68 - Breaking Storm
Extended Holiday
Ch 68: Breaking Storm
Act 8
“Kel’leam!” Grif roared as he charged to the larger Gryphon’s side. The wind whipped erratically as he tried to take Kel’leam’s weight and drag him towards the safe room. Finally, he resorted to using Kel’leam’s shield to drag his friend forward. The enemy arrows and charges were bashed away by tempestuous gusts, redirecting the projectiles back on the enemy with extreme prejudice. Finally, Grif managed to haul Kel’leam across the door’s threshold as the emergency door closed with a loud and definite thud. A green light traced a line along the edge of the door’s frame before it became one with the wall once again..
“... We’ll be safe in here for now. At least until help can arrive,” Daedalus said. “Only the royal line can open the passage, and thanks to Grask, I’m the only one left. He’s outsmarted himself.”
“Shut up, Daedalus,” Grif snarled before turning to his friend. “Speak to me, Kel’leam, come on. We’ll get you patched up,” he said, trying his best to wake his friend without causing further damage.
“Stand aside, Avatar. Your wind magic is strong, but he needs a medic’s touch,” Brunhilda said as she muscled her way through the tightly ringed group. “Let me examine him.”
Griff moved aside only enough to let her work, holding Kel’leams spear hand in his own. “Come on, Kel’leam, wake up.”
“Help me remove his armor. We need to cut the straps without disturbing the body,” she said clinically.
“Tell me where to cut,” Grif said, grabbing one of his stilettos.
“Can you keep your arms steady in this state, Grif?” Brunhilda asked.
Grif’s words caught in his beak before he sighed “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Just save him!” he said, handing her the knife.
“You know I can’t promise you that. But I will do my best with what I have.” With that said, she carefully began to saw at the armor straps, gently running the stiletto back and forth across the leather. The pace was agonizingly slow, but she eventually managed to work through the first strap. The second was far easier since it was located at the lower end of Kel’leam’s body.
By this point, blood had pooled inside the shield, and as she flipped open the massive chestplate of Kel’leam’s armor, a slick red sheen had covered the front plate. The lower portion of the shaft had absorbed a great deal of the ichor that was coagulating at the site. The blood trickled slowly from the wound as the eagle feathers on the fletchings glinted in the dim light, their white and gold flecked with crimson. Its long ash shaft was stained cherry as a darker almost brown color slowly seeped up from the wound. Feathers and fur clung to each other in matted clumps as Brunhilda viewed the wound with a professional eye.
“Grask got off a lucky shot,” she said, “unfortunately for your friend. The arrow’s pierced very deep. If I remove it, the bleeding will only increase. And based on the angle of impact ...”
“Does he have a chance?”
“Not if we don’t get him some proper help soon,” she said, sighing. “To try to do anything here will only shorten his life.”
“Kel’leam? Come on, wake up, buddy,” Grif said as tears formed in his eyes. “Is there anything you can do for him?”
“His body is defending itself. I don’t have the tools necessary to deal with shock. Either he wakes up on his own, or he won’t wake up at all. The most we can do is try to keep him comfortable, unless someone here has a healing potion handy. To wake him now would just cause him more pain, and likely disorientation. He could do greater damage to himself.”
“How long does he have?”
“Only The Winds know.” Brunhilda shook her head. “I’m sorry.”
Grif’s eyes lit up as he looked to Daedalus. “Open it,” he growled. His voice was far darker than it had been a moment ago. The slow, grating sound of him drawing his swords echoed through the room.
“I’m sorry, Grif,” Daedalus said. “I want to kill them too, but not even you can stand against that many warriors at once. If I open that door before our reinforcements arrive, there’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to seal it again.”
“You’ll have the throne room in a minute.” Hatred, bloodlust, and rage almost seemed to literally drop from Grif’s voice as he approached the door. The gryphons could swear the wind around the avatar was tinged with black as it swirled and eddied.
A ragged cough stopped the hate-filled warrior in his advance as it cut him to his core, followed by a groan of pain. “Grif.”
In an instant, the shadows were gone. The swords clashed to the floor as Grif rushed to Kel’leam’s side. “Kel’leam! Don’t worry, buddy, everything’s going to be okay.”
Kel’leam chuckled, then winced again, taking shallow breaths. “I … guess you won the bet. Huh, Grif?” he said, smiling midst the sweat that was rapidly beading his brow.
“Fight’s not over yet,” Grif said, smiling half heartedly. “We’ll get you patched up and you’ll be out there killing them again in no time.”
“Sure, sir. Whatever you say. Just as long as I can earn my keep, right?” Kel’leam smiled a tired smile as he looked to the Emperor. “I’m glad you’re safe, your majesty.”
“Kel’leam …” Daedalus said.
“Hey, no crying now. Nobody cries over me,” he said as he sighed, still smiling. A slight gurgle could be heard coming from his throat.
Grif did nothing to hold back his tears. “You’re wrong, Kel’leam,” he said. “You're so wrong.”
“I’d laugh if it didn’t hurt so much,” Kel’leam said with an ironic smile. “Figures that it’d take an arrow in my side to get you all to notice me for once.”
“You deserved so much more from me, Kel’leam,” Grif said. “I didn’t deserve your loyalty.”
“And neither did I.” Daedalus shook his head, ashamed. “All of this. Everything. Because of stupid traditions!” Daedalus smashed the floor with a fist. “Winds Damnit!” Daedalus moved to punch again, only to feel a strong grip hold him back. Brunhilda shook her head gently.
“Brunhilda … thank you,” Kel’leam said as he smiled at the young emperor. “He’s a good ruler. He’ll make a difference some day. I want that. For the next generation.” A racking cough came over Kel’leam suddenly as his face went pale. Flecks of blood flew from his beak to fall into his uninjured hand. His eyes widened as his pupils dilated.
“Stay with us, Kel’leam. You’re not done yet,” Brunhilda growled as she ran a talon over his ribcage.
“Kel’leam, stay with me,” Grif said, supporting the albatross head in his talons. “You’re too strong for a little sliver like that to kill you.”
“It’s … strange, Grif,” Kel’leam said as the bout of pain subsided and he adjusted to the sensation. “I feel … so free now. I always ... used to be so reserved.” He rasped in pain. … Now of all times, I finally get to relax and let go. If Chesh could only see me now.”
Brunhilda looked gravely at Grif. “His lung has been punctured by the arrow head. Unless we create a proper outlet, he’ll breathe himself to death.”
“What do we do?” Grif asked her.
“I’ll need the finest pointed blade possible, the strongest alcohol a Gryphon can spare, and something to insert to act as an outlet for the pressure, like a governor or funnel of some sort. Very small.”
“This stiletto was made by hammerstrike,” Grif said as he offered it to her. “I don’t know about the others. Daedalus, see if there’s anything in my pack that can help.”
There was no alcohol to be had, so Brunhilda had to make do without. A coffee straw had been found at the bottom of Grif’s bag, an ancient relic left behind from his time at Donut Joe’s, but for the moment, it would work. A few minutes later, Kel’leam was breathing normally again, at least as normally as he could under the circumstances.
Pensword raced down another turn with Cosy at his side. The prince looked to his “uncle” and the strap of leather that he wore, which held six tomahawks, ready for use. Pensword snorted at how stubborn Cosy was in refusing at least three hiding holes to help protect the rear. He didn’t know if he should be proud at his refusal or annoyed at how easily he saw through his ploys at trying to keep him safe and out of harm's way. As the pair drew closer to the Royal Barracks, they could hear the sound of battle already ringing through the corridor. They burst through the doors to behold a scene of chaos.
