by L. E. Horn
They took the humans to a temporary camp within the trees. The Gryph carrying Michael continued to a permanent hut made from interwoven living saplings. Kaye followed them, carrying an exhausted Lianndra. Hannah came too, concerned about Michael. Together, they settled him onto a grass-stuffed mattress within the hut.
Michael was a mess. Hannah had healed the worst wounds, but his entire body remained covered with bruises and cuts. When Lianndra reached out to start another healing session, Hannah batted her hand away.
“Lianndra, you’re too tired, and so am I. I’ll check him again for bleeding, but he can handle some bruises. The internal damage was the worst and I’ve healed it. What he needs most are food and rest.” The redheaded Healer collapsed to a sitting position on the bed.
Lianndra saw the dark circles of exhaustion under her friend’s eyes. I’ve been so wrapped up in Michael, I haven’t paid any attention to what that bastard did to Hannah. Overcome with emotion, she hugged her friend. The Fang beat her up. If she hadn’t been able to heal herself . . .
A miniGryph stepped into the doorway, carrying bowls containing a steaming substance. Tapping into her increased familiarity with Gryphon morphology, Lianndra recognized the signs of an older being. His brassier colors, missing spikes, and faint lines on the long, spotted face gave him a rather wizened look. The disheveled burnt orange and blue mane added further character to the miniGryph’s studious expression.
“This will strengthen body and spirit,” the old miniGryph said. “I am . . .” something more musical than word-like issued from the beaked mouth. He smiled. “But you can call me Wilf.” He put the tray on a table near the huge sleeping platform.
It’s built to accommodate a full-sized Gryphon, Lianndra realized.
He placed a bowl into Hannah’s hand as she stood back from Michael, put a second into Lianndra’s hands, and lifted the third one. He cradled Michael’s head while trying to slip small amounts of liquid into the injured man’s mouth.
The moment the fluid touched his lips, Michael woke. He thrashed a long arm in a wide circle that the old miniGryph ducked beneath while still balancing the bowl of liquid. He didn’t spill a single drop.
“Michael, it’s okay.” Lianndra set down her bowl and hurried to him. A reddened eye focused on her while the other stayed swollen shut. She doubted he was truly awake, but he must have heard her for the eye closed, and he stopped thrashing. Lianndra took the steaming concoction from Wilf and helped Michael until he’d consumed the entire bowl. He fell back on the pallet, slipping into a deeper sleep.
He’s got nothing left, Lianndra thought. Michael’s gaunt frame revealed prominent bones. His body had consumed almost all its muscle in its quest for nutrients. He’s been sick a long time. I wonder if he will ever come out of this? Sometimes when people dance so closely with death they never really recover.
A touch on her shoulder roused her from her depressing thoughts. Wilf returned to his tray and pushed another steaming bowl into her hands. Hannah took her place beside Michael and worked on a few more of his injuries. She finally stood, swaying.
She’s out cold on her feet. Lianndra gulped the last of the tasty broth. “Hannah, go get some rest. I’m going to stay with him.” She handed her empty bowl back to Wilf and thanked him for his kindness. He nodded and left to escort Hannah to her sleeping spot.
Lianndra curled up beside Michael. She rested her head on his chest and took comfort in the slow beat of his heart. He is alive, she thought, and being alive is all that counts for now. She pulled the woven cover over them and fell asleep.
A GENTLE TOUCH ACROSS LIANNDRA’S temple woke her. She gazed into reddened silver eyes. Both eyes, she noticed in surprise. One side of his face sported livid bruises, but the swelling had subsided.
Michael pushed a lock of hair off her forehead with unsteady fingers. “Good morning.” His voice rasped and broke.
“Hi,” she answered. Whatever was in the steaming potion of Wilf’s did him a world of good. I feel better too!
