The beak had opened; it seemed as large as a cave.
'Grrr,' Treyvan had said.
Darkwind had turned into a small whirlwind of rapidly pumping arms and legs, heading for the safe-haven of the Vale, and certain, with the surety of a terrified eight-year-old, that he was not going to make it.
Somehow he had; somehow he escaped being pounced on and eaten whole. He had burst into the ekele, babbling of monsters, hundreds, thousands of them, in the ruins. Since he had never been known to lie, his mother and father had set up the alarm, and a small army of fighters and mages had descended on a very surprised---and slightly contrite-pair of gryphons.
Fortunately for all concerned, gryphons were on the list of 'friendly, though we have never seen one' creatures all Tayledras learned of some time in their teens. Treyvan apologized, and explained that he and Hydona were an advance party, intending to discover if these lands were safe to live and breed in. They offered their help in guarding k'sheyna in return for the use of the ruins as a nesting ground. The Elders had readily agreed; help as large and formidable as the gryphons was never to be disdained. A bargain was struck, and the party returned home.
But all Darkwind knew was that he was huddling in his parent's ekele, his knife clutched in his hand, waiting to find out if the monsters were descending on his home.
Until his parents returned: unbattered, unbloody, perfectly calm.
And when he'd demanded to know what had happened, his father had ruffled his hair, chuckled, and said, 'I think you have a new friend-and he wants to apologize for frightening you.' Treyvan had apologized, and that had begun the happiest period of his life; when everything was magical and wondrous, and he had a pair of gryphons to play with.
He hadn't realized it at the time, but it hadn't entirely been play.
Treyvan and Hydona had taught him a great deal of what he knew about scouting and fighting, playing 'monster' for him as they later would for their fledglings, teaching him all about dangers he had not yet seen and how to meet them.
Now he knew, though he had not then, that they had chosen the ruins deliberately, for the magic-sources that lay below them. Magic energies were beneficial for gryphon nestlings, giving them an early source of power, for gryphons were mages, too. A different kind of mage than the Tayledras, or other humans; they were instinctive mages, 'earth-mages,' Hydona said, using the powers about them deftly and subtly for defense and in their mating flights, for without a specific spell, a mating would not be fertile.
That was what Treyvan had meant by 'you will know;' when he and Hydona flew to mate for their second clutch, any mage nearby would know very well that a spell with sexual potency was being woven.
The last time they'd risen, he'd been fourteen, and just discovering the wonders of Girls. Fortunately he had been alone, and there had been no Girls within reach...The offspring of that mating were six or seven years old now, fledged, but not flying yet, and still sub-adult.
Pretty little things, he thought to himself, with a chuckle, though the term 'little' was relative. They were bigger and stronger than he was.
At fourteen he'd already acquired Vree, and the appearance of the gryphlets hadn't appalled him the way it might have. Vree had looked much scrawnier and-well-awful, right out of the egg. Lytha and Jerven were born alive, and with a reasonable set of fluff-feathers and fur-and Treyvan hadn't let him see them until their second or third day, when their eyes were open and they didn't look quite so unfinished.
The gryphons' nest was very like an ekele, but on the ground, presumably to keep the flightless gryphlets from breaking their necks. The pair had created quite an impressive shelter from stone blocks, cleverly woven vegetation, and carefully fitted logs.
As Darkwind neared it, he realized that it was bigger than it had been; it wasn't until he got close enough to measure it by eye that the difference was apparent. From without it looked almost like a tent made of stone and thatch, with a roof quite thick enough to keep out any kind of weather; it looked very much as if the gryphons had dismantled and rebuilt it, keeping the same shape with an increase in size.
He glanced in the door as Treyvan turned, a look of proprietary pride on his expressive face. Obviously he was waiting for a compliment. Inside, there were three chambers now, instead of the two Darkwind remembered; the fledglings', the adults', and a barren one, which would probably be the new nursery. The other two were basically large nests, piled deep with fragrant grasses that the pair had gathered down on the Plain, and changed periodically.
Treyvan's neck curved gracefully, and he faced his human friend eye to golden eye. 'Well?' he demanded. 'Whaaat do you think?'
'I think it's magnificent,' Darkwind replied warmly-which was all he had time for, as the gryphlets heard and recognized his voice, and came tumbling out of their chamber in a ball of squealing fur-and feathers.
Darkwind was their favorite playmate-or plaything, sometimes he wasn't entirely certain which. But he'd used Treyvan and his mate the same way as a child, so turnabout only seemed fair.
