Gryphon in Glory (Witch World (High Hallack Series)) by Andre Norton
Somehow I got Joisan down. There was no going farther. We were enough in the open so that we could not be attacked here without seeing the enemy well in advance of any rush. I was done out, and both mounts exhausted. The valley had a trickling stream, which flowed not too far away and there was grass growing. I laid Joisan down, to be supported by the pack which I rolled from its straps, making her as comfortable as I could.
Her face was pale, she lay limp under my hands. If she still slept, the rest was very deep. Unsaddled, the mare sought water, to dip muzzle deep into the stream beside the pony. I dropped down beside Joisan, took her beringed hand in both of mine, my own head nodded, in spite of the need I knew to be on guard.
I was too tired now to think of what lay ahead—save that the “rise of that mountain drew the heart out of me. That we should win up its stark sides with no supplies, no sustenance, in this grim land—no, that was beyond any power.
My head must have fallen forward . . .
Then . . .
The need—the burning .need—which seized upon me filled me so it drove out all I had clung to—that part of Kerovan who was a man—the part that reached to Joisan and a life he understood. I was—another. . .
Joisan
I AWOKE IN THE LIGHT OF DAY. ROUSING OUT OF CONFUSED DREAMS and fear. There had been a great darkness, and, veiled by it, evil had moved. Even faint memories of that made me shudder. The specter of the Lady Temphera might not have been potent, but worse had faced us in our flight up the road. That the Dark had not raised power enough to engulf us wholly puzzled me, for I did not see in what manner we could have withstood such an attack. I had once more used my will upon the globe and—
Now I raised my head to look about. I lay on the surface of the road, half supported by a small pack. There was no lingering stench of Thas here. Turning very slowly, for action was, I discovered, a great effort to which I had to bend all my will and energy, I saw that the heights of the cut no longer loomed over us. We must have somehow won through though I had no memory of the latter part of that flight. Before us now was the wall of a true mountain, its crest so wreathed by mist or clouds that one could not tell how high it reached into the sky.
The road ran straight into the first upward slope and then . . . At that point it was as cleanly cut as if some Power had moved the mountain here as an insurmountable barrier. There was only rock—cracked, stained—bearing signs. I believed, of having stood a heavy assault by some fierce force.
Directly before this stood Kerovan, his back to me, his arms hanging by his sides. His fingers continually wrapped into fists, only to loosen again. His body was taut, tense, as if he were half devoured by the need to gain what he wanted.
Somehow I got to my feet, took an unsteady step. My body was again as weak as if I had but crawled out of a bed wherein fever had sapped my strength. Yet, when I moved, there came a slow inflow of energy. Kerovan remained oblivious, as if only the mountain now mattered.
I staggered to where I could see his face. His features were grimly set in a mask of determination. Suddenly he drew his sword, took a quick step forward, and tried to force the tip of the blade into a crack that ran jaggedly down the stone.
When I looked more closely at the wall, in this full light, I could see that once there must have existed an opening there, which had been sealed by force, for the stone was fire darkened, and, in some places, looked as congealed as the lumps of metal scavengers brought out of the Waste. Though what could possibly melt rock?
He thrust fruitlessly at the crack, prying until his steel rang in warning and I half expected to see the blade break off short. With a gesture born of anger and frustration, Kerovan threw the sword from him, to clatter across the roadway, while he strode forward, to stand with his hands pressed palm flat on the rock, his head a little forward until his helm clashed against the mountain barrier.
I had half raised my hands. Then it caught at me. The gryphon—I clutched at it quickly—a protective talisman. Kerovan—could it be Kerovan who sent forth such waves of energy as left me trembling?
His shoulders tensed the stiffer. Outward spread that aura of power, now holding me where I was. I even believed that I saw a haze of light outline his body. My skin prickled and the short hairs about my forehead stirred of themselves. Between my hands the globe began to glow.
He was using his will—all the inner strength he could call upon, even as I had done. That backwash of force caught me, held me prisoner, immobile now, unable even to speak.
His body became slowly tenuous, as if solid flesh and bone thinned, was only a vessel holding something else. I found that sight so frightening I strove to close my eyes—yet I could do nothing else but watch that titanic battle; for battle it was—a man's strength pitted against ancient, immovable stone.
Thinner grew Kerovan's form, he was only a shadow of a man now. My own fear made me draw once more on what lay within me. If Kerovan was to vanish, then I must still seek him—he must not leave me so! I had thought, upon awakening, that my strength of will was exhausted. I discovered now that there are reserves within us all that are not known to exist unless some great task must be faced.
The globe—I had only that. I lifted it in both hands, held it above the level of Kerovan's hunched shoulders. If he must, for some reason, win through this rock, then I would do what I could to aid.
This time it was not the globe that took on life and fire—but the gryphon itself! I saw its small figure move and that was not just my fancy. The globe shattered—fragments as thin as powder shifted through my fingers. A prisoner long confined was at last free! Not only free, but growing. For a moment its weight rested between my palms. Then those wings fanned the air . . .
