Lance of Earth and Sky (The Chaos Knight Book Two) (4 page)

“—I know.”

//
Why did you not destroy this one, then?
// The gryphon's large, sapphire eyes were flared wide, and all-pupil with alarm.

“Because he's not a thornwolf. At least, not entirely.” He soothed the pup with a murmur, then lifted him, squirming, toward Altair. As the pup's alarm peaked again, he discharged another crackle of electricity, but the pulses seemed to be getting weaker the more he used them. “But mainly,” Vidarian added, “we're the reason he's on his own. I'm all he has.”

Altair eyed the pup, about to argue, but a figure came hurtling down through the ceiling of rain overhead.

The dark-feathered shape landed lightly beside the fire, too small to be a gryphon. As she stood, revealing herself to be a seridi, she bowed to Isri, and then to Vidarian and Altair.

The seridi ruffled her feathers, shaking free droplets of water. She either did not recognize the pup for what he was, or was too preoccupied with her mission, or both. “Lord Tesseract,” she began, and Vidarian squelched his still-irate reaction to the title, “a messenger waits for you at the foothills.”

“Who could send a messenger this far?”

“He claims to be from your human emperor, my lord. We were told you would wish to know of his arrival.” She read Vidarian's startlement as affront and her facial feathers lifted with embarrassment. “I apologize if our assumption was incorrect.”

“No, no, you're quite correct,” Vidarian said, managing to summon back some of his diplomacy. “I'll be along as soon as I can.” He looked at Isri. “Can they manage a ride in the ship?” he indicated the two sedated seridi with a nod.

“I believe so,” she replied, closing her eyes for a few moments and then opening them again. “If we travel by night they'll take the journey easier.”

“I'll convey your response,” the messenger said, and Vidarian realized he didn't even know her name. But she was bowing again, and taking off, before her feathers had even dried.

The pup was squirming, the fire and warmth giving him new energy, and so Vidarian set him down to amble around the camp. As he looked around, he realized for the first time that one of their recent number was missing.

“Where is Calphille?” he asked.

H
e found her sitting alone in the forest at the feet of a great spruce. Her eyes were distant, and she spoke as soon as she heard his footsteps, without turning.

“I do not know why I was awakened even as my kin slumber,” she said quietly. “I fear they may never wake.” She placed a hand on one of the spruce's massive roots. “This is my father.”

Vidarian had never been introduced to a tree, but tried to put that aside. He bowed, and Calphille smiled. “I can see the resemblance,” he said. And indeed he could. With her moss-green hair, skin like chocolate, and eyes rich and golden as fresh pine sap, Calphille could have belonged in no other forest—and yet the thought of leaving her here unsettled him. Before he had quite thought it through, he said, “You should come with us.”

*
What?
* Ruby said, with the echoey tone that meant she spoke to him alone.

To his momentary relief, Calphille's smile widened, warmed.

There's no reason for her to stay here,
Vidarian thought at Ruby.
These trees aren't waking up with her.

*
Well, aren't you just a collector of oddities.
*

He forced his eyes steady against an instinct to glare.
You have no idea. I have this talking rock, you see…

“Your presence awakened me,” Calphille said, and Vidarian found himself obscurely grateful for his practice at carrying on parallel conversations with the Starhunter. “I thought I should stay with you, but would not have imposed.”

There, you see?
Vidarian thought.

*
She's clingy.
*

“It's no imposition at all,” he said, rather than answering Ruby, “I must admit to a great deal of curiosity about your people.”

At this her aspect darkened glumly again, and he wished he could recall his words. “When last I slept,” she said, looking out into the forest—tracing, he knew, lines of greenery that had grown up during her slumber, “the human cities knew this forest, knew of my father and his domain. We were allies.” She turned back to him, dread in her eyes, and he wondered again how she could be so trusting, so transparent. Then he thought himself cynical, and wondered again what he was becoming. “You said that your encampment is the only habitation here for many miles? There are no human cities?”

