The Unforgiven

by A. Katie Rose

  Within two heartbeats, Van changed. His hand wasn’t a hand any more. An eagle’s talon gripped my wrist hard enough to break bones. His huge wings beat swiftly up and down. Our fall turned into flight. The wind no longer rushed through my ears; it whispered. My tears dried quickly and I blinked, able to see. I glanced around, up, finding myself caught within the grasp of an enormous Griffin. Van’s eagle head, with his brilliant green eyes behind his savage yellow beak, bent down and back. I caught his swift wink and infectious grin aimed in my direction. I couldn’t help it. I grinned weakly back.

  Down into the keep he dove, his wings enslaving the wind. Folks inside stared upward, shading their eyes, pointing up. I saw Centaurs and Minotaurs, horses and riders. Milling common folk and castle servants. Bright colors of nobles and dull woolens of serfs. All dead if we didn’t reach Blaez’s bomb first. It wasn’t just Van’s King and invading army that died if it went off, mine died along with them. These were my people, my people. If I didn’t protect them, who would?

  “Where, Flynn?” Van gasped, his eagle’s beak angled down to see me better. “I can’t keep us up for much longer, you’re too bloody heavy.”

  I looked around, ignoring my new fear of heights, gathering my bearings. There. “To your right, outside the keep itself. See the door?”

  Van coasted to our right, his wings out and leveled. “The one that looks like a peasant’s hovel?”

  “That’s it.”

  Van swooped sideways and left my belly behind. “Don’t blame me too much if I drop you rather suddenly.”

  I slipped from his grip only a mere few yards from the ground. Rolling upon striking the soil as I did when I fell off a horse, I hit the ground unharmed. Van landed beside me, his beak wide as he scooped in air, gasping for breath. He folded his wings – and changed.

  I gripped his shoulder hard as he bent over, drawing in one desperate lungful after another “Van?”

  “No worries,” he said, arming sweat from his face. “Griffins don’t carry extra weight well. This it?”

  “Come on.”

  Kicking the door open, I called fire to my hand. Descending into the darkness, I ran down the steep steps, Van hard on my heels. “What’s down here?”

  “These days,” I answered, “nothing much. In the old times, this cellar was used for storing food against famine. Famine hasn’t put in much of an appearance for the last few hundred years, so it’s largely empty.”

  “Why here?”

  Even as I ran, I glanced up. “These are the castle’s roots. Blaez wasn’t exactly smart, not in the way we usually call smart. But he knows bombs and he knows how to bring a building down.”

  “Like this one.”

  “Unfortunately, Van, his bombs destroyed much in your country. For terrorism, he was my pa’s right hand man.”

  “So why would he do this? This is your father’s castle.”

  I shrugged, leaping down three steps. “He’s also crazier than a caged tiger. Only a matter of time before he snapped.”

  We hit bottom, my fires illuminating a large, rectangular wooden box. In a huge chamber with shelves built into the walls and bins filling the entire place, the chest stood alone within a tiny clearing of floor space. Harmless it looked, yet my hairs on my neck stood on end. Here lay enough power to not just level this castle, but the town and beyond. Blaez never messed about. If he said this thing could level all in its path, I believed it. Both our folk would die, burning.

  “That’s it, there.” Van’s voice rose in excitement. “Isn’t it?”

  “Has to be. What do we do? Can we blast it into the netherworld?”

  Van spun around, his eyes wild. “No! Never. If we use our power, it’ll go off. I’ve seen too many of these. It’ll kill not just us but everyone within a three mile radius.”

  My gut dropped to my boots. “Then what do we do?”

  “Maybe I can disarm it.”

  Van pushed past me and knelt beside the box. His head cocked to the side, his black hair falling across his shoulders, he rested his hands atop it. Holding my breath, not daring to move, I waited. Seconds ticked by, one after the other. Until a minute rolled past. How many were left? Our flight from above took maybe three minutes, our run downstairs perhaps two. That left only ten minutes before the bloody thing went off.

  “Shit.”

  “What?”

  Van straightened. “I can disarm it, if I’ve a half hour or so. The spell he concocted is complicated.”

  “We don’t have that much time!”

  “I know, I know.”

