Page 4 of Gryphon in Light

Kelvren’s report was exhaustive and, apparently, exhausting. Winces of pain and pauses for deep, sucking breaths stopped the gryphon’s forced speech every minute or two. Half a candlemark or more passed before he summoned up the last of his strength to finish the report. It was, indeed, crucial information, giving a literal overview of the insurgents’ military might, ranges of influence and deployment, and unwatched vulnerabilities.

Hallock had always been an honest man, and now was no time to start lying. These reports the gryphon spoke of were important to Kelvren, and Hallock could not bear the thought of lying to the broken flier. His pain was building up again, and the throbbing of his lacerated forehead ramped up steadily the more they talked. “It may not matter, Kelvren. I am dying. Gut wound killing me. They have me on strong medicine. No one can Heal a gut wound without serious magic. I’m isolated in here because they don’t think I’ll recover, and it’s a bad idea to put the dying with the savable.”

The gryphon snorted in obvious derision. “Valdemarrransss arrre ssso ssstrrange. We would put all the wounded togetherrr ssso they would heal each otherrr’sss painsss. If not of the body, then of the sssoul. Pain sssharred isss pain halved.”

“It isn’t that . . . it isn’t my own pain I fear. It’s that I won’t see Haven again. Or Genni . . . . ”

“Genni. Yourrr mate . . . ?”

“Mate, yes. Wife. We call a mate a wife. We were going to have a family . . . a big family. Genni . . . so beautiful. I wish you could see her, the way I see her . . .”

“Ssso tell me . . . I have hearrd of Haven, wherrre the Great Ones arrre. Grrreatessst explorrrerrs of ourrr time, Adept magesss, herrroesss. We sssurrrvive thisss, we ssshould see them togetherrr, yesss, Hallock Ssstaverrrn? They ssstay at the Palassce, in their own prrrivate Vale. And you can ssshow me Haven’sss bessst decadencccesss.” The gryphon wheezed a chuckle, surprisingly humanlike. “Tell me what you love therrre. Tell me of yourrr mate. Yourrr wife.”

Hallock smiled. The tragically, perhaps mortally wounded gryphon was so much in his humor like the two he had encountered in Haven. “Genni. She is so . . . so sweet. I don’t know how to describe her, but I can tell you stories about her. I can tell you about why she makes me smile.”

“Tell me, then. Ssshow me in wordsss . . . keep my mind on sssomething that won’t hurrrt. Hurrrh, whoever put thisss on me will pay dearrrrly!”

“Birce probably thought you were like a falcon, that if you were in the dark, you’d be calmer. He meant well.” The gryphon replied with a growl but seemed at least a little mollified. “Haven, with Genni. There was a day off, just last month, before autumn had set in. Autumn in Haven is cool and breezy, and even though winter is coming, everything smells like newness. Late summer is when the hedges in the Collegium come into second bloom. Color is everywhere in little splashes, and the vines flower over every archway.”

Hallock found himself smiling as he spoke, staring up at the canvas as it rippled lightly in the breezes outside. “Genni can make everything you do every day seem new, too. There was a carter who served the Guard houses, with meat pies and breads. I ate what he brought almost every day, when on duty; we all did. Not great food but not bad either, but it kept us filled. Well. Genni and I were out, and I was carrying bags for her, because we were going to walk all the markets in Haven together. She makes these skirts and shawls, you see, with ribbons on the edges. Really complex interlaces that make checkers, then fall in these long fringes.” Hallock warmed to the subject, putting in details that on some level he knew the gryphon couldn’t possibly care about—but he was talking about Genni. Nothing was unimportant about Genni. “Maybe out of habit, because she would stop in and visit me while I was on duty, we swung toward the Guard house. The carter was on his rounds, as usual, and Genni said, “Let’s get something to eat!” I must have looked like a toad spitting up a bug, the way she laughed! But she took my hand and pulled me there anyway.”

“Genni walked right up and said, “I want today’s special,” and the fellow went behind the cart, opened up an oven, and handed her a basket. A whole basket! With a wink, just like that, no money or anything. She had set me up, my Genni! I remember looking back at the carter, who was laughing so hard as to raise the dead, while Genni led me off. The Guards at the Collegium gates waved us through, and she took me there right into the grounds, through those flowering arches. Birds were all around, singing and swooping around. Skeins of geese flew overhead, one after another, going south through that wide blue sky. She led me in to one of the side gardens next to the Bards’ auditoriums, by the practice rooms. No one there but the groundsman. Then, the groundsman angled off toward us. Brought something to Genni in a brown cloth bundle that was just dripping wet. Genni hid it from me, just giggling away. Well, see, I pulled the groundsman aside then, while she looked at whatever her prize was. Worked a deal with him, and off he went.”

“Genni sat down in the grass, just like that, and opened up the basket. There was crockery inside, from our own cupboard! She’d planned this long in advance! There were no dried-out pasties and cornbread in there, oh no. She laid out hot plates and roast duck, steamed carrots and sweet potatoes in honey glaze. She had sweet breads and salted butter, and when she unwrapped the bundle from the groundsman, I almost cried right there. A cold bottle of wine, from who knows what cellar, oh I can taste it now. And then, right then . . .”

