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

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  Gaius sank to the ground and spread his great wings, and Wynn stepped around to the space between the wing and the gryphon’s feline torso. After a moment’s hesitation, the young girl swung into the small saddle. When he felt Wynn settle on his back, Gaius rose, too. Wynn grinned and waved to everyone from her vantage point atop the gryphon.

  Next, Cassandra stepped around the wings and cinched both of Wynn’s legs down with straps and buckles attached to the stirrups. Wynn firmly in place, the roost master did a once-over on the gryphon’s saddle and harness then stepped back.

  “Yah!” Wynn shouted, flicking the reins. Gaius turned his mighty bird’s head around and looked at the girl like he might a fly buzzing around him.

  Cassandra frowned. “Gryphons are not our servants, Wynn, they are partners. If you wish to ever become Windsworn, you must learn to work with them, not command them. Now, try again.”

  Wynn blushed then reached forward and patted the gryphon’s neck. “All right, Gaius, let’s —”

  Before she could finish, the gryphon leapt forward and launched himself into the air. Wynn’s initial scream turned into a shout of excitement as the tan gryphon climbed higher and higher toward the crack of sky far above. Watching Wynn, Eva recalled her own trip on Stormwind, and her vision started reeling. She looked at the ground and squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Gaius swooped down and landed. The class erupted in cheers as Wynn waved to them from the gryphon’s back.

  “Very good,” Cassandra said, looking satisfied but somewhat less enthused than the recruits. “Who’s next?”

  One by one, they went through the entire class until only Eva remained. With each student she saw successfully take off and land, her heart sank lower and lower. At last, no one else remained, and the roost master beckoned to Eva.

  “All right, Evelyn,” she said, smiling. “We saved the best for last. I imagine you can’t wait until you’re soaring on the back of that gryphon of yours, so we’d better get you trained up!”

  The entire class turned to watch, and Eva wished she could melt into the stone floor. She swallowed and tried not to look as terrified as she felt at the prospect of another gryphon flight. Riding on the back of Stormwind with Andor controlling the creature had been bad enough, but now it would be just her and Gaius. Even the gryphon regarded her with his big amber eyes as if wondering what she was waiting for.

  Cassandra beckoned to her. “Come on, girl, we haven’t got all day!”

  Eva took another step, mouth dry as her palms were damp. Lord Vyr’s cryptic words echoed in her mind Greatness or fear…greatness or fear. At the moment, fear looked to have won the day. Still, she squeezed her shaking hands until her fingernails bit into her palms as she approached the gryphon.

  Up close, the tan gryphon seemed even bigger than Stormwind, although Eva’s fear could certainly have had something to do with Gaius’s imposing size. Sickness rose in Eva’s tangled stomach, and she knew she was going to throw up. She turned so she didn’t get it on the gryphon when —

  “Excuse me!” A voice echoed from across the Roost. Tahl’s voice. Eva hadn’t thought it was possible to feel worse until she realized she’d look a fool in front of him, too. As the class turned their attention to Tahl, Eva fought the urge to run and hide.

  “My apologies, Roost Master,” Tahl said, approaching them. Eva wondered how he walked like that: so graceful and sure. “I’ve come on an errand from Lord Commander Andor. He wishes to speak with Eva — immediately.”

  Minutes later, Eva walked beside Tahl, unable to believe her luck. Although disappointed, Cassandra had no choice but to release Eva before she could go for her first ride. Eva did her best not to look relieved as she joined Tahl and left the Roost.

  Half of her wondered if the lord commander had decided to kick her out after all — Tahl didn’t know why he’d been asked to summon Eva. The rest of Eva’s attention focused on Tahl. He seemed to know everyone and had a smile and greeting no matter whom they passed. When they ran into younger Windsworn around their own age, Eva couldn’t help but notice the knowing smirks the boys shot Tahl and the frowns she received from some of the girls.

  “So, how do you like life in the Gyr?” Tahl asked when they reached a hall wide enough for them to walk side by side again.

  “It’s great,” Eva lied. In truth, she thought about quitting and going home every other night, but something about Sigrid’s dislike for her kept her going. She told herself every day she remained was a proving the other girl wrong.

