The Golden Griffin (Book 3)

by Michael Wallace

  Twenty minutes later, the flock crested the mountain and swooped over the other side. A narrow fissure spread down from the mountain, its guts carved by melt water. Farther down the mountain, the fissure widened into a canyon, and there Daria spotted the enemy camp. Dragon kin had pitched tents along the river. The dragon itself sat in the midst of a protective ring of poles, their ends sharpened and pointing to the sky. Outside the sharpened stakes lay a pile of charred wood that the dragon kin used to stoke its fires.

  It was enormous, seemingly grown once again. Its head alone was big enough to bite a griffin in two. Its mouth was open, and two dragon kin, not yet spotting the griffins coming down against the sun, shoveled charred wood into its jaws. Smoke seeped out of its mouth and nostrils, and she remembered griffins plummeting to the ground, consumed in flames. Her heart hardened.

  But something was wrong. Where were the rest of the dragon kin? And the wasps? Where had they gone?

  The dragon spotted them. It lifted its head and bellowed. Fire gushed out. One of the dragon kin in front of its head fell back, screaming and beating himself furiously as fire engulfed his clothes. The other man threw himself clear. Still no wasps, or other kin besides these two.

  Daria lifted her father’s horn. She let loose two echoing blasts. Then she drew her swords and followed her lancers into a dive.

  The dragon swung its tail and smashed aside the protective ring of sharpened poles. It spread its huge wings, batted them, and lifted slowly from the ground.

  The first lancers struck. Their weapons shattered off the hard scales on the dragon’s back. It swung its tail and sent them careening away.

  Then the monster was airborne and blasting everything around it with fire.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The dragon let loose its flames, and soon the entire hillside was engulfed. It exposed its belly as it rose. The underside gleamed like a wall of obsidian scales from the tip of its tail to its enormous head, but that belly had to be a softer target than attacking the knobby, granite-like protuberances on its back. Daria formed ranks with her remaining lancers. There were at least thirty of them. Others, their ash poles shattered and useless, formed a smaller, second group to harry the dragon from its flanks and hopefully distract those lethal blasts of fire.

  Meanwhile, the remaining twenty or so griffin riders swooped through the camp. They uprooted tents and swarmed through the trees, where they searched for the roosting wasps.

  Daria lifted Talon higher into the sky before she sounded the charge. Where were the wasps and their riders? At any moment she expected to see them swarm down in an ambush.

  The dragon swung in a huge arc to come back up the mountainside toward Daria and her lancers. Its wings spread fifty feet to each side of its body, and each flap made the burning pine forest sway and sent flurries of sparks and exploding pine pitch skyward. It picked up speed as it charged.

  Mountain Brother, hear my plea. Guide my flight. Steady my swords.

  She lifted her father’s horn and emptied her lungs. A long, clear note sounded over the mountains. It echoed off the peaks before it was drowned by a collective roar from her lancers as they charged. The griffin riders sacking the camp came racing up from below.

  A trumpet answered from the north, high and clear. Daria had no chance to consider what it meant. Talon leaped ahead with a scream. Stronger, swifter than the others, he outpaced her riders.

  The dragon disappeared into a dense bank of smoke and fire. When it burst free, it was only a few hundred feet away and racing directly toward her. Its mouth opened. Fire roared out.

  Daria yanked to one side. Talon tucked his wings and skirted the edge of the fire. A fist of heat slammed into Daria. When it passed, she caught a whiff of her own singed eyebrows. Coming up underneath, she struck the dragon’s wing with one of her swords, but the blade clanked off as if the wing were made of iron.

  Lances slammed into the dragon’s underbelly. Every one of them shattered on impact. A man screamed in agony behind her. She turned to see rider and griffin engulfed in flames and spiraling toward the ground.

  The dragon wheeled around. It tossed its head and clawed at its belly. When it exposed itself, Daria saw what was vexing it. Two broken lance shafts lay embedded in its flesh. The first was along the rib cage, more shallowly placed, with a second, deeper wound near the wing.

