by J. C. Owens
A grif landed beside him, a rider’s hand extended.
“Get on!” Vatner sounded desperate. “She can fly if she doesn’t have to carry your weight!”
Andon didn’t hesitate but let his old enemy pull him up behind him. He wrapped his arms tightly around Vatner’s lean waist.
“Ceris!”
She had risen to her feet, looking dazed and shaking her head, but at his call, she seemed to grow more alert.
“Come on, my wilds born,” he shouted fiercely. “You can do this!”
Larth leaped upward, struggling a bit under the weight of two riders, but managed to keep his flight steady and sure. Andon watched anxiously as Ceris, now free of weight, followed. She was anything but fast, but she was airborne at last.
Around them, grifs shot by, swirling around them, attacking the ground, then pulling back up sharply into a climb. It was beautiful to watch, even as Andon’s stomach tightened with fear. It seemed unlikely, even impossible, for them to pull this off without—
Vatner cried out, lurching sideways in the harness straps. His cry of pain made Larth give a responding call, feeling his rider’s distress. He banked sharply, striving to protect his rider, and Andon took Vatner’s weight as he slumped backward.
It was only then that Andon saw the arrow shaft that pierced Vatner’s chest. He cursed, loudly and virulently, supporting the limp form, praying that Larth would not panic and send them all to their deaths.
Ceris crowded close for a moment, steadying Larth, calling to him, and their flight steadied.
A fierce call sounded close at hand, then Gretnel was over them, screaming, jaw open wide as he swiped at Larth. Maddened, feral, he saw the male as competition, a threat to his mate.
Andon threw an arm over his head as talons flashed by perilously close. He heard Daren shout something, then Larth, in a desperate attempt to avoid Gretnel’s fury, closed his wings and dropped abruptly, rolling as he did so.
Andon swore as he slipped. Unable to hold onto Vatner, he grasped desperately for a handhold. Without a harness, he was unable to survive the sharp maneuvers. He and Ceris had long ago learned to work together, to overcome the lack of safety, but Larth had no knowledge of such things.
He cried out as his grip on the saddle slid further, leaving him slipping further back, nothing to grip on the grif’s smooth hide. He made a last frantic grab. And missed.
He fell, helpless, flailing, hearing Ceris’s sharp cry.
Weightless, the air almost deafening as it rushed by.
Something caught him, driving the breath from his lungs so that he gasped for air, his hands clutching convulsively at anything he could touch. For a moment, he thought it must be Ceris, but the talons were the wrong color.
For the briefest moment, he wondered if Byrant had entered the fray before he heard Gretnel’s call just above his head.
He gave a gusting laugh, half mad with relief, relaxing into the grip. If only his hands would stop shaking…
Daren swore that his heart stopped twice. Once when Gretnel narrowly missed Andon during his attack on Larth, and secondly when his mate slipped off the grif and began to fall.
Gretnel had turned swiftly at Daren’s agonized cry and plunged after the falling man, wings furled, the wind tearing against Daren, the harness digging into his body painfully.
His grif gave a triumphant cry, and Daren leaned out to the side, wild-eyed, feeling a rush of relief as he saw Andon encased in the cage of Gretnel’s talons.
Daren put a hand to his chest, trying to relieve the ball of fear that seemed lodged within his body, so that he could scarcely breathe.
Andon met his gaze with clear relief, then cried out, pointing behind him.
Gretnel rolled in the air as something swept over Daren, massive claws just missing his head.
He cursed under his breath.
Byrant.
Rage rose like a tide, whether his own or Gretnel’s was hard to say. This was the man who had taken their mates. This was the man who had harmed Andon repeatedly. Daren held no doubt that during their time at the palace, Byrant would have harmed Andon in some fashion again.
Far below, he could hear the alarm bells ringing furiously, and he knew they had little time before they would be pursued.
