by Bianca D’Arc
They were flying over land now, far up the shore from the town and Lair. Flurrthith had overshot to the west, in the scrubland where few people lived. He looked tired to Gowan, though he was no expert.
“Shall we land for a few minutes, to catch our breath?” Genlitha suggested just as Gowan thought it. She sent a private message to her rider. “The child is at the limit of his endurance. He needs to set down before he falls out of the sky.”
Genlitha began a slow spiral toward a sandy stretch of beach. Gowan spotted a house and barn nearby, over the sand dune. Somebody lived out here, just in case they needed human help, but with any luck, they would be moving again once the youngster was rested.
“Have you eaten recently, Flurrthith?” Gowan asked, thinking ahead to how he might be able to help the gryphon.
Genlitha made her usual flawless glide to earth, not jarring Gowan much at all. By contrast, Flurrthith was a little less poetic with his weary wings. His hind feet landed hard, bending and skidding along the sand until his front feet caught up and his wingtips dragged a bit in the wet sand before he got them folded up properly. They were long for his small body, which probably had a lot to do with his awkward landing. When the rest of him grew into the wingspan, he’d be a lot more graceful.
“Not since I left the island, sir. It’s not good to fly on a full stomach, so my teachers say.”
“Are you hungry, child?” Genlitha asked in as motherly a tone as Gowan had ever heard from her. The juvenile responded to it, coming closer to her.
“Yess!” He spoke aloud, the s sounds reverberating through his beak. Gowan remembered then that unlike dragons, gryphons could actually speak aloud and be understood, though they were said to have a thick sort of accent.
Gowan thought through what was left of their supplies. He had brought along some snacks for himself as well as for Genlitha, but if the gryphon was very hungry, he’d have to either do some hunting or, perhaps, take a walk over the dunes to see if those at the farmhouse could provide something for them.
Gowan dismounted and took his bag of supplies with him, walking closer to the gryphon. He approached slowly, remembering the briefing he’d received on proper etiquette when meeting a gryphon for the first time. He stood several feet from the small gryphon, his gaze raised as he bowed his head slightly, in respect.
“And now I offer you proper greetings, Sir Flurrthith. Welcome to Draconia,” Gowan said aloud, hoping he was doing this right. Even a half-size gryphon could slice him to ribbons with those claws and beak, and they were known to be extremely formal creatures.
But the youngster seemed friendly, returning the bowing gesture in his own way.
“Greetingss, Ssir Gowan. Thank you for the welcome.” He seemed too tired to say much more, and Genlitha came closer, craning her neck over Gowan’s shoulder.
“Stretch your muscles before you sit,” she advised the youngster, comfortable in her teaching role. “Gowan, it’s a bit cold today. Can you let him sit on your cloak? His muscles will be overheated from the exertion and it’s not good for them to cool too quickly against the damp earth.”
“Sure thing.”
Gowan flipped his cloak off his shoulders. It was woven of sturdy wool in a light color to match Genlitha’s light hide. He placed it in front of the gryphon on a dry patch of sand. The creature was stretching in a cat-like manner, following Genlitha’s instructions.
His paws were large, to go with the mighty wingspan, but his body was still small enough to fit onto Gowan’s cloak. He stepped on daintily, holding his claws in so as not to damage the fabric. The gryphon had surprisingly good manners for a youngster.
“Thank you, ssir,” Flurrthith said as he settled. “I will do my besst not to damage your belongingss.”
“I am sending word ahead to the Lair that we are on our way, Flurrthith. They will be waiting to hear your message when you arrive, and then, you can rest your weary wings more fully,” Genlitha told the gryphon.
“Thank you, milady. I’ll be able to fly more, sshortly. It’ss jusst nice to ssit for a moment.” Flurrthith’s gaze went from Genlitha to Gowan and back. He seemed so very earnest. Gowan felt bad for the poor little creature. He’d been through a lot to get to them and would have to fly even farther before he could truly rest and recover his strength.