  Griffins were all around, harrying, clawing, their riders slashing and jabbing. Nothing got through. The dragon ignored them while it tried to dig out the broken lances. One came loose, but the deeper point remained stubbornly lodged. It brought its wings in and jerked them out again. Griffins and riders went flying, batted away as if they were moths.

  Daria came in closer for a look at the remaining lance embedded in the dragon’s flesh. It penetrated where the right wing connected with the breastbone. Black blood dripped steaming from the wound.

  She darted away, then blew her horn for another charge. Her riders regrouped and attacked. As they did, Daria shot higher in the sky. She sheathed one sword and gripped the other tightly. She brought Talon down hard.

  “Seize him!”

  He slammed into the dragon’s wing from above, a thousand pounds of hammering fury. The dragon lurched. The griffin grabbed hold of the wing with beak, talon, and claw.

  “Hold on!” She threw herself from the griffin and onto the dragon’s wing.

  Daria grabbed one of the knobby scales with her left hand. She stabbed downward with the other. The sword bounced off with a shower of sparks.

  No, not there. She was too far out. She belly-crawled across the dragon’s wing, while Talon held on for dear life a few feet away. Griffins blasted past from every direction. Another rider fell burning from the sky. His griffin, feathers singed, fled screaming from the battlefield.

  Daria grabbed hold of the edge of the beating wing, right where it met the monster’s back. She drove her sword down with all her strength. The tip penetrated the flesh. The dragon roared and bucked beneath her. She forced all her weight down, and the sword eased inch-by-inch into its back.

  Its tail whistled past her head. It missed, but when Talon ducked out of the way, he lost his grip and spiraled away. Daria was left alone atop the dragon, two hundred feet above the burning forest. A claw came around, snatched at her. It couldn’t reach. Daria leaned in. Black blood boiled from the wound.

  The dragon flew down the hillside with griffin riders in pursuit. Still Daria shoved on her sword. It was almost buried to the hilt now. In a final attempt to lose her, the dragon tried to climb. She had a firm hold on the hilt now and wouldn’t let go.

  But as it tilted skyward, dragon blood ran down the sword blade and hit her hand. It was slick and boiling hot. She lost her grip and fell.

  Daria’s stomach dropped out. She plummeted toward the ground. Above her, the dragon fled the battlefield with her sword embedded in its back and blood streaming from its wound.

  I won. I drove it off.

  The burning trees rushed up at her. She closed her eyes right before she hit.

  The Harvester take me . . .

  A shearing pain stabbed into her ribs. Daria jerked skyward. A scream in her ears.

  The golden griffin had her in his talons. She let out a gasp, both at the pain and in relief that she wasn’t going to die. The dragon was disappearing, no more than a black speck far below, at the edge of the mountains. Moments later it vanished into the hazy brown lands of the Desolation of Toth.

  Talon returned her to the abandoned dragon kin encampment. Griffins landed all around. A great cheer went through the crowd when the others saw she was still alive. Her mother landed. She jumped from Yuli’s back and grabbed Daria. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “Sweet mercy, you’re alive.” Palina kissed her. “I thought I’d lost you.”

  Daria pulled away and looked around. She was still suspicious about the missing wasps and didn’t want to be caught on the ground when they returned. So she ordered the riders back to the air.


  At that moment, the long, clear notes of the trumpet rolled over the mountainside. It came from the direction of the Old Road.

  #

  Daria led her forces toward the calling trumpet.

  They discovered a company of forty or fifty men bearing shields painted with bloody hands. Knights Temperate. They battled a similarly sized group of riders.

  The enemy riders were gray-skinned and wore a motley assortment of leather and mail armor. They fought in chilling silence. Flying in their support were dragon wasps and dragon kin, who attacked from above.

  The knights had their hands full enough battling the enemy fighters. They couldn’t defend against the aerial assault. When the wasps swooped down, the horses shied and neighed in terror. As many as twenty Eriscobans lay motionless on the ground, and the enemy looked as concerned with dragging away the dead as with defeating those opponents who still fought.