He would not leave this man to follow them, to cause Andon any more pain. Not a moment more pain…
Gretnel roared, followed by a whistling shriek that was a challenge to another male, before he tucked Andon up against his chest, talons encasing him firmly. Byrant’s grif whirled tightly under his rider’s command and headed back for them, straight on.
Daren could see Byrant, his teeth bared, looking like nothing sane as they locked stares.
Gretnel stalled in midair, back-winging as the two grifs collided, talons slashing at each other, wings flapping madly as they spiraled downward, locked in combat.
Gretnel’s size actually worked against him in the air. He was heavier, less maneuverable than the smaller grif. With only one forepaw able to come into play, he was outmatched. Daren winced as long talons raked at Gretnel’s silken hide. Gretnel did not seem to notice as long wounds opened, spraying blood back on Daren’s face. The furious grif seemed beyond pain, beyond anything but rage and determination.
Byrant laughed, a manic sound that snapped the last of Daren’s control.
He unbuckled his harness, scrambling upon Gretnel’s shoulder and snagging the other grif’s harness. With a surge of adrenaline, he found the strength to pull himself hand over hand up the side of the animal, slightly behind the saddle.
Byrant caught sight of him at the last moment, shock distorting his features. He drew a knife and twisted around, slashing at Daren with deadly accuracy.
Daren cried out as the knife caught his arm, slashing to the bone, rendering the limb useless. He reared back, out of reach, while Byrant tried to lean closer, hampered by his harness. Daren drew his own blade.
Byrant laughed. “Say hello to the gods, Captain Phalnir!”
Daren grinned, eyes flashing, blade ready. “Greet them yourself.”
The sharp knife, a gift from his father, sliced easily through the main harness. Byrant screamed a single denial before he was gone.
Daren dropped to his knees, clutching onto the grif’s mane as the animal cried out, disengaging from Gretnel, but not before the larger grif, lunged forward, tearing into him with long, powerful fangs and ripping out a goodly portion of his neck.
The pained cry tore at Daren, then all thought ceased as the animal dropped away and they were falling. The world and sky spun around him as he plummeted. Wind roared in his ears.
Then talons caught him, snagging his flight jacket, closing around him, and he watched as the other grif continued to fall, tumbling over and over…
The pain washed over him then and everything faded to black.
Gretnel landed with difficulty on his hind legs before gently depositing his precious burdens upon the ground.
Andon half crawled over the ground, cursing his weakness, the pain that flared at each movement. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the man before him.
Daren lay motionless, blood spattered over his face, his body—some of it his, some of it Gretnel’s.
Andon felt panic flow over him as he reached his mate, gently pulling him into his lap and curling around him protectively.
He leaned down, kissed the pale features.
“My love,” he whispered, blinking back tears. Byrant had taken so much from him. Please, not Daren. His mate was the future, they were meant to change so many things, bring an understanding of the old ways back. It was destiny, it was…
“Don’t leave me. I love you.” The words came hard, but the release that came with their utterance was as though years of pain and longing were suddenly set free. The truth was, in spite of everything, he could, did, love.
This man, his mate, had brought him to that moment, despite all he had done to drive him away.
He clu
tched Daren more tightly, bowing his head over him, whispering desperate prayers to gods he hardly believed in.
Daren was a good man. Surely they would concede to helping him if there was the slightest bit of mercy in their hearts…
A gentle touch on his shoulder made him straighten, blinking away tears.
“Let us tend to him, Andon.” Lasrem gently pulled him back a little, so that Olnar could tend to the wound, dexterous fingers pulling the edges of the wound together and binding it tightly. “That will do until we can reach safety.” Olnar’s calm tone eased Andon’s fears.
Daren stirred and moaned, making Andon’s heart leap.
Green eyes slitted open, and met Andon’s gaze hazily, before a sweet smile curved those familiar lips.
“I heard you. You can’t take it back,” he whispered. “I love you too.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
They landed an hour’s flight west of the capital.