The room was large and circular. Ruined training equipment was thrown all over the room on the walls and hanging from the ceiling. On one side, a large group of young Gryphons of various mixes stood opposing another slightly larger group. Amongst the younger ones were two greying falcon-headed Gryphons shouting encouragingly and fighting with more obvious skill. Still, the battle was furious and it looked like both sides would be decimated if something didn’t happen soon.
Pensword was shocked at how none of them noticed his loud entrance. He pondered how best to break things up when Matthew stepped in to briefly take over as he put his hoof to his lips and inhaled as heavily as he could manage. Then he let loose a mighty, shrill whistle, shattering three windows in the process as he incorporated the Canterlot Royal voice into the whistle. Without a moment's pause, Thestrals poured into the hall from the remaining windows. Thankfully, the Gryphons were smart enough to recognize a potential threat, stop the fighting, and take a few steps back. the Thestrals were quick to take advantage of this brief retreat of sorts and moved swiftly to occupy the darkened corners of the room. As they darted through the sunlight, it gleamed off their dark blue armor and their glowing eyes, slitted from previous exposure to the sun, gave off a very haunting image.
“Can some Gryphon tell me just what in the halls of Tartarus is going on here?” Pensword coolly demanded, his eyes already picking over the crowd for the leaders in both factions.
“Don’t be afraid,” one of the falcons said, rallying the troops around him. “The north wind supports us. We fight for the emperor!” He looked at the Thestrals. “No matter who our opponent is.”
Pensword turned to the other half. “So, half of the room has spoken, what do you lot have to say? I see you wear emblems that do not match those on my left.” He stepped fully into room, exposing himself to the sunlight. Cosy hung back at the door as per his guardian’s instructions, his body tense and ready to fight or to run if necessary. A single mop hung suspended in the air threateningly as Cosy waved it around, doing his best to distract the Gryphons from the weapon he held belted around his waist.
“The emperor is weak,” one of the Gryphons shouted. “All hail grask!” This was echoed by the rest.
Pensword turned to face the spokesman and his party. His grim face broke into a sinister grin as the light glistened off his fangs. “Thank you for your honesty.” He snorted as the musical sound of blowpipes filled the air. jMoments later, several Gryphons had darts sticking out from their necks and chinks in their armor. “It makes my actions much easier. The Demon stands in defense of the Emperor. Yes, the one who you have turned your back on has the respect of The Demon.”
“For Grask!” the defectors shouted. They moved to charge as several of them dropped to the ground, gurgling. Those closest to them stopped momentarily in fear as the peril of the situation dawned on them. Too late, the gap in the charge was too big an opening for the loyalists to miss and they tore through the charging Gryphons like tissue paper.
The Thestrals charged from the side and behind in a pincer maneuver. Six of the opposing forces managed to break through and charged, not for Pensword, but for Cosy. Time slowed for Pensword as he snapped back to his past, to the training he had seen his mother perform. He drew a tomahawk from his bandolier and threw it. The first Gryphon was down in an instant, the tomahawk seemingly growing out of its skull. By the time the attackers registered that something was wrong, another had fallen. A third fell by the time that they could located the source of the counterattack. Too committed to stop, they veered, redirecting the course of their charge as the fourth fell to the ground. The last two charged forward, battle cries raging.
Pensword stood calmly. Instead of throwing his last two Tomahawks, he charged forward, then ducked to the left, where his first victim waited. The gryphon’s wings were unprotected, most likely due to overconfidence about the coup. The Demon smirked. This Gryphon’s arrogance would be his downfall. A shower of blood signalled the severance of the first wing as The Demon leaped over the crying Gryphon’s back and buried the first tomahawk deep in the gap where neck armor met back armor. He kicked up from the body and spun around, slamming the Sixth Gryphon on the beak before bringing the Tomahawk down on his helmeted head, concussing the Gryphon before performing a swift reversal and chopping the back of the traitor’s neck. The warrior slumped to the ground, dead.
Pensword spread his wings threateningly at the next group of Gryphons who were trying to break away to attack him, his fangs bared as a rather poor excuse of a hiss escaped his muzzle. A flicker of motion in the corner of his eye alerted him. With little else to do, he charged forward. He heard the clang of blade striking metal and felt the impact of the blade on his armor. The enemy was wide open. With a smirk, he turned around and slammed his front hooves into the attacking Gryphon, using his wings to take to the air. He snorted and head butted the enemy Gryphon, confident in Hammer Strike’s smithing skills. That confidence was not misplaced as the Gryphon’s head swayed from the impact.
Pensword continued his course over his attacker’s head and bucked the back of the Gryphon. He heard the satisfying crunch of one wing snapping before he spun and dealt a killing blow with a wingblade, cutting a major artery in the Gryphon's leg. One of the traitorous recruits moved swiftly to stop the bleeding. Pensword acted without mercy and the recruit and warrior both crumbled. Flying to the ceiling, Pensword stared down on the battlefield, gaging the best place to attack next.
Cosy stared in wide-eyed shock at the speed and ferocity displayed. He’d heard rumors of Thestral combat, but never before had he truly seen those skills put into action. Now he had.
Pensword did not get another chance to attack. The few who were left that supported Grask were torn apart in seconds. With the fighting over, Pensword, landed into the middle of the room before he stiffened, shifting into a defensive stance as one of the Falcon officers approached. He did a quick count. If the Gryphons were to attack, he could inflict heavy casualties, but it would most likely destroy his entire Thestral unit.
The gryphon shuffled over. His feathers were stained with blood, but the wound on his leg didn’t seem serious. “You fight for daedalus?” he asked warily.
“I said that in the beginning, or were your ears ringing from a blow to the head? Unlike those snakes over there,” he said, motioning with a hoof to the dead, “when I state a cause I fight for, I do not cross sides mid flight.”
The falcon nodded as if satisfied. “We managed to keep the armory secured. Give us time and we’ll be ready to help you.”
“I thank you, but Daedalus needs soldiers past tonight. What use would you be if you are banished for listening to The Demon? I do keep up with what you think of me in this land. I do not need martyrs. What I need are soldiers who can stand by to protect their emperor.”
“I don’t plan on listening to you,” the gryphon said. “But if we can’t fight together, Daedalus won’t live another day.”
“Right, a smart Falcon. Very well, take ten of my Thestrals. They will inform you of the chokepoints and what is held by whom. Move smartly. I myself will require a cloak, and a means of sneaking out undetected. I must secure the docks.”
“I’ll see to it.” The falcon said before he shuffled away. Several minutes later, six cloaked recruits came to pensword, carrying a slightly larger black cloak. “We’re to accompany you to the docks.”
Pensword’s left ear twitched. He noticed they also had another cloak.
“For the little one,” the bearer explained, pointing to Cosy.
As much as he still held hate for Gryphons, he couldn’t help but smile at their foresight. He looked at the company. “So, you are to accompany me? Why? I am the Demon, after all. I think I can get to the Docks on my own. The less time you spend around me, the better for you six.”
“With all due respect sir, we grew up in Gryphelheim. We know all the pathways and roads, and we know the fastest and least patrolled routes. Besides, while the lieutenant may be working to save daedalus…”
“We work for you,” another said as the six simultaneously lowered their beaks to the ground.
