“Moving there, yes,” Rezen confirmed, trepidation clouding his response.
“When it is safe to do so, they should return to their families. Discuss as a clan how best to protect yourselves, and be willing to hear from others when the time comes.” Rezen gave Penryn a panicked look, and Penryn could well understand. He meant to stay with her, that much was obvious, but there was more family yet to protect, and she would gladly see him go to them rather than face the consequence of relation to her.
“Where will you go?” he asked Grimult, but continued to look only to his daughter.
“We need those trained in battle,” Grimult answered. “We need my fellow initiates more than we need sages and their orders.”
Rezen did not bother to deny it. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, perhaps trying to conjure argument, but his shoulders sagged, even as his wings continued to move to keep him in line. “I will tell those from the Mihr that their skills will be needed,” he confirmed, and rather than pull only his daughter in to an embrace, he simply opened both arms and leaned forward, clasping them both quickly against him, Penryn crushed between. “Be safe,” he murmured, a prayer and an entreaty, and Penryn thought she might cry again for the want of it.
“You as well, Papa,” she urged in return, brushing at her eyes as he withdrew.
Another whistle, Rezen’s head turning. “I should go,” he told them both, already beginning to drift further away from them.
Penryn was tired of this. Of meetings and partings, of endless tears and uncertainty for the future. This needed to end, and quickly. They needed a plan, needing some small measure of hope that there would be an outcome that was not as intolerable as all the ones that her mind was beginning to conjure.
With a few strong pulses of his wings, Rezen was too great a distance to speak to at all, and she was sorry for that as well.
When there was likely so much she should have said.
Grimult moved onward, not where they had come, but circling around, his eyes darting furiously to ensure that none were in pursuit of them. It did not surprise her, as doubtlessly none were allowed to settle too close to the keep’s walls. But it made her anxious, her own attention pulled to every bit of movement, usually an errant bird chirping madly at the foreign intrusion, some soaring high overhead, others diving back toward the trees as they sought the shelter of foliage for their protection.
“I do not disagree with you,” Penryn said at last, as the trees parted and open spaces filled their view. The earth itself was hard-packed and kept free of underbrush, what at first appeared to be mounds of cloth and sticks taking shape as they grew nearer. They vaguely resembled people in outstretching of wooden limbs, the heads circular in shape and clearly stuffed to give proportion to an otherwise lumpy body.
She could not guess their use, but they must serve some purpose for there to be so many of them stationed a good few paces between each one. “But the initiates were sent home when the Journey began, yes?”
Grimult gave a hum of confirmation. “Many, I am certain. Although a few lived close, so they will not be difficult to find.” He shook his head briefly, as if to some errant thought or doubt that he did not want to find purchase. “It is the instructors I want most. If we can turn them to our side, the rest will follow.”
She had gone to her instructors for help, and received censure instead. She did not know why his would be different, but for all their sakes, she hoped it would prove true.
They were no longer alone, others circling about. But their robes were not of crimson, blacks and dark greens bearing sigils she did not recognise as they came up to meet them. Her nerves were great but she trusted Grimult.
Just as he had trusted her.
She shoved the thought away. She was not to blame for the sages’ actions. Her father had been clear on that, and she would believe him.
He kept going, not landing as she had expected, but continuing on to a stilted dwelling. There was no movement from within the walls and he opened the door with confidence.
There were many beds lining the walls, and she blinked in recognition. He knew this place, had likely lived here. Curiosity urged her forward, but Grimult’s hand came out and grabbed hold of her wrist. “I need them to listen to me without distraction,” he informed her, and her brow furrowed in confusion. If he was asking her not to interject, she would mind her tongue. These were his people, as he had already mentioned. Before she could question him, he released a sigh, his hand slipping down to twine her fingers briefly with his. “I am asking to speak with them alone,” he said instead. “If you are present, it will dissolve merely into a recounting of my wrongdoings.” A breath, deep and already irritated. “And I do not have the patience for that this day.”
He was on edge, there was no denying that. There were hard lines about his mouth, and she could well remember the threat of harm he had inflicted on the guard, and doubtlessly would have seen it done.
She swallowed thickly and nodded her head, withdrawing into the dormitory. Grimult was allowed to return. She was not.
If the sages had not already come and told the instructors of their misdeeds, then he had time to tell them of what he witnessed.
“I will be here,” she assured him, for truly, there was no way down on her own.
He nodded, and squeezed her hand once more.
Before he flew down to the grounds below.
And waited for those circling overhead to land.
Her skin itched with the desire to be below, to hear all that was said and, she could
