Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

if they could help—everyone seemed to know who the creature was, or at least what he’d done. Jeft followed along, looking worried each time the gryphon slipped or groaned. When they passed one of the corrals, several horses pressed in closer to see what this curiosity was. “Why aren’t they terrified?” one of the soldiers wondered. “He’s a huge predator, shouldn’t they be bolting?”

“We do not . . . ssscarrre mossst crrreaturrresss . . . unlesss we intend to. It isss . . . a peculiarrrity of usss,” Kelvren wheezed. His exhaustion was showing, and he stopped to rest.

“You have a lot of those,” Hallock teased. “Hoy, look. That dapple gray, that’s Dughan, my mount when my forehead got redecorated.”

Kel made an effort to look over, but still his head hung low.

Hallock tried to keep the gryphon’s mood light. “I’m ordering that you be fed well. Some of the men were suggesting we make up a fake squad, to allocate the food for you. It’s an idea with some merit—but I think I carry enough weight now to have you cared for outright.” He spoke instructions to a runner and then sent her on her way ahead of them. When they arrived near the convalescents’ tent Hallock had visited earlier, the sorting barrels had been pushed to the back and several cots had been folded and pushed aside. Nearly everyone was awake, and every eye was wide. Enlisted men spread out a canvas tarpaulin on the cleared space, and the squad gingerly guided the gryphon in. Kel all but collapsed on the spot, and sprawled sideways onto his good—or rather, less injured—side, panting. An unhappy private, nearly pinned by the gryphon’s fall, crawled out from under that side’s wing.

“Healer Birce will be here soon,” Hallock reassured Kelvren, knelt down beside him. “Devon, too, on his usual rounds. They’ll fix up those plasters for you when they check everyone else.” He waved over a folding stool and set it in front of Kel’s beak, patting the canvas. “Here . . . a place for your head.” He grunted, and lifted Kel’s head to rest flatly upon it.

After a candlemark of reassuring talk and gawkers coming to see the beast that saved the captain, the Healers arrived to tend to all the self-named “gimps.” In the hours that passed, a couple of dozen soldiers asked the captain if they could touch Kelvren, and after the first one scratched at his brow ridges for half an hour, Kel consented to all.

The cloud cover broke and Treyvan and Pena found themselves in searing sunlight. They’d made a short Gating to shorten their flight time, but then found themselves with a strong tailwind and Treyvan calculated it’d be quicker to fly directly for as long as that lasted. Despite the desperate circumstances, Treyvan found himself feeling good about it. He hadn’t been on a truly long flight since the return to Haven from the Plains. Now feeling the sun on his back, the magic tingling through his feathers, watching the terrain roll on below, he exulted in the glory of flight.

:Pena,: he Mindspoke. :You don’t need a rest soon, do you? I have good thermals ahead.:

:Oh, no, you go on ahead. I’m thinking about new tunnels around the Collegium and the embassies, and where to tap a new hotspring. And where to set in a new baking oven.: Treyvan felt the hertasi pat his back. :An idle mind is my workshop. But, Treyvan, aren’t we due to make another Gate attempt?:

:Soon,: he replied. :If I recall my maps right, we should be in range of a clean Gating within the candlemark. I’ll try to anchor high up to correct for any targeting drift. We can fly the difference from there. I’ll find us a good landmark by the main road, mark it with a lasting mage-light, and send word to Whitebird by teleson. We’ll set an arrival time. When she gets there, I’ll try another Gate to bring her in to where the gryphon is.:

:Aren’t you the clever one!: Pena chuckled in his mind.

:Just trying to keep up with you,: Treyvan answered, and laughed out loud as he soared higher.

Kelvren dozed off and on, as best his wounds would let him. The humans were given drugged drinks to reduce their pain, but Birce was not willing to risk mixing such stuff with a gryphon’s unknown anatomy. It was very hard to get good rest when parts of your body were simply screaming at you and throbbed with every breath. Still—the attention, the full belly, and the company gave him new strength. When he was able to, he answered questions and shared scores of stories about his exploits and his people with dozens of eager listeners. He related the story of Hallock’s Healing, but felt a pang of wistfulness when Hallock’s wife Genni was brought up, because Kelvren was acutely aware he had no mate to go back to should he survive this. And by this age, he should.

