by J. C. Owens
The grif moved closer. The broad muzzle snuffled, drawing in his scent. With great caution, not wanting to startle this strange acquaintance, he extended his hand, leaving it palm up, unwavering. The golden eyes blinked, then looked at him with cautious inquiry before it reached out, the black nostrils flaring to drink in his scent more fully.
A touch, perhaps the first in hundreds of years between a wilds born and a human.
Then a flurry of movement, Andon knocked to the ground as the griffon fled back into the sky.
He had lain there for a long, long time, watching the sky, a wide grin in place.
From then on, he had seen the grif every few days, and each time it came closer, stayed longer. He began leaving meat for it. Deer, if he had a successful hunt, sometimes rabbit, sometimes fish or a duck or two. It devoured the offerings with complete gusto, and he felt a little guilty, like perhaps he was taming it to human contact when humans were anything but safe.
It was several weeks later that he came to grief.
He was chasing a mountain sheep, trailing the injured animal with desperate speed. He needed this meat, needed to dry it for the winter ahead.
His leather boot slipped upon a loose rock. He stumbled, fell, crashing over the edge of the steep path, and slid down a scree-covered slope before smashing into a boulder with considerable force.
Andon lay there, stunned, catching his breath, beginning to feel the myriad scrapes and cuts from the sharp rock. He looked up the slope, mourning the loss of his prey, not to mention the fact that the animal would die a slow and painful death somewhere. It was only when he tried to rise that he realized he was injured far worse than he had first assumed.
His ankle was swelling with alarming speed. He quickly unlaced the crude boot and pulled his foot free. Already it was purpling. He could barely touch it, and when he rose to his feet and tried to place his injured limb down, the pain made his head swim alarmingly.
He licked his lips, assessing the situation. He was far up the mountain, in an area of turbulent weather patterns, with no water, no food. It was a long way down to his shelter.
Finally, he sat back down, took out his knife, and cut the boot off above the ankle area. He laced it on loosely, then took the upper portion and shredded it into wide strips. Wrapping it around the ankle took time and patience. He gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain that was quickly becoming overwhelming.
His greatest fear was that his ankle was broken. If so, he would attempt to set it, but gentle probing seemed to lean more toward the possibility of a severe sprain. Either way, he would not be able to hunt for some time, meaning he would have to dip into his precious winter supplies.
Cursing under his breath, he got up, leaning on the boulder, before beginning the long and painful trip down the mountainside. Several times he fell, his balance completely thrown off, and each time he left blood behind upon the razor-sharp rocks, the sprain worsening. Once he struck the back of his head hard, so that it got to the point he had to fight off darkness, sometimes lying on the mountainside, panting, trying to gather enough strength to continue.
The sun was beginning to set. The temperature this high in the mountains was beginning to drop with the onset of night. He was shivering now with a combination of shock, pain, and cold, and it still seemed miles to his camp.
His drooping eyelids snapped open as he heard the sound of wings, then the grinding of scree under a heavy body. Struggling to his elbows, Andon stared blearily at a now familiar black form.
The purring noise was loud in the relative silence of the barren slope, and he found the strength for a tired grin. “Hello, friend. Come to see why I am acting so strangely?”
A chirp, then he froze as the giant head hovered directly over him, as the grif smelled him all over, a hint of concern in the actions.
The fur of the mane brushed against his face, and wonderingly, cautiously, he reached up to touch. It was soft and silky, wondrous against his fingertips.
The grif stiffened, freezing in place, and Andon sheepishly began to withdraw his hand, realizing that he had crossed a line between them.
Therefore, it came as a complete surprise when the creature suddenly leaned into the touch, almost demanding it.
He hesitated only a moment before sinking his fingers back into that luxurious fur and stroking more firmly.
The waning sunlight was blocked out completely as a great wing unfurled over him. Within moments he felt warmer, the heat from the grif radiating in the small space.
“Ceris.”
He blinked in confusion. What?
“My name. Ceris.”
Awe took away his ability to think. He knew grifs spoke, some very well, but to hear it for himself, within his mind, was a gift beyond price. Only riders knew this connection. It was like his childhood dream coming true.
“Andon. I am known as Andon,” he whispered, unsure of the mind link and needing to say the words aloud.
“Andon.” It was then he realized the femininity of the voice.
A female then. And so much larger than any other captive born he had seen. Still growing as well. She would be truly magnificent in maturity. He laughed in surprise as he felt the surge of pride and vanity his thought produced.
“You must rise. Cold here.”
The wing folded back and the cold of a stray breeze made him shiver alarmingly.
“Hold to me. Slide onto my shoulders.”
He struggled to his feet, panting, his senses swirling at the pain. “No. You are a wilds born. I would not…”
“On me.” The tone was adamant, with a hint of impatience and urgency.
He hesitated, leaning against her side, but it was dark now and he knew he had run out of options. He would very well die on this mountainside, weak as he was. Hunger and thirst already pushed at his mind.
