Something told Eva it would be a big mistake to correct the drill master on her name. She stepped forward before he found another reason to bust her. Away from the line, she felt small and very alone like a rabbit beneath a circling hawk.
“We’re going to go for a little run,” Cross said. “Through what I like to call the Circuit of Stone. And then when we get back and have a sweat worked up, the real work begins. You take the lead behind me, Queen Magpie, and if I catch you slacking up there in the front, so help me. Now, move!”
For a large man, Cross possessed an unfortunate amount of speed and stamina. Eva and the rest of the class followed behind as the drill master led them out of the Pit into a series of twisting tunnels. Unlike the main passageways of the Gyr, these seemed far older and rougher, torn from the mountain innards. What’s more, they had far fewer crystal lanterns, and Eva stumbled several times trying to keep up with the Cross, who set a punishing pace.
Although sweat soon poured from her, Eva’s work at the forge demanded plenty of stamina. She pushed on without looking back to see how the rest fared. Cross kept going and going and still managed to have enough breath to curse them whenever Eva or anyone else lagged in the slightest. She didn’t know how the younger recruits kept up — the run taxed her enough, and she had almost twice the stride as most of them. Down, down they went, stumbling and sliding on uneven stone and loose gravel. Eva had no clue where there were or how to get back to the upper levels, but after what she guessed was half an hour or so, Cross veered to his right and took them on another path leading up at a sharp slope.
By the time she recognized the Pit ahead, Eva’s legs burned and her hair stuck against her skin in wet strands. Cross stopped when they reached their start position. Sweat darkened the front and back of his uniform, but Cross breathed like he’d taken a walk while the rest of them heaved and braced hands on knees, sucking air.
“No time for rest now, magpies!” Cross shouted moments later. “Drop to the ground.”
Eva lowered her aching body to the cool stone floor, but as soon as her palms touched the ground Cross shouted for them to spring back up. And so it continued. Cross put them through all manner of drills and exercise until Eva slipped into a numb trance. As much as the drill master cursed and belittled the others, he heaped three times as much on Eva, the “Queen Magpie.”
By the time Cross called a halt, the sunlight streaming through the cavern’s opening had faded to a soft orange glow. Eva wiped the sweat from her face with the back of her equally sweaty hand and sucked a deep breath into her exhausted body.
“All right, magpies!” Cross had done at least half the exercises with them and looked like he could’ve gone for hours more if the mood took him. “You’re dismissed! Be sure to hit the baths before you go to the Main Hall for dinner — don’t want your stink ruining my meal, hear me?”
“Yes, Drill Master Cross,” they said, voices dulled and weary.
“What!” the drill master shouted — by now, Eva doubted he’d ever whispered in his life. “Let me heart you!”
“Yes, Drill Master Cross!” their ragged, strained voices replied.
“That’s better,” Cross said. “Welcome to the Gyr, magpies!”
Chapter Eleven
Eva woke the next morning — and the next several mornings — sorer than she’d ever been swinging a hammer in Soot’s forge. Although training with Cross only happened every other day, it was just enough time for Eva’s tired and aching body to reach peak agony before being thrust back into countless drills, runs, courses, or whatever new hell the drill master dreamed up in their absence. When they weren’t exercising their bodies, Cross put them through the same basic motions with wooden swords until Eva thought the boredom might kill her before the physical work did. With so many different weapons to learn, she didn’t see how she’d ever improve, no matter how much they drilled.
Aside from sword work, they practiced archery, knife throwing, footwork with the spear and shield, wrestling, and every other martial skill imaginable. Eva soon found that although she had the strength and endurance to survive Cross’s trainings, she lacked any sort of talent for the finer points of combat. To make matters worse, Cross insisted on pitting three to four of her younger classmates against her each time they fought. It more than made up for their differences in age and size, but nobody benefited.
Eva soon found showing any mercy to her opponents only encouraged Cross to push them harder. As a result, the younger recruits hated training with Eva even if it wasn’t her fault. Eva felt bad until she observed the older Windsworn training. One time Sigrid broke a boy’s nose and dislocated a girl’s shoulder in the time it took Eva to cross from one side of the Pit overlook to the other. From that moment on, Eva counted her bruises and lumps a blessing.
