“Get off him!” Eva yelled rushing across the nursery. She backhanded the black and grabbed the gray’s neck, tossing him aside. Seeing his allies defeated, the white chick scampered away. The other hatchlings gathered on the opposite side of the cave, hissing and chirping at the sudden outburst.
Free of his attackers, the red gryphon gave Eva a thankless look and turned his attention to the remaining bits of meat on his bone. Eva knelt down and reached out a hand to brush him across the top of his head. When she did, the chick snapped at her as if she were no different than the other hatchling trying to steal his prize. Eva frowned, irritated by the gryphon’s lack of appreciation for rescuing him. She reached out again, and the chick’s beak sank into the side of her hand.
Screaming in pain and anger, Eva swung her arm, launching the hatchling into the air. He landed in a clump of down and half-grown feathers a few feet away. Before he could recover, Eva dove on the gryphon, pinned him in her arms.
“What's wrong with you?” she yelled as the chick writhed in her arms, his yellow eyes furious. “You chose me! I didn’t ask for this!”
The hatchling continued to struggle in her arms, but Eva held it firm, her shouts melting into frustrated sobs. After a few moments, Eva felt the chick’s struggling cease. She opened her arms and let him go. Rather than returning to his bone, the red gryphon sat down on his haunches and stared at her, head cocked to the side Neither girl nor gryphon moved.
After a long interlude, Eva stretched out her hand. Ignoring the pain from the hatchling’s bite, she held her palm in front of his beak. The gryphon eyed it with suspicion but didn’t strike. Encouraged, Eva stretched out her fingers and stroked his neck feathers.
Eva held her breath as the chick drew closer and sat down beside her. Eva’s fingers ran down his back, and the gryphon arched his hind end like a cat when she scratched the base of his tail. She thought of the other hatchlings fighting her chick and her bout with Sigrid. The idea came to her that maybe they weren’t different at all — a pair of outcasts driven together by a strange wind. And then it came to her.
“Fury,” she said.
The gryphon looked at her.
“Fury,” Eva repeated. “That’s what I’m going to call you.”
She thought back to all the moments she’d spent with the red gryphon until then and realized how the chick must have felt, being raised with no mother, different from the other hatchlings. If she was being honest with herself, Eva knew she hadn’t been the best caretaker. Sure, she’d made sure the gryphon chick was well fed and looked after, but she’d never shown it any affection or love. She’d treated Fury just like any other part of her Windsworn training: something she went through the motions and did, without putting any heart into it.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Shame filled the empty void left from her outburst. “I’ll do better. But you’re going to have to as well. You and I need to stick together — we’re never going to make it here if we don’t.”
Fury chirped, and Eva stood then picked the gryphon chick up.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go show them what we’re made of.”
Chapter Seventeen
“The problem,” Celina said as Eva laced up her padded leather armor, “is that Cross teaches everyone to fight like a man, to fight like him. You are not a man, and you are not built like Cross. If you don’t want to get yourself killed, you’re going to have to learn to fight within your abilities.”
“I’m not sure what that means,” Eva said. Although she was eager to learn and prove her detractors — Uthred, Cross, and Sigrid — wrong, she didn’t see how acting more like a lady would help her win any swordfights. It’d certainly never helped her while working in the forge.
“It means,” Celina said, stepping forward to poke Eva in the chest with her wooden practice blade, “that you’ve got to be fast. Fast, agile, quick, and, most importantly, without mercy.
“They will doubt you,” Celina continued, rubbing the dull gray bracer on her arm. “They will underestimate you. And if you let them, they will break you. To prove them wrong, you will train harder than any other Windsworn.”
Eva swallowed. She thought she was quick and had a lean strength from swinging a hammer and pumping bellows, but merciless didn’t fit the bill. Then she thought back to the humiliation Sigrid and Uthred subjected her to in the training ring and felt the embers of anger flare to life again. “Okay.”
