The tight stairwell of the tower had Shala wondering how the Knights marched here with broad shoulders and large booted feet. The climb always felt exceedingly long, even though it only covered five stories. From a heavy trapdoor she happily breached into the aviary, the top level of the tower holding stalls and boasting wide open orifices into the open air. Hay and feathers covered the floor and large mangers filled with seeds were placed here and there for feeding. Each of the stalls could easily have held three horses. For now, thanks to Swarztial, the tower was mostly empty save for one lone creature that slept out of sight, the Princess already hearing the deep breathing that permeated through the yellow brick interior. Shala peered into each of the cabinets until she found the griffin.
Across the western realm the Knights ruled the skies, from atop the creatures that conquered an ancient rule of dragons before man could build wide open cities, fearing fire from the sky. As though feeling Shala's gaze the griffin came awake, finding its feet frighteningly fast, suddenly standing taller than the Princess, the eagle eyes fiercely focused. It marched straight out, Shala retreating before the path of the riled creature.
Outside the stall and with space above its head, the griffin reared on its hind legs, standing tall and spreading its wings threateningly, tip-toeing to keep its balance, looming over the Princess, chest puffed and claws flexing, beady eyes looking down on her.
‘Enough of that Sunset, save it for a stranger, we go through this ritual every time, you’ll not frighten me away with your pose. The griffin relented in its display, coming down to all fours and continued to stare at Shala with a keen gaze of bold expectations.
‘Yes, yes, I brought you fruits,’ said Shala laying open the basket, and setting it out at the creature's talons, knowing by now that the immense beak was likely to ruin the basket with little effort. At least it waits with as much patience as it could muster, thought Shala.
They were marvellously intelligent creatures, lacking only the vocal abilities of a parrot. But then with voices they would altogether get too wise for their own good, thought Shala. Griffins like Sunset here all had names contrived from meteorological or astrological nature, names like Strongwind, Comet and Thunder.
Sunset had worked his way through half of the basket’s treats when Shala heard footsteps on the stairwell. Her stomach made a knot as it often did these days. She had come here because she enjoyed it, but also because she wanted privacy and this was one of the last places Swarztial’s lackeys would hound her. She was sure of it, until now.
Maybe it is deBella, thought Shala hopefully, although she didn’t want any kind of company except the bird’s at the moment. She grew quietly angry at Kaell for betraying her location.
The trapdoor flung open with a heavy push, and an old hand caught the stone rim to lift himself out of the hole. Of all the people Shala had expected to see, Gremhalden was the last of them, not because he didn’t belong here, but because the man was practically crippled down the left side of his body. The old man, former Knight, was as tough as oak Shala knew, but then she had not imagined he would pain himself by daring onto the stairs, and she realized he too must come here often.
Sunset had been his griffin after all; before Gremhalden’s great fall that is. Since then the Knight had never flown again. To this day Gremhalden kept his bastard sword at his side, as though a reminder to all of what he once was. Shala wondered if he could still even use the heavy blade. She knew him to use the weapon as a cane at times, when his crippled leg was particularly weak or painful. He however would never admit to needing a cane.
Gremhalden noticed Shala where she sat in the hay and she managed to get a surprised look from his old face before he composed himself. Clearly he had not been looking for her.
‘Highness,’ he greeted gruffly.
In her short life Shala had never met a man who talked as little as Gremhalden. At the best of times he seemed irritated, and even when he went through the pleasantries of conversation he would come off as rude. He kept his beard neat as there was no hair on his head, and his one ear always seemed larger than the other.
Shala stood up, quickly dusting the hay from her clothes, questioning her own wisdom of donning a woollen dress today. Gremhalden held up his hand as he came to a sit, breathing relieved as he recovered from what must’ve been a stiff expedition to the tower top.
‘Please Highness, I did not wish to intrude, be at ease, the griffin-beast enjoys the company of many; unlike me he craves lavish attention.’
‘I’m afraid I’m the one who feels the intruder,’ said Shala.
Gremhalden gave a hoarse chuckle. ‘Intruder in your own castle your Highness?’
‘You would not think it sir Knight, but there are many who enjoy seeing me as unwelcome here as I feel at times.’
Gremhalden’s face turned serious. ‘I know, blasted connivers and schemers. The castle is full of them of late, and with your father’s passing they will swoop in on every scrap of the kingdom like the vultures they are.
And yes Highness, everyone by now calls Swarztial the Vulture behind his back. Anyone with sense that is. Unfortunately it's a worse time to be a young ruler, and a woman at that,’ said Gremhalden.
Shala frowned at the last remark, although suspecting the Knight was being straightforward rather than insulting.
‘Attoras has seen better days. I remember when the Wolves kept this place in your father's service even the shadows on the walls feared trespass.’