“Take what time you need, son,” Gowan spoke from his heart. “I can give you the snacks I packed, but I will also go and check with the farmer who lives just over these dunes and see what kind of provisions I can secure.”
Gowan placed a melon he’d brought along for Genlitha and a few apples he’d packed for himself on the cloak just in front of the youngster. Flurrthith’s eyes lit up when he saw the fruit, and he only waited for Gowan to back off before attacking it with his beak.
“Oh, thank you, sir!” Flurrthith spoke in his mind. “This is great!”
Gowan smiled and backed off farther to speak privately with Genlitha while Flurrthith ate.
“I’m going over the dunes. I’ll be back in an hour at the most. Is that enough time for him to regain some strength?”
Genlitha considered the gryphon. “More food would help, I think. At that age, dragonets are growing fast and need lots to eat. I would think gryphons are the same. Get what you can from the farmer, and if you need me, just call. I’ll be there in a trice.”
Gowan’s quest went reasonably well. The farmer only overcharged him a little for a slab of mutton, a bushel of pears and the sack to carry them. Gowan was back to the flyers in less than an hour, and the gryphon looked like he was napping. His head rested on his paws, and his body lay flat on Gowan’s cloak.
“Is he asleep?” Gowan asked Genlitha as he approached.
“Yes. Poor thing. But we can’t let him stay that way. His message needs to get through to the Lair. I’ve been in communication with the dragon council, and they will give him shelter, but the human leaders…”
“I take it they’re not being reasonable. Again.”
“They demand to see the child, unwilling to take my word that he is here and that he came to us for help. It is a snub of me, to be certain, and more idiotic behavior on their part. They delay organizing help for the gryphons because they’re mad at me for telling them how foolish they are. And their dragons are siding with their knights, protecting the cowards.” Genlitha’s tone was scathing, and smoke wafted out of her nostrils. She was mad.
If Gowan’s mind speech could reach back to the Lair, he’d have tried to intervene, but his gift wasn’t as strong as the dragon’s. All he could do was try his best to soothe her and fight on her behalf when they got back to the Lair. As far as he was concerned, this idiocy had gone on long enough.
Gowan roused the gryphon and gave him the food he’d procured. The youngster ate while they talked to him, learning about the island and his role there. He was just a child, really. A talented flyer who had been tapped to run the gauntlet of enemy ships with dangerous arrows because the larger and more experienced gryphons were all needed to repel the invaders. They also figured Flurrthith, with his compact body, would be a smaller target for the catapults.
The gamble had paid off, and the child had made it past the fleet of ships, but he wasn’t completely unscathed. When asked, the youngster admitted that he thought a few of the smaller, man-sized arrows had probably hit his wings, but he’d had no way to really check. With a little coaxing, Flurrthith allowed Gowan to take a look.
Sure enough, Gowan found at least a half dozen shafts stuck in Flurrthith’s feathers. Most hadn’t penetrated the skin beneath the layer of fluff, but a few had and were still there, even though the majority of the shaft had been broken off. Gowan was no healer, but he had his sack of supplies, and every soldier and knight received basic wound care training.
Flurrthith let Gowan remove the arrows, stop the bleeding and apply a few small bandages that wouldn’t impede his flight. Frankly, after he was done patching the gryphon up, Gowan was even more impressed with the youngster’
s heart and gryphons’ overall sturdiness. The feathers might seem pretty, but Gowan had seen for himself that they were way more than merely decorative.
When he had done all he could and it was time to mount up again, Gowan silently asked Genlitha to send another message ahead to the Lair.
“Can you reach Seth and ask him to be waiting when we land? Bronwyn, too, if she’s up to it. I did the best I could for him, but I want someone with real healing experience looking at Flurrthith’s wounds.”
“Already done, my friend,” Genlitha assured him. “This child has my utmost respect, and I will watch over him as if he were my own dragonet. That includes making sure he has the best care we can provide. Seth said he’s happy to help and will stay with Flurrthith day and night if he must.”
