//------------------------------//
// Chapter 11 - Teardrop 
// Story: The Dusk Guard Saga: Beyond the Borderlands 
// by Viking ZX 
//------------------------------//


Just West of the Teardrop Eyrie


“Well,” Blade said as she dropped the binoculars away from her eyes. “They’re coming all right. And they don’t look happy.” She turned towards Frost. “You’re sure these guys haven’t gone isolationist, right?”

“They haven’t,” Frost said, her horn lighting as she plucked the binoculars from Blade’s grip. “They’re not friendly, but last I heard anything about them they were still accepting visitors.” She held the glasses to her own eyes, peering at the distant dots that marred the otherwise clear blue sky. “Looks like they’re giving the ‘stop’ signal rather than the ‘go away’ signal, so they’re at least willing to talk with us.”

“Right,” Blade said, still eyeing the distant airships. Teardrop Eyrie itself wasn’t even in sight yet, buried somewhere past the horizon. “So, do you want me to help bring in the sails?”

“Barnabas will take care of it,” Frost said, shaking her head. “Just focus on getting ready. They’ll want to talk to you first.”

“Because I’m the boss?”

“Because you’re a griffon, and they aren’t fond of Hain.”

Wonderful, Blade thought as she dropped through the open hatch down to the main bridge, flaring her wings out at the last second to catch herself. As if speciesist unicorns weren’t enough. Now we’re getting traces of that with griffons? Griffon pride is one thing, but— She shoved the thought from her head.

First things first. You’re meeting with them. Focus on that.

“Have they made contact yet?” Hain asked. He and Alchemy were seated around the galley table, the long, wooden Bao board between them. From the look on the earth pony’s face, he was ready for just about anything to pull him away from what was definitely a losing game.

She nodded, folding her wings at her side. “They just did. We’ve got four airships heading this way. Frost is going to bring us to a stop.” As she spoke, a familiar clicking sound began echoing through the galley, the deck vibrating underfoot as the Arrow’s sails began retracting. “I figure we’ve got a minute or two before their advance guard gets here.” She stepped up to the table and eyed the game, counting the number of colored pieces on each side. “I hope they’re willing to talk, because if they aren’t, they’re going to have us about as outmatched as your game there.” Alchemy let out a snort.

“What kind of weapons do they have?” Hain asked, reaching out and moving several of the glass pieces, each one letting out a faint, ringing tone as he dropped them into their new positions. Alchemy let out another groan as the final piece came to a ringing stop, his ears laying flat against his mane as Hain reached out and took a selection of pieces from his side.

“I couldn’t see,” Blade said, shaking her head. Outside the windows the horizon was shifting, the Arrow turning as Frost began to slow the ship down. “They had the ships angled to make the profile tough to read, and I’m pretty sure the few shapes I saw were padded.”

“Guess,” Hain said, his eyes still fixed on the board as Alchemy began moving pieces.

“Well, they’re small patrol ships—corvette class or smaller, at least based on the same designs—so they can’t be carrying much.” She sat back, trying to recall the numbers and force estimates that had been pounded into her by her superiors back when she’d been a member of the clan military. “Probably one light gun or a couple of ballistas apiece. Maybe two guns if they’ve really pushed for armaments, stripped out some of the weight from elsewhere.”

“They’ll have two guns,” Hain said, still not looking up. Her ruff rose in annoyance. “They’re short-range defensive patrols. They don’t need to worry about additional weight or being set up for long distance. If they’ve got any brains at all, they’ve traded off their long term fuel and food supply for extra armor, ammunition, or an additional talon.”

“Right,” she said, shutting her beak with a click and forcing her ruff to settle. This is what you hired him for, she reminded herself. Just let him do it. “Frost said they’d probably want to speak with me not because I’m in charge, but because I’m a griffon. There any truth to that?” Her eyes caught the slight hesitation in his talons as he reached out to pick up another set of glass game pieces, and she gave herself a little mental nod. Whatever the reason, there was still some slight truth to it, then.

“Frost is right on both accounts,” he said after a moment, his words punctuated with the click-click-click of piece after glass piece dropping into place on the board. “And before you start worrying that we’re trading one group of speciesists for another, we aren’t. Not entirely anyway.” Alchemy let out another groan as Hain finished his turn, one hoof dropping to the tabletop with a dull thump.

“So what is it then, if it’s not some sort of pro-griffon thing?” Blade asked.

“Survival,” Hain said, his grey feathers shifting as he leaned back. “After the cult took the Pinnacle Eyrie and pushed the griffons back to Teardrop, they’ve worked pretty hard to keep them contained.” His eyes met hers as he looked up. “They keep public pressure on anyone who keeps constant dealings with the griffons as well. In the interest of keeping their own hides intact, they’re a little centralized.”

