“Van?”
I whipped a glance over my shoulder. She sat straight in her saddle, a combination of fear and resolution warring across her pale features. Her silver-gilt hair in its heavy braid gleamed even under the muted light and misted rainfall. Iyumi clutched a dirk in her right fist, her left hand on the roan’s reins firm yet quiet.
“Stay away from the river,” I ordered, my voice terse. “He’ll not take you, my queen.”
With a quick word, I sent Kiera clattering up the bank, snorting in alarm. Though I knew she wouldn’t fight for Iyumi, her presence close to the princess might offer her some degree of safety. Sky Dancer’s huge body and spread wings urged Iyumi to rein her stallion around and lope him back the way we’d come. Padraig offered me a grim nod and galloped in her wake, his bow in his left hand as his right drew an arrow from its quiver.
“Valcan! Gaear! Find Flynn’s position. He’s probably on the hills behind us.”
“You’re not in charge –” Gaear began.
My thin bolt of lightning stuck his ass and sent him yelping into the air. His eagle scrambled for the sky, clawing for every rod of altitude, screeching in pain. I always suspected he could change forms quickly if properly motivated. Valcan didn’t bother to salute, but his raven flew wingtip to wingtip with Gaear in frantic obedience.
“What’s he doing?” Windy asked, his beak near my ear. “What’s he done to the Captain?”
I had only one answer. “He’s got control of Malik’s mind.”
“What? That’s impo-”
Vibration quivered through the ground at my feet. My heart dropped into my gut. From far upriver, the canyons echoed with a deep, resonating thunder. The pool of still water under Windy’s talons swelled and retreated – flowing back the way it had come. Dimly, I heard Iyumi scream my name, but the roaring sound of an avalanche all but drowned it out. Oddly, I felt little surprise as the Auryn stood up like a dog begging for scraps and towered high above.
A towering wall of greenish-silver water filled the skyline, rushing faster than a runaway horse. Behind it, I caught a swift glimpse of the muddy, rocky riverbed as the river emptied its contents. White foam crested its head as the wave, higher than Roidan’s castle walls, bore down on us. On Malik.
He stood, oblivious, directly in its deadly path. Though Windy also stood on the stony shore, his great wings would lift him to safety long before the wave reached him. As Edara had obeyed me, she, too, backed safely from its towering rage. Had I not the swift ability to change forms and fly high above the maelstrom, I, too, might be consumed by the river before I could escape. Flynn knew all this. He planned for it.
Flynn targeted Malik with his infernal, dark magic. Take out the strongest first. I’d learned that strategy before I learned to walk. Flynn obviously had the same education.
“Windy! Moon! Misty!”
Changing forms, I leaped into the air, screaming their names the instant the wave took Malik down. Airborne, I watched as Malik was driven under, ass over head, his black hooves thrashing helplessly. He vanished under the green-silver flood, dragged under the giant wave by Flynn’s black powers. If the wave hadn’t killed him outright, he’d drown under the onslaught of the river unleashed.
Folding my Griffin wings tight to my shoulders, I dropped. Straight into the swirling flood, my talons out and ready, I shut my beak and held my breath. Like an arrow into its target, I hit the water beak down and tail up. The waters closed over my head. I fought against the raging torrents, kicking not up, but down. Using my tail as a rudder, my lion hind paws thrust me deeper and further down, I did what no Griffin had ever done before.
I swam.
Like an otter, I used my four limbs to paddle me under the surface, my eyes opened but blind. I blinked several times, and saw a hand through the murky silt stirred up from the river bottom. In a gust of cleared water, a new danger surged toward where I thought Malik should be. The corpse of Edryd’s chestnut stallion tumbled like a child’s toy, spinning, out of control.
Malik’s hooves appeared and vanished as the horse rolled him over, tangling them together like long-lost lovers. By the river’s sheer power, the chestnut burst free and vanished as invisible forces drew Malik ever down. I inwardly winced as I saw his left rear leg caught between two submerged boulders and snap. My ears, flat to my head, heard the resounding thud as Malik’s head struck a rock. Dive, dammit, dive. He’ll be dead in seconds.
I dove. My talons missed his hand, but snarled in his thick hair. Striking for the surface, I paddled with my remaining three limbs. My feathers, saturated, tried to weigh me down, pull me back, drown me. Clenching my wings tight to my shoulders, I added magic to my strength and the river’s hold on my wings fell away. I stifled an insane chuckle as I dragged Malik with me, hauling him by his splendid mane. Whatever works.
