Keeper of the Flame (4 page)

When they were finished with Miss’s wings, Tomlin took the empty trays and left. Hugh settled down in the bed after rearranging Miss’s wings comfortably folded along her back. She didn’t stir and he expected she’d sleep for several hours.

He fell asleep with one arm dangling off the bed, resting over the gryphlet’s back. She probably didn’t realize it, but he fed her a steady trickle of magic through the light touch, rebuilding her strength little by little. She’d been down to the dregs of her inner energy—starved magically, physically and most likely emotionally as well. Poor little mite.

In the bustling taproom, Tomlin reported to his father as instructed.

“The little miss is asleep. The sir’s name is Hugh and he fixed her up. He even let me help put oil on the shafts of her feathers after we got all the mud off.” Tomlin was proud of that. He’d always admired the gryphons that flew overhead, but had never been close enough to touch one. Not that they would let just anyone touch them. Tonight had been an honor he would always cherish.

“That was well done. The Lady will no doubt reward you for your service, my lad.” Tomlin could hear the pride in his father’s voice. “We have to get word to the palace, but this weather isn’t fit for man nor beast.” The innkeeper grimaced. “All sane folk are indoors and we’re busy enough. I need you here for now. I suppose the little miss can bide here a while. At least until the weather improves and I can spare you to run a message to the castle.”

Tomlin couldn’t believe his luck. The gryphlet would be staying and he might even get to help her again. He knew he was grinning, but his father was in an indulgent mood. A pat on the head and his father moved off to pour more ale for those weathering the storm in the common room of their humble inn.

It was two days before the weather cleared enough that Tomlin was able to run up to the palace to deliver his father’s message. Only hours later, a strange lady arrived at the inn.

In the two days since Hugh had become the caretaker of a misborn baby gryphon, she had become the centerpiece of the common room. She was too energetic after she woke that first day to stay in a small bedroom. With the innkeeper’s indulgence and Tomlin’s eager help, Hugh had escorted Miss into the common room before the morning meal, when few people were around.

She was shy of everyone at first and hid behind Hugh’s legs, rubbing up against him like the cat she was and tucking her wings close against her body and her tail down between her legs. He’d even felt her shivering in fright against him at first, but with Tomlin on one side and Hugh on the other, she’d finally settled into a nest Tomlin had prepared for her near the fire.

She had the best seat in the house, for during such foul weather, the seats near the giant fireplace were at a premium. Tomlin had to leave after a bit to fetch breakfast for them and to do his chores, but Miss had settled down at Hugh’s side. He’d foregone a chair at first, in favor of a spot on the floor where he could keep contact with the scared gryphlet.

He’d taught her the right way to approach a fire so as not to get singed and he covertly gave a bit of his natural healing energy to finish the repair to her injured paw. When Tomlin bounded over with breakfast, he sought Hugh’s permission to place the bowl of prime meat tidbits in front of Miss. Hugh checked the contents of the bowl before nodding. It wouldn’t do to let her gorge. The amount was about right to give her a good feed without causing more problems. Lady knew, the little miss—as Tomlin had taken to calling her—had already been through enough.

Miss dozed after eating. Warm and well fed, comfortable in front of the fire, she put her feline head down on her paws and fell almost instantly asleep.

Hugh rose from his spot on the floor and took a seat at the table only a foot away to eat his own breakfast. The innkeeper came over to chat with him and run his eye over the gryphlet.

“Tom says she looks better this morning. I’d have to agree.” The innkeeper nodded at the sleeping baby. “You’ve done a noble thing here, lad. And it’s clear you have a way with gryphons. Are there many where you come from?”

Now that was a fishing expedition if Hugh had ever heard one, but he was clearly an outlander here. It was only curiosity that led the man to ask such questions when Hugh had rescued a magical creature that few people knew how—or were permitted—to deal with.