  “Good!” Tahl said. He seemed keen to listen, and Eva wished she had something more to say. “How is the chick doing?”

  “He’s…a handful sometimes,” Eva said. Since she still had a full day of class ahead (assuming she wasn’t being kicked out), Eva had left the chick in the Roost.

  Tahl nodded. “Some are like that, but challenging gryphons can form the strongest bonds with their riders. I’m sure you two will warm to one another as time passes; it’s just like any relationship.”

  In spite of her inner doubts, Eva could almost believe him. The thought was better than the alternative: that the red gryphon would one day be big enough to eat her. Eva forced the terrifying image from her mind and struggled to think of something else to say to keep the conversation going.

  “So, what do you do, once you’re a full-fledged Windsworn?” Eva asked.

  “A lot of the same things as you,” Tahl said, shaking his head. “The training never ends, but it does slow down a bit. Our time in the sky is spent doing patrols and that sort of thing. There’s rumors that the Juarag are getting bolder on the eastern frontier, though, so that could liven things up around here.”

  “Oh.” Eva couldn’t think of anything intelligent to say about that — having spent her entire life in Gryfonesse she knew little about foreign affairs. A long silence stretched between them.

  In the quiet, Eva noticed how close they were, close enough their hands bumped one another as they walked through some of the more congested or skinnier halls. She wondered what Tahl’s hand would feel like. Growing up working the forge, she still remembered the first boy who’d commented on her calluses, burn scars, and blisters. Recalling the teasing, Eva bunched her hands into fists and hid them behind her back.

  “Almost there,” Tahl said. They entered the Main Hall and proceeded up the balcony. This time, two guards were posted outside of the lord commander’s quarters instead of at the end of the hall in front of the Council chamber.

  “Returning to the lord commander with Recruit Evelyn,” Tahl said. Eva’s insides fluttered when he said her name. The guards nodded, boredom plain on their faces, and gestured for them to proceed up the staircase

  “It’s a bit weird having guards everywhere,” Tahl said when they’d circled out of sight.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since the attack on Devana, it put the Council a bit on edge, I think. They insisted the lord commander post a guard outside his chamber. I mean, we’re supposed to be untouchable up here. The fact that some Scrawl boy could just —”

  “Ivan didn’t kill her,” Eva said. The edge in her voice surprised her. Tahl raised his hands as if to fend her off.

  “I’m just saying,” he said in a gentle tone. “If you don’t think the Scrawl did it, then who?”

  Before Eva could answer, they reached the top of the stairs and Andor stepped out to meet them. Dark circles highlighted an overall look of weariness on the lord commander’s face.

  “Thank you, Tahl,” he said. “You are dismissed.”

  Tahl hesitated. “I was thinking…I mean, I can wait and escort Eva back to her quarters after you’ve finished talking with her, my lord?”

  Eva welled with excitement, but Andor dashed any hopes of a second walk with a tired wave of his hand. “Thank you, but no need,” he said. “I will make sure Eva can find her way back.”

  The young rider shrugged as if he didn’t care either way, shattering Eva’s joy from their trip.
“As you wish, Lord Commander.” Tahl saluted, and Eva watched him leave out of the corner of her eye before Andor waved her in.

  “Please, come in.”

  Eva nodded, feeling tense as she crossed the room to the stone table. After the public dressing down with the rest of the Windsworn Council, she didn’t find Andor as friendly and fatherly as when they’d first met.

  “I’m sure you’re busy with your training, so I won’t keep you long,” Andor said. He ran a hand over his sleep-lined face and through his hair, giving it a rumpled look quite unlike his regular tidy appearance. “I apologize for the incident in the Council chamber. I should have explained to you… things moved a bit different than I anticipated, and for that I ask your forgiveness.”

  “It’s…” Eva trailed off. It wasn’t okay, and she couldn’t bring herself to tell him it was. “No apologies necessary, Lord Commander.”

  “I trust your training is going well?” Andor asked, apparently as eager to move on as Eva.

