Windsworn: Gryphon Riders Book One (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 1)

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  The two seated on either side of Andor seemed especially intent. To the lord commander’s left, a woman with sun-darkened skin and midnight hair looked at Eva, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. She sat easy in her chair, like a lioness sunning herself on a rock.

  The man on Andor’s right, however, seemed to be carved out of the mountain itself, down to his slate-gray hair, eyes, and well-groomed beard. A scar ran from the corner of his eye and nose across his cheek to the outside of his jawline. Eva glanced away, unnerved, and focused her attention on the lord commander.

  “Welcome, Evelyn,” he said. “Although we did not know who, the coming of the red gryphon and his rider have been long awaited.”

  “Let’s not be hasty.” It was the gray-haired man on Andor’s let who spoke. His stern gaze cut into Eva like a knife. “The road to becoming full-fledged Windsworn is long. Many leave the mountain, never to return.”

  “I…” Eva swallowed hard and felt a sudden longing for the comforting light of her mother’s Wonder stone. “I will do my best, I promise you.” She realized how many people she’d already made that promise to over the past few days and hoped she wouldn’t break it.

  “Be careful what you promise, girl,” the woman on Andor’s right said. “We will hold you to it.”

  “My strong left and right wings,” Andor said, nodding to the man and the woman. Commanders Uthred and Celina.”

  The gryphon chick chose that moment to latch his front talons into Eva’s arm. “W-well met,” Eva said, trying to hide the pain. She shifted her arms and held back a gasp as the needle-sharp claws pulled free.

  “You are afraid,” Uthred said. “To become one with your gryphon, to become Windsworn, you must be fearless.”

  Although Eva didn’t say anything, she felt certain if any of the riders in the room knew of her terror of heights, she’d be dismissed immediately. Had Andor noticed the day before? She didn’t see how he couldn’t have.

  “No one is fearless, Uthred, not even you,” Commander Celina said, never taking her eyes off Eva. As she spoke, she toyed with a forearm brace that looked more like stone than any metal Eva knew of. Celina’s fingertips traced the runes carved into the brace’s surface, considering her next words. “It’s how we face those fears. Can you be brave, girl?”

  “I —”

  “She is too old,” Uthred interrupted. “And built like a willow twig. You should have left her where you found her and brought the red gryphon to another rider, my lord.”

  Eva felt a spark of anger rise in her, but one look at Uthred’s pale gaze quenched it like a hot blade in oil. She looked down at the gryphon chick, shifting him in her arms so his talons were pinned against her and her bare skin was out of reach of his beak.

  “Eva has grown up working with one of the toughest men in Rhylance,” Andor said in a loud voice, silencing several murmurs. “I don’t think I need to remind anyone here of Wayland’s deeds or character. She will learn to hold her own.”

  At the mention of Soot’s real name, Eva’s fears momentarily faded. She would’ve given anything to ask Andor about her foster father’s secretive past but knew now wasn’t the time.

  “Nevertheless,” Uthred said, unmoved by Andor’s argument. “We hold Council for a reason. I propose we vote to see if the girl stays.”

  Eva’s stomach twisted, and her mouth went dry. Vote? Was Uthred trying to kick her out? Would the Council see Eva for the charlatan she was and send her home? Embarrassment, anger, and a small bit of hope swirled inside her as the Council fell into unrest.

  “The girl has been chosen!”

  “Uthred is right; she is too old to learn our ways. She will never be Windsworn!”

  “Just look at her!”

  “This is ridiculous! The gryphon has already bonded!”

  The discontent grew into shouts, with Eva trapped in the middle of it all. The gryphon chick shrieked and flailed in Eva’s grasp, upset at the noise. Tears welled in her eyes, and Eva wished she could melt into the floor.

  “Silence!”

  Andor rose from his chair, deep blue eyes daring someone to speak. “We will have order. A council this may be, but I am still Lord Commander of the Windsworn. Before anything is put to a vote, Eva would you like to say something?”