Pensword gawked, then sputtered, but it was already too late. Already the rest of the unit had turned their backs. Pensword’s face turned ruddy with anger as he took a deep breath, ready to shout some sense into them until Cosy put a hoof on his wing, his eyes filled with concern. Pensword broke off, then let loose an explosive breath and sighed. “Look me in the eye and tell me. Why? Why are you throwing all this away?” He asked, motioning to the barracks and their former brothers. There was still time for them to salvage their reputations if they would renounce what they had done.
“You saved us. You fight for the emperor, yet you have no reason to help us. In truth, you have every reason to just leave Gryphonia to its fate. Instead, you risk yourself and your kin for us. Such an act is something that takes great strength. It is such strength that we wish for you to teach us.”
Pensword stood quietly, still looking at these warriors’ eyes, at their faces. Finally, he turned his back on them. “Take what you consider the most valuable. We will not be returning this way until all is secured.” With that said, he began to walk towards his kin. “You want Strength? Talk to Grif. I will introduce you later.” He herded Cosy along. He did not know what to think. Something in those Gryphons’ eyes unnerved him, but why, he could not say.
Brunhilda slowly tipped her canteen, letting water trickle down Kel’leam’s gullet. He drank without complaint as they waited. The wound had been bandaged and treated with what few medical supplies had been stocked in the room, but it had not been accessed in centuries, and the lack of maintenance showed. She made some show of going to consult with Daedalus on matters of strategy. Another guard took her place, tending to their fallen comrade.
“It’s not looking good, Grif.” She shook her head. “His life is fading. There’s not much more that we can do.”
“How long?” Grif asked. His tone was shaky.
“I really can’t say. The blood is pooling inside, sopping his tissues, saturating his organs. It could be a few hours, or a matter of minutes. When he starts to feel cold, his time will be close. A few minutes after, he’ll be flying with his ancestors.”
“He didn’t deserve this,” Grif said, looking to Daedalus. “He didn’t deserve to spend his last years struggling to survive before working for a low end clan leader outside of his homeland.”
“No, Grif, he didn’t,” Daedalus said sadly. “But one thing you should know is you are anything but a low end clan leader. You’ve succeeded where every Gryphon has failed for over a thousand years in Equestria. You have officially established a true clan, one that is uniting our people an ocean away. You gave Kel’leam a home, a family, and hundreds of others like him besides. He lived for you, and he died because of me. I’m not about to let that pass. Not this time.” The young emperor’s eyes had grown as cold as ice. “He deserves everything he had before, and so much more. I’m going to make sure he gets it.”
“Grask’s life belongs to me,” Grif said, his tone frigid. “I don’t care who or what says otherwise. I am going to tear him apart feather by feather until his blood paints the wind crimson.”
“You would summon the Crimson Gale?” Several of the Gryphons shrank back, wide-eyed as Brunhilda pulled Daedalus back a step. Daedalus shrugged her talons off and stepped forward again. “Grif, do you know the full effects of that art?”
“The Crimson Gale?” Grif looked at Daedalus. “Junior, if you knew half the atrocities I performed during the war, you wouldn’t stand so close to me.”
“And if you knew half the atrocities I had to endure in my lifetime and my rule, you’d know it wouldn’t matter to me one bit.”
Grif opened his beak to speak, anger blazing in his eyes.
“Avatar!” the lesser guard called. “He … he wants to speak with you.”
Grif was at Kel’leam’s side in an instant, all matter of the argument gone from his mind as he grasped his comrade’s talons in his own. “Kel’leam?” he whispered.
“Present, sir,” Kel’leam said as his lips pulled up into a wan smile.
“None of that,” Grif said. “Please. I don’t think I can take that.”
“What should I say then?” Kel’leam let loose another racking cough and wheezed slightly as he struggled to regain his breath.
“How would you talk to your brother?” Grif said, smiling weakly.
Kel’leam grimaced as his face spasmed. “Never ... had a brother before.”
“Well, you do now, like it or not. Now what did you want to say to me?”
“Just that it’s been an honor. I … need to do something. Something I need,” he wheezed, “family here for.”
“I’m here,” Grif told him kindly.
“I … wish that Chesh could be here,” he said, smirking. Then his eyes grew determined. “Give me my shield,” he instructed. “I can take the pain.”
“Whatever you say,” Grif said as he signaled Brunhilda to come help him. Gingerly, the two of them lifted kel’leam off the shield and onto the ground beside him. The two of them gently placed the shield over his good arm.
Kel’leam smiled. “That’s better.” It’s a pity I couldn’t have it cleaner, but it’ll have to do.” He looked up resolutely to Grif. “I’m a bastard,” he said plainly. “I was born into a house that looked down on me, spat on me, and viewed my very existence as a stain on their honor. Through many years, I clawed my way to become an honorable soldier with his own wages and his own strengths. I never received any major promotions. People wanted me to disappear, so I did. No one noticed me. Nobody acknowledged me. But I was always there to fulfill my duties. Things continued this way for a long time, until someone finally did notice me. Someone special.” He took another ragged breath.
“A Gryphon Lord. One who showed me the only compassion I had ever felt in my youth. He was the father I never had.” Kel’leam smiled. “He gave me a home, placed me in his service, and helped me to refine my technique in my chosen field. You don’t see many spear Gryphons in the empire.” He paused to receive another drink. “It was the best year of my life.”
Grif listened intently as Kel’leam spoke, not having the words to respond. Nearby, Brunhilda looked on, stone faced.
“He was like the father I never had. He offered me promotions on a regular basis, but I refused, not out of spite, but out of loyalty. I worked better if I wasn’t noticed, and I liked it that way. One day, my Clan Leader left for a summit with his appointed general. He returned home pale and furious. He never said what the reason was, and I knew better than to ask. If he wanted to tell me, he would of his own accord.
“The days passed, turning into weeks, then months. My clan leader never spoke of what had shaken him so. Things returned to normal and he put up a feast for a visiting suitor in a royal clan. His daughter was reaching a marrying age, and the honor of joining his clan to a higher one would open many doors. My sister, for I viewed her as such, was not averse to the idea. We often spoke one with another in our free time when her father set me to guard her person. She refused to marry if it wasn’t for love. On that point she was quite firm, and her father, Winds bless his soul, wisely agreed.” He shuddered and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they looked distant, less focused, though still very much alert.
“The suitor came and made his advances, staying for an entire week as he tried to woo her with gifts. When that didn’t work, he tried bribery. He even went so far as try to order me to convince her to marry him. By that point, his welcome had worn thin, and my former clan leader let him know at some length what he could do with his money and his offers. I still remember what he said. ‘Prince or no prince, that pompous pile of feathers leaves my compound tonight.’” Kel’leam smiled. “I alway admired him for that. He never minced words and never expected anyone else to either.” Tears came to Kel’leam’s eyes.
“He died that night, clawing for life at the head of the table. I watched the foam frothing from his mouth until his body stopped twitching. I watched my captain close his eyes and shake his head. Then he looked to me and nodded. I acted accordingly, taking the mistress to her quarters and placing a guard on her room before returning to the scene. Our medical staff identified the poison: Cyanide, a curious white powder made from apricot pits and apple seeds. The Gryphon I viewed as my father was dead, and my sister was in distress. I vowed I would kill the murdering son of a Diamond Dog if it was the last thing I would ever do. In a sense, it was.” He hissed as another spasm of pain rocked his body. Daedalus looked sadly on Kel’leam, even as the others gathered round to hear the tale, each outraged at the thought of such dishonor. Brunhilda remained neutral, even as she folded her arms behind the emperor.