  “There’s a lot to take in,” Eva said. “But I’m learning,” she added, hoping she didn’t sound too lost and hopeless.

  Andor nodded. “Good, good. To business then: The Scrawl boy — Ivar or something, wasn’t it? — the boy will be tried before the king in two days’ time. As you can probably understand, the Scrawls are less than pleased that we’ve detained one of their own, but given the circumstances there wasn’t anything else we could do. The situation is…delicate. We’ve built a solid alliance with the Scrawls over the last hundred years, but this incident has the possibility to put that in jeopardy.”

  “I think I understand,” Eva said. She fidgeted on her chair, not sure where to look.

  “Good,” Andor said. “You enter the story, of course, when Ivan hid in your woodshed and Devana’s egg hatched for you. Because of this you must testify at the Scrawl boy’s trial.”

  “Ivan didn’t do it, Lord Commander!” Eva blurted out. “I know he didn’t! I — I can’t explain it, but —”

  Andor held up a hand, and Eva sucked in a deep breath, trembling from the outburst. “Eva, I need you to calm down,” he said. “No one is asking you to condemn the boy. I only want you to tell the truth, as you saw it. That being said…the evidence against him is damning, to say the least. Even if he didn’t kill Devana, he stole one of our eggs.”

  “I’ll come,” Eva said at once, surprising herself. She tried not to picture testifying before the entire court when another sickening thought filled her. “What…what will happen if the king believes Ivan killed Devana?”

  Andor sighed and looked out his window. “The Scrawl boy will be sentenced to death.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The day of the trial came, and the thought of speaking before the king’s court loomed over Eva like a dark, swirling cloud about to burst. She’d told Wynn about her conversation with the lord commander. Now the younger girl sat beside her like a mother hen, pushing biscuits, oatmeal, bacon, and wheat cakes her way, although Eva didn’t touch anything.

  “You’re going to starve if you don’t have something!” Wynn said.

  Eva shook her head. Her stomach felt like a bunch of writhing snakes, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold anything down even if she had an appetite. Just when Eva thought Wynn would stuff something in her mouth, a guard appeared and tapped Eva on the shoulder.

  “Time to go, Miss.”

  Eva followed the man to the lower shelf where she and Andor had landed. She was so wrapped up in the coming trial that Eva almost forgot about the flight down to Gryfonesse. It would be the first time she’d flown since her journey to the mountain. In the past two days, she’d done her best to avoid the Roost other than to drop off the red chick for care. So far, Cassandra hadn’t had the chance to get her airborne.

  When they came out of the passage, Andor was waiting along with Celina, Uthred, and the rest of the Windsworn Council. Eva felt their eyes boring into her and focused on the ground just in front of her until she reached Andor and gave him a weak salute.

  “All ready?” he asked.

  Eva nodded, and the lord commander frowned.

  “Do you feel okay, Eva?”

  “Fine,” she managed to say in a completely unconvincing tone.

  When Stormwind leveled from his descent, Eva forced her eyes open and found they were skimming above the tops of the highest buildings in the city. Below, people looked up from their everyday business, shouting and pointing at the gryphons soaring above them in a perfect arrow-shaped formation. One look at the speeding ground sent Eva’s head spinning, and she closed her eyes again. She felt Stormwind’s wings shift, and when she looked again they were descending over the courtyard.

  When they landed at last, Eva slid from the gryphon’s back, grateful to be on solid ground once more. Lines of soldiers with polished armor, winged helms, and tall spears stood at attention. In the middle of them, before the palace doors, was the king of Rhylance.

  While the rest of the Windsworn landed around them, Andor placed his hands on Eva’s shoulders and stared at her with his pale, searching eyes. “I almost forgot. The king may seem a little…cold. Don’t let this rattle you. It’s nothing you’ve done, I promise. Just truthfully answer whatever questions you’re asked, and everything will be fine.”

  Assembled together, the Windsworn walked down the rows of soldiers. Andor and Eva at the lead with Uthred and Celina behind, followed by the rest. As they drew closer, Eva couldn’t help but notice the similarities between King Adelar and the lord commander.