Perhaps this was a fever dream, brought on by pain. He laughed at the thought. If this was a dream, then he had no reason to balk. To ride a grif? A lifelong dream.
Ceris offered a foreleg. With difficulty and clumsy with only one good leg, he managed, by dint of great effort, to pull himself onto her neck and then slide down to just above her shoulders.
It left him exhausted and only half aware.
“Hold to me.”
He obeyed blindly, fingers tangling firmly in her mane, then gasped as the massive wings spread, seemingly miles wide from his new viewpoint. The grif sprang upward. The force took his breath away, and his grip tightened in a surge of fear. Imagination had never provided this degree of terror…
He felt flattened, breath stolen. Surely he would fall. He took a single glance down, seeing the ground falling away with impossible speed, and swallowed hard, closing his eyes.
“Open your eyes, sosi.” The voice seemed louder, with great clarity in his thoughts, the tone almost amused.
Gritting his teeth, he obeyed. They were not rising anymore; the great wings spread out from side to side, motionless. Instead they were gliding down the mountainside at a speed he could not possibly comprehend.
He could see so much, over a distance that usually only a mountain peak could provide. Wonder overcame his good sense, and he sat up, still holding tightly, but wanting to experience every moment of this once-in-a-lifetime magic.
So long ago.
He buried his face against Ceris’s mane, feeling her wing enfold him, holding him close and safe.
“You are safe here, sosi.” Her tone was soft, loving. “I may not be able to wander beyond these doors on my own without creating an incident, but here, with me, you are safe. I would kill any who came.”
Sosi. Beloved. He treasured the word, always had from the moment he had discovered its meaning. In this misbegotten world, at least one soul loved him.
CHAPTER FIVE
“You wished to see me, Captain?” Commander Lasrem’s tone held polite inquiry. His eyes narrowed as he saw Daren’s riders clustered behind him, evident concern clear in their expressions. “What has ha
ppened?”
“With all due respect, sir, are you aware of what Captain Grazon endures in this base?” Daren said evenly.
Lasrem’s brows rose. “Perhaps you should come into my office.” He gestured them in before closing the door firmly in their wake. He frowned and settled himself into his ornately carved wooden chair. “What is this about, Captain? Andon is in some sort of trouble?”
“I think the captain has been in trouble for a long time, sir. He as much as told us that he would not concern you with this. Apparently it makes the abuse even worse.”
Lasrem froze. His eyes became something cold and hard, dangerous. “Abuse? In what manner?”
“We witnessed an altercation between Andon and Vatner, who, along with several other riders, confronted Andon with drawn swords within the salle. If we had not been there, it was completely evident he would have been wounded, if not raped.” He paused at the sound of the commander’s indrawn breath. “It seems Vatner has an unhealthy attraction to the weapons master, one that is not, in any way, returned.”
Lasrem sat back, that cold, deadly stare slicing through Daren as though parsing every thought, every degree of truth in the words he had given. “So you are saying this has been occurring under my very nose? For some time?”
Daren inclined his head. “The people here, in the time I have had the opportunity to speak to them, revere you, look up to you. The same cannot be said for Andon. I would not have believed this either if I had not been witness to the altercation, heard the words that confirm that this has been long term.”
“Andon told you not to speak to me.” The tone was flat, with a world of emotion behind it.
“From the little I have seen, he seems a man of silence and little trust. I would not imagine that he finds it easy to tell anyone of his problems, big or small.”
Lasrem sat back, closing his eyes, raising a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. Daren and the others stayed respectfully silent. At last, the commander took a deep breath and met their stares.
“Andon means a great deal to me.” He waved a hand at their expressions. “Not as a lover, though I know that rumor makes the rounds regularly. I was the one who was sent to bring in the wilds born grif that some boy had managed to tame. What I found was so much more. I practically forced the king to allow Andon accelerated training in the academy, with Ceris at his side, a thing previously unknown. As you are aware, the boys are not allowed to meet potential grifs until they graduate, so having one at the academy was a wonder that everyone talked of. It made Andon stand out. There was jealousy, rivalry. His background was discovered and used against him. You have heard the term ‘guso’?”
Daren heard Xaxter growl behind him, and Cansi muttered a soft imprecation.
“Yes, sir. It is a slur used in the west as well. I hardly see how his poor background affects the miracle he brought about, bonding with a wilds born. He should be honored, not reviled.”
Lasrem met Daren’s eyes squarely. “You and I both know the deeply entrenched prejudices that characterize the academy, Captain. A poor boy, son of a prostitute, that had done something so completely wonderful? Could you see them accepting that with anything approaching grace?”
“No, sir, I cannot.” Daren had to concede the point. Coming from a very open-minded family, he might be wise enough to see beyond the stigma of birth, but the great majority would not.
“I took him under my wing, got him assigned to my base just after I was promoted to this position. He has been with me ever since. I knew things were difficult, they always have been for him, but I had not realized it had reached this point. That my own men would disrespect one of their own…” He gave a harsh laugh. “But then, they do not see him as one of them, never have. I should have been more careful, more aware…”
“From an outsider’s point of view, sir, you are greatly admired here. They have been careful to keep this from your attention, and with Captain Grazon staying silent on the matter, it would be difficult to detect any of this.”