  Van paced about, scowling, running his hands through his hair. Suddenly, he stopped, his hand frozen in the act of brushing his black locks from his face. He glared at me. “Is there a lake nearby?”

  “A lake?”

  “Dammit, Flynn! Is there a lake near here?”

  “Um, yes, about ten leagues north. Why?”

  “Fly it high,” he muttered. “Drop it in. Dead easy.”

  “What?”

  “Help me, dammit! We have to carry it out.”

  I seized one ungainly end as Van lifted the other. It wasn’t too heavy, but odds and ends inside shifted alarmingly. I halted worried, but Van continued to drag his end up the stairs. “It won’t go off until the fuse hits,” he said. “I can hear it, inside.”

  “Can’t you put it out?” I asked, pushing as he pulled. “Won’t that stop it from exploding?”

  He shook his head. “Not before it blows. Your Blaez is a crafty one.”

  It took perhaps three precious minutes to drag the thing into sunlight and open air. We set it down, both of us panting hard. I wiped sweat from my eyes, gasping. A clever Shifter, Van changed into his Griffin, his huge wings spreading as he loomed over me and cast me into shadow.

  “What’re you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “Fly it out,” Van snarled, seizing the end of the long box in his talons. “Fly it out. Drop it in the lake. Done it before.”

  Of course. He intended to carry the thing the leagues north, and drop it into the lake. There, its explosion killed fish, and perhaps a deer or three, but no humans and no castle falling down atop those who may survive the initial blast. I saw only one flaw: Van couldn’t manage it. His tremendous wings fanned the air, forcing him upward with every beat. The box rose, slowly, the section in his grip rising while the other remained steadfastly on the ground. He lunged upward, wings straining, his throat bared as he shut his eyes and fought for altitude.

  “Van,” I yelled, running into the storm of sweeping dust and litter the hurricane-force winds his wings kicked up. “You can’t do it.”

  “I have to.”

  “There’s no one near who can help.”

  “I know, dammit! Get out of my way!”

  I struck his massive lion shoulder, forcing him to drop the box. “You can’t do it alone, Van. Change me into a Griffin.”

  His beak swiveled toward me, his raptor eyes wide. “Get serious.”

  “I am, stupid.”

  My fist struck his yellow beak and rebounded unhurt. But my wrist ached. “There’s no time to find another flyer. I’m here. Help me change.”

  “You don’t know how to fly.”

  “I’ll learn,” I snapped, grim. “Do it.”

  “Gods,” he muttered, landing to all fours. “This is insane.”

  His talons extended toward me, grabbing me within their terrible grip. Unlike his healing magic, this power was cold, bone chilling cold. Panic seized me as my body changed. I grew in size, doubling, then grew some more. The box retreated, growing smaller and smaller. No, that wasn’t right. It remained the same as my eyes rose higher and higher yet. No longer did I stand on two feet. Four replaced them. My wings drooped, alien, hanging heavily on my shoulders. My heightened senses picked up sounds – voices, clop of hooves on stone. I scented wood smoke, roasted onions and frying peppers, my panicked mine trying to find an answer where none existed.

  “Feel,” Van ordered. “
Feel your new body. Don’t fight it. Go with it. Feel the wind and think of yourself one with it. Spread your wings.”

  I obeyed, calming my panic, dropping into a light trance as I sought for, and found, my Griffin self. I spread my wings wide just as my four feet coordinated with my heavy tail, and I rediscovered balance. Breathing hard, my pulse pounding, I surrendered to my body. Blind fear seeped away as did the adrenaline rush, leaving me to find confidence enough to explore my new form. I quickly forgot the two legs I was accustomed to and bent my head to admire the pair of lion hind legs to the eagle’s front talons. I folded my wings across my broad shoulders, rejoicing in their weight. Delight overran my fear. I was born to this, I thought. I can fly!

  I lifted my huge angel’s wings across my back. Their shadow dropped me into darkness where nothing shone. No sun, no moon and little light. I delved deep into the Griffin, learning its secrets, making it part of me. The body I now inhabited joined with my own into one. Still Prince Flynn, but different – emotionally, physically and spiritually.