“Not living ones, I'm afraid,” he said, unhappy to distress her again but unable to lie. “There are ruins—the people are gone, moved on long ago…”

*
…Or worse, more like.
*

Ruby spoke only to him, but Calphille heard his implication. Her eyes filled with tears and she looked away, up into the branches of the tree that she called her father. She blinked, then visibly hardened herself. “How…” she began, then cleared her throat. “How shall we travel…to your camp?”

Relieved, he turned and pointed back the way he'd come. “I have a ship that can take us—if you'll follow me.”

*
You'd better hurry,
* Ruby said. *
That wolf is surely running amok. Either it's eaten Isri or Altair's eaten it. My bet and hopes are on the latter.
*

He forced himself to smile reassuringly at Calphille, while what he thought back at Ruby was not nearly so charitable.

When she stood, Calphille bowed low to the spruce, resting her hands against its trunk as if in supplication. She murmured words Vidarian couldn't understand, but, moved by her devotion—and obvious sadness at parting from her family—Vidarian bowed to the tree as well. When he straightened, he lifted his hand and pressed it to the rough bark. To his surprise, it was warm, though no sunlight could possibly reach it down here. He looked up into the vaulting branches, overcome at the thought of the tree's age, and how it housed another creature like Calphille. He wondered what the forest king would look like, in human form. “Sleep well, sir,” he said, then turned to lead Calphille back to the camp.

Contrary to Ruby's dire warnings, the camp and wolf pup were both fine, though Altair did look as if he would rather clean his beak with the small creature's pelt than tolerate its curious sniffing about the camp. With the resilience of all young things, the wolf seemed to have adapted to his new “family” well, though with clear partiality for Vidarian. His long, feathery tail fanned the air gently as soon as Vidarian and Calphille crossed into the clearing.

Vidarian crouched and held out his hand, and the pup's tail waved again, this time faster. He ambled toward them, still weak and wary, and stopped about an arm's length away, stretching his neck to sniff Vidarian's hand.

Some lupine decision logic flipped over in the pup's mind, and he walked forward, turning easily and sitting between Vidarian's bent knees. Carefully, Vidarian placed his hand on top of the pup's head. Far from objecting, the pup thumped his tail up and down again on the ground, and panted.

Before thinking better of it, Vidarian slid his fingers downward to pet the pup's neck. A long ruff-spine brushed his hand and pain swept through it, melting his grip into a claw. A stream of invective poured out of his mouth before he quite realized what he was saying.

*
I'm impressed!
*

Isri's cheek-feathers lifted. “Anatomically—”

“It's a figure of speech,” he said quickly. He shook his hand, willing sensation back into it, mostly without success.

The pup was looking up at him, ears drooped and eyes big. In spite of the pain, Vidarian forced himself to pat the creature gently on the head lest it think him angry.

Sorry
, the emotion brushed his mind just as he made contact with the soft fur of the pup's head. Vidarian froze, sure he'd imagined it. He'd lifted his hand as if burned, and now settled it down again on the pup.
Sorry, sorry
the feeling rushed back into him again, a wordless regret. The pup licked his hand.

“Are you all right?” Isri asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. He started, then looked up at her. Her golden eyes were opaque, curious. Vidarian had known Isri to make mental contact with another of her kind several leagues away—he wondered if it was etiquette or ability that masked his own thoughts from her now.

“Just a bit of a shock,” he said, carefully petting the pup again. “My own fault. It's fine.” He put extra force into his words, hoping the sentiment would transfer to the pup as well. It seemed to; the tail thumped again, gently. “Are we prepared for the return flight?”

“Altair helped me carry our two friends into the craft,” Isri said. “I imposed a sleep on them that should last two hours.”

“How easy is that, making someone sleep?”

She smiled, sensing the caution behind his question, but her voice was colored with sadness. “For them, not difficult, so little is left of their minds. Far more difficult for someone like you.” Her eyes twinkled.