“Having accomplished the initial emergency protocol, I made my way to the next step: evacuation of all important personel. That, unfortunately, was my assignment. The ass berated me for being so quiet and not announcing myself, even though I did, and ordered me to help him pack. I did so, being careful to follow his instructions as best as I was able while he hastily shoved clothing and armor pieces into their cases. I was just finishing packing a particularly expensive armor piece when I heard him cry in fear. I turned and on instinct, lunged for the moving object. When my hand closed, I felt something cold, hard, and concave. On closer inspection, I found the item I held in my hand was some type of mortar made from what appeared to be clay. As I held the bowl up, I noticed a pale white substance, similar to flour clinging to the base. A worm could tell what had happened.” Kel’leam broke off into another racking cough as Grif put a moist cloth against his beak to catch the flecks of blood.
Grif did his best to hold back tears. “Easy there, Kel’leam. Take it slow. We got plenty of time.”
“You might, Grif, but mine is running low,” Kel’leam said in his ragged voice. “I need to finish. You have to know … why.” He grimaced in pain. “I … will admit it wasn’t my finest hour. I acted in haste and skewered him with extreme prejudice. And then I stabbed him while he lay on the floor. I wasn’t even aware of the breaking shards from when I dropped the mortar. I remember screaming though. That, I definitely remember. The rest,” he groaned, “they know,” he said motioning with his head towards Daedalus and his guards. The other Bladefeathers had gathered around their dying comrade and tears streamed openly down their cheeks. “And you can guess.”
“Any Gryphon would have done the same thing,” Grif told him. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Perhaps, but by the laws, I did. We were of separate classes. Even if the evidence had survived, I had no right to kill him. I don’t regret killing him, even after all these years, but I do regret having to leave Lana on her own.”
Brunhilda’s armor creaked slightly as she held her arms tightly over the metal plating.
“She was well taken care of, Kel’leam. I made sure of it,” Daedalus said reassuringly.
“Thank you ... your majesty,” Kel’leam sighed as he labored to breathe. A light draft eddied through the room, ruffling his feathers. “It’s that time, isn’t it?” he asked tiredly.
“Oh, Kel’leam, who’s going to keep my head on straight now?” Grif chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “You know me. I can’t be trusted to direct my own actions.”
“And you direct a whole compound? Amazing.” Kel’leam chuckled weakly as he lifted his shield. He laid it across his lower torso and then dabbed blood from his arrow wound and smeared it on the point between the two decorative bows that had been carefully carved along the edges and sides of his shield, breaking at the top. He repeated the action for the left, right, and lower tip of the weapon with a last addition in the center.
“One for each of the people I love. For Lana, who I never had the chance to explain or apologize to. For her father, who treated me like a son. For Daedalus, the hope of our world, the future of the empire. For Grif, who found me and gave me a family again. For Chesh …” the words caught in his throat as tears ran down the sides of his cheeks. “For everything she ever did for me. For words unsaid, and deeds undone.” He caressed the center mark. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He held it there for quite some time, just breathing as he recalled the many memories and events of his life. Then, at last, he slowly opened his eyes. They were glassy and milky. “Grif? Where are you?” he asked.
“Right here, Kel’leam,” Grif said shakily, placing a hand gently on the Gryphon’s chest.
Kel’leam took the hand with his one good one and guided it towards the straps of his greatshield. “Take it, Grif. You’re my family now. Take it back home. Please.”
Grif didn’t even try to hold back his tears as they ran freely. “I hope you find him amongst the winds, Kel’leam. Enjoy those thermals, and keep an eye out for me.” He hesitantly lifted the shield, accepting a gift from a dying Gryphon for the second time in his life. For a brief moment, he remembered Graf lying in bed, breathing his last few breaths.
“Chesh … tell her … tell her …” He let out a long, gurgling sigh, and then he was gone. Brunhilda slowly stepped into the circle and knelt by the Gryphon’s wounded side. Unclasping a hand, she slowly pulled it away from her armor. The metal had been bent and deformed. She slowly reached down and ran her talons over Kel’leam’s eyes, sealing them closed forevermore and allowing him to enter that long sleep at last. Daedalus stood behind her and laid a hand on her shoulder.
“It’s alright,” he said. “Do what you need to do. No one will judge you here ... Lana.” Brunhilda stiffened.
“That name died a long time ago,” she said hoarsely.
“I’m bringing it back,” Daedalus said. “Now do what you have to do.”
Brunhilda glared at Daedalus, then looked around at the gathered Gryphons. She reached down and removed the arrow from the body, clasping it in Kel’leam’s talons and laying it on his chest. “Kel’leam, you stupid fool,” she said as her eyes began to tear. Her talons dug into the stone, causing her to tremble as she looked down on the corpse. She tossed her head back and unleashed a wail that echoed through the room and penetrated the body of every Gryphon present before laying her body over his and clutching his shoulders in a makeshift embrace. “You idiot,” she cried over and over again as she slowly degraded to sobs, mixing her tears with his blood.
A harsh wind blew through the closed-off room, cold enough to bite to the bone. Grif stood there, motionless, with the shield in his hands. The tears flowed freely down his face. Then he screamed, a scream filled with pure hatred, rage, pain and utter bloodlust. A scream such as had never been heard in all of Gryphelheim before. The wind itself seemed to writhe as Grif held that shriek. Black wisps gathered around his form, appearing out of nowhere and dancing mysteriously in the gusts that now swirled around Grif’s body. The collective Gryphons found themselves feeling much like their prey in the hunt. For the first time, they felt terror.
“Open it.” Grif’s voice was warped: deeper, raspy, and cold as the bitter wind that surrounded him. This was not a request.
“Grif …” Daedalus said.
“Nevermind.” Grif’s eyes glowed brightly as he extended his wings, his voice magnified in the confined space as it echoed against the walls and tore through cracks and crevices. “NORTH WIND, HEAR YOUR AVATAR! I SEEK JUSTICE. LEND ME YOUR STRENGTH!” The cold room grew colder. Several Gryphons found their teeth chattering as the wind bashed against the door, sending dust flying back in waves. At first, the door held firmly, but soon there was the familiar hollow sound of stone grating stone.
Pensword pressed himself against one of the walls of the alleyway. His hooves stood in the dusty street as he peered towards the docks. He looked back to his six new charges. “Where to now?” he asked. It still felt wrong to seek information from his former enemies, but they knew more of the city’s layout than he did. They were an essential asset, and he needed to put his bias aside for Cosy’s sake, if nothing else. His ears swivelled, focusing on anything that might be a threat.
“The docks should be just past this building,” One of the Gryphonesses, a Great Horned Owl-Ocelot mix named Bershada told him. “It sounds like we joined the party just in time,” she said, reaching around to grab her curved daggers.
Pensword rose his wings in preparation. He looked to another Gryphon, a male Goldfinch-Manul mix named Kahn and gave him a nod. With the flip of his head, he Indicated the closed door to their side. They needed to get to the docks, and the fastest way was through the building. Kahn nodded as he readied his small, simple, one-clawed curved blade. Pensword found Matthew thinking about some kind of curved sabre of a similar make, and a single word reverberated over and over in his mind: Mongolian. Shaking his head to clear his mind, Pensword focused again as Kahn kicked at the door, easily destroying it. Two of their team flew into the room for aerial support while the others streamed in below.
Pensword entered the building last as they secured the room, followed by Cosy. A small family of Gryphons and their cubs were huddled together in what appeared to be a storage room of some type. Pensword approached the family and whispered to them as the others prepared to act as backup. “Do not speak; do not breathe a word. We shall pass over you without causing harm. Just remain at peace. I shall leave the traitors’ coin to pay you for damage and the use of your front door.”