  I bent my beak, eyeing my sleek lion body, my rear quarters. Let’s not forget my long lion tail that lashed despite my attempts to still it. My human arms now sprouted feathers and deadly razor-tipped talons. I chuckled, hearing my own voice from an alien mouth. Damn, but I made a handsome Griffin.

  “Stop admiring yourself,” Flynn snapped. “Grab your end. We’ve less than ten minutes.”

  Sinking my talons into the box, I flapped my wings. Nothing happened. I flapped harder, willing myself into the sky. Only the courtyard’s dust flew as I beat my wings. I launched myself skyward and only strained my already sore shoulder muscles. I didn’t fly an inch.

  “No, no, NO!”

  “Van, I’m trying –”

  “Not like that, you idiot. Use your damn legs, that’s why the gods gave them to you. Use your legs, first, then your wings. Leap high, and snag the wind. It’s there, waiting, ready. NOW, you fool, now!”

  His voice cracked like a whip. As though its lash struck my ass, I leaped skyward. My wings beat hard, carrying me up, ever up. I caught a warm updraft and allowed it to spiral me higher and higher. Far below, folks in the keep, hanging from Castle Salagh’s windows, or charging into the cobbled streets, stared upward, gaping like idiots. Yes, it’s me, I thought. Your wild prince whom you despise, riding the winds. I’m free of you and you of me. We are quits. Even.

  A dip of either left or right wing sent me into a turn while my tail acted as a rudder. The breeze whispered through my ears. Feeling free, as light as the feathers that bore me higher and higher, the power of flight intoxicated more that the headiest wine. Is this for real? Never before had I felt so free, or unrestrained. I never wanted to land.

  “Flynn! Get back here!”

  I sighed. Duty calls. Drawing my wings in, I stooped toward the great castle, blowing past its proud towers. I knew all manner of folk watched me fly by, but I didn’t pay them any mind. Van waved his talon, impatient, get down, down.

  Dropping lightly to the stone cobbles, I sent Van a quick wink. “I think I understand you better.”

  His beak stretched into a grin. “Flying is an addiction. Trust me, you’ll never get enough fixes. Come on, this is gonna be a bitch.”

  I sank my talons deep into heavy wood at the same time Van grabbed his end. Following his lead, I crouched, my lion hind legs low, my wings wide and back. Ready to leap, I merely awaited the word.

  “On three,” Van ordered. “One, two, THREE!”

  In perfect synch, we launched ourselves skyward. Van’s comment wasn’t far from the mark. The box tried to drag us back down to earth, beyond heavy. How the hell did Van manage to fly while holding onto me? Straining, cursing, I beat my wings hard, fast. Slowly we rose, past the keep, listening the muted roar of the watching crowds. Up and up, rising on a warm thermal, we beat past the towers.

  “North,” Van gasped. “Up and north. We need to get as high as possible.”

  Angling our way northward, we crossed the town proper. Concentrating, I forced my wings into working harder than they were meant to. Pain streaked across my shoulders, but I ignored it. Higher we climbed, the houses and buildings below appearing like tiny squares. A small river caught the sunlight and sent tiny blades into my eyes.

  “I’m gonna be sore tomorrow,” I muttered.

  “You might not be alive tomorrow,” Van replied, his tone humored. “We’ve less than three minutes.”

  “The lake’s just yonder. Behind that hill.”

  “Kick your ass into gear, plebe,” Van ordered. “High, high.”

  “Yes, sir,” I snapped, a laugh escaping my throat in a breathy hiss.

  We climbed. Two precious minutes passed, ticking away like the explosive inside the box. We climbed, beating hard for the deep blue over our heads. Past the tall hill, its heavy growth of trees crowning it like grey-green moss. Sunlight glinted off water just as Van announced, “One minute.”

  “We’re almost there, can’t we drop it?”

  “In the water,” he gasped. “Drown this sucker.”

  The lake’s edge passed under our tails. As it lay near a small chain of north-curving mountains called the Little Shin, the folks often referred to the wide and deep lake as the Ice Shin. Light shimmered off its surface, its dark blue waves rolled in ever-ending motion. Despite our height, my keen eyesight witnessed kingfishers and hawks, even an eagle, diving into the water in search of a fish breakfast. As we flew hard and fast over its center, Van’s fierce raptor eyes locked on mine.