As Lianndra stretched, she recognized her usual strategic covering of hair had subconsciously retreated while she slept. Growing or retracting her hair clothing by manipulating the cells became so automatic she rarely acknowledged it. Now she revealed an embarrassing expanse of smooth skin. Michael watched her aborted stretch with such apparent appreciation it made her wonder if his eyes were as bleary as they looked. She self-consciously wrapped the blanket closer and sat up before laying a palm on his forehead. Cool and dry. Thank God.
“Well,” he said, with just a ghost of a smile, “do I pass inspection?”
He looked terrible, but she wasn’t going to tell him. Instead, Lianndra examined the bruises and swelling that marred his face. When did he develop those gold highlights in the silver of his eyes? She smiled as he stared at her. “Well,” she said, “you’re not going to win any beauty contests in the near future, but I think you look great.”
He smiled and raised himself on an elbow, where he paused, swaying.
“Easy.” She remedied the hair coverage issue and dropped the blanket to reach out a steadying hand. He waved it away.
“I can help,” she protested.
“What I need, I’d rather not have your help with.” He looked away.
Lianndra stared at him for a moment before realizing what he was getting at. He doesn’t remember me taking care of things . . . and it’s different now that he’s awake. She tried not to laugh at his predicament, and Wilf arrived just in time to save her. I think Wilf is telepathic. She vacated the hut at speed and found herself standing on a worn path outside.
Sounds of splashing directed her to the community bathing area—several large rectangles carved out of solid rock and filled by water cascading off the cliffs. Lianndra couldn’t remember the last time she indulged in a proper bath. One pool contained warm water for bathing while the cold-water pools were for lounging and play. Several humans and Gryphon splashed in the water, intent on removing the dust of their travels. Lianndra waded in and lowered herself deep for discretion’s sake. After observing the ablutions of the others, she scrubbed every inch with odd seed pods and soapy plant roots. She noticed that bathing for Gryphon seemed a communal affair as their large size and complicated body contours made for areas quite difficult to reach. She finished scrubbing and dove into a cool pond, coming out much refreshed.
Revitalized, Lianndra checked Michael. Wilf remained with him, so she went in search of food instead.
The valley’s beauty overwhelmed her. This is how I would envision Eden! Despite the war, the community seemed healthy and stable. It was the most normal place she’d seen since before her capture, and its serenity sank into Lianndra’s soul. It wasn’t until she walked all the way to the Hall that she recognized the valley lacked something vital—children.
Much about the Gryphon was still a mystery. For all I know, they lay eggs, she thought, or go through life stages like a butterfly rather than grow from children to adults. Yet one important biological feature had been revealed by the poor Grypha in the brutal Pitfight back on the Fang ship. At least a part of their life cycle requires breastfeeding since the females have mammary glands. Do the miniGryphon and the Gryphon reproduce the same way? Are the miniGryphon a subspecies of the Gryphon or are they their own species? Can they interbreed? She would have to figure out a way to ask about these things before she inadvertently offended their hosts. And if kids exist where are they now? Perhaps with the war, the children are somewhere safe? Her stomach interrupted her rambling thoughts with a loud growl.
A miniGryph, who surprised her by bowing before replying in accented English, directed her to a room filled with freshly gathered fruit and baked goods. A wholesome smell led her through a door to where rows of large rock ovens were the focus of several miniGryphon bustling around. She returned inside and picked up a wooden tray before loading it with an assortment of food. The only thing missing was meat, although she did find something resembling dried venison and a
selection of nuts. Kaye had mentioned hunting parties while teaching Lianndra Gryphonese, so she knew they ate meat. The big Grypha hadn’t appeared to mind the human’s descriptor for her language.
So far, I haven’t offended anyone. Thank goodness for thick skins!
More investigation on Lianndra’s part led to the discovery of a sliding door leading to a huge refrigerator. Inside she found an offering of several meats, and her stomach rumbled as she made her selection. I guess I’m a carnivore at heart.