The gryphon trumpeted, voicing such a note of triumph and exultation that my heart leaped in answer. Then the creature spiraled up, beating wings against the air so long denied it. For the space of a breath or two it circled about our heads, always growing—first as large as a mountain eagle, then so huge that the very shadow of its outstretching wings shut out the sun.
Those red eyes were aglow with fierce fire, its hooked beak opened, and once more it sounded its cry. Having tried its wings, it wheeled, to fly straight at the barrier against which Kerovan, seemingly unaware of it, still labored uselessly to force an entrance.
I caught my breath. The great flying thing (it might have topped Kerovan had it alighted on the road) did not swerve, rather hurtled like a bolt at the wall. And—just as Kerovan had earlier appeared to grow tenuous, so now did the wall become smoke. Into that winged the gryphon, vanishing from sight. Behind, Kerovan stumbled ahead, as well he might when the solid barrier against which he had leaned was suddenly withdrawn. Able to move once again I threw myself after him, fearing that the two of them might be lost to me.
There followed a fear-filled sensation of deep dark and cold, of being hurtled through a space in which my kind had no life. I could not breathe, yet I willed myself on.
Then I was in another place. Those are the only words I can find to describe it—another place. For I will always believe that I went out of the world meant to nourish my people, entering into one so different, so answerable to other laws and customs that I was or would be forever lost. For, in my folly, I had gone unprepared and alone.
No, I was not alone. I saw Kerovan rise from his knees. He must have sprawled on his face as the barrier gave way. Ahead, fast vanishing into a misty cloud, the gryphon beat wide-stretching wings.
Kerovan stood, his face dull and lifeless, showing, I believed, the countenance of some man caught in a sorcerous dream. I knew I could not reach him, that if I screamed aloud, even beat upon his body, he would not hear or feel. He glanced from side to side, and I sensed that what he saw was not altogether strange to him. Now he strode on, following the gryphon, at the fast pace of one obeying a summons. I would not be left behind so I broke into a short run to keep up with him.
From time to time (I was afraid to take my eyes long from Kero
Those pillars were carved with lines of a long-forgotten tongue—if the language had ever been known in my own world (which I doubted). There was a cloud of mist hanging above us that drifted—as real clouds might—while ahead shone a core of stronger light, which T believed was Kerovan's goal.
He moved ever faster, until at last he ran. Gasping, I tried to keep up with him, but that fatigue with which I had awakened, the draining of the globe, slowed me. A sharp pain struck beneath my ribs, making me gasp and slow even more.
I was afraid. If Kerovan got beyond my sight I might lose him forever. Still there was no way I could break the spell that held him, of that I was sure.
On and on—that brighter light grew larger. I could see more details of the pillar carvings. Not that they meant anything, save that the message they must record was of greater import than I could know or guess. The Waste was a place of wonders, both of good and evil. Here, I knew, was a place of great Power—yet I could sense neither evil nor good. Was there a third way, neither of the Light nor Dark, that had laws of its own?
Then came a sound rising above the clatter of our boots, a crooning, a singing. From deep notes, which were akin to the rumble of drums, the song rose to the freedom of trumpets proclaiming victory—only to fall again.
The light flared brighter still. Had it risen so in answer to that song? I saw, in the heart of it, a dais from which a point projected in the direction from which we had come. On that platform rested a long case of some transparent substance. At the head of that the gryphon reared, its bird foreclaws resting upon the case, its beast hind paws firm set on the dais. The wings of silver white fanned the air gently, while from its beak issued that song.
Kerovan halted at the foot of the dais, stood swaying. One hand rose to his head as if he were so mazed he did not know where he was or what he did. The gryphon did not turn those glowing eyes on either of us. It held its own head high, still giving voice. I thought I heard a pleading note growing stronger in that song.
Slowly Kerovan stepped upon the dais, fell rather than leaned forward, so that both his outflung arms rested across the case as he knelt there, his head drooping between his arms. He remained as if he had come to the end of all striving, could make no further effort. The gryphon bent its crested head in turn, its cruelly pointed beak aimed—
I tried to cry out a warning, but there was a barrier in my throat, a sealing on my lips. Using my will as a lash upon my falling body. I staggered on toward Kerovan. If he could not defend himself against that rapacious beak, perhaps there was something I could do. Englobed, the gryphon had served me. Free . . .? I did not know—I could only hope.
Before I reached my lord's side I saw that it was not at his head or shoulders that beak was aimed. The winged creature now pecked determinedly at the covering of the box. As I came to lay hands on my lord, attempting to draw him out of danger, I saw what lay within and it froze me for a long moment.
Man? No! Monster? Again no. There was nothing evil about that sleeper, strangely shaped though his body might be. Here was the gryphon fused with what was partly man. But this encoffined one was far greater than both in his own way—yes, I knew that also.
I found myself on my knees. My hold on Kerovan's shoulders tightened so I was able to draw him a little toward me, away from where that great beak strove to break the surface of the sleeper's coffin. Thus we were clinging together when there was a crackle—lines of splintered transparency ran swiftly outward, even as earlier the globe had broken in my hands.
