Michael Sullivan - Avempartha

Theron felt the breeze on his skin and remembered the ill wind he felt the night his family died. The night Thrace ran to him. He could still see her as she raced down the slope of Stony Hill, running to the safety of his arms. He had thought that was the worst day of his life. He had cursed his daughter for coming to him. He blamed her for the death of his family. He put on her all the woe and despair that he had been too weak to carry. She was his little girl, the one who always walked beside him wherever he went, and when he shooed her away, as he always did, he would catch her following at a distance, watching him, mimicking his actions and his words. Thrace was the one who laughed at his faces, cried when he was hurt, the one who sat at his bedside when he lay with fever. He never had a good word for his daughter. Never a pat or praise that he could remember. Not once did he ever say he was proud of her. Most of the time he had not acknowledged her at all. But he would gladly give his own life merely to see his little girl run to him again, just once more.

Theron stood shoulder to shoulder with Hadrian. He held the broken blade hidden beneath his clothes, ready to draw it out in an instant to appease the beast if needed. Hadrian held the false blade the dwarf had fashioned, and he, too, kept it hidden explaining that if the Gilarabrywn knew in advance where its prize was, it might not bother with the trade. Magnus and Tobis waited down the hill out of sight behind a hunting blind of assembled wreckage while Tomas worked at making Hilfred and Mauvin as comfortable as possible at the bottom of the hill.

The moon had risen and climbed above the trees and still the beast had not come. The torches Hadrian had lit in a circle around the hilltop were burning out. Only a few remained, but it did not seem to matter, as the moon was bright and with the canopy of leaves gone, they could see well enough to read a book.

“Maybe it’s not coming,” Tomas said to them climbing up the hill. “Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be tonight or maybe I was just hearing things. I’ve never been very good with the Old Speech.”

“How’s Mauvin?” Hadrian asked.

“The bleeding stopped. He’s sleeping peacefully now. I covered him in a blanket and created a pillow for him from a spare shirt. He and the soldier Hilfred should-”

There came a cry from the tower that turned their heads. To his amazement, Theron saw a brilliant explosion of white light flare at the pinnacle of the tower. It was there one moment and then faded as suddenly as it had appeared.

“What in the name of Maribor was that?” Theron asked.

Hadrian shook his head. “I don’t know, but if I had to guess I’d say Royce had something to do with it.”

There was another cry from the Gilarabrywn, this one louder.

“Whatever it was,” Hadrian told him, “I think it’s headed our way.”

Behind them, they could faintly hear Tomas praying.

“Put in a good word for Thrace, Tomas,” Theron told him.

“I’m putting a word in for all of us,” the cleric replied.

“Hadrian,” Theron said, “if by chance I don’t survive this and you do, keep an eye on my Thrace for me will you? And if she dies too, see to it we are buried on my farm.”

“And if I should die and you live,” Hadrian said. “Make sure this dagger I have in my belt gets back to Royce before the dwarf steals it.”

“Is that all?” the farmer asked. “Where do you want us to bury you?”

“I don’t want to be buried,” he said. “If I die I think I would like my body to be sent down the river, over the falls. Who knows, I might make it all the way to the sea.”

“Good luck,” Theron told him. The sounds of night went suddenly silent, save only for the breath of the wind.

This time with no forest in the way, he could see it coming, its wide dark wings stretched out like the shadow of a soaring bird, its thin body curling, its tail snapping as it flew. It did not dive as it approached. It did not breathe fire or land. Instead, it circled in silent flight, arcing in a wide ellipse.

As it circled, they could see it was not alone. Within its claws, it held a woman. At first, he could not tell who it was. She appeared to be wearing a richly tailored robe but she had Thrace’s sandy colored hair. As it circled the second time, he knew it was his daughter. A wave of relief and heightened anxiety gripped him. What had become of the other?

After several circles, the beast lowered like a kite and softly touched the ground. It landed directly in front of them not more than fifty feet away on the site of the now collapsed manor house.

Thrace was alive.

A massive claw of scale covered muscle and bone tipped with four, foot-long black nails surrounded her like a cage.

“Daddy!” she cried in tears.

Seeing her, Theron made a lung forward. Instantly the Gilarabrywn’s claw tightened and she cried out. Hadrian grabbed Theron and pulled him back.

“Wait!” he shouted. “It’ll kill her if you get too close.”

The beast glared at them with huge reptilian eyes. Then the Gilarabrywn spoke.

Neither Theron nor Hadrian understood a word.

“Tomas,” Hadrian shouted over his shoulder. “What’s it saying?”

“I’m not very good at-” Tomas began.

“I don’t care how well you did in grammar at seminary just translate.”

“I think it said it chose to take the females because it would create the greatest incentive for cooperation.”

The creature spoke again and Tomas did not wait for Hadrian to tell him to translate.

“It says: where is the blade that was stolen?”

Hadrian looked back at Tomas, “Ask it: where is the other female?”

Tomas spoke and the beast replied.

“It says the other escaped.”

“Ask it: How do I know you will let us all live if I tell you where the blade is hidden?”

Tomas spoke and the beast replied again.

“It says it will offer you a gesture of good faith since it knows it has the upper hand and understands your concern.”

It opened its claw and Thrace ran to her father. Theron’s heart leapt as his little girl raced across the hill to his waiting arms. He hugged her tight and wiped her tears.

“Theron,” Hadrian said, “get her out of here. Both of you get back to the well if you can.” Theron and his daughter did not argue and the Gilarabrywn’s great eyes watched carefully as Theron and Thrace began to sprint down the hill. Then it spoke again.

“Now, where is the blade?” Tomas translated.

Looking up at the towering beast and feeling the sweat dripping down his face, Hadrian drew the false blade out of his sleeve and held it up. The Gilarabrywn’s eyes narrowed.

“Bring it to me,” Tomas translated its words.

This was it. Hadrian felt the metal in his hands “Please let this work,” he whispered to himself and tossed the blade. It landed in the ash before the beast. The Gilarabrywn looked down at it and Hadrian held his breath. The beast casually placed its foot upon the blade and gathered it into its long talons. Then it looked at Hadrian and spoke.

“The deal is complete,” Tomas said. “But…”

“But?” Hadrian repeated nervously, “But what?”

Tomas’ voice grew weak. “But it says, I cannot allow those who have seen even half my name to remain alive.”

“Oh, you bastard,” Hadrian cursed, pulling his great spadone sword from his back. “Run, Tomas!”

The Gilarabrywn rose up, flapping its great wings causing a storm of ash to swirl into a cloud. It snapped forward with its head like a snake. Hadrian dove aside and spinning drove his sword at the beast. Rather than feeling the blade tip penetrate, however, Hadrian’s heart sank as the point of the spadone skipped off as if the Gilarabrywn was made of stone. The sudden shock broke his grip and the sword fell.