Celina gave a curt nod. “Good.” She took the wooden practice blade from Eva’s hand and replaced it with a heavy iron variant with blunted edges. Eva tried to raise the sword. It was far heavier than the wooden one, heavier even than the sharpened practiced blades they worked the posts with in their exercises. The length of iron felt more like a forge hammer than a balanced weapon.
“How am I supposed to swing this?” Eva asked.
“You will find a way,” Celina said. Without warning, she swung her sword in an overhead cut. Using all of her strength, Eva managed to raise the heavy sword just in time to deflect the blow aimed at her head. Celina took a step back, and Eva lowered her weapon until the tip touched the floor. Her arms were already beginning to burn.
“Never drop your guard,” Celina shouted as she lunged forward. Eva sidestepped the stab and brought the heavy sword up to push the wooden tip of Celina’s weapon away from her ribs. The twisting motion made her wince from her injuries, but this time she kept her weapon at the ready, even if it wavered in her grip.
Celina recovered faster than Eva could parry. She smiled again — the same grin of a fox who’d cornered a rabbit, like she’d given Eva in the Council chambers. “Better.”
The older woman sprang at Eva again, and they traded a series of blows. Each time, Celina moved just slow enough for Eva to block the attack. Sweat poured from her, as much from the anxiety of being struck as from the exertion of the training.
After several intense moments, Eva’s strength gave out. She raised the heavy blunted blade a fraction of a second too late. Celina’s wooden sword came in like a blur and stopped less than a finger’s width from Eva’s neck. She tapped the blade against Eva’s neck, and Eva twitched at the thought of how much it would have hurt.
“Dead.”
Eva swallowed. Her arms felt like straps of metal that’d been cooking in the forge — hot, flimsy, and liable to fold in half.
Celina allowed Eva a handful of breaths and then brought her sword up, gesturing for Eva to do the same. “Again.”
They repeated the process several times. Each time, Eva got slower and slower as the weight of the heavy iron blade set her arms, shoulder and back on fire. Each time, Celina’s answer was the same:
“Again.”
And so it continued until Eva could only manage to lift the point of the weighted weapon a couple of inches off the ground.
“Good,” Celina said. “The first lesson is over. We continue tomorrow, at the same time.”
Eva half dragged the sword over to the rack and hung it up. By now, the pain in her arms had subsided to a throbbing ache, and she couldn’t close her fingers into a fist without her hands shaking. She walked across the small room and reached for the door to leave, until a thought struck her.
“Commander Celina?”
The older woman looked up from wiping the sweat from her face. “Yes?”
“Why did you vote for me to stay?”
For the first time, Eva saw a surprised look cross Celina’s face. “I guess I saw a little bit of myself in you,” she said, regaining her cool demeanor.
Comparing the two of them, Eva couldn’t imagine two people more different. The disbelief must have shown on her face because Celina crossed the room and placed both her hands on Eva’s shoulders.
“When I first came to the Gyr, I would have given anything to go home,” she said. “I was small for my age. I spent two years getting picked on by the other recruits, beaten up in trainings, and I never felt more alone. But it made me tough, and I realized if I ke
pt my head down and worked as hard as I could, I would prove everybody wrong about me.”
“Just like you told me to do,” Eva said.
“Exactly,” Celina said. “And you know what happened?”
Eva shrugged. “You proved everyone wrong?”
Celina nodded. “I became the top of my class. Nobody would step into the training circle with me, not even the boys. I wasn’t necessarily stronger or better, but I learned to be fast and I learned that I wanted it more than the others. When I saw you standing there all alone in the Council room, I wanted you to have the same chance.”
Embarrassed, Eva ducked her head. “Thank you.”
When she looked up, Celina had a small, sad smile on her face. Eva wasn’t certain, but she thought she tears in the corners of the hardened woman’s eyes. She turned Eva around and gave her a small push before she could tell for sure. “Go on, off you go.”
The recruits filed out of the Main Hall after dinner, eager for an early evening off. Some sat out on the overlook and watched the sun set while others retreated to the library or commons. Many went straight to bed, eager for the extra sleep. Eva, on the other hand, excused herself from Wynn and took a winding path into the depths of the mountain to see Ivan.