  It was the last thing Eva expected or wanted. She swallowed, tongue feeling ten times too big in her bone-dry mouth. On one hand, this was her chance. With a few words, she could walk away from the Gyr, from Uthred, Sigrid, and the angry gryphon chick who’d overturned her world. A quiet life with Soot and Seppo waited, beckoning her back home.

  Eva opened her mouth to tell them Uthred was right — there’d been some kind of terrible mistake. But as she did Eva felt something stir deep inside, like a tiny, flickering ember buried in ash. A feeling of defiance she’d never felt before. Damn them all, it whispered. Prove them wrong. She didn’t know what hidden corner of her heart it came from, but she knew it wouldn’t let her leave.

  “Eva?” Andor asked again, raising his eyebrows. The gryphon chick chirped, breaking the silence.

  Eva opened her mouth again and couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Words came out of her mouth, but she couldn’t even tell what they were.

  “Speak up, dear,” Celina said. She looked amused, like she knew something the rest didn’t and wasn’t going to share. It seemed like the commander was making fun of her, but rather than upsetting Eva further, it fanned the tiny ember inside her until it glowed even brighter.

  “I don’t know why I was chosen,” Eva said, raising her voice. “And no, I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t swing a sword, and I don’t know how to fly a gryphon. But I can work hard.”

  Andor nodded, and the room fell silent, leaving Eva no indication of how her words went over. “Let us consult with Captain Windholt,” the lord commander said. “What is your decision?”

  Eva turned to a gruff old man with hair shaved to a stubble. He wore a patch over one eye and gnawed on the tip of his drooping mustache.

  “Why not,” he growled at last. “Let’s see what the girl’s made of. Give her a chance, I say.”

  Andor nodded. “Captain Velinda?”

  The seat to the old man’s right held a middle-aged woman with a lean face and short hair so fair it almost looked white. She regarded Eva, fingertips pressed together beneath her chin, then looked down at the gryphon chick in her arms.

  “Hmmm…no,” the captain said in a slow, drawling voice. “I’m sorry, young lady, but I think not.”

  Equal parts inside Eva celebrated and were crushed at the same time. They continued to the next four, which tied the vote as it came to Uthred. Sensing her discomfort, the chick hissed, and Eva did her best to hold him away without looking too obvious.

  “No,” the gray-haired commander said at once. “This is no place for milk maidens — even if they can swing a hammer.”

  Andor frowned at Uthred. “I vote yes.”

  Eva glanced at Celina, hating the fact her fate was as the woman’s mercy. The commander looked Eva up and down, for several gut-wrenching moments. “Come back to me,” she said at last. “I have not yet decided.”

  Eva didn’t think that would work out in her favor, but she tried to put on a brave face as the votes passed to the remaining six Windsworn. Two more women, faces marked with war paint, voted no but a dark-skinned man, and, somewhat to Eva’s surprise, Cassandra, both voted yes. A man with long red hair bound in dozens of braids voted no, leaving only a woman with a shaved head and Celina.

  “I hope you’ve made your mind up, Celina,” the woman with the shaved head said. “Because I vote yes, which means we have a tie.”

  Eva’s palms grew cold and trickles of sweat ran down her back and forehead, but she couldn’t wipe it without setting down the red gryphon. By now, the chick had had more than enough of Eva holding him and fought with all his might until Eva relented and placed him on the floor to peck at her boots.

  All eyes fell on Celina. Despi
te the added attention, she remained draped across her chair as if they were discussing the details of a summer picnic, not Eva’s future with the Windsworn. To Eva, her beating heart sounded like a drum filling the entire chamber.

  “Oh all right,” Celina said at last, sitting up and waving a hand as if they’d all been asking her to play some sort of trivial game. “I vote yes.”

  Quiet mutters broke out across the Council. Uthred looked like he’d been forced to swallow a dagger, while Andor stared at Eva with the same concerned look he’d worn during the voting.

  “It is decided, then,” he said. “Eva will remain at the Gyr and undergo training to become full-fledged Windsworn. Eva, you are dismissed.”

  In a daze, Eva gathered up the gryphon chick and turned for the stone doors. As the other Council members began to talk among themselves, Celina’s voice rose over the hubbub.

