kicked the box aside. It clattered on the marble floor to rest by the throne.
“You think this is it?” he screamed. “This toy of Urtho’s is supposed to kill me, gryphon?
The Emperor drew a glittering silver knife—and with both hands, drove it into his own chest.
His face wrenched into a maniacal grin and he locked his eyes on Skandranon’s. As blood streamed down his sumptuous clothing, the grin grew wider.
“You see, I know some things you don’t. I have won! I will live
The gryphon snapped himself awake from Ma’ar’s mesmerizing speech. Ma’ar withdrew the dagger from his chest; blood blossomed anew and dripped to the floor. Without saying anything else, the Emperor’s face went ashen, and he fixed his gaze of madness on Skandranon. With both hands, he held the dagger’s point to his throat, behind the chin—and in one swift movement, thrust the long dagger upward.
Skandranon was running toward the Gate before Ma’ar fell. Behind him, over the clatter of his own talons, he could hear the dagger’s pommel strike chips from the stone floor, muffled only by the sound of the body. The Black Gryphon hurtled to the Gate at full speed; Aubri was still wedged there, and if this didn’t work, they were both doomed.
He hit Aubri from behind with all of his weight.
With a scream of pain from two throats, they ripped through, leaving behind feathers and a little skin, and the Gate came down so quickly that it took off the end of Skan’s tail.
Kechara was already cuddling in Urtho’s lap, unable to understand why her Father looked so sick. Skan picked himself up off the floor and limped over to the mage, who looked up with his eyes full of tears.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered hoarsely. “What did you think you were doing? I meant you to
But before Skan could reply, he shook his head, carefully, as if any movement pained him. “Never mind. You are the salvation of everyone, you brave, vain gryphon. Everyone we saved will be safe for the rest of their lives. I have never been so proud of any creature in my life, and never felt so unworthy of you.”
Skan opened his beak, trying to say something wonderful, but all he could manage was a broken, “Father—I love you.”
Urtho raised one trembling hand, and Skan moved his head so that the mage could place it there.
“Son,” he said, very softly. “Son of all of the best things in me. I love you.”
Skan’s throat closed, as Urtho took his hand away, and he was unable to say anything more.
Kechara looked at them both with bewildered eyes. “Father?” she said timidly to Urtho.
“Father has to go away, Kechara,” Urtho said, gently. “Skan will be your Father for a while, do you understand? It may be for a long time, but Skan will be your Father, and when the bad men who hurt you are all gone, you can come join me.”
She nodded, clearly unhappy, but her one taste of the “bad men” had been enough. She gazed up at Urtho in supreme confidence that he could and would deal with the “bad men,” and nibbled his fingers in a caress.
Aubri limped over to both of them. “ ‘Scuse me, Urtho?” he asked humbly. “Can that Gate go somewhere else?”
Urtho closed his eyes, then opened them with visible effort.
“I can try,” he said.
Amberdrake thought that he was prepared for the inevitable, but when the great flash of light in the East turned night into full day for one long, horrible moment, he realized that he was not ready. He had accepted the loss of Skan, of Urtho, of everything he had known with his mind, but not his heart. The entire world turned inside out for a fraction of a heartbeat; as if he had crossed a Gate, the universe shook and trembled, his vision blurred—but there was no Gate, it was all in himself.
Then everything was normal again. The night sky returned, spangled with stars, but wreathed in the East with ever-expanding multi-colored rings of light, and a cool breeze brought the scents of crushed grass and