Following Andor’s directions he’d given her after the trial, Eva came around a sharp corner and found a guard standing attention outside of an iron-banded door. The man jerked out of what Eva suspected was a catnap but relaxed when he saw it was just her.
“I’m here to see Ivan,” Eva said. Although Andor said he would let the guard know she would be visiting, Eva still felt nervous, like she was breaking some kind of rule.
The man nodded. “Of course. The lord commander said you might stop by from time to time. I’m afraid I’ll have to lock you inside, Miss. If you need anything, I’ll be right here. He’s pretty quiet, though. Just reads most of the time.”
In Eva’s arms, Fury let out an impatient cry as the man started undoing the series of locks across the door. The security seemed a bit much to Eva, but she supposed it was better than a death sentence. She winced as the gryphon’s talon slipped and nicked her.
Holding back a curse, Eva sat the growing chick on the ground — he still stumbled around and couldn’t keep up with her strides but was now big enough that Eva couldn’t carry him for long without a break. Since their moment in the nursery he still liked to test Eva every chance he got but seemed to have a respect and even fondness for her — as long as she kept him in line.
The door swung open, revealing Ivan sitting cross-legged in a chair on the opposite end of the chamber. The crystal lamps cast a warm glow over his shaved head and pale blue rune marks. When he looked up and recognized Eva, he grinned.
“You came!” the Scrawl boy said, shutting the book in his lap and hopping up to greet her. As Ivan neared them, Fury hissed and leaped from at the boy. Luckily, Eva caught the hatchling just before he could sink his beak or talons into Ivan’s robes.
“Fury!” Eva said. “Ivan is a friend.”
The red gryphon didn’t think so. When Eva let him go, the gryphon hopped onto a nearby shelf where he sat and stared at Ivan, yellow eyes gleaming in the dim light.
“Sorry about that,” Eva said. “I don’t know how, but he must remember that you stole him when he was in the egg.”
“Fair enough,” Ivan said, unperturbed by the gryphon’s reaction. His eyes went wide, apparently noticing Eva’s subsiding but still-visible injuries for the first time. “What happened to you?”
“I, uh,” Eva said, looking away to hide her face. “I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
“That’s okay!” Ivan said. “I’m just glad I have someone to talk to. I mean, I don’t mind reading books and all — they give me as many as I want, but it gets kind of lonely. I’ve almost run out of space to write on, too!”
For the first time, Eva noticed the rune chalk marks in the low light. The letters covered almost every open space of stone in the small room. Fury must have noticed it, too, because he hopped down from the shelf and hid behind Eva’s feet, hissing. The strange letters caused the nape of Eva’s neck to tingle, but Ivan still beamed at her.
“Umm, what are those for, Ivan?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.
“Oh, just practice,” The boy said as if he’d been doing nothing more than whittling on a stick. “I’ve got to try and keep up on my studies.”
He must have seen the doubtful look on Eva’s face because he took her by the hand and led her to the only chair in the room. When Eva sat down, Fury jumped into her lap, although he kept his eye on Ivan and his body remained tense.
“Don’t worry,” Ivan said. He climbed onto the bed nearby and folded his legs beneath him. “The runes don’t hold any real power unless they’re attached to something living.”
Eva thought of Seppo. What Ivan said didn’t make any sense. Seppo was just an empty shell of metal. Sure, he could move and think for himself and had a personality, but he had no blood, as far as Eva knew, no non-metal substance of any kind other than his eyes.
She said as much, and Ivan’s face crinkled as if he’d been thinking about it for a long time. “I…don’t know,” he said. “Your golem is…something else entirely, but I don’t know what. The runes he has marked on him are a far older alphabet than any I’ve ever seen. There are lots of things the Ancients learned to do with rune magic that we’ve lost, though.”
“Like how to make Wonders?” Eva asked, thinking of her mother’s glowing stone hidden back in her quarters.
Ivan nodded. “Right! We only know how to channel the power of the runes and kenning chants through something living. That’s why we’re all covered in ink!”