“Good man.”
Without further comment, Genlitha rose into the air, gaining ground gently and making sure Flurrthith could keep up with her.
“He really does have the most remarkable wings,” she told Gowan as she watched Flurrthith gain altitude rapidly. “I had no idea feather wings were so strong.”
“And nearly impervious to regular arrows. The ones I pulled out from between his feathers only had normal hunting tips on them. I don’t know how he’d stand up to those diamond-tipped monstrosities, but the regular ones seemed to have trouble penetrating the layers of feathers and shafts to get to the skin, muscle and bone beneath. He’s got a few broken feather shafts, but I assume those will grow back in time, right? I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.”
“Me either.” Genlitha changed the subject after that exchange and began including the gryphon in her thoughts while they flew, commenting on his gliding technique and how it differed only slightly from those she taught the young dragons.
They passed the rest of the flight in easy conversation and a bit of instruction as Genlitha showed the youngster how to best conserve his energy and make every wingbeat count. Gowan learned a great deal just listening to her and seeing how both dragon and gryphon implemented her strategies. Gowan hadn’t known there were so many nuances to flying, but he was gaining new respect for what the dragons did every day without fanfare or comment.
By the time they reached the Lair, night had fallen and the fires were lit on the landing ledge to guide them in. Flurrthith was afraid of the fire at first, and Gowan understood why he might be with wings made of oily feathers and flamable fluff. Genlitha had to coax the youngster to land, showing him the way and commanding the knights on the ledge douse all but one of the fires before Flurrthith would agree to come in.
Flurrthith wasn’t quite as graceful as Genlitha when he landed, but he managed a decent presentation, skidding to a stop on all fours. Gowan leapt off Genlitha’s back and immediately went to Flurrthith’s side. The small gryphon had been flying hurt, and Gowan wanted his wings seen to first, before they did anything else.
Seth was already there, waiting to be introduced to the gryphon before approaching. Everyone on the ledge was holding back, having been briefed about the gryphon. Gowan signaled Seth to stand beside him.
“Flurrthith, this is my friend, Seth, who has knowledge of healing. I would like you to allow him to check the dressings I put on your wings. He is much more skilled than I, and I want to make sure you are as well cared for as possible. Will you allow it?” Gowan asked formally.
Flurrthith perched on his front paws, facing them. He looked from Gowan to Seth and bowed his head. Seth did the same, showing respect while not lowering his eyes.
“It iss an honor to meet you, Ssir Sseth,” the gryphon said aloud.
“The honor is mine, Sir Flurrthith, but I am not a knight. I was raised here in the Lair. My fathers are knights. I am the healer’s apprentice. She would have come herself to tend you, but she is too old to climb to the ledge. She will see you when you descend but wanted me to make sure you had skilled attention at the earliest opportunity.”
“Thank you, Sseth,” Flurrthith said. “You do your people proud by treating a vissitor with ssuch courtessey.”
Seth spent a few minutes looking over Gowan’s handiwork with Gowan providing assistance and commentary. Gowan had kept each and every one of the arrows he’d taken out of Flurrthith’s feathers and skin, and Seth examined each one, checking for signs of poison or barbs that might indicate further problems. Luckily, there were none, and only one of the arrows had a really sharp blade point. That was the one that had done the most damage, but it had cut through the flesh and struck bone, stopping there.
“You have quite a few broken feather shafts,” Seth observed, talking directly to Flurrthith. “Is there something I can do for those? I have heard about the way hunting hawks sometimes have shed feathers blended back in with needle and thread until the new shafts have time to grow.”
“We do ssomething ssimilar,” Flurrthith agreed, “but I have no ssupliess with me for ssuch thingss. They’ll jusst have to grow back on their own. I can sstill fly, sso it will be all right for now. Thank you.”
Seth stood back, finished with the examination. “If you’re ready, you can come with us to the great hall where the leaders of our Lair are gathered to meet you and receive your message.”