  A wizard stood at the rear of the knights. He shouted something in an ancient tongue, and the panic in the knights’ horses eased. The incantation seemed to strengthen the resolve of the knights as well, and they redoubled their attack on their silent enemy.

  One of the knights, a tall, blond-haired man, lifted a trumpet to his lips, but when he saw Daria swooping at the head of a large force, he set it down and lifted his sword to fend off a sudden charge from an enemy horseman.

  The griffins attacked.

  Talon seized a dragon wasp by the neck. The wasp shrieked. The kin on its back turned in his saddle and thrust a spear at the griffin, but Daria turned aside the attack with her remaining sword. She swung from the shoulder and dealt the man a glancing blow on his spear-bearing arm. He cried out and juggled the spear to his other hand.

  Talon tore at the wasp’s underbelly and savaged its neck and head with his beak. He hurled the crippled beast to the ground before Daria could finish her own battle. The dragon wasp fell the twenty feet or so to the ground, dying. The dragon kin, however, climbed to his feet, clutching his arm but still alive.

  “I didn’t call the release,” Daria said. “Await my command.”

  She pulled back on the tether, and they lunged into battle again. She found her mother and sister fighting one of the larger wasps. Attacking as one, they killed both wasp and kin in a matter of seconds; this time Talon obeyed her prompts.

  Other griffins, battling in packs of three and four, cut through the wasps to the heart of the fighting on the ground. The sight of dozens of griffins fighting in concert was beautiful to behold. Nothing could stand before them. The Eriscobans let out a ragged cheer.

  The bulk of the dragon wasps lifted from the battle and sped away, which left the griffins to finish the wounded stragglers. When they destroyed the last few enemies in the air, Daria lifted her horn and gave a sharp blast. They would not give pursuit, but turn their attention to the fighting on the ground.

  Help had come not a moment too soon. The enemy riders had begun to overwhelm the Knights Temperate. It was almost shocking. Daria had seen the warriors of the Brotherhood blow through the Veyrians at Arvada like a wind scattering leaves. Some of the gray-faced riders were large brutes, she could see now, armed with huge two-handed swords or war-hammers. One man wore a mask made of a human skull.

  Talon tore one of the enemy riders from his horse and hauled him into the air. The man lifted his sword to plunge it through the golden griffin’s underbelly while Daria struggled to turn aside his blade. With a single snap, Talon bit off one of the man’s hands at the wrist, while simultaneously raking at his face with his back paws.

  “No!” shouted the blond knight from below. Blood streamed from a cut in his forehead. He pointed his sword at Daria. “Not us! Save them!” He gestured with his sword.

  Some of the enemy rode away with dead Knights Temperate over their saddles. They disappeared into the trees. A ball of green light burst from the wizard at the rear of the Eriscobans. It caught one of the enemy riders and hurled him to the ground, but others picked up him and the dead knight he carried and continued into the trees.

  Those griffin riders who heard the knight’s cry turned to obey his plea. But Daria lifted the horn to her lips and gave it a short blast followed by a long blast.

  Continue your attack, the horn told them. She would save the living before worrying about the dead.

  And in a few minutes it was over. The last of the enemy riders fled the battle or fell to the combined onslaught from the ground and air. Daria landed Talon in the road. Her griffins landed all around her. She made her way to the captain’s side.

  Anguish stood out on the man’s face. “Damn you! I told you to stop them. Why didn’t you listen?”

  His words took Daria back. “We were saving your life instead.”

  “What is my life to the souls of my men?”

  Daria didn’t understand. “You can explain later. Who were they? Ravagers?”

  “Yes, ravagers. Knights of the dark wizard. You’ll fly after them and bring back the dead knights? Please.”

  She hesitated. “No, I can’t. We have our own wounded, and I must save my strength. If my army is destroyed, there is no other to take its place.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, the enemy is in the woods now. We won’t be able to get to them.”