Not pausing to hear a reply, Pensword raced to the front of the building, where the six stood guard at the front door, ready to burst out the windows and into the road. Cosy held back behind them as per the instructions Pensword had given him. All could hear the sound of conflict now as Gryphons screamed across the streets in the distance. He looked to Kahn and nodded three times.
The signal given, Pensword roared a battle cry as the windows shattered and the door was ripped open. Six Gryphons and one Demon charged into the rear ranks of sixty seven Gryphons trying to retake the docks from the Emperor’s troops. Cosy charged next to Pensword with a smile on his muzzle.
“Cosy, to your left!” Pensword shouted as a Gryphon wearing the emblem of Grask tried to attack. Cosy turned his head and the sword he had picked up from the Barracks sliced at the helmet-wearing foe. He twirled his head and the blade plunged forward, thanks to his levitation magic, pushing it through the gap near the left wing hole. Blood spurted from the site as the Gryphon cried out in pain. The soldier tried to yank it out, only to be zapped by the magic glow around the sword, compliments of a combat spell Pensword had taught the young prince. “Nobody’s taking this empire today,” Cosy said.
The Gryphon lunged. Hastily, Cosy yanked the blade out with his magic to block the talon strike before he plunged it into the Gryphon’s neck. Concentrating, he slashed the sword out. The Gryphon collapsed, its head rolling back and forth as its body bled out.
Pensword was fighting hoof to wing to talon with another Gryphon. So enthralled was he that he barely caught the killing blow Cosy had performed. He easily impaled the Gryphon through its armor before he kicked the dying Gryphon away. He stood up and froze as Kel’leam appeared in the distance. He gave Pensword a solemn salute before he disappeared on the breeze. Pensword blinked once as he processed what he had just seen. The Gryphons trembled as he roared, the sheer volume shaking the very docks themselves. He charged two Gryphons simultaneously, using his wing blades to knock them off balance. Before they could recover, Kahn and another of his party, a Peregrine Falcon with a Siamese cat body, skewered them through their armor. Both tore out their sabres, which, while incredibly similar, bore different designs.
Pensword plowed forward. He scanned the crowd until he spotted the Gryphon with the most expensive armor. His purpose was starting to become clear. “There you are,” he growled. The commander barked orders in the center of his forces, directing them on. Pensword roared.
“You have killed from the Bladefeather clan. You have dispatched a friend. I have lost friends before, but know this. Those who kill my friends must pay in kind. You have earned my wrath. You have gained my full attention, commander. The Demon sees you, and now he descends!” Pensword sheared the head off yet another Gryphon as he continued his advance. The next opponent charged with a claymore. Pensword bowed his head, allowing the claymore to strike off his back. His legs buckled slightly, but aside from that, he was fine. Taking advantage of the opening, Pensword charged forward, biting at the enemy’s armor, tugging at his straps. When he’d loosened them enough, he struck, plunging a blade into the hole. He felt the satisfying vibration up his sword and knew he’d found his mark. Pulling the blade out, he watched as the Gryphon collapsed, gasping for air with no way to succeed.
Pensword backed away before raising to his forehooves and bucking, knocking the Gryphon that had been trying to sneak up from behind. The force of the buck catapulted the warrior onto Kahn's waiting sabre, the sharp point punching right through the enemy’s helm. Looked to his side, he saw Cosy wielding another of the curved sabres similar to Kahn’s. He watched, pride mixed with his rage as a fourth gryphon fell under the young Crystal Prince’s assault. He was really starting to master the sword.
Doing a swift head count, Pensword found that forty soldiers remained. He turned and unleashed a devastating whiny as he reared before clopping his hooves down with the sound of thunder. Lightning arced from the skies, striking a cluster of his enemies as he charged, punching through the ring. Any other warrior might have found themselves trapped. Pensword didn’t care. He didn’t react like a trapped Pony. Instead, he charged the waiting commander. He couldn’t really gain an advantage with denting and collapsing areas. The quality of his opponent's armor was too high for him to cause any significant damage. Blocking the blow from the commander’s Bastard Sword with his wing, he spun around and kicked back at one of the eight personal guards, now five as a small skirmish broke out between two warriors. They didn’t have much time to finish the debate, so Kahn settled it for them as his blade pierced their armor and their hearts. Kahn was soon surrounded by eight others troops. He snarled as he nimbly dodged their attacks. Bershada quickly came to his aid.
Over by the docks, the front line began to buckle. Thirty five soldiers remained with almost half of them trying to subdue two. Jorund’s voice carried out over the pier. “Leave the Commander to Personal Combat. Do not deny The Demon his price!”
Pensword spun as a Gryphon tried to charge him. He turned and bucked yet again, simultaneously using his wings to block the Commander’s attack. The Gryphon he bucked fell, his neck broken. He shuddered as he heard a commotion to his left. Turning, he saw twenty fresh Gryphons flying to their companions’ aid. Pensword’s six charges formed up to block the approach. “Back up to forty,” he mumbled angrily.
Pensword turned in surprise as he heard Cosy shout a command, but he would never know what was said as he took a glancing blow to the head from a mace. Fortunately, thanks to Hammer Strike’s designs and crafting, he remained in tact. His head rattled as the sound faded from his left ear, leaving the ring of metal upon metal. Unfortunately, when he tried to shift his ear, the cleverly crafted piece Hammer Strike had forged would not comply. He turned and, in his anger, took to the air. Just as he had hoped, seeing a pony fly after fighting on the ground for so long stunned a few of the soldiers, granting openings for lethal attacks. The one that hit him died by decapitation, as did the two that followed, leaving 17 Gryphons in the main group. The Commander and his four remaining guards tried to disengage, only to get entangled with Jorund’s forces. Moments later, the four guards were bloody pulps as a massive blast of wind exploded from their corpses, simultaneously trapping the commander in a cage of wind. Pensword smiled, It seemed Avalon was getting bolder with her moves.
“Avalon…. was that … wind magic?” Jorund asked, trying to convince himself of what he had just seen.
Avalon looked to the shore, focus in hand, the chain wrapped around her arm like a rosary. The remaining Gryphons had begun to take to the skies, harrying Pensword. She narrowed her eyes. “Oh no you don’t,” she said, placing her focus around her neck as Snowy alighted on her shoulder. Extending her hand, a golden glow surrounded her and her familiar as the Quetzalcoatl scale shimmered with a rainbow light. A mass of cold air blew down, buffeting the Gryphons’ wings as they struggled in the air before they dropped. Several crashed into one another in their descent as playful eddies tore and threw them like a child does her dolls. She smirked, turning to Jorund. “Does that answer your question, captain?”
“... Thank The Winds you’re on our side,” Jorund said as he observed the fight.
“Save the thanks for after we win,” she said as she glared at the battle.
Pensword stalked forward towards the cage of wind. “I claim the other Commander in the rite of personal Combat! Will he honor my challenge, or cower like the miserable cur he is?”
A roar of defiance echoed from the edge of the pier. “Who dares?”
Pensword snorted as he faced the Commander in the cage, surrounded by the corpses of his guards. The prisoner swung wildly at the Pegasus, who easily sidestepped the attacks like they were nothing, his attention riveted in the direction of the battle. Then he roared. “The Demon Dares!”
