Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

Why now? Why ? Bitterness surged, bringing an acid dryness to my mouth. My body was sluggish, yet that force drove it as a man may drive a floundering horse by his strength and will. I rose, stiff, anguished, began hunting out my breeches, my mail. Joisan slept still, and I needs must fight that force, marshal myself to touch her shoulder, rouse her. I could not, no matter how urgent the summons driving me, leave her behind—I would not!

She mumbled sleepily, then, as she saw me dressed, sat up, her eyes widening with puzzlement. Then, before I could speak, I saw understanding replace her confusion. Understanding… and horror.

“Kerovan, no!” She put out a hand to me, hastily pulled her shift back up around her shoulders. “My lord, no , it cannot be—”

“Hurry, Joisan.” It was difficult to stand in one place, more difficult still to force speech between my stiff lips. “I know not how long I can resist even by so much.”

“Great Mother, help us!” Her voice broke, then she hastily controlled herself, began searching out her traveling clothes. Her voice reached me faintly.

“When did the drawing start, Kerovan? Is it the same as before?”

“Stronger,” I gritted, my body trembling, my breath coming rapidly as the pull clawed me sharply—this time the demanding lure of the mountains was physical pain, torment so great sweat started on my brow, stung my eyes as it trickled.

“Perhaps I can call up protections once more, hold it again at bay—”

“ No.” I could not force more than the single word but tried to put into that monosyllable all the resolution I was feeling. She touched my arm, mindsharing. and I shaped thoughts through the agony. I will run no more, Joisan. I am done with running. One cannot run forever! I am a man, not something to be lured and tracked, as a hunter tracks prey… I must face this now. No more running .

Fear was my only close companion as I rode. Far ahead of me I could see Kerovan, but his face, as it had been since we had awakened this morning, was set to the northeast; he did not look back.

I sighed, feeling hunger pinch my middle. Soon I must call to him, demand that we rest, eat. When circumstances concerned me alone, I might push to the point of exhaustion and beyond, but not now. My child— our child , I corrected myself fiercely—required that I take greater care than I might otherwise have done. The sun lay warm to my left, for noon had come and gone, yet still I shivered, thinking of the morning past. I stroked the neck of the mare I bestrode, biting my lip. I would not—would not weep.

The Kioga had gathered around as we walked through the heart of the camp, dressed for the trail, our packs slung upon our backs. Jonka had been the first to question me—for the closed look upon my lord’s face had warned her away from any inquiries aimed at him.

“Cera Joisan, what chances? You are leaving?”

“Yes, Jonka, we must.” I was faintly surprised to see Kerovan nod. At times it seemed that ordinary speech—or even simple understanding—lay beyond his control, so fierce was the force gripping him. “Our thanks for all your hospitality. We will never forget you.” I paused, controlling my voice. “Gunnora’s Blessing on all of you.” I drew a sign in the air, saw it take shape, faintly glowing—and some distant part of me marked Nidu’s surprise and felt a wry pleasure that the Shaman had by so much underestimated my Power.

“Our thanks lie with you , Cera Joisan. And with your lord.”

Kerovan turned, seeming like some stick-figure controlled by strings such as children play with, to stare at the distant northeast horizon. Jonka’s eyes narrowed. “I see that you are in some haste, Lady. If you can bide but a moment, I have something that will aid your journeying. Can you tarry?”

I took my lord’s arm, holding him where he was, though I tried to make that gesture appear merely one of affection. “Certainly, Jonka.”

Jonka was swift. Moments later we had been given rations of journeybread and smoked meat left over from the feasting the previous night—how long ago that seemed now! Under my urging Kerovan managed to eat, swallow some fruit juice, while I forced myself to do likewise. When I felt a gentle tug at my pack, I turned, found Valona opening it to thrust therein a good-sized packet. “Food for your travels, Cera Joisan. I will miss you.”

I touched the little girl’s fine dark hair, finding it again difficult to swallow the sobs rising to choke me. “Thank you, dear heart. So will I also miss you .”

For a moment she buried her face against my jerkin, then she was gone. I straightened to find Terlys before me, her husband Rigon beside her. My friend held the bridle of a beautiful chestnut mare. As I looked at her, wondering how I would find the words to bid her farewell, she stepped forward, thrusting the reins into my hand. “Her name is Arren, Joisan. The bravest and most surefooted of our herd.”

I stared at the horse, touched her fine-drawn head, searching for words. “Terlys… my thanks, but I cannot accept—”

“Yes, you can.” She folded her tanned arms across her ample breasts, nodding emphatically. “The Kioga never sell their horses, as you know, but they will give them to those who are worthy. I know there has been no time for a formal Choosing, but the Great Mother will understand. You gave me my son’s life… can I do less when you are in need?”

For a long moment I stared at her, then moved to embrace her, my words of gratitude incoherent. Her arms tightened about me protectively, and her whisper was for my ear alone:

“The Great Mother’s Blessing upon you, Joisan, and upon the child you carry. If you can, return to us…”

“I shall…” I clutched Arren’s reins as though they alone anchored me to the world.

“Cera Joisan!” I turned to see the boy, Guret, leading yet another horse—Nekia, the mount that had carried my lord during the scout. Obred and Jonka stood behind him. I tugged at Kerovan’s sleeve, and slowly, reluctantly, he turned away from the mountains that drew him so. It took long moments for his eyes to focus upon the young man who stood before him, but Guret waited patiently, his own eyes dark and troubled.

My lord’s voice was low and husky with effort, his words for the boy alone. “Guret… I must leave to answer a… summons. I am sorry I won’t…” He drew a deep breath. “Nidu means you ill, I am certain—”

“M’lord—don’t. I know.” The boy spoke as quietly as Kerovan.

“Refuse her, Guret.” Kerovan’s voice was so faint I could barely hear him. “You are strong enough… naysay her. Let none change your mind.”

Jonka stepped forward. “Lord Kerovan, please accept Nekia as my gift. Obred tells me you and she companied well together, and if you ride into peril, you will need a Hood mount. Accept her, along with the Kioga’s promise that always there will be a place in our tents for you and your lady.”

“Thank you, Jonka.” Kerovan’s fingers tightened convulsively on the mare’s reins. With no further word, he swung astride. Guret held Arren, as I hastened to follow him.

“Thank you, Jonka… thank you…” My words, my thanks drifted on the spring wind behind me, answered In the summer warmth of my friends’ farewells. We rode.

Recalled to the present once again, I shifted in my saddle to urge Arren onward. The chestnut mare, lacking the conditioning Nekia had received during the miles traveled on the scout, was flagging. She flicked her ears forward, lengthening her strides in a game effort to keep up with the bay.

“Kerovan!” He did not turn at my hail, frightening me. Had he gone so far already that he was beyond my reaching? I concentrated, summoning him not only with voice, but also with the mind call. “ Kerovan !”