Sword of Fire and Sea (The Chaos Knight Book One) (11 page)

“You mentioned five magics—what is the fifth?” The whole of it made sense to him, but Vidarian wanted to know everything before he began drawing parallels in his mind.

//
We call the fifth element aether, and it is really more theoretical than actual, from a magical perspective at least, because we have no one who can manipulate it. But it is in a third class of magic called Subtractive, whereas all the other four are considered Additive. Try what we may, the very nature of Substantive and Ephemeral magics both dictates that we cannot actually destroy substance or energy—only manipulate it. Aether has the power to destroy.
//

“Can it also create?” A dry, humming click sounded in Vidarian's mind, and he gathered from the faint rush of emotion that followed it that Thalnarra was chuckling.

//
Clever. Yes, in theory, aether can create. But we assume that its basic nature is to destroy, the same way that an Ephemeral's basic nature is to generate energy—so to create is probably much more difficult than destroying. Creation is the domain of the gods.
//

“What is it that the Vkortha do? Where does that magic fit in?”

Thalnarra's tone grew dark. //
The Vkortha do not practice magic. They are telepaths, and telekinetic—we do not consider these as part of the magical hierarchy. The way I am speaking to you is telepathic, and among gryphonkind it is considered mundane. There is some dispute, given the Vkorthan's recent activity, as to whether the old books should be changed to include their…activities. But we know so little about them, which is one of the reasons Priestess Windhammer was assigned to study them—we believe that their “magic” is actually a clever use of the mundane telepathy in conjugation with certain tools.
// After a moment, she added, //
We are not altogether certain what those tools are.
//

Again they passed a length of time in silence, with Vidarian wondering, not for the first time, just what he'd gotten himself into. The thought that perhaps he was the one to solve it, since he knew nothing of the details and was therefore theoretically undaunted, was cold consolation.

The group rested by night, with the gryphons angling downward in the red twilight once they sighted a clearing appropriate for a safe landing. Each night one of the gryphons disappeared into the darkness and returned one or more hours later dragging a fresh kill. Thalnarra took her turn in this, and in each case Vidarian joined in their dinner—though he found that he still preferred his meat cooked.

During their brief meals he gradually came to know the other two gryphons that had volunteered to escort him. They were brothers—brown-plumaged and long-legged harrier gryphons whose loyalty to Thalnarra bordered on outright fanaticism. Their body language and sharp eyes reflected a spaniel-like demeanor whenever she so much as spoke one of their names. It was almost disturbing.

The older brother, Kaltak, took to telling Vidarian stories of the lairs and hunting grounds of the Cherath’kettu'ssa, or “children of Ele’cherath” as they referred to themselves. A friendly rivalry existed between Sharli's two gryphon subspecies, and both agreed that it was probably well that the harriers had little interest in the goshawks' territory, since their own was more than large enough.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Kaltak (with the occasional side note provided by his brother) painted a portrait of a very warlike society—or, at least a society that would be warlike if not carefully mediated by the fire priestesses, called Shamans in their home. Each gryphon underwent a maturation rite before being accepted into the pride as an adult, and these two were in Thalnarra's service for a full preparatory year. Ishrak, though two seasons younger than Kaltak, had passed a test that allowed him to enter training in tandem with the older gryphon. In another species this would have incited cockiness, but Ishrak seemed to have nothing but respect for his older brother. Vidarian knew of few societies save those of pirates and merchants on the high seas, and the gryphons’ intricacies fascinated him. He listened avidly to their tales of adventure and lair life, sometimes understanding little about the details but gaining volumes of new regard for gryphon culture. Even had he accepted the existence of gryphons before he had seen one, “culture” was not a word that would have occurred to him even at the bottom of the deepest wine bottle. That disbelieving self, so unwittingly narrow in experience, seemed more than a lifetime away.

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.

T

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.

Catching sight of his expression, Thalnarra nodded to his thoughts. //
Rather than reinvent the wheel, so to speak, we based the baskets off of the design of a small boat. What slides through the water also slides through the air. It works in our favor all the more, now.
// Without waiting for assistance, the tall gryphoness braced both foreclaws solidly on the basket's “hull” and gave a tremendous shove. The vessel slid wetly across the grey foam and slime that marked the waterline, and then it was afloat. Vidarian hopped in quickly as the tide took hold.

Before launch Vidarian had loaded a pair of long, supple branches into the basket. He now grabbed the first of these and used it as a poor but effective pole. Once he felt confidence in the method, he looked around, wondering where Thalnarra could possibly fit.

But she was already high above him, feathers twitching constantly to battle the erratic wind. //
Take your bearing, Captain—I will follow the craft.
// She held the recalibrated air navigator in one claw, having detached it from its place hooked to her chest strap.