“Plus,” he said, turning his gaze back down to the board as Alchemy finished his turn. “They’ve still got a bit of a superiority complex from back when the clans were trying to lay claim to this place. They may not have the public support anymore, but a lot of them stuck around and built a life here because they were still sure they could do it. So you’re going to be going up against that.”

She nodded. Barnabas had already mentioned something similar to her earlier, though in that case it had been from the angle of “Why these buzzards won’t want to work with Captain Titus.” Both he and Hain were apparently worried that even with the threat of a unified cult and pirate force having already beat the two separate factions back, neither of them would be willing to work together.

The Arrow shuddered as its ice-anchor made contact, a faint, metallic squeal echoing through the inside of the ship as the vessel came to a somewhat jerky halt, swaying gently from side to side in the remaining breeze. Blade took a quick look out the windows, checking on the approaching airships. They were close enough now she could easily pick out the shape of the armored bodies slung beneath each envelope. Admittedly, none of the three were nearly as impressive or streamlined looking as the last airship she’d been on, but that thing had been one of a kind. Also, it hadn’t had several cannons with which to rain fire at ground or air-based targets.

No, not cannons on that one, she thought as she picked out a box-like structure mounted on the front of one of the airships. Those are rockets.

“They’ve got a missile corvette,” she said, stepping back from the window as a cluster of faint shapes lifted off from the deck of one of the airships, falling into formation and winging their way towards the Arrow. “And it looks like the welcome party’s already on its way.” She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Half of the feathers on her head were lying at odds with one another, and she could see a number of feathers that needed to be preened on her wing. A quick clean-up then, just so she didn’t look like some freshly-hatched fledgling. “I’m going to clean up. You two meet me on the back deck.”

“Will there be enough space?” Alchemy asked as she moved towards the ship’s small head.

“If there isn’t, then anyone from there group who’s not speaking can just roost on the roof or stay flying,” she said, pausing long enough to give him a quick backwards glance. “This is our—well, Frost’s—ship foremost, and they’re meeting us on our terms. So hurry up and get out there. We’ve only got a minute or two before they’re here.”

She took a moment to freshen up and pick the broken feathers free of her wings, and then made her way out to the back deck, pausing only  to grab her insulated coat before stepping out. There was no telling how long their discussion was going to take, or if the welcoming party would want to step inside out of the cold, and since it was a particularly cold day thanks to the clear sky …

She stepped out onto the back deck, cold air rushing past her and making her reflexively adjust her wings. Ancestors’ graves it’s cold out here today, she thought as she slid the door to the deckhouse shut behind her. Either this meeting had better be as short as possible, or I’m going to want some sort of action to keep warm.

“Blade,” Barnabas said, giving her a nod from where he was leaning against the gunwale. Even the normally impassive minotaur was wearing something to combat the chill, though it was a hard call to decide whether it qualified as “warm armor” or “armored clothing.” She settled on the latter as he shifted, revealing the thicker, stiffened cloth across the lower torso. That, and she could see the handle of his double-headed axe protruding over his shoulder.

“Barnabas,” she said with a nod as she walked across the deck. “Should I be wearing armor as well?”

“You don’t have to,” Barnabas said, shrugging as his attention shifted skyward, towards their incoming guests. “In my experience, these guys are pretty martial, so it always helps to impress. A weapon isn’t a bad—” He paused as she held up her long talons, the razor-edged claws glinting beneath the sun. “Never mind,” he said with a chuckle. “Looks like you’re already armed.”

“Every day of my life,” she said as the door to the bridge opened once more, Hain walking out clad only in his combat harness. “Except for when I trimmed them.” She shook her head and scowled.

“You trimmed them?” Barnabas asked, his shoulders shaking as he let out another laugh. “Why in the pits of Nervo did you do that?”

Blade pressed her haunches back against the rear rail of the boat and shaded her eyes with one pair of talons, eyeing the incoming griffons. “I was going incognito,” she said, clicking two of her claws together. “For this job, actually. I kind of left Equestria as a wanted griffon, and between my coat and my talons, I kind of stand out.  A little dye, some trimming, and I was able to get on a train to Northgait.”

Barnabas frowned for a moment. Then his eyes widened. “About two weeks ago didn’t some maniac griffon hijack a train and—” His jaw dropped as his hand came up, one finger pointing at her. “You—?”

She nodded, and he threw his head back, letting out a loud, long laugh that echoed across the ice. “You were the one who did that?” he asked between laughs. “You were the one who rammed that train through—”

“She did what now?” Alchemy asked as he stepped out onto the back deck, moving with fluid grace and not even shivering despite the fact that he wasn’t wearing a single stitch. The rear door to the flying bridge slid open, Frost stepping out as well.

“Frost!” Barnabas called as he spotted his sister. “She’s the one!”

“What one?” Frost asked as she climbed down the ladder to the deck, her eyes following Barnabas’s outstretched finger.