“I have met only a few gryphons in my time, and those were not of this land. There is a pair now nesting in Draconia, where I hail from.” Hugh decided to stick with the truth. Draconia and Helios were supposed to be political allies. What better way to find out if that was true than by posing as a commoner from his own land. If the common folk of Helios had a problem with another commoner, it would be more likely to come out than if he appeared as a royal prince of the House of Draneth the Wise.

Statesmen would lie to a prince. It was unlikely a middle class barman would lie to someone he considered a social equal or, perhaps, inferior.

Hugh watched to see how the man would react. There was nothing in his outward demeanor to raise Hugh’s suspicions. The man merely nodded and moved on with his conversation.

“We have heard tales of strange gryphons appearing in Draconia. It was big news among our flocks for some time and the cause of much conjecture.”

Hugh wondered if they’d figured out that the wizard Gryffid was still alive and well on the island south of Draconia where he and his people had hidden from the ravages of time. That’s where some of the gryphons now in Draconia had come from. As well as the seer whose vision had sent him on this quest.

Shanya was one of Gryffid’s people, one of the thriving colony of Fair Folk who inhabited his island. She’d chosen to come to Draconia with a young emigrating gryphon pair and make her home there. She claimed a vision had led to the move and her gift had already proven valuable to the royal family of Draconia.

“They are amazing creatures,” Hugh answered noncommittally, glancing fondly at the sleeping gryphlet at his side.

“You’ve done well on her wings. Have you trained with gryphon caretakers in your land?”

“No. One of my father’s friends trained hunting falcons. I learned a bit of feather care from him when I was young.” At least that much was true. One of the knights in his training Lair had once been a falconer. Hugh had helped him a time or two. “It seems I remembered more than I thought, but if there’s ought I should be doing for her, please let me know. She seems happy enough now, though still very shy.”

“She’s probably been through a lot, but she is young. She will recover her spirit in time.” The barman rubbed his cloth over the table, wiping off an errant crumb. “My name is Hobson. My friends call me Hob.”

“I’m Hugh.” He held out his hand and Hob took it, exchanging a firm shake. “You said last night that you’d seen this before.” Hugh glanced back at the gryphlet, who shifted her head into a more comfortable position and appeared to still be dozing.

“Once. Rejected by the parents. Left out in the cold to die. It was a very sad thing indeed.” Hob’s expression was grim. “But not for such delicate ears as the little miss.” Hob nodded toward the gryphlet, who had awoken and was looking at Hob with fear in her eyes. “Hello, little miss.”

Miss pressed her head against Hugh’s thigh, her wings quivering the tiniest bit. Hugh reached down and stroked her back, sending a little tendril of his magic out to her, giving her that lifeline to which to cling as she learned her way in this unfamiliar world.

“Master Hobson is Tomlin’s sire,” Hugh explained. “He owns this place.”

Miss’s eyes widened as she looked up at the man across the table. “Hi,” she finally said, in a whisper.

That was the first greeting of many offered by the gryphlet under Hugh’s supervision. As the common room of the inn began to fill up for the midday meal, quite a few of the patrons came over to pay their respects and coo over Miss. Hugh was indulgent because he sensed no ill will from the people and he felt the leap in Miss’s confidence each time someone was kind to her.

He had no doubt she’d seen little kindness in her life to this point. Tomlin delivered lunch and stayed to play with Miss afterward. It was clear to Hugh that Miss was feeling more at ease with each passing minute and she truly liked the boy. It was obvious Tomlin was enthralled by the gryphlet as well.

The crowd thinned after the meal and Hob motioned for his son to stay where he was. Miss was getting more active and even ventured a few feet away from Hugh’s side when Tomlin produced a ball the two youngsters rolled back and forth.

Rolling turned to tossing before long as the two children worked off some of their seemingly boundless energy. At one point as they were tussling good-naturedly over the ball, Miss’s claws came out and nicked Tomlin’s arm, drawing blood. Both youngsters froze as Tomlin gasped in pain.

“Come here, Tom,” Hugh ordered quietly. “Let me look at that.”