Pulling in the pole and relying on the tide to wash them out, Vidarian carefully extracted Ariadel's emerald from a pouch around his neck. For a brief moment he closed his eyes, focusing on the faint, flickering presence of the emerald and the distant fluttering that called to the stone, far past the horizon. Swallowing a flood of emotion as he noted both the increasing strength of the emerald and what seemed to be a decrease in Ariadel's “signal,” her true life flame, he tucked the stone back into its nest and lifted his branch-pole unerringly south-by-southwest. Thalnarra gave a quick answering cry from overhead and angled away in that direction. Vidarian roughly thrust the branch back into the water, guiding his erstwhile craft toward the towering bank of dark clouds that marked their destination.

The first attack came by night, when the clouds overhead became menacing shadows that blotted out the stars and the sea was an expanse of cold, shifting mountains of glass that stretched into forever. Vidarian and Thalnarra, caught between the two, soldiered on against the onslaught of wind and wave, but at times it seemed they made no progress, and twice Vidarian swore that the shifting water was actually pushing them backward toward the shore.

Vidarian had poled his craft across the angry waves throughout the night, eventually reversing it to use the leafy end as a makeshift oar, but no dawn showed on the horizon. His muscles were reaching their utter limits—he had thought this perhaps a dozen times in the past several hours, but now he knew with a sallow dread overtaking his stomach that he was rapidly losing ground to fatigue.

He was just about to call a halt when Thalnarra gave voice to a chilling hawklike cry overhead. //
Stay!
// The single word flung itself into Vidarian's mind and took several moments to percolate, after which he shifted his weight and began fighting not to move onward but to keep the basket-boat in the same place. Thalnarra darted forward and upward, disappearing into the cloud cover.

Whether he succeeded he did not know, but Thalnarra appeared overhead before he could so much as wonder where she had gone. Her wings twitched in a rapid pattern as she kept herself hovering in place over the basket.

//
Throw me the amplifier!
// She placed a strange emphasis on the last word, and Vidarian knew what she meant. He moved to the chest, dropping the oar to the basket's wet deck and trusting the gryphoness to keep pace with the now-moving vessel. After fishing inside the opened wooden container for a moment or so, he froze; what was Thalnarra going to do with the sphere, and how in the world was he going to throw it to her? But the priestess's sharp eyes caught his hesitation and she let out another shriek, this one impatient and an inarguable demand. Vidarian picked up the sphere.

He hesitated again as he hefted the solid weight of the globe. //
Just throw it!
// Thalnarra's sharp words triggered the movement of his hand more than Vidarian's own will did. He wound up and slung the globe up into the air with as much force as he could manage.

It wasn't a good throw, but, with a stunning display of agility, Thalnarra dropped like a gull and snatched the globe out of the air. The sharp, ringing
clack
of her formidable talons against the glass of the amplifier carried faintly over the howling wind.

No sooner had Thalnarra touched the sphere than a wave of energy pulsed outward from her, intensely hot and carrying with it the faint but pungent odor of astringent smoke. Vidarian could see it with his eyes—a bright, blinding circle of red shot out across the waves. But the ring did not disappear into the distance as he thought it would. It stopped perhaps six gryphon-lengths away before pulsing back toward the center and simultaneously shooting up into a half-dome in the air.

The wind died away. Vidarian found himself acutely aware of Thalnarra's presence, from the steady beating of her wings overhead to the thump of her heartbeat. But the waves beyond the circle grew indistinct, as if seen in a dream.

“What did you do?” he called, voice echoing in the abrupt quiet.

//
Shielded us from the Vkortha
, // came the answer, and the gryphoness sounded very, very tired. //
It won't last for long.
// She dropped the amplifier back into the basket and Vidarian tucked it into his sash absently.

“Why now?”

//
Because we're passing out of the storm—it's a barrier around their island. I can see the break in the clouds from here.
//

The swift, cold water carried them toward the break so quickly that by the time Thalnarra completed her sentence they were breaking into a patch of open sky. Vidarian staggered forward as the water itself grew abruptly still, nearly pulling the oar from his hands. He stared blankly over the opaque, glossy water that seemed to have no depth as it reflected a sky that had no clouds. It took several moments for him to realize that palpable in the air was another stillness, this one strange: Thalnarra's mind, over the course of his time with her, had developed a certain “static”; he found that he could sense when she was nearby. No more—she hovered on the wind, wings beating regularly to keep her aloft, but the presence of her mind was far astray.

Then—

//
Wait…I'm losing it…brace yourself—
//

“For what?” he shouted, then winced at the booming volume of his own voice in the silence; he was too long accustomed to the thunder of the waves. But Thalnarra was gone.