With little effort, he swung a wing blade and knocked the Bastard Sword from the first commander as the winds surrounding him became less intense. The Commander moved to pull a blade from his side, only for Pensword to pounce upon him, biting and snarling as the cage dispersed. His fangs made quick work of the helmet straps. The Commander’s head was now exposed, revealing a face with a half undone eye patch. His one good eye had nearly swollen shut from the continuous onslaught that was Pensword’s fury. He glared in defiance and tried to peck at him with his woodpecker beak. It was the last time he’d ever be able to try as his beak was cut from his face with a single swipe of Pensword’s wings. The second swipe ended the Gryphon’s life.
His first honor killing done, Pensword looked up, panting as Cosy made yet another kill. Kahn worked to cover the young foal’s back, even as Cosy did the same for him. Avalon had lifted two Gryphons up and slammed them into another with her magic. Eighteen total Gryphons remained out of the two forces. His breath regained, Pensword stepped along the pier towards the land and his remaining forces, flanked on either side by an escort of Jorund’s men. All fighting ceased as a collective gasp passed along the street. The second commander stepped forward, a white cloth wrapped around a sword as he waved it back and forth with stony gaze. Cosy grinned and yelled. “As Crown Prince of the Crystal Empire, I graciously accept your surrender!” With those words, Cosy had just earned political clout for the whole Crystal Empire, as well as for himself.
The Gryphons around looked shocked, then sick. The Commander roared. “I refuse to surrender to a fledgling! I would rather surrender to the Demon than to some pony that has yet to even earn his wings in combat!”
Kahn reacted with his own roar that silenced the almost rebellious cries as he took to the air. “I personally can attest to no less than ten kills by the War Prince.” His words stunned more than a few. “You are surrendering to one who has earned his combat wings this day. You have added to his prestige and to Daedalus’ by cementing the future relations of our two Empires.” Kahn smiled wickedly. “As a Demon Damned, however, the commander cannot surrender. He accepted the challenge, and he will honor it by meeting The Demon in mortal combat.”
Pensword’s smile broadened into a sinister grin. “I agree. I shall gladly meet you in combat.”
The Commander snarled, but those around him parted, leaving him exposed and without any means for a body guard. He stood his ground and faced the jaws of death. All the Gryphons knew the legends. They had seen The Demon in combat. They knew how skilled a fighter he was as a shower of blood surrounded his wings. A thousand years ago, this warrior, this creature, had slaughtered their ancestors and laid claim to their lands. Now he stood upon the very soil of their capital, still as bloody, still as dangerous, still vengeful. They were afraid.
The Commander lifted his blade as Pensword charged him. In two moves, the battle was over. The Commander lunged as Pensword parried, sliding the blade off with a shower of sparks. Taking advantage of the break in his guard, Pensword used his other wing blade and lunged in turn. His longest feather blade pierced the eye socket hole of the helm. The Gryphon stiffened, his sword clattering to the ground as Pensword drew close to his face. The Demon growled at his enemy. “A thousand years ago, I fought many powerful Gryphons. Among them was a Commander named Jorund Bloodfeather. He was the leader in charge of Fort Triumph. He was pitiful. But even so, Jorund Bloodfeather was a far better fighter than you ever were.” He shoved the commander off his wing. The Gryphon gurgled to the ground and fell into a bout of spasms. Pensword watched as he clawed at his eye, twitched, circled as his legs kicked, digging into the earth. Slowly they weakened, then he stopped, a final rattle exiting his lungs as Pensword stared, stone faced.
“This battle is over,” he said. The Gryphon prisoners nodded eagerly.
“You seem to have gathered quite a few prisoners.” Jorund smiled as he approached Bellacosa.
“Yup, and they’re all mine. My first conquest. I can’t wait to tell Uncle Shining.” Cosy beamed.
“Well, at this point it would be reasonable to make your demands,” Jorund said. “What do you want for custody of the prisoners?” he grinned to himself.
“Oh, I dunno, you sure seem like you want em,” Cosy said, smiling.
“If I don’t buy them from you, their families will probably offer your sister a sum for them and then they’ll be free. With me, they’ll be tried and punished properly by the emperor. Also, we can eliminate such expense as third party negotiators.”
Cosy pursed his lips as he pondered the Gryphon’s words. “You make a good point. And that’s not good. Grif wouldn’t be too happy if they didn’t get justice,” he said as he rubbed a hoof under his chin. “Alright, I’ll give em to you for a round ten billion.” He polished a hoof on his chest fur and smiled.
“Ten bil--that’s outrageous!” Jorrund said “I’ll give you ten million for them,” he said, holding his head up straight.
“After all the lives they’ve taken from my troops? You think their families are going to take a few million and settle at that? I’ll level with you. Give me eight billion. That should cover medical expenses, funerary rights, and the stipends their families deserve.”
“You take food out of my family’s mouth! I’ll need to thin out the larders, but I’ll give you fifty million,” Jorund said, grimacing.
“Fifty Million? I could get three times as much from their families at least. No. Still, you did fight to protect your kingdom. I respect that. I nearly lost mine for a thousand years. Because of your loyalty to your emperor, I’ll lower my price to, say six billion?” Cosy said as he wiggled his brows.
“I’d have to sell my house to pay half that. I’ll give you three hundred million and hope my family can forgive me,” Jorrund said.
“From the Gryphon who’s one of the oldest families in the empire? Please. Grif’s taught me about your history. He told me how much you like to haggle, and just who your ancestor was. You have plenty to pay with. I’ll go as low as four billion. Be grateful I’m being so generous,” Cosy sniffed, flicking his head indignantly in the air.
“This is what I get for haggling with a fledgling,” Jorrund said. “I’ll give you half a billion.”
“A fledgling who earned his wings already. Two billion.”
“A fledgling who is reaching for more than his grasp. Seven hundred million.”
“Eight hundred.”
“Done,” Jorund said, slamming his talons down.
“And done,” Cosy said as he stamped a hoof in response. Then he laughed. “That was fun. Thanks for going easy on me, Jorund.”
“Keep it up and you’ll be cornering markets everywhere.” Jorund laughed as he ruffled Cosy’s mane affectionately.
Pensword walked from the Gantrithor’s mobile triage unit, where the wounded were being treated. Cosy was spending time with some of the Crystal Ponies who had been stationed on the docks, and working to try and create the illusion of protecting the Emperor’s airship. They had just finished mooring the airship that Cosy and he had purchased together. He had a moment to gather his thoughts, so he moved to a bench, sat down upon it, and looked up at the two airships. While he had thought the one he bought was a decent size, the emperor’s airship made Cosy’s look like a tug boat by comparison.
The ship was massive in length and breadth. As Jorund had mentioned, the Gantrithor was a tenth of a mile long from stern to stem and nearly half that on it’s widest point. The front of the ship stretched outwards with a large cylindrical front before moving into long flat sides stretching to the ship’s center. This front was divided into two equal halves with a three deck tall recess. This recess was glowing orange from some lightsource that reminded Matthew of a computer game he’d played when he was younger, something called Homeworld. Pensword mentally frowned for a moment at how easily Matthew was getting distracted by the ship’s design. Still, its design was almost unheard of, with the bottoms having these strange glowing circles: two wide and ten long. The recess continued the entire length of the ship, vanishing around the center of the ship’s body due to a large wheel.