The night swallowed up the sky, and he lost all track of time between naps. Most of the rest of the convalescents were asleep, their night dosages in full effect. He raised his head, looking up to the starry sky, seeded by sparks from the camp’s fires. He whimpered softly.

This wasn’t what Skandranon was like—he would never have been laid up with such injuries, wasting away. And they have to be looking for me—Darien and Firesong and the others; they must be able to send me help or bring me back. I know that great legends usually involve great funerals—but I don’t want to die.

“Sir? Y’there, sir? You awake?” He heard Jeft’s voice at his side and turned an eye that way without lifting his head. “Oh, good, you’re awake. Sir, I, uh, my mum wanted to see you. I fetched her here.” The young man waved someone in. A woman in trews and blouse carrying a large basket knelt beside him, and licked her lips.

“My lord gryphon,” she said in a voice gentled down as if talking to a scared child, “Jeft’s talked so much about you, I wanted to see you myself. You—” and she glanced at where Jeft stood back by Kel’s flank, “—you’ve treated him well, better than most people ever have. I—wanted you to know it is appreciated. He’s never really had many friends, and even then they didn’t consider him an equal. But then here you are, this—wonder dropped into our lives—and you talk to him as a person. Not as a servant. You’ve done us a great honor.”

Kel listened to every word and raised his chin up then laid his head sideways. “The honorrr isss mine, Lady. . . .”

“Ammari. Not a Lady, though, my lord gryphon. I am just a seamstress and artisan.” She looked down at her hands when she said this. There was something in her tone that was deeply sad for a moment.

“Hurrrh. Jeft isss a brrrave—” and he paused, “I won’t sssay ‘boy.’ But he isss brrrave. Sssmarrrt.” He brought his head up and shifted his weight from his sideways slouch, which sent lightning shots through his body from each stitch and scab deep into him. “Urrrh. Ssso. Welcome to my palacsse.”

Ammari pulled back the cloth cover from the basket, and hesitantly pulled out a scrub brush. “Jeft said that —that you didn’t look—uhm, that you needed some cleaning up. And he knew you were in pain. When he gets hurt, he comes to me, so he thought if you were in pain—I should come to find you.” She asked, apprehensively, “You won’t bite me if I do this badly, will you?”

Kel smiled but took his time to answer. “Haven’t the ssstrrrength to bite, Ammarrri. You have no fearrrsss frrrom me. But. You arrre herrre forrr morrre than tending to my filth.” He glanced back to where Jeft was pinching and toying with the tattered feathertip of one of his primaries. “And it isss not jussst about him, isss it?”

Ammari swallowed and nodded to Kel. “It’s—about both of us. I’ve never been like this before—I feel so lost. My husband—” She caught Kel’s eye. He nodded. “You know, then? Jeft must have told you. I’ve been alone with Jeft all this time, and we work so hard, but—when all of this happened, it just—it’s just been too much for us. I’ve been trying to find work here at the camp—honorable work, I mean. But it’s so hard.” She reached out to Kelvren’s face, but let her touch fall instead along his neck. His hackles looked black in the dim light. Flakes of dirt crumbled away off of feathers. “I’m sorry—words don’t come easily about this. I feel selfish being here, when you’re so badly hurt. But, with what happened—you’re magic. And—magic does bad and good in this life, and you—you’re good magic. Everyone talks about what you could do. What you did do. I don’t know where else to turn, and Jeft thinks so much of you.” Ammari pulled her hand back and wiped her eyes, where tears had welled up. “I just—is there any work I could do for you—is there anything you can do to help us?”

Kelvren let out a long, descending sigh and rested his head again. “Sssoldierrrsss have been coming herrre all day. My flessh issss brrroken, but my earrrsss arrre sssharrrp. They come to sssee the oddity—the thing that sssaved sssome of them. Sssome come in, want to touch featherrrsss orrr talonsss. They want to have sssome luck rrrub off on them. Hurrrh. Foolisssh—they want luck frrrom sssomeone who had all of thisss happen to him?” He snorted.

“Lord gryphon, any of those injuries would have killed a man. You survived how many? A dozen? Two? Cut, shot, stabbed, lanced through, even? And still you can speak? Even walk?”