined in the motion. Adrella stole out the door and headed to the palace courtyard where Askinadon received his wives. She slipped through the towering gates, which had been left open for her, and spotted Askinadon pacing across the yard. The tall, rectangular castle loomed behind him with its three, red interlocking circles emblazoned across the facade. Askinadon stopped as she drew near and looked her over. She thought she spied a hint of anxiety flicker across his face, but it was so quick she could not be sure.

  "Hello, Adrella." He smiled.

  "Hello, God of Parallon and Husband of my Heart. Greatness be yours." Adrella bent her head before him as she spoke.

  "Yes, yes." He flapped his hand, dispensing with the formality. "I have summoned you because…I need to ask you…uh…"