To make matters worse, the gryphon chick only seemed to loathe Eva even more as he grew. Now he was the size of a large cat or small dog. Even with added strength from Cross’s conditioning, Eva could hardly contain the chick in her arms anymore. He’d also started molting his down and enjoyed pulling it out all over Eva and Sigrid’s quarters, not to mention shredding their bedding with his growing beak and talons.
Any hopes Eva had of Sigrid warming to her vanished after the first week. She sneered whenever Eva groaned and dropped on her bed after a long training sessions. Other than that, if Sigrid wasn’t yelling at Eva for something she or the chick had done, the girl pretended like Eva didn’t exist — even on the rare occasions they were in their quarters together for something other than sleeping.
But despite all that, there were things Eva enjoyed about the Gyr life. She loved her non-combat classes, the ones about diplomacy, the history of Altaris and the gryphon riders, and more. Her friendship with Wynn also grew. At dinner, the two of them usually sat apart from the other Windsworn recruits. The younger ones in Eva’s class quickly grew resentful of the reluctant beatings she gave them, while Sigrid seemed to have scared the older ones into keeping their distance. That or word had spread that the red gryphon’s future rider wasn’t all she’d been cracked up to be.
There was one other person who made an effort to speak to Eva whenever their paths crossed: Tahl. Since he’d just become a full-fledged Windsworn like Sigrid, Eva rarely came across him in her daily activities. When she did, her face had a habit of reddening, even before he said hello. Most of the conversations began and ended with Eva muttering something slightly indiscernible, but even those few moments helped carry her through the punishing days with Cross, frustrating evenings with the red gryphon, and icy encounters with Sigrid.
At the moment, Eva had more pressing problems to worry about than Cross, her chick, or even Sigrid. Today was their first class with the adult gryphons to learn the basics of flight. After weeks cleaning out old nests, caring for the various gryphon injuries and maladies, and long lectures, the dreaded day had arrived.
Now, to make matters worse, she’d gotten lost after taking what she thought was a shortcut from the library. Instead, Eva and the gryphon chick found themselves in an unfamiliar narrow tunnel. The red gryphon hissed in her arms as the cracked crystal lanterns flickered, casting an eerie light around them.
“I don’t like it, either,” Eva said, attempting to calm the chick with a pet on his mottled down and feather head. He responded by nipping at her hand, but by now Eva could anticipate such attacks and jerked it back.
When the tunnel split in two again, Eva paused and blew out a deep breath, trying to keep her emotions under control. On top of being lost and late for flight class — bad enough under the best circumstances — she told herself it wouldn’t do to get worked up and wander into some trap room or pit. Closing her eyes, Eva counted in her head liked she’d learned from the meditation classes then went with her gut feeling: the left tunnel.
Several turns and dozens of paces later, Eva noticed the smooth walls melt into the roughhewn rock that she’d only seen before in the lower parts of the Gyr, even though she knew sh
e wasn’t far from the Roost. The lanterns flickered and faded even more, but a pale blue light appeared ahead and grew as Eva approached. The air turned cold — colder even than the Roost, and Eva felt goose bumps spread up her arms. She’d just decided to turn around when a wild screech split the silence.
Eva bit back a scream of her own, and the gryphon chick leapt from her arms, scurrying toward the noise. For a long moment, Eva considered leaving him behind then, realizing she’d probably be thrown off the side of the mountain for doing so, gave chase.
“Get back here!”
In the dim light, Eva could barely see the red gryphon’s tail as he whipped around another curve in the tunnel ahead of her. She growled and ran harder.
“Ha!” Rounding the corner on a burst of speed, Eva dove and stretched out to snag the gryphon chick. She hit the ground hard but held on tight as the hatchling kicked and fought to free himself. Undeterred, Eva yanked him closer, copper-colored wings buffeting her face. “Gotcha, you little monster!”