Heaping tray in hand, she retreated outside and found herself a seat made from tree branches running along the ground. The sounds of a bustling yet peaceful community revolved around her as she ate. At first glance, the Gryphon appeared to have a primitive lifestyle, but on closer inspection it was obvious they had access to advanced technology. They just use it sparingly. Lianndra approved. From what she could see, it led to a balanced existence. The Gryphon seemed to come closer to complete harmony with their surroundings than Lianndra had ever seen or experienced before.
I could live here, she thought. They accept me for what I am, human or not. I could call this place home—if all this survives.
She pushed the thought away, swallowing a piece of something tasting like bread with a chunk of stewed meat. After eating her fill, Lianndra set the remainder aside for Michael. I’ll just rest here for a bit. She sat back against the tree trunk, pillowing her head on the mossy bark. The combination of warm sun and a full stomach eased her to sleep.
THE TLOK’MK WAR COORDINATOR, Tark’tosk, narrowed her eyes as she regarded the latest message about her missing fighting unit. The Farr commander she had sent to find them was now also unaccounted for, along with his group.
The last communication from the pursuing unit indicated it followed tracks into the grasslands. A Gryphon force likely ambushed them. Whether captured or killed, they remained unresponsive to any messages.
All of this led to more questions than answers. How had the slaves of the missing units evaded their collars? If commanders died, slave collars kept everyone in a confined area until another Farr could assume control. The logical conclusion was a malfunction, perhaps on a large scale. But how, and why? And why now?
Missing units were not unheard of. Others often found the remains, reporting back to the Central Intelligence Processor, which would in turn forward the message to Tark’tosk’s technicians. The jungle scavengers proved efficient, and often there was little left for the living to find. This was especially true with human remains.
Tark’tosk sat staring at her console. She couldn’t spare the resources to send another unit into the grasslands, it would only provide the Gryphon with an easy target. The war’s front line encompassed thousands of slaves plus their Tlok’mk commanders, yet it was barely enough to cover the necessary terrain. I need all the fighting units at the front line. I’ve already lost two units and an FHR division. More than I can afford.
She sighed and tapped her clawed fingers on her desk. The Gryphon fought the war by utilizing hit-and-run tactics that hindered her army’s ability to capitalize on their superior strength. The Gryphon refused to sacrifice their main asset—speed—by being drawn into an entrenched battle within the jungle.
Not that they could not penetrate the jungle if they wished. Tark’tosk needed to monitor the entire border to restrict the Gryphon to the grasslands. I need to hold the line until our plans reach fruition. Pulling one more fighting unit from the front lines could stretch her resources to the breaking point.
Focus on what is important, Tark’tosk reminded herself. The main concern was not so much the vanishing units but the possible failure of the slave collars. They should have prevented any escapes.
She tapped at her console, calling for a progress report on the human heads sent from the front lines with faulty collars. Her techs should have received and examined the specimens by now.
In response to her query, a tech appeared on the screen. “The heads arrived this morning. I sent them directly to the lab.”
“Tell them it is a priority.” Tark’tosk signed off and ground her teeth. I should have followed up on those defective collars before now. The Farr commander took his time getting them to her. With the front lines so busy, he must have other priorities. Or he does not consider my priorities to be his own. Many frontline Farr still resent the fact I am in charge of this war.
Hopefully, those few malfunctions were just anomalies. Perhaps the shield interference acted on the wireless collar linkages. Except the containment feature does not need a wireless interface. No matter how she aligned the facts, they didn’t quite knit together.
Tark’tosk leaned back and closed her eyes. Her skin itched. I would love a good crystal scrub. All we have down here is sand. She stretched her toes, extending the claws while doing her best to shove her concerns to the back of her brain. She would have to wait on the information provided by the severed heads. Tonight, I am going to insist on fresh meat!
Chapter Nineteen
OVER THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Michael managed a few shaky, short walks. Wilf assisted him, a constant, reassuring presence. The miniGryph made sure Michael accessed the best food and dosed him with his healthy concoctions. Lianndra kept tabs on him through Wilf, but most times she arrived at the hut to find Michael asleep.