At the ship's center, the wheel was connected to either side with a giant rotating disc-like structure inside it. The top of the ship bowed down slightly into a large flat region lined with great ballistas on rotating platforms. The back of the ship terminated into a large circular, cone-like tower with floating rings hovering over it spinning slowly in alternating directions. The bottom of the ship was built to allow what appeared to be smaller airships to dock with it in mid-flight, with the wheel acting as a cradle. Two large hooks and a massive spike adorned the bottom back of the ship, most likely as a means for emergency landings. The ship didn’t seem like it would be capable of the speeds Grif had boasted before with its large, firm, and bulky armor plating.
Pensword looked upon the Gantrithor in its entirety and he felt like it would be an amazing adventure just to explore the vessel. He paused as he saw something that looked like a Chrysanthemum at the front of the vessel.
“The Gantrithor,” Jorund spoke as he approached Pensword from behind. “The largest, most powerful airship ever made.” The red Gryphon sighed. “I suppose it’s only fitting it should accompany you back to Equestria.”
“Well, we need to buy time, so while we are going back to Equestria, she will see service. It’s the only way to ensure Daedalus’ safety.” Pensword looked back at the vessel. “I do not know what the future will hold, but we are not going straight back to Equestria. That will cause more political ramifications than even I, as a Demon, would care to handle.” His eye twitched. “Also, Jorund, is it not customary for Gryphons to refer to their ships as a Gender? Equestrians refer to their vessels as female. How do you view your vessels?”
“I’m not a sailor,” Jorund said. “I’m unfamiliar with terms and superstitions.” He smiled. “If I understand the historians correctly, much of this ship was intended for Equestria.”
“Then the gender is a female. She will be a mighty vessel,” Pensword answered. “I may have been a land leader, but I know a bit of legends. While the water vessels have bad luck if one renames it, In Equestria, it is bad luck to sail upon an airship without naming the vessel in your own ceremony. Sometimes the name stays the same. For others, the name will be changed.” He paused as Jorund’s last words finally registered. “What do you mean it was intended for Equestria?”
“The crystal empire was the trickiest part of the Third Gryphon War. Its walls and its crystal technology made any invasion plans ineffective. According to the historians though, Celestia had asked them to develop a platform for deploying pegasi in a manner that is easier and safer than simple cloud barges. When the empire vanished, we pressed forward in secret and raided a facility that had somehow been overlooked. The core of the ship and the notes for certain designs were taken. Based on what our historians say, I imagine we were more lucky in finding it than anything else.”
“Well,” Pensword answered with a smirk, “it seems that the delivery will happen, just a thousand years later. So, anything I should know about this vessel? I’d rather not have any surprises onboard.”
“We’ve only been able recruit you a small team of engineers, and they’ll be on the first ship home as soon as you land in Equestria, so be prepared to take a lot of information in very quickly. You may want to try and divert some of your people to that.”
“I shall keep that in mind,” Pensword answered. “I look forward to learning and seeing what we have to work with. And do not worry; the techs will be sent home ASAP.”
“Sir, the room is secure,” one of the soldiers spoke to Grask. “The emperor has sealed the door, but if our reports are correct, they are without food or water.”
“Then they’ll die a coward’s death. The more the better. I would’ve preferred taking the little brat’s life myself, but I can settle for your father’s murderer, Khutal,” Grask said as he laid a supportive hand on the soldier’s shoulder. “His vengeance will be made sure soon.”
“Thank you, Uncle.” The gryphon lowered his beak. “I look forward to the glory of your co--” he was cut off as a scream echoed through the palace, a scream of such rage and pain that the fur on the back of the neck of every Gryphon stood rigid.
“What was that?” one gryphon asked.
“The sound of satisfaction,” Grask purred. “The murderer doubtless has passed, and now the hopelessness of their situation is finally setting in. We’ve won, gentlemen.” Grask laughed triumphantly.
Before anyone could say anything, the door groaned from a heavy blow. The runes covering it glowed brightly in protest before another blow struck. Green energy crackled through the air as the large stone door began opening, swinging ponderously on its hinges. Gryphons watched, dumbstruck, as one of the most powerful enchantments in the empire gave way. As the door widened, some gryphons swore they saw gusts of wind in the form of giant talons pushing against the crack, widening it. Worse yet, as the doors opened they found themselves staring into an abyss, the entire door frame blackened by a powerful miasma. The only light amongst the darkness were two glowing pinpricks and a set of sharp, pearly teeth. As the soldiers watched, the teeth moved, the eyes flashed, the creature spoke. The voice was clearly the avatar’s, but it was distorted, twisted into something that bit down to the soul like the coldest winter winds.
“Beware the jabberwock, my son! With jaws that bite,” the teeth snapped for emphasis. “and claws that catch.” Taloned hands appeared from the darkness and scraped back in with the shriek of the damned. “Beware the jubjub bird and shun the frumious bandersnatch.”
Grif stepped out of the darkness slowly at a measured pace as the winds whipped around him furiously, blackened gusts batting around within the vortex.
“You disappoint me, Grif,” Grask said, shaking his head sadly. “I thought we had an understanding. You know the old ways better than any other. The weak must fall to give rise to the strong. This Empire needs that strength, needs the change only a strong leader can bring. That only I can bring.”
“Pride cometh before a fall, and you will find by the end of it all, you’ll find no grave, no sleeping hole, for you have disgusted even my darkened soul.” The words cut Grask with each well aimed syllable. As he spoke, Grif undid the straps holding his remaining throwing blades in their holder. The daggers immediately fell, only to be snatched by the whirlwind, circling Grif like a school of locusts. Whatever Grask was talking to, it wasn’t fully Grif. It wasn’t fully the being he’d met in the monastery. This ... thing was something darker. Something wicked.
“Don’t just stand there! Shoot him!” Grask ordered as one of his soldiers moved forward with his bow and fired at Grif. A cold chill slowly crept down Grask’s back as his fur grew clammy under his armor.
“He took his vorpal sword in hand.” In what seemed like a single twitch of his talons, Grif had drawn one of his blades and cut the arrow into several long, sharp splinters that spun in the wind. “Long time the maxome foe he sought.” The splinters shot back towards the Gryphon who had fired the arrow, burying themselves into the muscle tissue at his joints so deeply that he dropped instantly, his arms and legs totally disabled. “So rested he by the tumtum tree.” The steel arrowhead floated above his left talon as he turned to the archer, almost playing with the deadly weapon before its point turned towards the immobilie creature and began to spin. Faster and faster it went, until the air shimmered around it with a deadly whirr. “And stood awhile in thought.” The arrow head shot from Grif’s talons, burying itself in the Gryphon’s throat. Shreds of blood and flesh spattered the warriors around the archer as the arrow finally struck the ground, sparks flying. The scent of burnt fur and feathers entered the troops’ nostrils before the angry whine died to a struggling whimper and was finally silent.
The gathered throng stared, gawking at the sheer ruthlessness of the act Grif had just performed. The scent of fear hung heavily in the air mixed with the stale, pungent odor of urine. Grask glared and raised his sword. “Unholy abomination, you who call upon the darkened gale. Thy life is cursed, thy title forfeit, and you will fall to our blades for the life you have unjustly taken. TO ARMS!” A hesitant murmur ran through the gathered warriors as some few made an effort to raise their weapons. “I said, to arms!” Grask said as he ran a sword through one of the less enthusiastic warriors gathered. “That thing isn’t the only one capable of killing. Now fight!”
Two blurs of motion darted to the rafters of the throne room, then dove, their plain steel helms reflecting the dark winds as their polished sheen dulled in the midst of the hatred that awaited them.