//
We thank you for allowing us the refuge of your father's forest,
// Altair said to Calphille, who also seemed rather nonplussed both by the wolf pup's shock and Vidarian's invective.

“Calphille will be joining us,” Vidarian said, hoping she wouldn't change her mind.

“My family is not yet awake,” she explained, “and it would be my duty to ensure our alliances are activated as soon as possible, for their safety.” The way she leaned on duty to steer herself through sadness struck deep with Vidarian.

//
We are pleased to have you, then,
// Altair said, and Vidarian experienced a surge of gratitude for the welcome that radiated out from the gryphon in a feathery embrace.

Calphille smiled, and performed a peculiar little bow Vidarian had never seen before, with the fingertips of both hands together. He was sure her flush of gratitude was unfeigned, and felt another wave of guilty sympathy for her waking alone.

*
Don't start that again.
*

It's only right that she comes with us, that's all,
he thought back testily.

*
It's no concern of mine. You're the one'll be crammed in that little boat with a full house.
*

Gloomily he realized she was right. He wasn't sure how many the craft was meant to hold, but surely they'd be near its capacity. Carefully he picked up the pup, who didn't know quite what to make of being lifted off the ground, but didn't object.
Only one way to find out.

With the two captured seridi sleeping soundly and tucked tight with blankets at the rear of the craft, quarters were tight, but by no means unbearable. Isri took to the sky with Altair while Vidarian guided the craft upward. The glowing gems set into the hull provided not only activation indicators but a gentle blue light that illuminated their path up through the trees. Calphille, perched at the bow, watched them with appreciation, but not surprise.

“You've been aboard one of these before,” Vidarian said.

“It's been…” she started to calculate, then laughed. “…A very long time, of course.” Her eyes followed the edge of the trees as they ascended from the clearing, saying a final wordless good-bye, but to his relief, her spirits seemed to lighten the farther they passed from her family's grove. The wolf pup was not nearly so comfortable, and clung to the deck, radiating displeasure despite Vidarian's reassurances.

A prevailing night wind filled the sails as soon as they lifted above the tree line, and they made good time. Soon the fires of the encampment glittered along the coastline before them, and Vidarian directed the craft lightly down for a landing.

Thalnarra's pride had taken up temporary residence along a narrow cliff bordering a great and temperate sea. Here, south of the Dragonspine, the waters were gentle, practically tropical, and the ocean winds that swept up the cliffs were quite pleasing to the gryphons. Thalnarra groused about them growing gentle and fat on the giant, pink-fleshed fish that filled the bay, but she seemed obscurely pleased to have laired there nonetheless.

The Alorean messenger was immediately obvious as they landed, having made his own camp as far away from the gryphons as he could manage without leaving the safety of the pride. “With your pardon, I'd like to get this settled as fast as possible,” Vidarian apologized to Calphille, who waved him away. She seemed heartened to see so many gryphons at the cliff.

“Bloody creatures,” the messenger was muttering. Vidarian strode up to him, unsure whether he was cursing the gryphons or his own unruly mount. The winged horse, like those of the Sky Knights they'd battled to gain access to the gate, certainly had no love of gryphons, being essentially “prey”—but it also seemed less than enthusiastic about its rider. It pawed the ground nervously, ears flattened against its skull, eyes round and rolling when the messenger made any move toward it.

The messenger, an older man in imperial colors, nodded briskly to Vidarian as he approached. His high forehead, paler skin, and aquiline nose reminded Vidarian of his mother's family, landholding Alorean for ten generations back.

“They've gone all jittery these past months,” the man said, offering a slice of dried apple to the horse, who accepted it warily. Vidarian reevaluated his assumption about their relationship—the beast was spooked for sure, but seemed to trust the old man. “Can't blame 'em. Everything's gone jittery, you might say. Half the riders can't even get their beasts to carry them, or they wouldn't've pulled an old git like me out of retirement.”