  “Don’t make me regret my decision, girl!”

  Chapter Ten

  Wynn was waiting on the balcony at the end of the Officers’ Hall. “How did it go?” she asked.

  Although she would have rather talked about anything else, Eva told the girl about the Council and their vote.

  “You’re staying!” Wynn said at the end. Her enthusiasm made Eva feel a little better after the harrowing events. “And don’t worry about Uthred — from what I hear he’s a salty old bugger with everyone. Come on, we’re going to be late for class!”

  Eva followed Wynn across the Main Hall into a passage at the bottom of a narrow street. It rose several stories above them, orange-yellow lanterns illuminating so many windows that the whole chasm looked bright as daylight. Wynn went up a staircase to one side of the street and continued until she came to a large wooden door. She opened it and gestured Eva inside, following close behind.

  Inside, Eva saw long rows of tables filled with recruits around Wynn’s age, their attention focused on a large bald man with square spectacles perched on the end of a rather bulbous nose. When the door opened, the teacher looked up from whatever he’d been reading, followed by the rest of the class. Seeing Eva, they stared until the teacher gave an impatient cough.

  “Ah yes,” he said. “Glad you could make it. Eva, isn’t it?”

  Eva nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Portridge,” the man said. “You may call me Instructor Portridge. Have a seat.”

  Feeling somewhat lost and naked in front of all the adolescents staring at her, Eva chose an open seat in the back corner and sat the gryphon chick down in front of her. He proceeded to leave several droppings right away, much to Eva’s horror. Wynn took a seat next to her with her own chick. When she noticed the mess, the younger girl grimaced and scooted her chair away.

  Eva grew a deep red — yet another first impression gone wrong. She looked around for something to clean the mess up with but found nothing. Instructor Portridge cleared his throat and stepped out from behind his podium, clearly aware of the issue. He produced a rag from somewhere and tossed it to Eva. “In the future, please leave your hatchlings in the nursery before coming to class.”

  A couple of students snickered until a stern look from Portridge silenced them. “Of course, sir,” Eva said, looking at Wynn, who shrugged in silent apology. “I didn’t know —”

  The instructor cut her off with the wave of a thick hand. “Quite all right, quite all right — it is your first day after all. Wynn should have known better. Anyhow, back to the matter at hand — who can give me an account of the founding of Rhylance?”

  About three quarters of the hands in the class shot up. Wynn, on the other hand, ducked her head, focusing on her gryphon chick. Portridge selected a mousy-haired boy near the middle, who stood up and clasped his hands behind his back.

  “The Sorondar sailed across the Western Ocean almost four hundred years ago after a terrible plague. On their ships, they brought with them the last surviving gryphons and gryphon eggs from their homeland. When they reached Altaris, the two groups split, some staying on the coast to found Pandion while the gryphon riders continued inland and founded Rhylance.”

  Professor Portridge nodded along as the boy spoke, stroking his giant side whiskers. “Very good, very good. And who were the original inhabitants of the Rhylance Valley?”

  This time, only a couple of hands raised, but Eva noticed the same boy who’d just answered had his arm stretched so high he was almost out of his seat. He looked to be one of the smallest in the class. “Let’s give someone else a try, eh, Danny?” Portridge said to the boy before selecting a girl to his right. “Go ahead, my dear.”

  “The original inhabitants of the Rhylance Valley were the Scrawls,” the girl said. “The Sorondarans fought with them to establish a kingdom here.”

  “Well done!” Portridge said. His gusto slid his spectacles to the very end of his mushroom nose. “Now, let’s move on to the founding of the Gyr itself…”

  Eva left the room, head buzzing. She’d learned some of the histories from books Soot brought her; only the nobility’s children attended any formal schooling in the city. Given the opportunity, Eva devoured Portridge’s lecture, eager to learn something new. She left the room with a couple of books she’d worked up the nerve to ask to borrow at the end of class.

  “Don’t know what you want all them for; you going to hit someone over the head with them?” Wynn asked, shaking her head.

  “Don’t you like to read?” Eva asked.