“And as in uffish thought he stood.” Grif neither turned nor acknowledged his attackers save to block their blades with no visible effort, using his one sword. Finally, he turned to them. “The jabberwock with eyes of flame came whiffling through the tulgey wood.” Grif parried several more strikes with seeming flicks of his hands, his speed and control vastly outmatching the two warriors. Finally, with a bored expression, he struck, cutting both throats with a single sweeping motion. “And burbled as it came.” The two Gryphons fell with twin burbles of their own as they grasped at their throats and thrashed on the floor until they bled out.
“You miserable piece of filth! You’ll pay for killing my servants!” The Kingfisher rose into the air, closely followed by Cornelius.
“Valerius, you fool, think! Close quarter combat will only lead to your death. Take this!” He tossed a war hammer to the Kingfisher as he took a halberd one of the troops below had thrown up to him. “Stay together. We have to guard one another.”
Grif looked at them with a grim smile as he reached behind him and grabbed Vigilance, drawing it with a deliberate slowness. The runes quite suddenly glowed a deep green, as if they, too, were reacting to his pain. “One,two! One,two! And through and through.” He chuckled, approaching them at a slow, measured pace, daring them to attack.
Cornelius attacked first, moving to pierce Grif’s defenses with a two-handed thrust. Grif responded by ducking low before moving forward with a blow to Cornelius’ exposed talon. Cornelius grinned through the pain as the deep sound of rushing air heralded the oncoming blow to Grif’s back.
In an instant, Valarius’ war hammer was deflected by the throwing knives still held in Grifs vortex as the force of wind compensated against the force of the overhand blow. “Impossible,” Valarius gasped.
Grif chuckled grimly. “Tsk tsk tsk,” was all he said while shaking his head as he buffeted valarius’ face with a wing before leaping over him and kicking him in the back.
Valarius roared and twisted, putting all the momentum he had into the hammer as he prepared to strike the Gryphon in his downward arc. This time, Grif blocked the hammer with his blades in a scissor motion. Catching the neck of the hammer, Grif managed to halt the momentum using a cushion of wind to support him. “The vorpal blade went snicker snack,” he said, pushing the blades and the hammer forward with all his power. The kingfisher visually sweat as the blades crossed either end of his neck. “Snicker-snack.” He closed the scissors…
Thunk went the hammer head, shorn from its neck.
Thunk. Valarius’ head followed as blood spurted from the decapitated body. Grif stood grimly as the blood showered around him, dispersed by the winds that surrounded him. He turned and slashed as the head of the halberd meant for his chest fell to the ground at his feet. Shrieking in rage, Cornelius plunged the remnants of the halberd toward Grif’s left side. The plates creaked and cracked before finally snapping under the halberd’s and Cornelius’ combined weight. The armor gave, shearing the makeshift spear as it plunged into Grif’s shoulder. Valarius cried out in triumph.
Roaring as the pain burned, Grif struck with a slash of his other arm. “He left it dead.” The line came in almost perfect symmetry as the blade passed through the space formerly occupied by the flesh of cornelius’ neck. “And with its head he went gallumping back.” Grif spat as the Gryphon, head and body, hit the ground. He turned to face Grask, even as he pulled the spear from his arm with a savage scream and tossed it aside, hitting the guard next to the would-be-emperor square in the chest. He lifted Vengeance as he took a step towards the source of his hate.
With the a steely hiss, the Gryphon who had given the report stepped forward, his expression grim as he wielded his set of twin scimitars. “Uncle, go,” he said grimly.
“And hast thou slain the jabberwock?” in an instant Grif was before this Gryphon, wrapping a talon around his shoulders, and for the first moment seemed to be embracing him. “Come to my arms my beamish boy.” Grask looked back as he ran to see his nephew’s body stiffen, then stumble back as Grif released him. All fifteen of the throwing blades were buried in his chest. “Oh frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! He chortles in his joy!” Grif let out a dark laugh as the morale broke and the forces began to flee for the doors. Grif turned to follow. He took a step forward.
And then he screamed as pain racked his form. The four stones of The Winds on the walls of the throne room glowed brightly with the tile beneath his feet and the light from the eyes of the throne, bathing the room in stars. The blackness rapidly dispersed. As quickly as it happened, it ended, and Grif fell to the floor unconscious. The doors to the throne room snapped shut and locked themselves. The echoing wail of the miasma lingered a moment longer, then it too was gone.
Daedalus stood over the unconscious form of the Avatar, shook his head, and shed silent tears as he sheathed Vigilence and Vengeance, then began to pull the heartbroken warrior back to the shelter. A few moments later, some members of the guard joined him and lifted the limp form together. Yet another went and gathered the daggers from their resting place, cleaning them before returning them to their belt and carrying it inside the alcove. The door slowly creaked shut, the wall sealed again, and the darkness welcomed them once more.
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And I think somehow Grif broke an unspoken rule with the winds...somehow.
Daddy, the boys are being mean again.
Boys. Come here.
Alice wants to Play.
And still Grask lives, and Grif is punished.
If the Gantrithor is based on the Habbakuk battle carrier, which has been rediscoverd a couple times over the years, then Hammerstrike built that outpost so it could be later found. That glow in the front of the ship, is Molnjir.
The Hammer.
Or given the Crysanthemum flower image. Its a Hellebore.
Kel,leam.
XH558
End Of Line.
Yay Cosy is the prince of war. May the winds carry u home Kel,leam.
6522204
I am happy to hear that you liked Cosy in this chapter.
I am happy you like Moon River as well.
Also thank you for the wonderful comments on the last chapter as well.
So, what do you think of Grif? and Pensword? I am just wondering on what your thoughts are of Kellem. If you don't mind me asking.
6520343
I see you caught the poem.
As for Habbakuk battle carrier. I am sorry you are off on that. This is nothing like the iceberg carrier.
I love the guesses you have made for what the front is. I hope you enjoy what we have planned for this.
6522224
To reguard Pensword I see a dedicated warrior who embodies dependability. As well as a level headed leader.
For Grif I see undying loyalty to his brothers and sisters in arms. I see a role model to inspire future generations.
To Kel,leam I see the soldier who gave his life so that so many could live. His sacrifice was monumentus in moral in the bad and good. He will never be forgotten.
I personally was in the army till a training accident forced me to be discharged. I feel I am more like Kel,leam in regards to these three.
6522249
First of all, Thank you for your service in the Army, may I ask what country?
I thank you for your comments.
I also can see you are enjoying Cosy and Moon River. I am happy and to be honest pleased to hear that you like these characters.
6522256
U.S. Army and I find Cosy and moon river to be awesome and adorable. To butt kicking kids they're going to take the military world by storm. I gotta tell u I actually started reading this fic 5 chapters in. Since then I've been following every chapter.
6522276
Wow, I am honored to hear how long you have been reading our story. I hope you have enjoyed the progression and development of the story.
Still, Thank you very much for all your comments.
6522284
Your story is a great read I look forward to the next chapter. Keep up the great all of you.
nice grif have become werry poverfull. allso cosy and moon river? that going to be a intresting copel XD
6522294
Thank you, and I think you will enjoy the next chapter.
6523460
Well I hope it has been a believable rise to power, and I am happy you like Cosy and Moon River.
May I ask what you like about them?
6525538 moon river need still an personality but we haftwo wait untill shes older but i like hers wild natsure. And cosy? I like hes smart for shus an yung age.
But for more Will haftwo wait untill they have met eye to eye and i would like to se pensword and moon shade? Face wen he confest to moon river XD
And last keep the great work upp guys!! And may the Night be whit you Night Striker out