Ceris could go no further. Her faltering wing beats left her closer and closer to the ground. Andon was quite sure that only her need to remain close to Gretnel was keeping her going.
Gretnel himself was faltering, and from where he rode, with arms wrapped around Daren’s waist, Andon could see streaks of blood down the grif’s side.
Certainly, when they landed, Ceris collapsed on the spot. Gretnel made a keening noise, landing gracelessly beside his mate.
Daren was more aware, steadier, despite the way he cradled his arm. Andon was grateful when Lasrem and Olnar came to help them both down.
They were guided to shade close to several trees, where they sank down, exhausted but with an edge of exhilaration.
So far, they had made it. Against all odds, they had come this far.
Daren took one look at his mate and longed to return to the palace, longed to find whoever had left bruises layered on top of each other on Andon’s face. He could feel Andon’s pain, felt the edges of memories…
Byrant.
Even the knowledge of the bastard’s death did not give him enough satisfaction. He wanted to kill him all over again. His Andon, touched in such a manner…
His anger at the king soared in tune with his thoughts. What leader, what king, treated his own people in such a way?
One that needed to be deposed. He growled weakly under his breath.
The sight of his wing nearby, Lasrem and his men close, made him sigh with relief. Whatever else, they were safe for the moment.
He turned his head with great effort. Gretnel was crouched beside Ceris, nuzzling her face, making small, soft noises deep in his throat.
His grif was injured. He needed to…
He felt Andon’s arms close around him, and the world swam away.
Andon woke slowly, very unlike his usual instant, wary consciousness.
He was encased in warmth, and there was someone in his arms, a sense of safety in their presence. His arm lay possessively over the person, and a familiar scent teased at his nostrils. Daren. He smiled, a faint curve of his lips.
He could not even rouse himself to the fear of pursuit.
He was not alone anymore.
Images of his escape rose to his thoughts, and his smile turned to a frown. Daren’s arm, Gretnel’s wounds, Ceris, Vatner and the arrow… He sat up abruptly, peace gone, grimacing as pain shot up his spine.
Daren stirred beside him, slowly rolling to his back to face him. His features were drawn and pale, his arm heavily bandaged and bound across his chest. His good hand came up to stroke over Andon’s cheek.
“I told you I would do whatever it took to keep you.” The smile was wan, but the effort was appreciated.
“So you did,” Andon leaned to kiss his mate’s lips, feeling the surge of emotion that defined their link.
They were open to each other now, in a way that could not be rescinded. Andon felt not the slightest regret, only a giddy wonder at their closeness. His newfound ability to read his mate left no doubt as to the veracity of Daren’s feelings.
His love was fully returned.
Daren pulled him down onto his chest, so that they lay face to face.
“Lasrem is with Vatner. They got the arrow out. He’s not good, but there is hope.” The tone was completely neutral, yet somehow, held a tone of disapproval.
Andon turned to face his mate, letting a hand rest on Daren’s cheek. “He got us out. Whatever else he has done in the past, that stands on its own. I can’t like him, but I can admire his courage in what he did. I just don’t understand the why of it.”
Daren cracked open an eye and met his stare. “He loves you. I suspected that after he challenged you in the salle. He is an idiot at showing his feelings, but he does care about you.”
Andon drew back in shock and disgust. “You must be joking.”
Daren drew him close and laid a gentle kiss upon his lips. “I am not. The man is troubled if he believes his actions show love.”
Andon shuddered and pulled Daren closer so that there was not a sliver of room between them. “I think I know why he is the way he is, but I can’t find it in myself to let the past go. I don’t want him anywhere near me.”
“You don’t have to worry. He’s not getting past me.” Daren’s voice held a growl rather like Gretnel’s.
Andon felt his nerves settle. He had never wanted nor needed someone to stand at his side, and yet now that he had someone, he’d accepted the idea much more swiftly than he would ever have imagined.