  “Listen up,” he ordered. “This thing will fall fast. In twenty seconds it’ll explode, but it’ll take thirty for us to get clear. Once we drop it, bolt sideways. Not up, not down – sideways. As fast as you can. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  “Now!”

  I retracted my talons from the wood at the same instant Van let go. I didn’t waste time by turning in a circle; rather I dipped my right wing and spun west. Van spun east. Our wings brushed one another’s as we passed each other by.

  Arrowing across the sky, I sped. Without the weight of the box, I felt as light and free as a sparrow. Faster and faster, I beat my wings, the wind a sharp whistle in my flattened ears. Not far enough, I thought. Not fast enough. Calling upon my stubborn will, I forced my wings into greater speed. If that thing explodes before it hits the water –

  It did.

  With a sharp coughing bark, the detonation rolled across the hills and echoed across the Little Shin. Bright orange light surged past me an instant before the flash-fire struck my rear quarters. Blown tail over ears, I tumbled across the sky. Peppered with shrapnel, my fur crisped, I lost control. Down I fell, spinning, my wings failing to keep me airborne. Though I flapped them, beating hard to regain balance and lost altitude, they refused to work together. One tried hard while the other wobbled, then they switched tasks. Chill, my bird instincts advised. You have altitude and you have lift. Coast along on the wind. Soar, dummy.

  Good thinking, I thought, and set actions to idea. I quit fighting my wings and relaxed, splitting them wide and catching the summer breeze. Suddenly, I was flying again, soaring high above the Little Shin, rising higher and higher. A mere dip of a pinfeather turned me slightly southwest and I found I could actually breathe.

  Until the second blast ripped loose.

  Blaez never did anything by halves. Of course he’d have made certain his bomb took out everything, and everything, both near and far. He intended to not just bring down Castle Salagh, he wanted everyone within it, and the surrounding town, to die. Fleeting glimpses of a tidal wave of lake surging upward and outward blew past my eyes. The sudden rush of air, pushed out from the explosion, propelled me upward, dangerously out of control. The blast itself catapulted me tail over beak, tumbling me over and over until I wanted to vomit. Bits of nails, steel shards and glass spikes cut my shoulders, my face, my belly. I couldn’t help but cut loose with a scream of pain as Blaez’s shrapnel tore into my body.


  The explosion, and its effects died away, leaving behind a huge cloud centered over the Ice Shin. Though I was miles away, and spinning sickeningly out of control, the mushroom shaped smoke appeared to me a mere half hundred rods from my beak. Without the hot wind to help me rise, I fell. Plunging toward the tall evergreens that graced the shallow mountains, I plummeted at a terrific speed. Fainche, I half-thought, here I come.

  Dammit. Get those wings working.

  I gave it a try. My wings refused my order and remained steadfastly limp, like windless sails. Come on, come on. Flap, damn you. Flap. Against the gravity sucking me into my death on the rocks and trees below, my wings were as helpless as I was. I needed to turn my body upright.

  I’m half cat, I thought. Cats land on their feet.

  Though I didn’t try to land, I did twist, wrenching my body around. Now my feet pointed down, my wings up. Instinctively, I cupped them, slowing my fall. My tail swung heavily back and forth, steadying me. Much better. Rather than drop like a stone, I drifted. Crap. That was close. Though I couldn’t exactly sweat as a human would, I did feel hot. I panted, my beak wide and sucking in the cool air of the mountains. Immediately, my body’s heat eased a fraction. The air flowing over my feathers and lion’s fur helped my temperature level. Now if could only kill the pain of my fractured hide, I’d be one very happy bird.

  One beat of my wings, then two brought me out of the lethal spiral toward the very hard ground below. By the third and the fourth, I flew again and just might survive Blaez’s legacy. With the fifth and all those that followed, I circled. I took a deep breath, and looked around. I took a moment to curse Blaez into the hottest fires of hell. Had that thing gone off under Castle Salagh, no doubt it’s power would have not just brought it tumbling down, but would send blocks of granite cascading like the lake water. Thousands of people would have died under the rain of fire and steel. Just as Blaez planned.