“The one who ran the train into Northgait!” Frost’s eyes widened, along with Alchemy and Hain’s, and Blade almost flared out her wings as each of them turned towards her.

“So what?” she said, lifting her talons in a shrug. “It was the best way to get in at the time! My cover was blown.”

Hain was the first to speak over Barnabas’s laughter. “Kit,” he said, his voice slow and carefully measured, like he was considering each and every word before he said it. “The more I hear about exactly how much damage you cause, the more I’m starting to wonder if your plan for the cult originally was just to blow up the Pinnacle and sift through the wreckage.”

‘I—” She snapped her beak shut with a sharp click as Hain started to laugh, his slow, deep-chested chuckles providing a counterpoint to Barnabas’s more dramatic bellows. “I get the job done,” she said at last as both of them continued laughing. Frost was giving her a simple raised eyebrow, the rest of her expression as neutral as ever, while Alchemy just looked like he was in shock.

“And for the record, blowing up the Pinnacle was never an option,” she said, crossing her forelegs. “I don’t know how indestructible the package is, and losing it to the ice would mean not getting paid. Besides, I don’t think there’s enough explosives on the Ocean to—Oh forget it,” she said as Hain and Barnabas began to laugh harder. Even Alchemy was starting to laugh a little, but it was the kind of laughter that said he was doing it only partway because everyone else was, and partly out of sheer, nervous disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, shaking her head and looking up at the oncoming griffons. They had to be close enough to hear them now. Maybe that would work in their favor. Make them appear a little more relaxed. “You’ll all be screeching like fledglings when payday hits anyway.”

The incoming talon squad banked to the side, going into a holding pattern some two-hundred feet away and circling the Arrow. Her eyes caught flashes of sunlight reflecting off of the six griffons. Armor then. Probably weapons too. Then again, she hadn’t really expected any different. These were griffons she was dealing with. A clan independent of the Empire, but a clan nonetheless.

“All right, everyone,” she said as the group finished its sweep and arrowed towards the ship, heading straight for the back deck. “Here they come. Let’s shape up.”

Barnabas coughed, clearing his throat, and then straightened, falling in behind her as she turned to face the oncoming talon. The group came to a stop some twenty feet away, holding themselves in the air with quick, heavy wingbeats. Crossbows were gripped loosely in a few talons, held at the ready, and several of the griffons were giving her and Hain—especially Hain—suspicious looks.

“Well, well, well,” the lead griffon said, his attention fixing not on her, but somewhere behind her. She titled her head, following his gaze, and found herself unsurprised that his words were directed at Hain. “Looks like the exile—” The word came out like a sneer. “—has finally decided to take us up on our offer of protection.” One of the griffons behind him let out a scoff. “And he‘s brought someone with him,” he continued, his attention switching in her direction. “You don’t look like you’re from around—”

“I’m not,” she said, letting her voice echo across the ice as she cut him off. “And Hain isn’t here to join your little batch of cowardly recluses, either.” She saw several eyes exchange angry glares at her choice of insult, but she stood her ground, refusing to flinch. “He’s here in my employ. Blade Sunchaser, wandering claw, currently under contract to a non-disclosed entity. My team and I are here with an offer for your patriarch, or matriarch, or whatever it is you guys have right now.”

“Patriarch,” the lead griffon growled. There was a funny cadence to his accent, one that reminded her a bit of the accents most griffons tended to have when switching to Equestrian for the first few years, except this sounded slightly forced, as if it was deliberately being used. “Patriarch Arcwing. The Matriarch Skydancer died defending our home against the cult a few years ago.”

“Arcwing, huh?” she said, ignoring the posturing. Several of the griffons had lifted their crossbows slightly. “Sounds like a relative of mine. Windrunner clan?”

“Maybe.” The leader shifted, moving slightly closer to the side of the Arrow. “But we gave up our clans after they abandoned us and the Ocean. We are all the Icewing clan now.”

“Right …” This is getting nowhere fast. “So, anyway, I’m here to meet with your patriarch.”

“If you wish to join us—”

“We’re not interested in joining your little gated community,” she said, smirking as the angry glares resumed. “We’re here to talk with your Patriarch. Who hopefully has twice the brains you six have between yourselves.” There was an intake of breaths at her last insult, and for a moment she wondered if just maybe she’d pushed it too far. “Considering,” she said, pushing forward, “that the first thing you six did was call out a member of my team and expect him to just fall into line with your rank and file.”

“But you hired him,” one of the griffons said. “And you knew he was an exile?”

“Coming from a band of voluntary exiles, that doesn’t mean much to me,” Blade said. “Now are we going to do this right, or do I need to wait for a more competent talon to come down and take control of this situation?”

She’d done it now. She could see the way several members of the group were lashing their tails, the way they were looking at one another. Whatever their “procedure” was, they’d apparently broken it. And now she’d called them on it.