Above me, something large blocked the limited sunlight seen in glimmers off the river’s surface. Huge shadowed forms beat the air over the river as I stroked upward, hauling my brother by his head. I paddled harder, my chest aching for air, Malik’s dead weight all but hauling me down into the lethal depths with him. Oh, no, boyo, I thought grimly. You’ll not die on me. Not now. On I struggled, calling on my own magic to give me strength, my iron will forcing my body into committing the impossible. Not far now. Not far –
My beak broke into the crisp cool mountain air and I dragged in a desperate lungful. I spread my wings and used them against the churning waters. Half swimming, half-flying, I lugged Malik’s dead weight ever upward, up and up, until his head also broke free. I hoped I’d hear him gasp for breath, drag down into his lungs the air necessary for his survival. I didn’t. Malik, you’d better not be dead.
I tried to yell, but choked on river water instead. Floundering, sluggishly beating my wings to gain much-needed altitude, I strove to free both Malik and me from the river’s deadly embrace. I barely lifted him a rod when Windy dove in, his talons reaching for Malik’s arm.
“Grab it!” Windy yelled.
I knew what he meant. I loosened my hold on Malik’s hair and seized his shoulder with my front eagle talons. His big arm fit well into my talons, offering me a good grip. I beat hard for the sky, my wings heavy and unresponsive, my feathers shedding silt and muck. Malik’s dead weight tried to drag me backward.
“I’m losing him,” I cried as my grip on his arm slipped back, sliding through my fists. Malik’s body dropped two rods into the river. His black tail and rear quarters vanished into its murky, dark-green depths.
Two Griffins were no match for the burden of a large Centaur. He outweighed each of us by several hundred pounds, and Griffin wings were created to carry a Griffin body, not dead weight. I strained my wings to lift Malik higher and higher, Windy gasping on Malik’s other side. Malik’s rump emerged from the torrents, though his tail still spread wide and flowed downstream.
Moon answered my cry. His enormous frame slid like an oiled wheel under Malik’s rear end. Using not his eagle’s front legs to grip Malik, rather he utilized his own body. Moon Whisperer shoved his wide shoulder under Malik’s rear quarters and heaved. His mighty wings straining, he threw his strength in with ours and Malik’s unconscious body rose, sluggishly yes, but free of the raging river.
“Is he alive?” Grey Mist yelled, diving under me to swoop up and past our efforts to keep Malik free of the death churning below.
“Yes,” I gasped. “Grab hold.”
Misty might lack imagination, but when he set his mind to something, his body saluted. Swinging a heavy rope he found somewhere, he tossed one end around Malik’s barrel and caught it deftly. Both tails in his claws, Misty threw his tremendous wings and disciplined body into the task. The rope in his clutches, he winged hard and harder, striving for altitude.
Malik’s weight eased slightly from my talons and Misty’s grip on the rope grew in strength. Four Griffins and one unconscious Centaur. How hard can it be?
“Now. Now. Now.”
I screamed, pushing
my wings to levels most Griffins shied from. Wet, heavy, reluctant, I forced my wings to obey my iron will. One, two, three. One wingbeat. One, two, three. Two wingbeats. One, two, three. A third wingbeat. As though from a dim distance, I heard Misty’s shout. “He’s free! Let him down. Down.”
“No.” I croaked the single word.
“He’s safe – “
“Across the river. Not here.”
A sparking arrow streaked up past my beak and exploded just over Misty’s great wingspan. A sharp coughing bark overwhelmed his scream of agony and shock, bright flames shooting in all directions. Piercing shrapnel peppered Misty’s body, and he let go the rope, his body falling, twisting, plummeting toward the river now falling back onto itself. Malik’s arm slid partway through my grip. Though I tried to hang on, without Misty’s help, the remaining three of us couldn’t withstand the sudden drop of Malik’s heavy body.
Falling with Malik, my wings straining, my talons sinking into his flesh, I watched through narrowed vision as Misty, bloody and helpless, struck the river’s surface. He vanished as the raging waves broke over his head.
“Heave, lads!” I shouted. “Heave him and leave go!”