Lasrem’s lips thinned. “I can only give my deep gratitude to you and your riders, Captain, for coming here and being so honest. This is going to make your stay here difficult, as I am sure you are already aware.”
Daren gave a grim smile. “It is not the first time we have been singled out, sir. My wing is—unique, for lack of a better world. Each of us has had issues in the past that made us targets, so we are well placed to understand this entire matter. We are completely capable of holding our own despite any hostilities.”
Lasrem nodded, his face settling into lines that aged him greatly, weariness evident in those piercing eyes.
“I am proud of the corps. I have dedicated my life to it, and it pains me that despite all the good works, the bravery and self-sacrifice, there is still this darkness that harms so many. I know our history holds darkness, that the very rebels we guard against are some of our own, but I believe there is so much more, that we can become something greater…”
Daren gave a rueful smile. “You can’t work against human nature, sir. That is a useless enterprise at best, and soul-destroying at worst. You just have to cling to the good and change the bad as circumstances allow.”
Lasrem nodded. “You are wise, Captain. Wiser than many older men. I am thankful for your presence here, and that this has come to light.”
“I would like to suggest something, sir, and you can agree or disagree as you see fit. By what we heard, there are those who plan to harm Andon in his own barracks.”
Lasrem’s head snapped up, his hands clenching into fists upon the desk. “By all that is holy, that will not happen. That is his haven. He had never been able to tolerate others, only Vren had the power to persuade him to allow him in.”
“I respect that, sir, but for the short term, I wonder if it would be best for my riders and me to occupy the barracks with him, as protection. We will respect his boundaries, but provide support to him and a deterrent to others.”
“Do you realize the state of disrepair of those barracks? They are one of the original buildings of this base and in a terrible state. Several officials have wanted me to tear them down and build new ones in their place.”
“We are all quite capable with our hands, sir, and if there are things we don’t know how to do, we can certainly learn them. You have workers here for such things?”
“No, but we employ them from the town, Darnton. You must have seen it when you flew in?”
Daren nodded. It had not been a large place, but was quite close to the base, no doubt profiting from providing supplies and labor. “Would it be possible to hire one man to guide us through what needs to be done? That way we could save enough money for good supplies.”
Lasrem looked relieved. “Our budget is tight here, ridiculously so for a base on the front lines.” His lips thinned with evident displeasure. “If you are willing to do most of the work, then yes, I can afford a man from the town and the supplies. The only concern I have is Andon himself. He is not going to accept this well, and then, in the future, I will be pressured to allow others to move into the newly renovated spaces. We are crowded here at the best of times.”
“Perhaps, before we leave, we could build a single, somewhat fortified barrack for him alone? We could use the excuse that his grif, being wilds born, can’t be crowded with other grifs.”
Lasrem looked at him, then a slow, brilliant smile tilted those stern lips. “Well said. I can see you give Thasin no end of trouble. Am I right?”
Daren inclined his head modestly. “We try, sir. He has threatened more than once to kick me out of the corps, and my riders with me. Then he says it would cost too much to bring us back because we are the best wing in the corps, bar none.”
He said it without undue pride. It was a fact and something they had worked damn hard for. To him, overdone humility was just as annoying as overdone pride. He had long believed that if you did not have quiet pride in your own achievements, then nobody else was going to appreciate them ei
ther. He did not particularly care what others thought, whether they took his words as boasting or saw them as a threat to their own capabilities.
As long as he knew himself to be truthful, he was content.
Lasrem shook his head, and the weariness was lessened, his eyes twinkling, making him look years younger.
“My poor Thasin. I shall have to send both condolences and congratulations for having you under his command. If ever you are temporarily, or indeed, permanently exiled for your shenanigans, come here. I would take you all in a minute.”
Daren grinned. “My thanks, Commander, although you may regret such an offer in the future. If you think I am trouble, Gretnel is ten times worse.”
“Oh, I have heard tales of that grif, believe me. I think he would liven the place up considerably. My Leandan will love sparring with him, if you would allow.”
Daren could not hold back a full laugh. “Gretnel will be thrilled. He is overly active and needs physical action to drain that energy, rather like me.”
Lasrem stood, and they rose respectfully in response. He leaned over the desk and offered his hand to Daren, not a part of normal military protocol.
Brown eyes met green, respect on both sides.
CHAPTER SIX
Andon woke the next morning groggy and listless. It was his day off, bless the gods. He did not need to face anyone, pretend a strength he could not find today.
Today he could hide from the world and not be judged for it.
He nestled closer to Ceris, reveling in her warm presence, the safety he felt under her wing, shielded from harm and chill. He never slept in his bed, yet another thing people would mock him for. For his part, he could not imagine why people would find a bed more attractive than sleeping with their grif.
She gave that husky purr/growl that never failed to raise his spirits. He had Ceris. That was more important than any other human.