“We’ll relay your requests to our Captain,” the talon leader said stiffly. “You will remain at anchor on the ice until we inform you otherwise. If you attempt to leave, or if we find any signs that you are part of a hostile action against our eyrie, we will use deadly force and leave your vessel a burning, broken wreck on the ice. Your vessel may be searched as proof of intent.”

“Lovely,” she said, watching as the talon immediately turned and began flying back towards the airships. “They’re a really friendly bunch, aren’t they?”

“Now you see why I didn’t want anything to do with them,” Hain said. “If you ask me, they’re a bunch of impudent wannabes playing dress-up at being a real military force.”

“They’re real enough to have guns,” Frost said to everyone’s surprise. “They might be full of themselves and not exactly professional, but they do constitute one of the few legitimate military powers on the Ocean.”

“Just one that isn’t powerful enough to push back the cult,” Blade said as she watched the six griffons land on the deck of the nearest airship. The vessels were keeping their distance, but she could see the gleaming barrels trained in their direction. The talon leader’s threats hadn’t been idle. “I get the feeling some of their bravado is because they’ve been pushed hard.”

“Well, that, and the cult hasn’t made things easy on them,” Barnabas said. “I’m surprised they haven’t searched the Arrow already.”

A lone griffon lifted off from the deck of the nearest airship, followed by two more who took up flanking positions. Flashes of light were glinting from the sides of each of the airships, and it took Blade only a moment to recognize them as a derivative of the light-signal code she’d trained in as a young fledgling.

Letting the other airships know what’s up, she thought as she watched the three griffons swoop across the ice towards them. And probably ordering them to be at the ready.

The lead griffon this time was wearing less armor than the talon wing that had come down earlier, clad only in lightweight, tight coat and standard-issue leg wrappings. He was smaller than the two griffons at his side, but there was something familiar about his brown-and-black coloration, the short, owl-like beak. Isn’t that—?

“Blade Sunchaser?” the griffon cried, his high-pitched voice echoing across the ice and through her mind. “Pluck my feathers! It is you!”

“Kalos?” Blade asked as the face snapped into sudden clarity, the image of a smaller, chubbier baby griffon leaping to mind. “Kalos Arcrider?” The griffon let out a laughing cry.

“Yes!” he called. “Permission to come aboard, Captain Sunchaser?”

“I’m not the captain,” she called back. “Frost Glimmer’s the captain.” She glanced over at the mare, waiting until she’d given her an almost invisible nod. “And she says you can come aboard.”

“Good,” Kalos said, dropping out of the sky and landing on the deck, his two followers landing beside him a moment later, the boat rocking slightly under their added weight. “I might be captain of an airship, but flying’s always been just as unfun for me as you probably remember it.” He spread his wings wide as he spoke, showing the slight bend to his lame wing.

“Yeah,” Blade said, trying not to let her surprise show on her face. “You’ve lost a lot of weight though; since I’ve seen you last.”

“Which was when?” Barnabas asked, cutting in.

“What, over twenty years ago?” Blade said, looking at Kalos and lifting one eyebrow. “Remember what I said about their patriarch maybe being a relative of mine?” She turned toward the rest of the crew. “I wasn’t entirely joking, and now it looks like I might be right.” She turned one eye in Kalos’s direction. “Am I?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding. “My father is patriarch of the clan. Which makes him—”

“My uncle,” Blade finished. “My father’s sister married him.” She turned back towards Kalos, fanning her wings slightly. “So, not that I’m hoping for nepotism or anything, but I’d like to speak with him.”

“So my talon leader told me,” Kalos said, nodding. “He was pretty upset by your insults. I think he wanted to blow you off the ice without anyone else even speaking to you.’

“Well,” she said, giving him a smirk. “If your forces are that easy to rile up, it’s no wonder you’ve been driven back to Teardrop.”

“Well, had I known you were sheltering the exile on your ship, I would have sent someone other than Mythros,” he replied, his face taking on a slightly more stern expression. “Mythros has a very highly developed sense of honor.”

“Not enough of a one to know when to shut his beak, apparently,” Blade said, shaking her head. “So then, I’m assuming you're his captain?”

“Captain Kalos Arcrider,” he said, nodding. “The patrol boat up there isn’t my typical command, but the Seeker was damaged in battle two weeks ago and won’t be ready for another two days, so I called in a favor.” He gave her a smirk as he stepped forward. “Personally, I think you got lucky,” he said as stretched out one pair of talons. She gave it a quick shake. “I’m willing to give you the benefit of a doubt and listen to you. Technically, our official policy is to turn away vessels that aren’t interested in selling something.”

“Oh, we’re selling something all right,” Blade said with a smirk. “Why don’t you come inside and I can tell you all about it? Then you can decide if you want to relay it back to Teardrop itself.”