‘At least we have you Master Gremhalden, Captain Merohan always says your presence stifles wrongdoers.’
Gremhalden grunted. ‘He means I scare layabouts, kitchen boys and members of the guard who can't tell which end of their swords to use. The Wolves were a different breed entirely Your Highness. Had I been born in Attoras I would have preferred to have risen in their ranks. I would have served you and your father right from the start, and no one else! I would have liked that. Born in the wrong city I guess...ʼ
‘But then you would never have gotten the chance to fly,’ pressed Shala, looking at Sunset as though he too should be upset by this.
‘Aye, that is true, and I so sorely miss flying, but what I mean to say is that there is a price to be paid in Knighthood.’
‘You don’t get to take a wife?’ suggested Shala.
‘Bah, why would I bind myself to one woman?’ said Gremhalden.
Shala was taken aback by the answer. Why wouldn’t someone want to marry if they could do so for love? She wondered. At this stage in her life she didn’t understand it and Gremhalden decided not to pursue an answer to her frown.
‘No Highness, I mean the duties within the Knighthood, they make a man weary. As long as the Knights depart from here they would call you Commander, but they will answer to an entirely different power should the call come.’
‘Yes, the Crimson City. And that is not all that bad, better than Swarztial commanding them anyhow. I don’t mind losing their service to Allandiel when the need is great.’
‘Aha, but Swarztial commands them exactly because he is so snug with the Crimson City, especially this Bishop who visits us, Father Jaegosh I heard them call him.’
Shala's face darkened. ‘Yes, Swarztial worms his way into anything. It makes me sick to the stomach to think he may manipulate those close to the Benevolence,’ said Shala irritably. ‘At least I know the Knights keep peace in the Western realm, peace we have to be thankful for, not even Swarztial will change that.’
‘But you see Your Highness, the Knights and their griffins are a contract between nations. They will not easily spark war, but they maintain a peace that is as enforced as it is agreed upon.’
‘I don’t follow all that well Gremhalden,’ said Shala.
‘You will as you come to know the world. Suffice it to say that as Knights we were often forced to do things that collided with our principles. The burden of having so many affiliates I guess. With Knights it is never simple, never. Our way of keeping the peace always profited one nati
on at the expense of another. Between the complexities of what we deem moral I’m not sure we were ever loyal to anyone; not really. That is where I’m envious of the Wolves; their charge was a simple one.’
Shala feared that the man would smear his old life without cease and bring onto himself a sour mood. She would rather change the subject.
‘What can you tell me of the Wolves, Gremhalden?’ asked Shala. This was one of her favourite subjects after all.
Gremhalden lifted a querying eyebrow. He would oblige, but not really know the point of it.
Shala caught his questioning expression and said, ‘I have read all the scripts of the Order of Severance that could be found in our records, but they tell little of what they really were. Honestly, it is sometimes hard to believe that they existed at all, and weren't some fabrication to scare off our enemies. Of course I do believe what Naceus told me, and deBella...well, they were not warriors, and did not fight alongside Wolves as you have.’
Gremhalden took a moment. ‘Highness, I don’t think I can tell you anything that you haven’t already heard. But what I can say, out of personal experience, is that they truly did live up to their reputation and I assure you, they were no fabrication. Oh and by the way Highness, you should know that we as Knights were as often at odds with the Wolves as we were their allies. Although sometimes you understand something better as an enemy I always say.’
Laying out his weak and atrophied leg before him, Gremhalden started, ‘They were men from the Black Mountain, living by choice in an old keep high up from here to serve your great grandfather who was King at the time. There in the cold they became strong, shaped their discipline and nothing could dampen their conviction. They protected not only the King and his house, but the realm was rid of many beasts and bandits because of them. They were the envy of other nations.
‘Their swordplay was their trademark, called the Savage Art of the Wolf, for you see Highness, most lads the Wolves accepted into their ranks were ambidextrous, and were thus taught to fight with two swords at a time, one in each hand.’
‘I’ve heard of this, and it made them the great fighting force they were, no?’ said Shala.
‘Yes,’ said Gremhalden, ‘Quick, merciless, overwhelming... it was remarkable to behold. Cunning and brave I'd add to that, and foregoing heavy armour just so that they can kill you faster. The rare ones like Taggandus were acrobats and he in particular instilled a terror and darkness upon the minds of his enemies wherever he went. Then, by the time you spotted one of them you could stake your life on it that the pack was already breathing down your back. Half-part of me says it's a shame that none now practice the Savage Art. The other half says it's too dangerous having such men around.’ Gremhalden shrugged at the thought. Then he laughed. ‘Personally I didn't think much of them when I first came here. Didn't like them.’
Shala wondered in amusement if the Knight liked anybody.