On one such occasion, Lianndra backed out of Michael’s hut and almost bumped into the older miniGryph. “He’s asleep,” she whispered to Wilf.
“Good.” Wilf shook his shaggy mane. “He had a bad night.” When she shot him a concerned look, he said, “Those who have been in a war always have nightmares.” He continued in a reassuring tone, “Do not worry about it. It is just part of the healing process. I gave him a sleeping potion this morning.” He cocked his head at her. “How are you doing?”
“Fine, I guess. It’s so beautiful here.” Lianndra smiled at him.
The miniGryph appeared pleased at her description of his home. He placed a hand under her elbow to steer her to a horizontal tree trunk. As she settled, he folded his hind legs, sitting much like a dog.
Lianndra took this opportunity to ask Wilf something that had bothered her for some time. “Why do Gryphon have such good command of the English language?”
The old miniGryph twitched his ears at her question and whistled a chuckle. “Our species were once explorers traveling throughout the universe. We still pride ourselves on knowing many languages.”
“Why English?” Lianndra said. “Have the Gryphon ever visited Earth?”
Wilf’s furry brows rose and fell rapidly. “You may as well ask why French? Or Latin? I speak many of your human languages.” He fluffed his tattered orange and blue mane of feathers. “You are seeing things from a limited perspective.” He peeled his thin lips back in an imitation of a human smile, revealing sharp canines behind the beaklike nose. “You see your language as a planetary phenomenon. You might find things not as exclusive as you assume.” To her astonishment, the miniGryph winked at her, before standing to retrieve the empty tray left outside the hut. He bowed to her with one arm across his chest. “Tirrek raih,” he whispered before heading off.
What the heck? Lianndra pondered what he said for a moment. Did he just tell me English isn’t a language based on Earth? He didn’t answer either of my questions, and what does tirrek raih mean? This miniGryphon likes to speak in riddles.
Later in the day, Lianndra sat with Drake and Hannah in the shade while they ate the Gryphon equivalent of lunch. The language question became part of the discussion as they chewed.
“Do you suppose the Gryphon ever explored Earth?” Hannah asked when the question of languages remained mysterious despite the debate.
Lianndra considered. “If they did, it was a long time ago. They don’t speak of space travel.”
“The Mayan people represented creatures that looked like aliens in their carvings,” Hannah said. “I don’t know if any looked like Gryphon though.” She hesitated, obviously searching her memory. “I think the
people originating from Greece created Gryphon-like artwork, but most of those had wings.”
“Wow, listen to you, professor!” Lianndra laughed.
Hannah shrugged with a smile. “I considered anthropology, before deciding on medicine. Turns out medicine was a better choice.”
“My sister studied anthropology.” Drake sounded surprised at Hannah’s revelation. “She always spouted off ancient human lore.” He rubbed a hand through his hair, a gesture he often did while considering something. “I don’t know about the old Gryphon myths, but those Bernaf bodyguards are another thing altogether.” Drake stretched out on the ground near Hannah as he bit into a peculiar fruit resembling a cross between an eggplant and a banana. “They look like the little gray men some say visit Earth.”
“That is—more ancient aliens than ancient humans,” Hannah quipped with a laugh. “In order to be an expert on aliens, you need a bigger hairstyle.” Her hands air sculpted several inches above her head.
Lianndra brightened. “I used to watch that program all the time. The guy had some interesting theories. According to him, Earth was a hotbed of alien activity.”
“The Bernaf resemblance to the aliens that apparently abducted people is uncanny.” The redheaded Healer nodded agreement, smiling down at Drake.
“Too close to be a coincidence, my larrikin.” The captain deliberately exaggerated his slight Aussie drawl. He swallowed and took another bite of the purple-tinged fruit.
“What’s a larrikin?” Lianndra wrinkled her nose at Hannah. “Sounds like a wild animal name.”
“It’s Aussie for a mischievous wild person,” the redhead replied with a smile. “Drake feels I’m somewhat headstrong and inclined to be trouble.”