Hugh pulsed a bit of his magic over the shallow wound before wiping away the blood with the sleeve of his black shirt. The wound was healed and would not fester. Miss was so young, Hugh hadn’t thought through the fact that she probably didn’t know much about her claws and the damage they could inflict on soft human skin. He called out to her and she came to his side.

“Will you give me your paw, sweetheart?” Hugh was as gentle as he could be with this timid little soul.

She held up her front paw, trustingly touching Hugh’s outstretched hand. He pressed gently on the soft pads of her toes, revealing the wickedly sharp instruments concealed there. He didn’t know how much she understood, so he decided to start out with the basics.

“These are your claws. See how sharp they are?” She nodded, taking his lesson very seriously if her expression was any indication. “They will grow longer and stronger as you grow older. They are your most basic tools and weapons.” He gave her the lesson that was given to baby dragons, altering it slightly to fit her form.

“Weaponsss?” she asked curiously.

“Yes.” His expression was as grave as hers. “Do you know the difference between good and bad? Right and wrong?” She nodded slowly and he decided to let that philosophical problem go for now. She seemed to have a basic grasp of the concepts after what she’d been through. “You are a good person,” he said firmly. He took every opportunity to reinforce her self-image. “Some aren’t so good. And sometimes they do bad things. That’s when good people step in and stop them. When you grow up, perhaps you’ll do that.” Hugh didn’t know exactly what kind of role the misborn gryphlet would have in this world, but he hoped for the best.

“I sstop bad tingss?” Her head tilted to the side as if considering the idea.

“Yes, dear one. When you are older and bigger. For now, you need to learn the use of the weapons that are part of your body. Tom here doesn’t have such weapons. See?” Hugh motioned for Tomlin to hold his hands out so Miss could inspect them. “Humans have fingernails and they can scratch, but they’re nothing like your claws. See the difference?”

“I ssee,” she agreed. He was gratified by her curiosity.

“And see how thin human skin is? A fingernail will make a scratch on the surface. Show her, Tom, if you would.” Hugh gestured to the boy and Tom scratched his own arm, showing her the red mark left behind. She looked closely, studying the mark on the boy’s arm. “If you used your claw on Tom’s arm, it would draw blood very easily. So you must be very careful to keep your claws in when you play with Tom or any other human, do you understand?”

“Yess. I careful.” She turned to look at Tomlin. “I ssowy, Tom.”

“It’s all right, Miss. It only hurt a bit and it’s better now. Don’t worry about it. Do you want to play some more?”

Hugh marveled at the resilience of youth. The two scampered off across the room with the ball and began playing again almost immediately. There were no repeats of the claw incident and Hugh noted with a bit of pride that Miss was much more careful of how she touched the boy.

By dinnertime, the common room was again full and Miss was doing better with the folk who came to greet her. She wasn’t as shy as she’d been that morning. Playing with Tom had worn off some of her energy and by the time she’d finished eating there was only time to give her fur a quick tongue bath before she curled up in a ball and fell asleep in front of the fire.

Hugh didn’t count the day wasted. Instead of going out to gather information, the local people came to him. Some were exactly the sort of people he’d had to find some excuse to talk to in the days prior. The gryphlet was enough of a conversation starter that it didn’t seem odd when he turned the conversation to local politics and rumors.

Hugh gathered more information in that single day spent sipping beer in the common room than he had in the week since his arrival. He sat in the common room until well after dinner, waiting only for Miss to stir a little before taking her back to the small room they would sleep in together for a second night.

She was able to walk out of the common room, but she was so sleepy, her steps wove almost drunkenly. As soon as they were out of sight of the other patrons, Hugh picked her up in his arms and carried her. It wouldn’t do to show off his unnatural strength in a room full of curious onlookers.

Someone had been in to clean his room, make the bed and freshen the little nest of blankets for Miss. The fire was already lit as well, and the room was toasty warm while the gale whistled outside past the shuttered windows.