Hallock sniffled, and tears ran down his temples as he lay there. “And then, in the practice rooms, the chorus started. Bards’ chorale, practicing together . . . forty voices, if there was one of them, singing ‘Light of Freedom’s Majesty’ in the old style. Genni poured the wine and the groundsman arrived then, with what I’d arranged . . . a bouquet of lilies, daisies, and bluebells from Companion’s Field. And he said, ‘I’ll make sure you aren’t disturbed,’ and went away to the entry of the garden, to work. Genni . . . oh, Genni. We drank the wine and ate, and listened to the singing of the chorus echo off the walls of the Collegium and surround us. We traded jokes, and we kissed, and fed each other sweet breads. We were young and new again. It was a perfect day. A perfect day . . .”

Hallock couldn’t say any more. His medicine had almost fully burned off. There was no rain outside, but a dull roar filled Hallock’s perceptions like a storm was raging. Before long, the sound of the gryphon’s breathing, growls, and wheezing grunts as he worried at the improvised hood were drowned out by the rush of Hallock’s pounding heartbeat in his ears. He looked imploringly toward the gryphon and made eye contact with the raptorial gaze at the moment the shreds of the hood were pulled free. He flinched when he heard the gryphon shriek—a word. A Valdemaran word, Hallock realized, before another wave of agony shattered his senses.

“Healerrrr!” the gryphon shrieked.

The gryphon swung his head sideways and called the word again, extremely loudly. The huge predator’s keening was impossibly loud. It made Hallock’s head hurt so badly that a mace to the skull would have been a mercy to him. Pounding heartbeats passed beyond counting, and coherence left Hallock completely. This could be death, he thought. But wasn’t death supposed to be peaceful?

Motes of orange starlight swam in the Guard’s vision. A shadowy shape and disconcerting sounds of tortured crying and tearing cloth burst in on the crackle of red lightning taking over his vision and the pounding noise in his ears. Hallock closed his eyes, but they sprang open again of their own volition. The tent and lamps were spinning all around him, but seemed so distant as the sensation of falling manifested into tunnel vision. Spikes of pain wrenched him from oblivion. Something huge was pressing down on his belly, and his gut screamed agony anew. His head felt split open from so much pain, and yet strangely, warmth was spreading into him from his gut and forehead. There was the distant silhouette of a raptor’s beak against shuddering, dancing lamplight—his last vision before dying?

To die in Valdemar, in service of his nation, would be a good death. For Crown and Country, he would die as a hero, who had fallen defending his own. His name would be cast in bronze and added to the Honor Columns of the Guard house. A good death, if it was indeed his time.

He numbly realized there was a presence beside him, as the sunlike, spreading oblivion engulfed him, pushing out the darkness. It could be an angel of the divine, or a spirit to guide him to the Havens above.

But no matter who or what it might be, he wished with all his heart that it was Genni at his side.

Hallock couldn’t see anything, but like the last time he had found himself in this circumstance, the fact that he could think at all was proof that he was alive.

“The gryphon’s resuscitated, Healer,” he heard a woman say. “Soft tissue’s mostly knitted, bone fractures are fused, overpressures are alleviated. What a mess. He looked like he fell hard on a sword factory.”

Devon’s voice chimed in from nearby. “Should have seen him when they brought him in.”

The woman snorted and continued. “He won’t be flying for a long time. Wings and those other weird organs of his will take specialty work I can’t do. I sure couldn’t do any more today anyway. The lance hit and the slashes weren’t so bad, but the blood poisoning and bruising took a lot out of me. You lot owe me more than a few dinners and some especially good desserts! I’m glad we got here when we did.”

Devon replied, “We’re lucky the Skybolts came north as quickly as they did. I’ll be honest with you—we were not at all prepared for what hit us. We all feel a lot better knowing mages, Heralds, and Gifted Healers are with us.”

The woman yawned, agreeing. “Yeah. Lucky break all around. You did fine, though, and you were probably wise not to risk drugs with his metabolism. I can’t imagine the agony he must have been in, just to move an inch, much less use spells. Glad I’m not an Empath or you’d be hauling me out of here in a bucket.” There was a pause. “Listen, I have a concern. I’m going to check with our mages about it. The gryphon has no magic left in him that I can find.”

Birce’s voice replied to the unseen woman, from very near. “When I got here, he’d dragged himself to Stavern’s side. I had to pull his claw off of Stavern’s belly. I think he used all the magic he had left on whatever Healing spell he had.”

“Could be. I know the tracework. The more precise a Healing spell, the less energy it needs, but that takes a lot of medical knowledge. A broad-use spell takes fifty times the energy as it tries all kinds of things to set a bad situation right. For all I know, he used a Summoning and got whatever spirit he brought here to Heal up your Guard.”

There was a long pause in which no one said a word, as they mulled over the implications of that. In those moments, Hallock could hear the deep breathing of a gryphon somewhere nearby, steady and reliable. The woman finally said, “They live on magic—use it to fly—practically breathe it, so far as I’ve heard. I don’t know what a total depletion will do for his long-term health, but for now, I think he’ll pull through.”