What followed went about as Gowan had expected. The young gryphon delivered a hastily scribbled message on a scroll he’d had secreted in a small satchel nestled around his neck and hidden among his chest feathers. The dragon council was eager to help the gryphons, but the human leaders were hesitant, and the key dragons backed up their human partners.
Gowan thought he understood the loyalty between dragon and knight, but this was bordering on the ridiculous as far as he was concerned. The dragons should be smart enough to see that the old men who were leading them had lost their taste for battle and risk. They seemed to want to hide their heads in the sand and just ignore all the problems that had cropped up on their doorstep. But that was naïve in the extreme, not to mention dangerous.
Something had to be done. And if the old timers weren’t up to it, Gowan would by golly do the job himself.
CHAPTER THREE
Down in Dragonscove, talk was rife about the gryphon a few had seen flying over the town in company with the so-called air dragon. That’s what they called Genlitha, due to her sky blue coloration. She blended into the sky so well on clear days that she almost couldn’t be seen. The O’Dare’s surly housekeeper, Rosie, bless her icy heart, had been keeping Livia apprised of the doings in town while she spent her days going from house to work and back again.
Livia was only allowed to fish with Hrardorr twice per week and was otherwise grounded now that her father was home. She was going a little crazy unable to see Seth or Gowan. The way they’d left things made her uncertain about her welcome should she try to contact them mind-to-mind, the way she spoke to Hrardorr.
Since Hrardorr spent as little time in the Lair as possible, he wasn’t a very good source of information on the doings there, but at least she could talk to him whenever she wanted. Even if she could only meet up with him twice per week on the water. He’d taken to spending more time in the boathouse than her father realized.
The little structure had become Hrardorr’s hideaway, where he could go and none of the other dragons could easily follow. Nobody except Livia knew he was there, except perhaps Genlitha, but she’d been sent on far patrols since the dust up with her elders. Hrardorr was as melancholy as Livia was about everything, and they talked silently about their misery from time to time, but it didn’t really help to alleviate it.
The gryphon, though… That was something interesting and new.
It had been a full week since Livia’s father had come home. Progress was being made on turning the diamond blades into cut stones, and buyers were lining up for them. Now that the captain was back in residence, he was handling a lot of the assignments for his fleet of ships and smaller vessels.
Livia felt superfluous in the office. The men her father had entrusted his ships to came in singly and in groups
to share meals and closed-door meetings with her father to which she was never invited. It felt like everything she had done to keep the business running was for naught now that her father was home. It was like she’d only been a placeholder, keeping things moving, waiting for the real leader to return. At least, that’s how the sea captains made her feel when they sauntered in to share glasses of port and loud guffaws with her father.
The fishing captains were a bit different. They were local men who had known her from childhood. They also knew she had befriended the blind dragon who had been so beneficial to their trade recently. With Hrardorr hunting most of the predators in the area, fish were more plentiful than ever, and nobody was going hungry in Dragonscove this year. The fishermen were also making a nice living, able to sell their fish far and wide with such big catches.
They made her feel marginally better when they came in for meetings with her father. They each paused by her office to say hello and share pleasantries with her, as well—as if she still mattered, even though the captain was back in residence. Frankly, that was the only thing that kept her going in to work each day.
Her father had sent word out to all his captains to return to Dragonscove as soon as possible, and each day, it seemed, another ship reported in. Most of these captains and crews weren’t based out of Dragonscove. They were stationed far and wide along the coast, dispersed all over the trade routes their fleet traveled.
Many of the ship captains snubbed her in favor of her father, but Livia listened to their reports as best she could, piecing together the grim picture of where the enemy fleet had come from and where they’d gone. When the gryphon flew over the town on its way to the Lair with Genlitha and Gowan, Livia feared she already knew what the creature would tell them.
She went home at her regular time that night, giving nothing away of her concern. She ate dinner, as usual, with her father, speaking only of trivial matters, lest she betray her intentions. She excused herself early, claiming she was tired and wanted to go to sleep early. And then, she put her plan into action.
