Andre Norton - Gryphon's Eyrie

As if his presence in the seat were a signal, the mist before my eyes began to take on visible form, curdling in the center. Two widely separated blocks of the blue stone underfoot began to glow, azure light growing upward from between them, shimmering in the air. The Power centered between them, suspended like a web between pillars. It flickered, becoming visible as I backed away, suddenly frightened, thinking of the child. The forces uncoiling here in this room were vast—I had no wish to be trapped in some arcane backlash.

Violet trails uncoiled and crawled within that web of Power, coalescing, then stretching upward, moving into the form of a living creature—a gryphon!

Telpher ! I thought, the image of the beast that had protected me during the battle with Galkur filling my mind. “Telpher?” I called, stretching out my hand toward that shape.

It turned eyes the color of gentle flames in my direction, opening its mouth as though to speak.

Joisan ! Kerovan’s mindsharing reached through my concentration, bringing a warning. Touch it not—what you see is but an image of the Unlocker of Gates .

I turned to see him raise his hand, his fingers forming a sign I did not recognize; then, quickly, he sketched the winged globe that seemed to have been Landisl’s Power symbol. His mouth moved, twisting into an utterly alien shape as he spoke a word —one that I could not hear with my ears, except perhaps as a distant pain, but perceived with the inner sense.

I turned to see the gryphon image ripple in its center, then split and tear apart in lines of searing violet light. I put up a hand to shield my sight, and then Kerovan, with a sudden leap down, was beside me, his hand raised as if in greeting. “Come,” he called, using the ancient word from the Old Tongue.

He extended his hand toward the light—

There came a sudden clap of sound so high-pitched as to be only a sharp pain, and a wave of brilliance engulfed us both as a twig is swept by the spring floods.

Staggering back, I tripped over the edge of the dais, sitting down with a jar. My eyes watered and ran, my nose filled with the odor one can sometimes scent after a lightning strike. I struggled up, only to see not one, but two forms sprawled on the stones before me!

“Guret? Kerovan?”

There was the sound of running feet, then hands on my shoulders, helping me to rise. “Cera? What happened? Who is he ?”

I swayed dizzily as I stood, looking up at the youth’s concerned face. If it was Guret who stood with me now, then who was the other man sprawled beside my lord? “My heart seemed near to fighting its way out of my breast .is I stumbled forward with the Kioga lad’s aid.

“Kerovan?”

My lord was sitting up, one hand to his head, dazed. The man beyond him groaned, rolling over, his sword and mail scraping against the stone flooring. He went helmed, and his equipment could have been forged at the same fires as my own sword and mail, or Kerovan’s…

A man of the Dales? Here, in Arvon? Brought to Kar Garudwyn by some sorcerous Gate, the like of which we had traversed?

Questions flooded my mind, but for the moment it was plain the man was in no condition to speak. I hastened to his side, touched fingers to his throat. His war helm made a half screen across his features, but my questing fingers found that our “guest” had a pulse, and a strong one.

“Who is he?” I asked as Kerovan made an unsteady way over to join us.

“I know not,” my lord answered. “The old Knowledge awakened and seemed to act through me—I knew what must lie done to assist the one trapped within the Gate, but as to whom our guest may be…” He shrugged.

“Help me with his helm,” I directed. “Guret, bring some water and a cloth.”

Carefully we removed the man’s helm. Beneath it was truly a Dalesman’s face, hair a shade or two lighter than my own, the weathered skin of a rover, well-cut, even handsome features. The man looked to be some years older than my lord—

I gasped as my mind suddenly rearranged those features into familiar lines—this man I knew! “ Jervon!” I stammered, hardly believing my own sight. “How—what—”

Three years ago, when I had first followed my lord into the Waste, just before our entry into Arvon, I had met this man. At the time he had companied with a woman of the Old Race, Elys. The three of us had traveled the Waste for many days, searching after Kerovan, for, in their kindness, Jervon and his lady had been moved to aid me. Without their help I could never have made that perilous journey that had ended so abruptly as I was dragged down into a trap dug by the Thas, those repulsive Dwellers-In-Darkness. The last sight I had seen as the earth caved away beneath me had been this man’s anguished face as he strove vainly to reach me. And now he was here, in Arvon.

“Jervon?” I saw Kerovan frown, as if trying to remember, then his eyes widened. “It cannot be! Where is Elys?”

After I had been captured by the Thas, Jervon and Elys had aided my lord in his subsequent search for me . He had told me that at one point in their journey together, his two companions had been warned back by the Power—for Elys was a Witch, and one of no small talent. The time was not right, she had said, for the two of them to walk the road leading to Arvon. Sadly, he had bade them farewell and ridden on alone. Kerovan had told me of Elys’s wistfully expressed hope that someday the way into the ancient land might be opened to them…

Carefully steadying Jervon’s head on my knee, I wet the edge of the cloth Guret brought me and wiped his face. He seemed to rouse slightly, and when I gave him to drink, his eyes opened, blinking in the light. “You are safe, Jervon,” I said quietly. “Do you remember me? I am Joisan.”

“Joisan…” His eyes widened, and I could see memory rush in.

“Where is Elys, Jervon?” my lord said, bending over so the Dalesman could see him. “I am Kerovan, remember?”

“Kerovan? Here?” His eyes wandered around the circular chamber, plainly disbelieving. “Where—”

“You are in a place of the Old Ones,” my lord said. “You came through a very ancient Gate. Do you not remember? And where is the Lady Elys?”

“Elys…” For the first time he looked to both sides, then sat up with a jerk, though I strove to hold him still. “She isn’t here?” Panic awoke. “She must be —Elys! Elys !”

The Great Hall rang with his shouts, and it took the combined strength of the three of us to hold him down, lest he run wildly through Kar Garudwyn, risking a terrible fall if he suffered a misstep too near one of the open arches.

“Jervon!” I clutched at his shoulders. “Jervon, listen . If you would find Elys, you must listen to me!”

His eyes were frantic, and for a moment I feared he might plunge into madness, so terrible was the grief I sensed. Then he sagged. “Elys did not come through the gate with you,” I said as clearly as I could. “Where did you come from? It may be that Elys was left behind, and you must return for her.”

“In the Waste,” Jervon said dully. “We were in the Waste, in a portion we had never traveled before, and we came upon a road. A strange road. My lady said there were visions there, of the ones who had withdrawn out of High Hallack so long ago.” I heard a swift indrawn breath from Kerovan. “On either side were great faces of stone carved, and then something Elys called the Great Star—”

“The road!” my lord exclaimed. “That is the road where Riwal and I first found the crystal gryphon! What happened to you there?”

“We reached the end, where the road simply ran into a solid facing of cliff, and thus ended. But Elys said that it was no true end, rather a stepping-off place for one who possessed the Power to summon and open.”