Kalos stared at her for a moment before nodding to one of his aides, who pulled out a signal-mirror set and began flashing signals back towards his airship. “I hope you’ll understand that before I can go inside, my aides will need to search your ship for any signs of ambush or untoward intentions? We’ve had a few … incidents, I think, would be the best way to put it. Gifts from the cult.”

“Frost?” Blade asked. The mare seemed to think about it for a moment and then gave her a slight nod.

“I’ll show them around,” she said. “Though if they attempt to damage my ship—”

“I’ll show them around,” Barnabas interrupted, stepping in front of Frost and cutting her off. He gave Kalos a wide grin. “There’s not a lot of trust going around these days, obviously, and my sister is one of the shorter supplies.”

“Fine,” came Frost’s voice before Kalos could say anything. “But they’re not to mess with my quarters.”

“I’ll go with them,” Alchemy said. “They’ll probably want to examine my potion kit.”

“An alchemist?” Kalos said, nodding to his two aides as they glanced at him. The two griffons moved forward, Barnabas opening the door and ushering them inside. “You’ve fallen in with a strange crowd, cousin.” She didn’t fail to notice the way his eyes shifted back towards Hain as he spoke.

“I like ‘em,” she said, giving him a grin as she jerked her head towards the inside of the Arrow. “Now, why don’t you come in and I’ll explain what exactly we need to talk to your patriarch about.”

She had to admit he’d grown in the decades since she’d last seen him. They’d never been close—Kalos had always been a tagalong for her older brother’s group of friends—but she’d remembered him as slightly rotund because of his lame wing and always piping up with inane questions in that high, reedy voice of his. But there was none of that as she laid out their plan for Pinnacle Rock, complete with a very short, quick explanation of her own involvement that left out most of the fine details. Instead, he sat quietly and at attention, digesting every scrap of information she gave him, only occasionally shifting his weight or lashing his tail as a part of her proposal caught him by surprise.

It took her longer to lay out the reasoning and the explanation than she’d expected, long enough that his twin aides arrived from their search of the vessel and took up positions nearby, though neither of them said anything. Kalos himself barely acknowledged their arrival. He was fixed on her words, his talons clicking against the tabletop with a sort of thoughtful tic that she didn’t recall him having when he was younger.

“Interesting,” he said at last when she had finished. “That’s an audacious plan. Taking on an entire cult just to retrieve something for a job?” He flared his wings slightly, shaking his head. “They must be paying you quite a bit if you’re willing to start a war to get your job done. That, or you’re crazier than I remember.”

“Both,” she said, giving him a smirk. The exact details of the job, along with what they were recovering, how much, and from who, had been left out of her account. That wasn’t the clan’s business. “And you know the way. Once a contract is in place …”

“Right,” he said, nodding. “Your honor is at stake.” Again, she didn’t miss the way his gaze shifted toward Hain as he said it.

“Still,” he said, his attention shifting back towards her once more. “What you’ve proposed is … audacious, to say the least. You want the clan to start a war.”

“You’re already at war,” Hain said, his voice cutting through the cabin. The stern looks of both of Kalos’s aides snapped to the old griffon. “A war you’re losing, I might add. Unless that massacre at Pinnacle was something you intended to happen.”

“We held until we could hold no longer,” one of the aides said, her ruff standing on end, wings flaring out. “Something a traitor like yourself—”

“That’s enough.” Kalos’s words silenced the aide. “The exile has a fair point. It’s hard to pretend we’re not at war when we patrol our eyrie night and day and refuse to let ships dock without inspection. When we procure arms and armor in equal quantities. Though I would ask you ...” he said, shifting his attention towards Hain. “Do not bring up what happened at Pinnacle Rock. Hundreds of griffons died honorably there, something an exile like yourself wouldn’t understand.” Hain’s eyes hardened, and Blade gave him a slight but evident shake of her head.

He understands a lot better than you think, she thought as she stared at Kalos. I’ve read the history. I know what he did. He understands that sort of sacrifice far better than you do. Then again, his situation had been even more dire.

“Regardless of the last stand of the Pinnacle Eyrie,” she said, shifting everyone’s attention back in her direction. “The fact of the matter is you’re losing. I’ve seen the maps. You’ve been pushed out of every holding you have except for here and maybe a few smaller trading settlements near The Choke. The Order of the Red Horn is pushing you in on every side.”

“We’ll survive,” Kalos said. “They’re too weak to take Teardrop.”

“For now,” she said, sitting back. “I mentioned we just came from Cedar Shipyards? The Bloodhooves were building another dreadnought-class ship there. As I understand it, they already have one that’s more than a match for your small air-corp. The Order’s probably building airships too, in addition to whatever they already have.”

“They won’t come at us at once,” Kalos said. “Their forces are split. The Behemoth is somewhere in the northwest, harassing Titus and her ilk, along with half of the Bloodhooves’ fleet. The other half is up near Windfall fortress, along with some of the Order’s airships.” He folded his talons over one another, the tips still tapping at the tabletop in a steady, but now slightly quicker, rhythm. “They don’t have the forces to take us on right now.”