“Gretnel will be fine, Lasrem says. They stitched up the wounds…” The pain in his words made Andon reach to stroke his hair back.
Daren’s arm tightened, and Andon laid his head on his mate’s chest, careful of his injury. The sense of completion, of rightness, drove away the shadows that Byrant had tried so hard to smother him with.
He was alive. He was free. He had a mate.
It was good.
Daren kissed the top of Andon’s head, chastising himself for the surge of jealousy he had felt when his mate had mentioned Vatner and how he had helped free them. He had to smile to himself at his own feral instincts.
By Andon’s own words, the man was no longer a threat, but still…
He was glad that Commander Lasrem was in charge, because Daren was not sure that he was a good enough soul to forgive Vatner enough to treat him fairly at this moment.
Andon tilted his head back, and their lips met, a reaffirmation of their bond. Daren hummed at the taste, hands gently stroking over his mate’s shoulder, unsure where to touch, where would cause more pain. He could not wait to reach a place of relative safety, so that he could check every inch of Andon, ensure for himself that he was alive and back with the riders, back with Daren himself.
He felt the sickening tension that had ruled him since he had learned Andon had been taken finally slide away. Whatever happened from here, they were together, and nothing and no one was taking Andon again. Not while Daren lived.
He heard footsteps approaching, and felt Andon tense.
He stroked his back reassuringly. “It’s just Olnar, bringing some food.”
Andon pulled free enough to sit up, his face paler than Daren liked. Daren followed suit, swaying slightly, loving the way Andon swiftly supported him, his concerned eyes fixed upon him. When the world stopped spinning, he watched as his second set down a flask of water and some dried meat within their reach.
“Commander Lasrem is waiting for a messenger. Things look good, actually. There is no sign of pursuit yet. Perhaps Lasrem’s brother succeeded after all.”
Andon frowned, then glanced at Daren.
“Prince Jarlin, the king’s brother, and the rebel faction are attempting a coup. Our surprise attack provided the perfect cover.”
Andon’s eyes widened, became fiercer. “We should have stayed, helped them!”
Daren smirked. His fiery mate’s spirit was unbowed, unbroken despite what had happened. The strength of the man’s will was beyond comprehension.
“Down, boy! They will be infilt
rating through the underground tunnels that wind beneath the city. We will see what they achieve, but our part in this is done. We need to get as far from the capital as possible. This battle inside the palace will be nothing grifs can help with.”
Andon shifted uneasily, protest in every line of his body. “This needs to happen. Platten is insane, without a care for the people or grifs. I knew that, have known that since I was young, but to meet him…” He shivered.
“We are headed for Anisstor. We can talk to my commander, and then…” Daren shrugged. “We will take things day by day from there. We may have to leave the kingdom altogether.”
Andon’s head snapped up, and he met Daren’s eyes with shock. “You can’t be serious!”
Daren simply nodded, smirking as he saw Andon’s temper rise predictably. “Do you think I could remain an aviator in a kingdom that treats a loyal man as they have treated you? I could not, in good conscience, continue in the corps after this.”
Andon rose to his knees, swaying a little, grasping Daren’s shoulder tightly. “You can’t do this! Your career, your family!” He glanced wildly over to Olnar. “Your riders!”
Olnar grinned. “I don’t need my wing leader to give me orders. The whole wing has already made this decision. The instant you were taken, we all came to our own conclusions on the matter. You can’t lay this on yourself, though you might try.”
Andon was speechless, confusion and concern mingling in his expression. “But, you can’t just…” He turned back to Daren. “I can leave with Ceris. We can stay just over the border of the wastelands. You can visit. The bond will survive…”
“No.” Daren’s decisive tone was implacable. “Where you go, I go. We have something rare and precious in this bond, and I will not let some bastard king take that away from us. If our place is no longer here, then we will carve a new place elsewhere. Not to mention that I have killed a rider and his grif. That by itself is a death sentence.”