My lord tried to rise, half fell back against me, so I steadied him once more against my own body. Our eyes were not for each other now, rather for what was happening to the case. Those cracks grew wider. Fragments flew outward as the gryphon, seemingly heartened by its success, struck faster and deeper.
Then all the substance of that encoffining fell away, became powdery dust. Once more the gryphon reared above the sleeper and opened its beak. Only this time it did not sing, instead it gave a shout, perhaps an alarm.
The eyes of the sleeper opened. They shone red, as fiery as those of the bird-beast towering above. One hand was lifted from its grasp on a sword still resting on the stranger's breast. The beast bent its crested head and I saw the man's fingers move in a caress, scratching among the feathers as one gentles a favorite hound.
Now he, who had been so freed and awakened, looked around at my lord. After a long moment his eyes met mine in turn. There was awesome wisdom in those eyes, other emotions I did not know nor could I name—which no one of human birth might understand. I could not turn away, though I winced, for it seemed that this other invaded my mind, learned more from that single glance than any of my own kind could in a full lifetime.
Then he turned again to Kerovan as he drew himself up, the sword loosely held in one hand, the other arms resting across the gryphon's neck as the creature squatted closer, offering to lend him its support. With that wicked-looking beak it was smoothing its master's own feather-crested head.
There was no change in the blankness of Kerovan's expression, no sign of the fear and awe that were mingled in me. The gryphon-man leaned forward, laid the sword aside, set his hand, which was more like the taloned foot of a bird, under my lord's chin, raising his head, to peer more intently into those blind eyes.
Fear overcame awe in me. As I had earlier sought to protect Kerovan from the beak of the gryphon, so now did I fling out a hand to strike at that hold. Once more those fiery eyes swung on me. I sensed a feeling of surprise, a questioning—then again that mind invasion which I could not understand.
He reached back and picked up the sword with his other hand, to use it, as a Wisewoman uses her wand, drawing lazy smoke curls in the air. I was forced to my feet, pushed back. The gryphon uttered another sharp cry, bobbed its head in my direction. Its newly awakened master lowered the blade to point at my breast.
There came a weight, a force I could not withstand, urging me away from the dais, putting me against the nearest pillar. Then the sword point shifted, but I discovered that I could not move so much as a finger. The gryphon-man, having so disposed of me, gave Kerovan once more his full attention.
He stretched even as might a human awakening from a deep sleep. Though he wore no clothing his silver-white body was robed with power which flooded about him. I felt that I might easily become what Kerovan now appeared to be—a mindless servant.
Though I sensed no evil, I knew a growing anger that my lord had been so reduced to another's will—be that one of the great Old Ones or not. So I struggled within for my freedom—or if not, to project to Kerovan the knowledge that he was the equal of any—should he choose to be. My dear Lord Amber should not bow or serve . . .
The gryphon-man leaped lightly from the dais and approached me. If there was an expression on his alien face the strangeness of his features hid it from me.
There shot into my mind, burning enough that I might have cried out with the pain, speech—so strong that it was a shout in my head.
“Why do you fear for him so? Do blood-kin war?”
This was far more powerful mind-talk than the cats had used but having met with that I was ready.
“What have you done to him then? And who are you?” Old One or not, I would grant no courtesy as long as I saw Kerovan so.
“I do nothing with him, save lead him to his true heritage.”
The gryphon roared—such a sound as I would not have believed could rip from that bird beak. It reared on its hind paws, presented its talons as it might for defense. The beast was facing away from us, staring down an aisle beyond.
Its master whirled about, leaped back and caught at the sword. He gestured. Kerovan moved toward me, still a
The gryphon-man's arm moved like a flash of light through the air. With the point of the sword he drew a circle around the three of us—for I had found I could move forward again, in fact I was urged so. The circle glowed, flaring up from it a radiance through which we could see, yet it sent streamers far above our heads.
From the direction the gryphon had taken there appeared a whirl of dark shadow—advancing jerkily, as if it found difficulty in its path. It puffed forward, retreated, and then puffed again. Though we could no longer see the beast, which had gone to confront it. we could hear its continued roars of challenge.
I clutched at Kerovan. Under my feet the floor shifted. Near the shadow the pavement buckled upward, to let a black stream spew outward. The gryphon-man set his sword between his knees; both of his hands moved in a series of signs. Around us the haze wall thickened and blazed at the same time. Kerovan's arms came about me, his face was alive again.
There followed the sensation of being lifted by a whirlwind. I dared not look down lest I see nothing below. We were sealed in by the light, and now the gryphon-man laid one taloned hand on Kerovan's shoulder, the other on mine.
That light touch brought warmth, drove out my fear. No matter, however, if this stranger so sought to comfort me, what counted most was that my lord held me in his arms.
The streams of light whirled enough to make me giddy. I closed my eyes, but the sensation of flying was not lost. I no longer heard the gryphon's roars. Had the creature been overwhelmed? I hoped passionately that was not so.
“Telpher is in no danger.”
The stranger had reassured me then. Who was he? Then—we swooped downward with such speed that I held even more tightly to my lord, felt his grasp also stiffen.