“And when the Cragtooths finally fall?” Blade asked, leaning forward and locking eyes with her cousin. “When their fortress finally falls to the ice, crushed, and the only military power left on the Ocean outside that of both the cult and the Bloodhooves is Teardrop? Do you think you’ll be able to hold their combined might off then?”

“We have years until that happens,” Kalos said, though she could hear the uneasy tremor in his voice. “We’ll be built up. Our own exports of glitter—”

“There’s one other thing I forgot to mention,” Blade said, sitting back. “You’re familiar with the figure the cult worships, correct?”

“Their ancient ‘dark lord?’” Kalos asked, his talons ceasing their tapping for a moment. “What of it?”

“Well,” she said, lifting two of her own talons and rubbing them against one another, the long, sharp edges clearly visible to both Kalos and his aides. “Word has it, from our sources, that they might be close to actually finding him.”

“Impossible,” Kalos said with a shake of his head. “Their ‘dark lord’ is a myth. A legend. A corpse of a bygone age, if he ever existed at all. Their ‘Lord Sombra’—”

“So you’ve heard of him,” she said.

“—even if he did exist once, is nothing more than a meaningless dream.” Kalos continued, ignoring her words. “An excuse for their own petty attempts at power grabs.”

“And if he did?”

“He doesn’t,” Kolas said, eyes narrowing.

“Can you prove that?” she asked. Kolas was still for a moment, but then gave his head a slight shake.

“I thought not,” she said. “Personally? What little I know of this cult makes me want to get them taken care of even if this Sombra guy didn’t exist. Which probably isn’t true. Legends start somewhere. Like the mare in the moon, for example.”

“So you want the entire Icewing clan to commit to an alliance with the Cragtooths,” Kalos said.

“Yep.”

“And stage a full offensive on Pinnacle Rock, the headquarters of the Order.”

“Pretty much.”

“Under the assertion that if we don’t we’re going to lose anyway, and we’d better act as soon as possible, or the ancient founder of the cult that they’re always prattling on about might actually come back.”

Blade nodded. “Yeah, that’s about it.”

“All so you can retrieve some package?”

“A job’s a job.”

For a minute or two Kolas didn’t say anything, the faint tapping of his claws competing with the groan of the ice and rolling, oddly enough, in time with the faint rise and fall of the ship. His eyes wandered between her and Hain, and occasionally towards Frost and Barnabas, though usually only for a moment. Finally, when she was just starting to wonder if she should speak up, he opened his beak.

“All right,” he said, standing. “I’ll escort your ship to within sight of Teardrop and inform the patriarch. At the very least, he’ll meet with you. But convincing him …” He shook his head. “I won’t lie, I like the idea of kicking the Order out of the Ocean for good, but you’re essentially asking us to give up our own independence for an alliance. And, unless I’m mistaken, on a plan partially thought up by a traitor.”

He’s not going to let that go, apparently, Blade thought. “But you’ll get us the audience?” she asked.

“No promises,” Kalos said, shaking his head as he stepped for the door. “Follow us in, though, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks,” she said. “But before you go … There’s one more thing I need you to do.”

“Oh?” he asked, pausing by the doorway. “What’s that?”

“Get something translated for me,” she said, reaching into one of the jacket’s pockets and pulling out a thin tube of parchment. “Some writing. I think it’s ancient griffon.” She passed the tube to one of his aides, who handed it to Kalos. She’d copied what she could make out of the ancient marks.

“You think?” Kalos said. He glanced at the paper. “What’s it worth?”

She shrugged. “Do it as a favor? For family? Come on, it’s just some old text.”

Kalos nodded. “Very well,” he said as he stepped out. “I’ll send it on ahead and see what I can find for you.” Then he was gone, winging his way back towards his ship, his aides behind him.

“So …” Barnabas’s voice was the first to break the silence. “You think they’ll go for it?”

“Come on,” Blade said, giving him a smirk. “They know they’re in trouble. Why wouldn’t they say yes?”


*        *        *


“No.” Patriarch Arcwing shook his head as he spoke.

“I’m sorry?” Blade pulled back in surprise, and she could see a number of confused expressions on the faces of the griffons around her. Even Kalos looked completely shocked. “No?”

“Yes,” the patriarch said with a slow nod. “No.”

“Why?” Blade asked, stretching the word out with a click of her beak. “You do understand what’s at stake here, don’t you?”

“I do,” her uncle—though she was trying not to think of him as such—said with another nod. “Captain Arcrider made it quite clear in his report. That’s why I’m meeting with you here and now.” He stretched out one long, wide wing gesturing at the broad, wooden deck upon which they were seated. “And why I invited you aboard the Strike of Dawn.”