Windy and Moon understood. As though directed by one mind, we knew we couldn’t hold him. The next best thing was to drop him into the safest place possible: the shallow pool. As one, we swung Malik high and wide – and released. I held my breath and spread my wings to soar upward as Malik struck the water, hindquarters first. Better than his head, I half-thought, as he fell, limp and lifeless, into the cushioning pond. The resulting splash nearly emptied it, but I saw that though his body lay submerged, his face lay free of the water.
Though I know he lived when I dragged him from the river, that drop may have killed him. With no time to wing in for a closer look, Flynn’s archers made me their target. A sputtering arrow-bomb flew up from behind the hill just to our south and sped toward me. Closing my wings, I dove for the river. I spun first left, then right. Like a hawk stooping on a squirrel, I arrowed downward. The bomb flew high and wild past me, exploding harmlessly far to my rear.
“Evasive maneuvers!” I yelled as more flying death spun up from the hill. “Edryd! Alain! Shoot them down! Shoot them down!”
Horseless, yet a keen archer just the same, Corporal Edryd knelt on the strand and squinted up, his nocked arrow drawn to his chin. More of Flynn’s sputtering death rose high, arching first up then out, aiming for the Griffins. His first arrow knocked a bomb off its course and sent it diving into the river. His second blew the explosive into pieces before it could ignite. His third sent it whining, ricocheting, into harmless space where it blew up nothing but air.
Horsed and talented, Alain galloped through the shallows, firing arrow after arrow, knocking down one, two, three and even four bombs before his horse stumbled and his fifth arrow flew wild.
Edara plunged into the slowly quieting river and half-swam, half-galloped across, her dainty features flushed with rage. She didn’t slow down upon reaching the shore, but increased her pace, running hard, pulling her arrow to her chin. Her destination: Flynn’s hill.
Kasi joined her, flying low over her head, screaming in inarticulate fury. Aderyn, mild in temperament and impossibly sweet in nature, changed from her slender deer into an uncontrolled, snarling lioness. Side by side with Edara, my cousin loped with fluid grace up the hill, dodging boulders and thickets, her intent clear. Flynn and friends would die. They charged not just for King and country, but to avenge their fallen leader. Whether Malik lived or died, they didn’t care. Flynn’s trap harmed him and that was all the reason they needed.
“Negative!” I screamed, winging hard toward them. “Stand down! Stand down!”
Either they didn’t hear me, or they pretended they didn’t. Or perhaps Flynn’s spell that entrapped Malik’s mind also snared theirs, drawing them to their deaths. On they charged, up the hill toward the small snag of trees where no doubt Flynn and his cronies hid, casting their spells and sending their bolts of explosives into the air. I recognized Flynn’s plan: kill our leader. Take out our air support. Force our reserves into a less than useful charge. Trot in and capture Princess Iyumi with hardly a weapon raised against him.
Flynn’s step-spelled explosives worked yet a second time. The bombs their feet triggered blew, exploding rocks and shrapnel high and ripping flesh to the bone. Aderyn’s body flew sharply right, encased in fire and blood. Her lion’s body crashed to the earth, rolling over and over, back down the hill. She lay under the oily, billowing smoke, unconscious or dead. Edara’s heavy legs shattered as stones and bits of metal crashed into her, her screams buried under the bomb’s coughing roar. She fell, her red mane bloody, her beautiful face torn, and her slender arms holding her bow caught under her chestnut body.
Black smoke and dirt boiled into the air, casting all into deep shadow. Kasi turned aside at the last second. Her wings extended to their fullest, she dodged sideways and down. Flynn’s archer was ready for that. His next bomb struck her full in the face, exploding in gouts of red-orange flame. Kasi’s screams died as she plummeted to the earth, head down and wings slack. Her neck snapped on impact.
Shock numbed my mind, stilled my reactions. Through the boiling smoke I saw them: broken, lifeless, gone. Three laughing, joyous girls taken into death’s embrace before they had a chance to live. I couldn’t stop them. I tried. I’m their leader. Their lives are my responsibility. My fault. Like Dalziel. Those under my command killed in action because I failed them. Their souls will haunt me forever more.
Not again. Not ever again.
I cannot live while those under my command died. I should have died then. I’ll die with them now. I’ll not live without them.
