Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (34 page)

He scoffed, and she brushed past him without a clue of where she was going. The rush of the waterfall grew louder in the few steps she was allowed to take before the general stopped her.

A sheet of ice crackled across the wall. It raced past and licked the floor in front of her, creating dark, frozen pools that stopped her in her tracks. The frost bent and split, growing to cover the entire hallway like a thin, frozen wall. Icicles dangled over the railing, frozen daggers that reminded her of Christmas and home and everything she was giving up for the yakona who made her life in Ourea so difficult. She glanced over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow.

The trail of ice stemmed from where Gurien rested his outstretched hand against the wall. He frowned and sighed, but it came out as more of a growl.

“I have a compromise, Vagabond, if you will just listen.”

Fifteen minutes later, she was wearing a child’s small gray traveling suit—the only outfit Gurien could find that fit her. Its simple bodice had only minute décor along the sleeves, and the suit was rimmed with a knee-length, blue satin skirt. However, and much to her liking, black pants were involved beneath it all. She glanced herself over in a mirror and grinned.

“I misjudged you, General.”

“At least you’re in a woman’s clothes,” he said, apparently still not entirely happy with the arrangement. She glared at him over her shoulder, but he didn’t apologize.

“Your people are different.” He shrugged. “I understand. But you aren’t with them. You are in a nation of a different sort. You must learn to respect the customs where you go or you will offend those you try to help.”

“We should get going,” she grumbled.

“You can’t expect us to conform to you. That’s not tolerance. It’s ego.”

“It goes both ways, General.”

He sighed. “Be careful what you say to Blood Ithone. He isn’t compromising.”

The hallway in this section of the palace had no waterfall or courtyard, but was instead wide and empty and open. Gray paneled walls lined with black wooden trim continued down the corridor and twisted out of view around a corner. Gurien, however, turned to the right and began down a set of silver stairs lined with blue carpet. Rows of feet appeared one after the other as she followed him, until a massive throne room came into view.

The room was filled with Kirelms, most of whom kept to the walls. Soldiers stood in a line at the foot of the stairwell, clearing a path for her that led to a set of three thrones at the far end of the room. A tall Kirelm wearing a thick silver crown sat in the center seat; Kara could only assume he was Blood Ithone. Aurora sat to his right, and an older woman, likely Kirelm’s Queen, sat to his left.

Disdain wrinkled Blood Ithone’s face. He looked her over and grimaced as she walked closer, unannounced. Kara examined the tile and windows as she walked, trying to decide if this was the room from her nightmare. It wasn’t.

Ithone rested his chin in his hand and watched her, waiting to speak until she stopped at the foot of his throne.

“Were better clothes not provided? I was not aware that you were a twelve-year-old about to take her first flight beyond the walls,” he said, looking her over while his audience laughed at his joke.

“A dress was provided, if that’s what you mean,” she said with a wry smile, catching his eye.

He smirked. “I will not lie to you, young lady. I am highly disappointed.”

“As am I,” she confessed.

The crowd hushed. He laughed, but the mirth was short-lived.

“How could a woman, brazen though you may be, unite warring kingdoms?”

“With all respect, I think your focus should be more on the Bloods and their ability to think about what’s best for their people.”

Another tense murmur bubbled through the crowd. She could see civilians and soldiers alike throwing glances at each other. Ithone hadn’t laughed this time.

“I’m sure you know this, Vagabond, but our kingdom has always been wary of your kind. Especially so of your master.”

The image of the blood-soaked Helen flashed in her mind, but she took a deep breath and clenched her fist to stay calm. He eyed her without blinking. She wanted to squirm, but held his gaze instead.

“Your master was a truly powerful man,” he continued. “In fact, it seems the more he spoke of peace, the stronger he himself grew. My ancestors found this to be an odd correlation. But though we were cautious, he still managed to steal from us.

“Not only did he steal Kirelms from the very bloodline which defined them, but he stole our most prized possession. You recall the griffin that brought you here? He is of a race of beasts even older than my people. When the Vagabond lived, there was a stallion unlike any other that was stolen from beneath our noses.”

The voice from her nightmare rang in her mind.
“You are a thief.”

Her body froze in a brief pang of terror. She shot her eyes left and right in what she hoped were subtle movements, but there was no exit. Soldiers lined every wall, and they’d even closed in behind her to block the stairs.

A thousand years ago, the Kirelm people had killed off the vagabonds. She was sure of that, now. They might have even killed the Vagabond himself. They still hated him. He’d insisted that she wouldn’t die today, but even the first Vagabond could be wrong.

She took a deep breath, held it, and let it slowly free. The only way out of this was convincing Ithone that she was on his side, so maybe she should’ve just worn that stupid dress. His voice boomed, pulling her from her thoughts to the throne room and its immediate danger.