“To tell me ‘no,’” Blade said, trying to keep her claws from digging into the wooden tabletop. A faint scratching sound told her she wasn’t succeeding. “To waste my time, and my team’s time.” She rose, pushing the low bench she’d been using as a seat back. “All this pomp and circumstance, just to tell us no?” She wasn’t sure she’d ever met her uncle at any point in time, but she was definitely starting to question her aunt’s judgement.

“Indeed.” The patriarch gave her an odd smile, as if he was getting some sort of enjoyment out of watching her reaction.

“Why?”

His eyebrows lifted, the dark blue feathers shifting as he studied her. “Why what?”

“Why don’t you like the plan?” she asked, resisting the urge to leap across the table and wrap her talons around his throat. Maybe slam his head into the table a few times for good measure.

He’s testing you, the small, rational part of her mind said. Just let it slide. The more alive part of her mind just growled.

“Oh, there is nothing to not like about your plan,” he said, shrugging. “In fact, it is a brilliant one. Spotty—shall we say … source?—aside.” She ignored the dig at Hain.

“Yes, good plan,” he said, holding out a single talon. “First, join forces with the Cragtooths. Should not be hard, they’ve asked us before. And logic behind the decision is sound, especially if the cult are truly committed to the build-up claimed—which to that, I see no reason why not.”

“Second.” Another claw rose alongside the first. “Make a joint assault on the Pinnacle, with our airships and few ice ships supporting the Cragtooth’s fleet. Simple. Catch the defensive Bloodhooves’ fleet between two larger forces, grind it into ice dust, then turn on the Pinnacle itself and lay waste to the Order’s stronghold while reclaiming a lost eyrie. Possibly prevent what you explained as the return of the cult’s original founder.”

“Third.” The last claw lifted. “Harass the remaining Bloodhoof forces with sorties, driving them back into their fortress. If possible, wipe them from the map. The Ocean stands free of a scourge that has beset it from the very beginning.”

“Those all sound like pretty good things,” she said, glaring at him. “What’s your problem with it?”

“What, this plan?” he shook his head. “I don’t have a problem with it, aside from maybe question of what happens after that.”

“Then why won’t you help us pull it off?” Blade asked, her teeth almost grinding.

“Simple.” The patriarch lifted a small cup of something potent that had been placed on the table and took a sip. “I’m surprised you have not figured that out for yourself.”

“Enlighten me.” She could feel the wooden table giving way beneath her claws. Someone was going to need to restore the surface.

“Because that is not what you asked,” the patriarch said with a chuckle. “You asked if we would ‘be willing to be part of your team,’ and on that particular point, no, I must disagree. We will, however, help your group, provided we can clear the second hurdle of deciding what to do after all is said and done. But then that isn’t really your problem is it?”

She bit back a scream, her only consolation was that Kalos seemed as caught off-guard by his father’s statement as everyone else. “You could have just said that bit first,” she said, trying to keep the frustration from oozing through her voice.

“And miss a chance to see how you would react?” he said, shaking his head. “Or better yet, those that it is my duty to make this decision for?” He spread his wings wide, looking at the crowd around him. “And I see which way my commanders already lie. Some think this is a bad idea, though I expect again has much to do with the source. But many more …” He leaned back in and nodded. “Those faces agreed.”

“Sir.” It was one of the griffons who had looked pleased at what they thought was a refusal. “Sir, you shouldn’t do this.”

“Really, Captain Durn?” Patriarch Arcwing shifted in his seat, giving the airship captain a long, sideways glance. “And why not?”

“Because … Because …” Blade could see the griffon’s eyes darting between his clan leader and her team, holding just slightly on Hain before jumping back. “Committing ourselves to an alliance with Cragtooths means we are no better than they are. They are pirates, patriarch. We are griffons! We have our honor.” The words became firmer as they spoke, the captain’s chest swelling with pride.

“These ruffians have no honor.” The words were directed right at her, the captain’s eyes staring into her own. “They consort with an honorless exile, allow him to plan their tactics. We will retake Pinnacle Rock, patriarch. But I believe that it is our duty to do so as griffons, and for the glory of the Empire.”

“I see,” Patriarch Arcwing said as the captain gave him a final nod. “Well, then, it’s a good thing that you’re not in my position, isn’t it?”

“Patriarch?”

“We haven’t been a colony of the Empire for decades, Durn.” Arcwing’s voice had lost its humor, dropping into flat, serious tones. “It’s time you accepted that, along with every other griffon who thinks that if we can somehow take control of the Ocean, the Empire will simply throw away all its current political progress and agreements for our benefit.”

“But we’re griffons—” Durn began.