  She gathered her people to bind wounds. Her mother and Uncle Jhon counted numbers and reported three griffins and two riders missing or dead. Two other griffins were too wounded to fly.

  “What about the wasps?” Daria asked. “Should we hunt them down?”

  “We did our duty,” Palina said in short, choppy tones. “And at great cost.”

  “Don’t be bitter, Mother. We chased the monster from our mountains. We won a great victory.”

  “Many more victories like that, and the world will be rid of our people once and for all.”

  “I agree with your mother,” Jhon said. “The dragon is gone. The forests will stop burning. We’ll remain vigilant, but we’ve done our share.”

  “Very well. Do a final pass of the area, then fly them home,” Daria told her uncle. “Mother, come with me.”

  “What for?”

  “I want you to meet the captain of the Knights Temperate.”

  “No need. I’ll return with Jhon.”

  Daria hardened her voice. “Mother, do what I say.”

  The two women found the captain inspecting his dead. He shook his head, mouth tightened into a hard line. A blood-soaked bandage wrapped his head. He spoke in low tones with a large knight with huge arms and the biggest sword Daria had ever seen.

  The captain looked up when she came. “I’m sorry for what I said. I am grateful for your timely aid. Please forgive my anger.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive. I understand.”

  “Are you Flockheart’s daughter?” he asked.

  “He was my father. My name is Daria, and this is my mother, Palina.”

  “I’m Hob. This is Brannock. Well met.”

  “Well met,” Daria said.

  Hob fumbled with her hand and appeared uncertain as to whether he should kiss it or shake it, so in the end he did both.

  Her mother grunted.

  “Are you—” Daria began. She licked her lips. “Are you friends with Darik?”

  “Yes, in a manner of speaking. One of his comrades, anyway. He rode off with Markal Talebearer.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  Brannock was edging away from Talon, and shortly turned on his heels and went to help with the horses.

  Hob watched him go, then turned back to Daria and Palina. “Who’s the new leader of the griffin riders? That man I saw you speaking with a few minutes ago?”

  “That was my Uncle Jhon. No, I’m the flockheart now. It’s a title, as well as a name.”

  “How is it that the griffin riders are led by someone so young?”

  She frowned, not understanding the question. “My father is dead. If the king of the Citadel died, wouldn’t his son lead?”

  �
��Yes, but you are not a son. You are a girl—” His voice trailed off.

  Ah, so that was it. Daria smiled. “My father died, and my mother doesn’t have the temperament.”

  Palina grunted again.

  “So it fell upon his oldest child,” Daria continued. “Many women have led the griffin clans.”

  A smile played at his lips, but it was not unkind. “Stupid of me to question, the way you swooped in on the back of that monster.” He cast a glance at Talon, untethered, hungrily eyeing the skittish horses now being tied to trees several dozen yards down the road.

  “That’s no monster,” Daria said. “He is a golden griffin.”

  “Nevertheless, it takes guts to fly something like that.” He nodded at Daria’s mother. “You raised your daughter well.”

  “She mostly raised herself. It’s in her nature.”

  “I’m sorry about your husband.”

  “He fell in your war, but it was his choice. He could have said no.”

  “Tell me,” Daria said, “Why were you so concerned about rescuing dead knights? Is it your custom to burn them, or what? And why would the enemy take them?”

  Hob’s expression turned grim. “That’s what a ravager is, a dead man raised to do the dark wizard’s bidding.”

  “Those men were dead?” she asked, unsure if she was hearing correctly.

  “Did you see the man with the skull mask?”

  Daria nodded.

  “My captain. Roderick, King Whelan’s brother. He fell last week, not twenty miles from here. They raised him, enslaved him to evil, and set him as their champion and master.”

  “Then we’ll go after them. Come. I’ll fly after my riders, bring them back. Mother—”

  “No,” Hob said. “It’s already too late. They only need minutes.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand before.”

  “There’s no way you could have known. And now they are lost to us. The only thing we can do now is free them from their torment. Will you help?”