The topic of rune magic made Eva uneasy, so she decided to change the conversation. “I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”
Ivan shrugged. “I’m sure you’re busy. But I knew you would come tonight — I saw it. Besides, the Elders tell me it’s very important for a Skrael to develop patience.”
“S-Skrael?” Eva said, testing the strange word on her tongue.
“It’s what we call ourselves in our own tongue,” Ivan said. “When your ancestors came to Altaris, Scrawl was the best they could manage, I guess. We do write a lot, though, so it’s fitting, if not entirely accurate.
Eva nodded, feeling very uneducated and unsure what else to say. “Wait,” she said, realization dawning on her. “What do you mean, you knew I would come tonight?”
Ivan tapped a finger to his forehead. “I dreamed it, of course! The dreams kind of went away for a while after I found you, but now they’ve been coming back. I was worried, thinking they were gone for good, but —”
“Ivan,” Eva began. She shifted in her seat, causing Fury to shoot her an annoyed glanced as she settled back in on her lap. “I’m not sure these dreams are a good thing. From what I understood at the trial, they’re not…normal, even for a Scrawl.”
“But that’s the exciting part!” Ivan said like he hadn’t heard her. “I might be the first! And what’s even stranger is that I can work the runes within my dreams! It seems so real!”
“Let’s talk about something else,” Eva said, growing more uncomfortable by the minute. As far as she could tell, these strange dreams were the reason Ivan was imprisoned in the first place and might have something to do with the death of Fury’s mother. She didn’t think Andor would appreciate her discussing the subject with the boy.
“Okay!” Ivan said. Eva couldn’t believe someone who was locked inside a mountain without daylight could be so enthusiastic. “You want to tell me what happened to you?”
Eva’s stomach twisted — it was bad enough that word had spread throughout the Gyr. She’d felt relieved knowing Ivan was probably the only person inside the whole mountain who didn’t know. The Scrawl seemed to like Eva — respect her, even — and she didn’t want to ruin that.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said as if reading her thoughts.<
br />
“No, it’s okay.” Eva blew out a long breath and then related the story of her fight with Sigrid.
“I didn’t like her very much,” Ivan said, the runes on his forehead bunching as he frowned. “And I liked that Uthred guy even less. I get a bad feeling whenever he’s around.”
Eva nodded, embarrassed but also relieved she could share the story with someone without being judged. Someone who just cared about who she was, not the implications it meant to her training, or Fury’s raising. Before either of them could say anything else, a knock came at the door.
“Time’s up, Miss,” the guardsman said from outside the room. “We’re making a change of watch. I’m afraid you’ll have to go now.”
“Can’t you stay a few more minutes?” Ivan asked. In that moment, he seemed very much like the boy of twelve summers he was instead of the self-assured Scrawl he tried to be the rest of the time.
“Sorry,” Eva said, standing up and gathering Fury in her arms. “I promise I’ll come visit as much as I can, although I don’t know how much free time I’m going to have with my additional lessons.”
“I’m sure I’ll know before you will when the next time is,” Ivan said, winking. Eva gave a thin smile, still uncomfortable at the idea. “Yeah…we’ll see.”
“Goodbye, Fury,” Ivan said. He reached a hand toward the hatchling, who hissed again and snapped his beak.
“Sorry,” Eva said. “He doesn’t behave very well. Maybe next time he’ll warm up to you.”
“I hope so!” Ivan said. “See you soon, Eva.”
He was still smiling and waving as the door closed.
Chapter Eighteen
Eva opened the door to her quarters and froze. Sigrid sat honing her sword on the edge of her bed. It was the first time Eva had seen her since being released from the infirmary. She didn’t know if Sigrid was sleeping somewhere else or merely coming in and leaving while Eva slept. The dark-haired girl’s sudden appearance caused Eva’s heart to jump into her throat and twisted her stomach into cold, writhing knots.
Windsworn: Gryphon Riders Book One (Gryphon Riders Trilogy 1) Page 12