“Even more ridiculous,” Arcwing said. “We are griffons, evet. But we are also denizens of this Ocean of Endless Ice. And it is high time we stopped acting like arrogant yavru kuş and began acting like onurlu savaşçılar. Holding to the Empire that abandoned us and sticking to our own devices has been a losing prospect. Holding to our own has been a losing prospect. Titus has contacted us before on this, and I’ve had my time to think about it. And now, we’re going to do it.”

“You can’t … On the plan of an honorless exile!?” Durn stepped forward from the back, claws rasping against the deck. “We don’t have to agree to this.” Blade noticed that several nearby griffons seemed impressed by the captain’s actions, but they weren’t moving to support him openly.

They agree, Blade thought. But they’re gliding along.

“Careful, Durn,” the patriarch consuled. “You can disagree all you wish, but unless you wish to issue a formal challenge against me, I would advise that you stand up to the griffon honor you’re always speaking about and carry out my commands without complaint.”

“I could issue a formal challenge,” Durn said. “You’re making a mistake.”

“You can,” Arcwing agreed, nodding. “But you would lose. And just to spite you?” He grinned. “I would pick the exile you so detest as your opponent.”

“I could beat him,” Durn said quickly.

“Really?” Arcwing gave a long, sideways glance in Hain’s direction. The older griffon was holding himself perfectly straight, with military precision tight enough it made half the griffons in attendance look untrained. As Durn’s eyes followed his patriarch’s, Hain lifted a single claw and tapped at the sheathed knife on his shoulder.

Arcwing smiled as he turned back. “You forget my age, Durn. You might only know Hain from history, but I knew him from before.”

Durn let out a faint squawk. “Such things are forbidden—”

“In the Empire, Durn,” he said. “In the Empire. Here, I can speak of them all I wish, though I will not, since Hain’s past is his own. That said …” He tilted his head to one side. “I will refuse any challenge you offer, because you would lose, and if Hain drew his knife, you would die. As I am patriarch, your options in that regard are limited.”

“You would lose standing,” Durn said.

“Not as much as you would lose by dying,” the patriarch replied. Blade held back a chuckle. A few members of the audience weren’t nearly as careful with their mirth, most of them Durn’s own supporters. “Keep this up, however, and I may recommend that you be considered for a ... less than vital position than Captain.”

“My—”

“Your opinions are your own to keep, but when they blind you so severely that you’d choose a losing strategy simply because of your pride as a griffon, you’re walking a path I don’t find very different from the Order we’ve been facing for so long. And even they see the importance of allies.”

That seemed to end it. The audience’s attention had turned in the direction of Durn and his backers, and Blade could see the way a few of the griffons were having second thoughts behind their stares. There was a chance they’d possibly cause trouble later, but at the moment ...

“Now, to business,” Arcwing said, turning back in her direction. “How quickly do you plan to move?”

She gave him a grin. “As quickly as possible, sir. That’s kind of up to the Cragtooths.”

“Surprise assault,” the patriarch said with a quick nod. “The sooner the better.”

“And the Cragtooths will be all for it,” Barnabas added from behind her, his low voice rumbling across the deck.

“Iyi.” The Patriarch took another sip of his drink. “Your ship is fast, correct?”She nodded. “Then we will send the Seeker after you and follow with our main fleet in a day or two. Seeker will serve as our liaison and correspondent until our forces arrive.”

“And how long will that take?” she asked.

He shrugged. “To assemble a full fleet, prep the eyrie for our departure, establish a defensive force, and make the journey to a meeting point, without moving so quickly the cult’s scouts catch wind of our objectives? A week and a half, maybe two.”

Well, what are we supposed to do in the meantime, she thought, but didn’t open her beak. They still had to convince the Cragtooths; she wasn’t as positive as Barnabas and Fro— … well, as Barnabas that Captain Titus would be quite so quick to make the same move.

Still, they had the Teardrop Eyrie convinced. “Then we’ll take our leave and communicate with the Seeker as needed,” she said, giving him a respectful bow and rising. “Do you foresee any problems with that?” she asked, letting her eyes slip ever-so-slightly towards Durn.

Patriarch Arcwing smiled. “No,” he said, grinning, and for a moment Blade could see in that predatory yet amused grin why he was the patriarch. “Yok hiç, my friend. None at all.”

He let out a loud laugh that boomed across the deck as he stood as well. “Do not worry, Blade. With the griffon air force claiming the skies, it won’t matter how many forces they have.” He slammed his fist down against the table and let out a loud shriek.

“Two weeks from now, my clan, we reclaim the Pinnacle Eyrie!” A cheer went up from most of the griffons around them, and he turned to give her and her team one last look.

“Good luck,” he said with a grim smile. “We will see you at Pinnacle Rock. This winter will be the last time anyone calls it ‘The Bloody Tip’ again. Or at least, if they do …” He ran a claw down the edge of the table. “It will be for a very different reason.”



Count of Laws Broken: 0
Total Laws Broken: 63
Damage Value (In Bits): 0
Total Damage Value (In Bits): 103,209