  Wynn shrugged. “I’d rather practice with weapons.”

  They made their way back to the Roost to leave their chicks at the nursery for the remainder of the day’s classes. Eva, trying to remember the way in her head as she followed Wynn, only got confused at a couple of turns. By now, the gryphon chick was hungry and restless. Eva gladly left him in Cassandra’s care, who took the infuriated chick into her arms and seemed delighted when he tried to eat her finger. She tried not to hide her relief as they made their way back down to the many levels of the fortress, free at last of the little monster who’d plagued her over the past couple of days.

  Eva’s joy soon faded, however, when Wynn led them to the Pit for their next class.

  Down on the main floor, Eva felt ridiculous as she lined up next to the other new recruits. Everyone else was at least four years younger than her, although watching a few of them warm up she didn’t doubt any of them could outperform her with any weapon in the armory. Lost in her thoughts, she jumped when a loud voice erupted across the cavern.

  “Atten-shun!”

  Eva scurried into line with the rest and tried to imitate their pose. Tall even for her age, she stuck out like a sore thumb among the younger recruits.

  Out of the corner of her eye, Eva saw a bear of man walking out of the smaller caves into the Pit, hands clasped behind his back like he was strolling through a garden. His brown hair was shaved to a stubble atop a block-shaped head. He didn’t say anything as he approached, just stared at them through beady eyes, a look of distaste on his face as if the recruits gave off a foul odor. Eva dropped her eyes to the floor when he stopped in front of her and squared up to face the line of cadets.

  “Good morning, magpies!” he said in the same booming voice. “My name is Drill Master Thaddeus Cross. Now, repeat after me: Good morning, Drill Master!”

  “Good morning, Drill Master!”

  “Excuse me?” Cross said, leaning forward on one leg and cupping a paw to his ear. “I didn’t realize we were in the library. I said Good Morning!”

  Eva flinched at Cross’s bellowing but roared back with the rest. She stared straight ahead, over the drill master’s shoulder at a rack of wooden staves against the opposite wall and tried to be as inconspicuous as she could while towering over the other recruits.

  “And who do we have here?”

  Drill Master Cross stepped forward until he was only a hand’s breadth from Eva. Her stomach twisted like snakes, and she squeezed her hands together behind her back to keep them from shaking. Eva swallowed and tried to keep her face an empty m
ask.

  “Excuse me,” Cross said, hot breath on her face. “I believe I asked you a question. What is your name, Recruit?”

  “Evelyn, sir,” she managed without stammering.

  “Evelyn, is it?” Cross said, teeth gritted like a bulldog. Eva could see every vein bulging in his face and beads of perspiration gathering on his forehead.

  “Or Eva,” she added when he didn’t move. “I mostly go by Eva…sir.”

  “And I mostly go by Drill Master, not sir!” Cross bellowed, spraying spittle across her face. Eva stumbled backward.

  “Y-y-yes, Drill Master!” Eva said in as loud a voice as she could muster.

  Cross sniffed and stomped down the line, looking for his next victim. When she thought the drill master wasn’t looking, Eva wiped her hands on the back of her pants and tried to still her pounding heart.

  “You will learn today that I am not here to be your friend,” Cross said, prowling up and down the line. Even without yelling, his voice echoed across the Pit. “I am here to teach you how to fight and kill, if necessary. And, storm willing, if any of you magpies are worth more than a pile of pigeon shit, I will train you into some of the fiercest fighting men and women in all of Altaris.

  “You will be drilled in the sword, the bow, the spear, unarmed combat, and anything else that suits my fancy,” Cross continued. He paced along their lines like a wolf outside a sheep barn, just waiting for his opening to strike. “You will sweat. You will bleed. You will vomit. You will break bones and pass beyond all bounds of exhaustion. And then you will do it again. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Drill Master Cross!” Eva’s throat felt raw already, and she wondered if she’d sound as loud and rattling as Cross by the time she finished training.

  Cross turned on his heel and spun to a stop right in front of Eva again. “Excellent. Now, let us begin. You there, Esther or whatever your name was. Let’s see what prodigies are made of. Step forward.”