Erin Hoffman - Sword of Fire and Sea

By night he found himself guarded by three balls of feathers and fur. When the gryphons curled up to sleep (and, birdlike, they grew tired as soon as the light faded), their wings hid any leonine portions of their body almost entirely from view, and the long, stiff feathers that ran along the back of their necks plumed upward as they buried their beaks between heavily muscled shoulder blades. One of them snored, and he wasn't sure which.

Perhaps reminded by his companions’ fluffy nighttime presence, he found his mind wandering to what had become of Ariadel's kitten. What could the Vkortha possibly make of it? Had they killed it out of hand? Inevitably his thoughts would venture into dark territory, and he heaved at them halfheartedly before at last settling into uneasy sleep.

The monotony of a blinding sun cast the basket in harsh, jagged shadows day after day and made the journey stretch into one long hypnotic noon. The pattern broke only once, causing Vidarian to start out of a bleary nap (one taken, as they had been for days, with the Book of Nistra open before him), when the gryphons began to angle downward in the sky-not at sunset, but with the sky still glaringly bright overhead.

“Priestess Thalnarra?” Vidarian mumbled, tucking the book back into his pocket and rubbing his eyes.

// We, or I should say they, can take you no further ,// she answered, casting an obliquely apologetic glance over her shoulder. // We approach Vkortha territory. //

“How can you tell?”

One of the gryphoness's feathered ears slanted down at a sharp angle in his direction. // Listen. Feel. You will Sense it. //

He complied, carefully, but nearly before he had even been able to close his eyes, Vidarian became uncomfortably aware of a buzzing vibration that lingered in his mind. It grew steadily even as the party descended, as if they were passing into a great bank of fog, but the world to his mortal eyes remained disconcertingly mundane.

On the ground the woods were preternaturally silent. Whenever the gryphons landed a hush of the smaller forest creatures followed in their wake, but always there had been the ambient noise of distant activity. Not so, here. Either nothing lived in this forest, or if it did, it was being very careful to maintain an illusion of absence.

Under Thalnarra's supervision, Vidarian helped the gryphons separate provisions and particular supplies into a set of leather pouches that locked cunningly into brackets along the brothers’ harnesses. Thalnarra, though, made no move to collect the special herbs that Vidarian had come to recognize as exclusive to her use.

“Shall I help you pack, Priestess?” he asked, when at last the brothers were completing final preparations and there was little left to be done. Thalnarra's scarlet eyes pierced through his poorly veiled question.

// I intend to stay with you, Captain, for as long as I can. // She did not say more, but instead turned to the other gryphons, who abruptly stood at attention. Vidarian heard nothing, but by the narrowing and flaring of the creatures’ pupils, they were engrossed in a deep discussion. He turned away so as not to intrude even upon their expressions.

A heavy weight on his shoulder-one that, he noticed, bore a set of five-inch talons-surprised him out of his quiet contemplation. The claw was surprisingly warm-almost hot beneath the clean, dry skin. Vidarian turned slowly.

Ishrak's large golden eyes focused intently on Vidarian's for a long moment. Finally he uttered a strange, piercing call, and said, // Charnak; vikktu ari lashuul. // Then, as swiftly as he had come, he turned and paced away with casual, measured steps. Neither of the two gryphons looked back before they took to the air, the wind from their wings throwing leaves and dust in all directions.

When they were out of sight, Vidarian turned to see Thalnarra inspecting him with the tilted head and raised cheek-feathers that he had come to recognize as bemusement.

// I believe that would be the first time that a human mind has heard those words. You should feel honored. // Despite the amusement in her words, it was apparent that the gryphoness was quite serious.

“I do,” Vidarian said, watching Thalnarra carefully and folding his hands behind his back.

// It means, “be resolved; victory will find you.” It is the traditional parting phrase for a company of gryphons departing for war. //

Vidarian thought this over for a long moment, then nodded. “That's what we're doing, isn't it?”

Thalnarra did not answer, but her feathers, mantling up behind her neck as she sat down and gazed into the impenetrably dark forest to the west, spoke for her.

The buzzing hum continued to increase as they trekked further into the forest, rising into a palpable sensation of itching at the back of the brain. Frequently Vidarian caught himself shaking his head, a futile but reflexive response to the unnerving itch.

At length the forest gave way to a rugged, wind-blasted coastline. When they stumbled out of the trees and into the dubious grey light of the open shore, there was no warning-the trees, hung heavily with parasitic moss and vines, had blocked out any view no matter how close it was. Cold, sleet-fingered wind lashed at the tree line, whipping up out of the sea like the angry swats of a petulant cat.

Vidarian stared out over the open water, squinting at the hazy horizon.

// This confirms what we suspected but could not ascertain , // Thalnarra said, feathers rippling in the constant wind as she too squinted out over the waves. Her voice in his mind was not loud, a calm non sequitur in the maddening combination of thundering waves and buzzing Presence. // The Vkortha are on an island, or, if not an island, a peninsula whose bridge they have managed to hide from view. //

“An island?” Vidarian shouted, struggling to make himself heard. “How are we going to get to it?” Thalnarra cast him an unruffled glance.

// The flight basket is watertight. The ride won't be pleasant, but we can make it. //

“Make it to where?” He tried not to sound too alarmed.

// We'll see, won't we? //

There was no help for it. Vidarian trudged back into the dense forest, working to manage his dread at the notion of sailing literally blind into the unknown. He realized for the first time his dependency on the usual navigational implements-charts, compasses, sextants, and the few precious little charms that made the vast openness of the sea and sky at least somewhat manageable.

The thought of navigational tools made him pause. There was that strange tubular tool packed in with the magical implements, an air navigator-could it be used to guide them? At that point Vidarian would have clung to any hope of a useful instrument with ferocity. He asked Thalnarra about it as they wove their way through the tangled vines and rushes that seemed to have grown back in duplicate force since they had last passed through.

// It would work , // she answered, giving a nod of her beak as she leapt over a fallen log. // It's not ideal, but I can recalibrate it to the coast and we can, at the least, have some idea of where we are in relationship to land. //

That gave them a way back, if and when they needed it, which was enough for Vidarian. He plowed through the foliage with renewed vigor.

Although he had not considered it before, the seaworthiness of the gryphons’ basket became immediately apparent as Vidarian and Thalnarra slid it out onto the rocky sand. Vidarian wondered if perhaps its boatlike construction had subconsciously comforted him on that first harrowing ride.