The hatchling went limp in her arms, and Eva felt a surge of relief. At the same time, the air above her felt close. Eva rolled over and found herself staring into the milky, sightless eyes of an ancient black gryphon.
Before Eva could make a sound, a spotted and wrinkled hand clapped over her mouth. An equally ancient man appeared above her, blocking Eva’s site of the black gryphon. Holding a finger to his lips, he slowly slid his hand away and motioned for her to rise. As she did so, the blind gryphon jerked its head toward her, emitting a low hiss. Eva clamped her hand over the chick’s beak as it started to answer.
Eva followed the old man around the edge of the chamber, hugging the rock wall until he brought them to a smaller cave, too small for the black gryphon to enter. The ancient gryphon’s milky white eyes followed them and it clicked its beak and tapped its long, gnarled claws on the stone floor. Inside, Eva spotted a few half-ruined books surrounded by old leaves and bits of long-dead animals but not much else.
“My, my, what do we have here, eh?” the old man asked when Eva entered the small cave. “Don’t get visitors very often, by the storm, we don’t. Good thing you didn’t eat them, eh, Basil?”
Eva guessed Basil was the gryphon’s name because when it heard the old man it let out a croaky sound like it agreed with him.
“I-I’m sorry, sir,” she said. “I didn’t mean to intrude. I got lost on my way to the Roost.”
The old man shook his head and held a finger to his lips. Wrinkles within wrinkles lined his face, and long, thin strands of white hair blew like wisps across his head. His eyes, though, were bright and green and sharp as any blade. Unlike every other Windsworn Eva had seen, the old man wore stained and faded black leathers.
“Best not speak too much, my dear,” he said, grinning. His smile showed a sparse collection of cracked and yellowed teeth. “Basil doesn’t take kindly to interruptions.”
“Please,” Eva said in a lower voice. “If you’ll show me the way out, I’ll leave you alone.”
The old man cackled, and Eva felt a tingling run down her back. The gryphon chick tensed as well, burrowing against Eva in a rare show of fear. The old man’s laughter died on his thin lips, and he almost looked hurt by Eva’s reaction.
“Don’t worry, dear, you’re in safe hands with me and old Basil,” he said, voice softening. “I am Lord Vyr!”
The way he said it made Eva think she ought to know the name. She racked her brain to recall a Lord Vyr from the long list of Windsworn in her history lessons but drew a blank. It didn’t seem prudent or polite to say that, however.
“It’s nice to meet you, my lord.” She shifted the gryphon chick in her arms and saluted.
Lord Vyr gave another broken smile. “Ah! A girl with manners. Very good.”
Still flustered and ready to be gone, Eva had no idea what to say.
“May I see?” he asked, holding his arms out. “The gryphon? The…red gryphon.”
As rocky as their relationship was, Eva felt a sudden surge of protectiveness toward the little gryphon.
“I…I’d better keep him,” she said. “He isn’t the friendliest.”
Lord Vyr chuckled and jerked a thumb toward the black gryphon pacing back and forth outside in the larger chamber. Eva caught sight of his milk-white eyes staring back at her as if it weren’t blind at all. “I understand completely. Come, let me show you something.”
The old man beckoned Eva over to a small stone table in the center of the cavern. A chill ran through her when she looked at its surface. It was carved with deep lines of ancient runes and had several dark brownish-red stains that looked like blood long dried.
“It’s all here,” Lord Vyr said, waving a hand over the table.
When he offered no further explanation, Eva venture a question. “All…what?”
“Everything!” the old man said, sounding irritated. “If you’re smart enough to read it. A gryphon born once in a generation, to fight the iron storm and save us from the breaking wind.”
The back of Eva’s neck tingled and the gryphon chick fell still in her arms. “Is that the prophecy?” she asked.
“A part of it, yes.”
Eva’s heart quickened. Here she might be able to find her answers, find out if she truly belonged at the Gyr, if she was truly meant to be Windsworn.
“But,” Eva said, staring at the table. “What does it mean? What does the prophecy say about the rider?”
“Huh?” Lord Vyr looked at her like she was the one mumbling nonsense.