Blinded by rage and guilt, I closed my wings and dropped like a stone. Straight toward the trees and the bleak end awaiting me with open arms. I felt Death’s icy breath on my neck as I blasted toward Flynn’s hiding place with wings and talons extended. I may die but Flynn will accompany me as I crossed the great barrier. Him and me – together.
Flynn’s next barrage flew into my face before I got within a hundred rods of the hilltop. Their intent: take me out before I grabbed hold of that obnoxious Flynn. Blinded by bright flames and heavy smoke, the hot stench of sulphur burning my nostrils and throat, I ducked and dodged, swerved and swung. Peppered with shrapnel, my body burned, bleeding in countless places. Despite their best efforts, I gained ground. Flynn’s wild blonde mane tossed within my sights.
You’re my bitch, I thought.
Flynn saved the best for last. Up from within the tree-cover an arrow-bomb streaked, spitting like a seriously pissed off feline. Homing in on me, it kept to its target no matter how wildly I spun or darted. It gave me zero chance to dive for the earth and shake it from my ass. This is it, I thought. I wanted to take you with me, old son.
Had not Windy body-slammed me out of the way, I’d have crossed the great barrier alone. The arrow-bomb that sought my life exploded, raking him across the flank and quarters. It sent him pin-wheeling out of control, his drooping wings unable to keep him airborne. He screamed, a high-pitched wail of the utterly damned. The mountains echoed in false sympathy.
Windy!
I woke from my guilt-laden rage.
No more. No more will die saving my miserable hide, I swore, least of all this savagely loyal, humorous bastard. If one of us dies on this cold, highland hillside, it won’t be him. Not this time.
I winged hard right, then down and came up under Windy’s left flank. Gaping rents across his ribs, flanks and lion quarters bloomed bloody. His beak wide, he gasped in precious air, but his raptor eyes stared blankly into nothing. Shell-shock, I half-thought. I suspected his right rear leg might be broken by the way it hung, limp and motionless. Though his wings still beat hard and kept him, for the moment, from crashing to the rocks below, he’d soon lose his tenacious grip on life. He’d lose that battle of Windy versus gravity. His body wobbled, hitched and threatened to spiral
out of control. If I didn’t keep him right-side up and flying, I’d have one less friend in the world. I never did like losing friends.
Using a tactic unheard of before, I seized his front talons with my own. Unfortunately, Griffin wings were constructed to carry a Griffin. And just a Griffin. Excess baggage wasn’t permitted. Those huge yet fragile mixtures of feathers and hollow bones could never hope to transport the weight I now intended them to carry.
Back-winging yet rising, I dragged him higher and higher with me. My wings felt the intense strain, my shoulder muscles on fire. I panted, hard, dragging in deep gulps of air, willing my body into feats it was never designed for. “C’mon, Windy,” I gasped. “Work with me here.”
“Huh?”
His eyes tried to focus on me and failed.
“Fly, dammit!” I cried. “Use your wings, Atan. Fly!”
If he heard me, he didn’t respond by voice or eyes. But his wings beat harder and swifter, easing the stress on my own. Higher we rose, slowly, sluggish, easing away from the reach of Flynn’s archers. Under the relative quiet of the approaching storm, I led him toward safety, out of the reach of the battle. Guiding him down to the earth behind a low rocky wall and thicket of stunted trees, I dropped him to the ground.
He collapsed in a near-unconscious heap. His wings drooped, deflated tents, to either side of his blasted and bleeding body. His fierce lion tail sagged, lifeless, behind the chewed tan fur of his haunches. My heightened hearing listened to the firm thud of his heart beating within his broad chest and felt comforted. He wasn’t at death’s door. Yet.
“Van?”
Through a weakened beak he spoke, his front talons scrabbling in the dirt. Trying to rise, his eyes glazed, he yet fought his injuries. An Atan to the core, he thought he still might fly and follow me back into battle.
“Stay here,” I ordered.
“Van, I can’t – I must –”
“Stay. That’s an order, Atan.”
Without waiting for an answer, I leaped out and down. Below me, Flynn’s arrow-bombs continued to rake the sky. Moon dodged as best he could, diving first one way, then the next, driven helplessly away from the small cluster of Iyumi’s defenders. Anger and fury warred across his eagle’s face, as he failed to get closer to Iyumi and protect her. Edryd and Alain still shot as many explosives out of the air as he could, but too many passed them by and blew apart, sending deadly shrapnel across the sky.
The Unforgiven Page 32