‘But when smoke and dragon-fire fell on Attoras they fought alongside us, and their skill and fearlessness turned away the best the Dragons could bring. One Wolf could be troublesome to a dozen men, and a pack of Wolves was all that was needed to defend a mountain pass against a force fifty times their own size, and that is not an exaggeration, Highness. Those dragon worshippers that came from the north of Cerron found their extinction confronting the overwhelming might of the Wolves at the peak of their powers.’
‘I wish we still had men like that, I do not wish to question the Crimson City, but I often do wonder why they scorned the Wolves and ordered them disbanded.’
‘Ha! Best we do not get into that my Lady. There are some debates that are as dangerous as they are convoluted, and we’ll never know what faceless cog made such a decision on behalf of His Benevolence.’
‘Agreed,’ said Shala. On that note a slight silence ensued between them, Sunset pawing the rest of the basket hopefully and Shala pushing the giant bird away from its contents.
‘Well then, I must be off,’ said Gremhalden. ‘If I’m not a frightening presence roaming the halls then the youngsters of the guard become careless - real lazy bunch Gibbon has been accepting lately.’ He made an attempt to stand up, but his bad leg caved in and he sat down again. Shala pretended not to notice and Gremhalden quickly said something, as though he had decided to sit back down because he had something on his mind.
‘You know Highness, it’s your father the King that saved me.’
Shala looked at the man questioningly, while he stretched out his leg again.
‘On a day half a lifetime ago I fell from Sunset and onto the mountainside, engaged in battle and struck by a lucky projectile. I’m sure your Highness is familiar with my history. We were flying in a phalanx, chasing down a wounded dragon. No dragon can outrace a griffin in a dive, because they can't tuck their wings as well. I could already feel myself opening the lizard's great belly with a flash of my sword, but I was so focussed that I didn't realize how close we were to the mountain. One of those accursed dragon worshippers flung a javelin as we passed. It pierced my armour without wounding me, yet it lodged me out of the saddle. I fell. Rolling down the slope and the mounds of snow were the only reason I survived.
‘Given the nature of my injuries I should have died anyway, but your father took me to his infirmary, regardless of some differences between the Knights and Attoras at the time. Your father gave the best of himself and spent days wielding his healing hands. I remember the King at times looming over me, looking worse than I felt. Afterwards I was too crippled to fly.
‘I lost much, but I didn’t lose life and I owe your father a debt that cannot be repaid. I stayed on here as part of his guard because of that. And if only I was still a proper warrior I could have put myself between him and his enemies and died a warrior’s death. But as this world has it I’m all but crippled and his enemy was a malicious disease that no sword could stop. There is no justice.’
‘My father very much appreciated your service. I hope to keep a kingdom that will earn your allegiance once again,’ said Shala.
Gremhalden sighed. ‘I know you will. Farewell Highness, keep strong in the face of Swarztial, I’ll go now before I sit here cursing spineless politicians – it always happens when I talk too much.’ Labouredly he stood up, this time managing it. Shala had a hard time not jumping up and helping him; his pride wouldn't allow it. Gremhalden made a quick show of ruffling the short feathers on Sunset's head, as affectionate as anyone had ever seen the man with another living creature, and then he left.
Shala had some tears in her eyes, which she had kept well hidden until Gremhalden was out of sight. Some of them were for the tragedy of this man and his crippled body, but most were for her father, and the man he was. Attoras would never be the same, it had lost its heart.
The griffin, intuitive to her distress, or maybe simply craving attention, nudged her in the back with a giant beak as hard as rock and as smooth as ivory. Shala turned, wiping the tears away. ‘It’s alright Sunset,’ she said bringing her hands up and stroking the bird behind the upright ears, the one odd-piece of the otherwise bird-head.
Shala laughed with a thick voice. ‘Body of a lion, wings and head and talons of an eagle, and... ears of a Wolf?’ She said. ‘By what design were you made?’
Sunset made a screeching sound that blasted throughout, loud enough for the men below in the castle yard to have heard, and had Shala's ears ringing.
‘Easy there, I didn’t mean to judge, I think you are wonderful master of the skies. Had I but the knowledge of flight I would take you and pretend to fly far away and then return just as everyone starts worrying. But I guess I shouldn’t impede on the alone-right of the Knights as I’m already accused of traipsing naked in the halls.’
Apparently Swarztial talked venomously behind her back of the indecency of the Princess going naked into the Seluin waters of the Mountain. This she had heard from her chambermaid, Erika. Anything to discredit her, she realized.
Her thoughts returned to her
father and how Swarztial had taken over this castle since his death. ‘In time he’ll probably find some vendetta against you griffins as well.’
The griffin cawed in a manner as though sharing Shala's concern.
‘But don’t worry, I won’t let him, I’ll be the heart of the castle, like my father was, and when I’m Queen, men like Swarztial will cower away from Attoras just like they should.’
Dream of Embers Book 1 Page 8