“The rider of the red griffin.”
Lord Vyr frowned and picked his nose. “The prophecy doesn't say anything about the rider.”
Eva’s heart sank. Lord Vyr must have noticed because he placed a hand on Eva’s shoulder. She winced — it was the same one he’d just been inspecting his nose with.
“Isn’t the rider just as important as the gryphon?” she asked.
The old man studied her for a long while and shook his head. “That’s the trick! Only you can answer the questions you seek.” He jabbed a finger into her breastbone, and Eva took a step back.
“That doesn’t make much sense,” she muttered.
Lord Vyr threw back his head and laughed until his cackles echoed throughout the cave. “Just like your father!”
Your father.
Eva’s blood ran cold. “My father? How do you — did you know him?” It seemed impossible. How could Lord Vyr known Eva or anything about her past?
“Fear or greatness,” the old man said instead. “I see them both pulling at you. Which will you choose?”
“Please!” Eva said, desperate for any bit of information he would give her. “Please, tell me what you know of my father!”
Instead, Lord Vyr pointed to a ragged tapestry hanging from the back of the cavern. “Behind there, you will find safe passage to the Roost. Take only left turns until you recognize where you are.”
“I’m begging you,” Eva said, tears welling in her eyes. “Please…I need to know.”
With a surprisingly gentle touch, Lord Vyr raised her chin until their eyes met. “The truth cannot be found here with a blind old gryphon and crazy old man. Remember what I said — fear or greatness. You can only serve one. Now, it is time for you to go. Basil grows restless.”
As he spoke, another blood-curdling screech reverberated through the chamber, and Eva felt a rush of wind as powerful black wings beat at the walls outside the small cave. Lord Vyr lifted the corner of the tapestry, exposing a tunnel just wide and tall enough for Eva to fit through.
“It would not be wise to return,” Lord Vyr said. “But if you do, a jar of honey would not go amiss.”
Eva nodded, unable to speak as her mind whirled with dozens of questions. Wiping the last tear from her face, she hefted the gryphon chick and ducked into the tunnel.
“Fear or greatness!” Lord Vyr’s shout echoed after her long after the sound had faded in the dim light and dark stone. “Remember, Evelyn!”
; It was only then Eva realized she’d never given the old man her name.
Chapter Twelve
Just as Lord Vyr promised, Eva soon found her way back to familiar paths and arrived at the Roost in short order. She walked into the open cavern and found Roost Master Cassandra at the far end of the chamber, a tan gryphon beside her, surrounded by the rest of Eva’s class. When she saw Eva, Cassandra shot her a look of reproach but didn’t break from her lecture to say anything. Wynn gave her a questioning look, but Eva shook her head.
“Later,” she mouthed.
“Riding a gryphon is not at all like riding a horse,” Cassandra said. “In flight, you move in all directions: left, right, up, down, sideways. You must be holding on at all times, or you will fall. Am I understood?”
“Yes, Roost Master,” the class answered in a subdued voice that would’ve turned Drill Master Cross’s face purple.
Cassandra pursed her lips together and looked over the recruits. “Good. I can stand here and talk until I die of old age, but the fastest way to learn is by doing. Wynn, why don’t we have you go first?”
Wynn shot Eva an excited grin and pushed her way to the front of the group. She made to climb into the gryphon’s saddle then and there, but the roost master grabbed her shoulder, stopping Wynn in her tracks
“Not so fast,” Cassandra said. “As I said before, this is no common plow horse you’re riding; this is a gryphon. They are not beasts of burden. Now, approach Gaius in the front.”
Cassandra pivoted Wynn around until she stood in front of the big tan gryphon. Gaius watched her with golden eyes but didn’t seem very interested in the young girl before him. Wynn took a cautious step forward, arms extended until her hands touched Gaius’s beak. Eva couldn’t help but stare at the wicked curve at the end of the gryphon’s beak.
“Very good, Wynn,” Cassandra said, “Now, you may step around his wing into the saddle. Go easy now!”
Windsworn: Gryphon Riders Book One (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 1) Page 8