  They were of almost identical size and build with the same icy blue eyes set in hard, stern faces. Whereas Andor’s graying blond hair came to his shoulders, the king’s was cropped short. There could be no denying it — the two most powerful men in Rhylance had to be close relatives.

  Eva realized how pale and sickly she must look despite the intricate braids she’d worked in her hair in anticipation of appearing before the king. Her legs felt like two bars of flimsy, red-hot iron straight out of the forge. As they approached, Eva focused her attention on the king’s feet until Andor stopped and sank to one knee, Eva and the rest following suit.

  “Arise, all of you.”

  The king stepped forward and drew Andor into a brief, rigid hug. A quick smile cracked through his hard countenance, and Eva thought she glimpsed a younger, happier man buried beneath the burdens of kingship. “It is good to see you, Brother,” the king said.

  When his eyes fell on Eva, however, any trace of pleasure dropped away faster than a heated blade placed in quenching oil. “And who is this?” the king asked the lord commander.

  Andor seemed nervous, which made Eva even more on edge. “This is the girl I told you about, my King. The one Devana’s egg hatched for.”

  King Adelar looked Eva over and, much like Uthred and Drill Master Cross, seemed to find her severely lacking in whatever he sought. “Indeed.”

  Without another word, the king continued down the line to Celina and Uthred like Eva wasn’t there. Andor beckoned her to follow him inside.

  “Did I do something wrong?” she asked the lord commander. Andor shook his head but offered no explanation.

  Eva couldn’t help but wonder if there was something he wasn’t telling her, although she couldn’t imagine what it might be. Inside the citadel, they passed down a long hall with statues of gryphons sitting between the marble pillars. Each bore a bronze nameplate, but Andor moved too fast for Eva to read them.

  They soon entered the court itself, two massive doors wrought with gold, each carved with a wing. More winged-helm guards stood at attention as Andor and the rest of the Windsworn Council passed through.

  Inside, the throne drew Eva’s eyes at once — a massive thing carved from a single piece of light-colored wood, a pair of wings rising from either side. A half circle of tables was laid out at the bottom of the dais. There on the far left, Eva saw the delegation of Scrawl Elders waiting.

  The pale men and women sat with their hands
in their laps as if this were nothing more than a play preparing to begin. One or two leaned over and whispered something to their neighbors, but for the most part the Scrawls stared forward, silent. Although all of them wore long, dark forest-green robes, there was no hiding the rune tattoos covering almost every inch of visible skin on their bodies. Eva recalled Ivan’s ability to stop Seppo dead in his tracks with a few words and a twist of his hands. How much power could a dozen Scrawl Elders wield, then?

  Andor waited until the rest of the Windsworn had taken their seats across from the Scrawls before motioning for Eva. She walked behind the lord commander like he was a shield protecting her from the Elders. When they neared the tables, one of the Scrawls — a man with a braid of long white hair over his shoulder — stood and smiled in greeting.

  “Well met, Lord Commander,” he said, clasping his hands together and bowing.

  “Well met, Master Vladim,” Andor said, dipping his head. He put a hand on Eva’s back and guided her forward. “This, as I’m sure you’ve heard, is our newest recruit at the Gyr. The one the red egg hatched for. Evelyn.”

  The old man smiled, and the blue ink on his face shifted and crinkled with his weathered skin. “It is an honor to meet you. I also thank you for the kindness you showed our young Ivan. We have had a chance to speak briefly to him before the trial, and he spoke well of you.”

  Eva blushed. “I — of course.”

  “I must apologize again for the trouble he has caused,” Vladim continued. “Ivan is powerful but does not yet have full control of his powers. He can be headstrong, rash, and impatient as well. Had we done a better job teaching him patience, perhaps none of us would be here today.”

  “Be that as it may,” Andor began. Before he could finish, however, a herald walked through the doors of the court.

  “All rise for his royal highness King Adelar of Rhylance!”

  When everyone was in their proper place, the man rapped his staff against the marble floor and stepped to the side. The king walked past in measured paces like a wolf on the prowl. When he seated himself at the throne, he looked as absolute and unmoving as the Gyr itself. He waved a hand, and the court took their seats