“There are rumors that the first Vagabond sealed away our prized griffin in his book, as a pet.” He bellowed his next words as an order. “Show me the Grimoire!”

Her back was rigid and unyielding to her attempts to relax, but she did manage to stretch out her palms. She didn’t want to brush the pendant or betray where she kept the Grimoire, so she took another deep breath and focused on the image of her book instead. Ash appeared from the thin air, swirling and congealing in her palms as she summoned it. The Grimoire’s red cover bled from the dust, and its weight settled into her fingers. The crowd gasped, but their king was unimpressed.

“Show me our griffin,” he ordered.

Her heart skipped a beat, but his scowling face made it clear that he was serious. She looked down at the Grimoire and flipped open the cover.

“How do I bring out this griffin?” she asked too quietly for even her own ears to hear.

The pages flipped for several painful seconds, but they finally landed on the image of a griffin more regal than the one she’d ridden. The graceful curve in its neck continued to its beak, and it looked up at her from the drawing. There was no text to instruct her.

She traced the outline of its form. A rush of wind pummeled through her hair at the touch, stinging her ears and numbing her cheeks with its fury. White dust spiraled around her, pooling into a loose figure. The sharp curve of a beak appeared in the whirlwind, followed by a beady black eye. All at once, the rest of the dust blew away to reveal a griffin that peered over the silent yakona throng from where it towered above them.

It stomped its paw against the floor. The tile cracked. It inched toward Kara and lay down at her side, so tall that its head came to hers even when it was resting. The king laughed and stood, delight lighting his eyes.

“If you return our griffin to us, we will become your allies,” he said with excitement.

The griffin cawed sharply. The painful bark shattered a window behind Ithone’s throne and shook dust from the ceiling. The griffin turned to Aurora and shrieked again before lowering his head beneath Kara’s hand. She swallowed hard.

“I don’t think it wants to come back, Blood Ithone.”

The king didn’t answer. He clenched his fists and glared at the creature, stewing in his thoughts. He narrowed his eyes and fumed. Kara sighed.

“Majesty,” she said, her voice gentle. “Blood Carden killed the Queen of Hillside. His soldiers ambushed me on the way here. It’s safe to say that he at least knows the approximate locations of every kingdom. For whatever reason, he’s going after the Bloods. He’s after you. So don’t start peace talks because you get a griffin. Do it because it’s what’s best for your people, for your nation, and for yourself.”

Ithone leaned forward. “Have you spoken yet with the Kingdom of Losse?”

“Not yet.”

“Then I have a challenge for you. If Blood Frine agrees to these peace negotiations, I will consider them as well.”

He stood and left the throne room through a door on the rear wall of the platform. Aurora and the nameless woman followed him. The civilians dispersed.

What, was that it?

The griffin brushed the nape of her neck with its beak. It was smooth, like a river rock, but it pricked her skin with its sharp edges. She stroked its chin. It cooed.

“You’re not so big and scary, huh?” She smiled and scratched the cool feathers on its neck. The beast squawked and rapped her shoulder in what she hoped was a love tap. She bent beneath it, a sharp pain searing her shoulder. It was gentle, for a giant bird-lion, but it would most definitely leave a bruise.

Someone cleared his throat nearby, and she turned to see Gurien glaring down at her. She swallowed hard at the frustrated glint in his eye.

“Vagabond,” he said, “the Kirelm guard will lead you to the Rose Cliffs, but from there you will be on your own to find the Villing Caves. I’m sure with your vast knowledge of the Grimoire, you will be fine.” He glared at the book, and she wished it away as he continued. “Had we known you had your own griffin, though, we would not have tired one of ours with the journey here.”

He marched toward a set of doors that led to the brilliant day outside. She wanted to tell him that she had no idea about the griffin, but instead watched him leave and hoisted herself onto the creature with what she hoped was grace.

Once she was situated, the griffin stood and followed Gurien into the bright day outside without any need for guidance. She slouched and scrutinized her hands, unable to tell if the afternoon had been a victory or not.

She looked over her shoulder as they passed through the castle’s shadow and, in a lower window of the front-most tower, saw Aurora’s flawless silver face. The princess waved once, and Kara returned the gesture.

CHAPTER TWENTY

LESSONS

Wind blew over Braeden’s face as he flew toward the Rose Cliffs with the Kirelm guard on their way to return Kara. He pulled behind to let the other soldiers glide on a draft ahead of him, but they moved at a slow pace and beat their wings only hard enough to coast. None of them joked or laughed like they had in the sparring ring. They focused on the sky ahead, as if only what lay before them had any importance. Apparently, there was no fun while on duty.

He was torn. Kirelm as a kingdom had failed Kara by refusing to take her safely to the Villing Caves. If she’d been attacked on the way to the Rose Cliffs, it was inevitable that it would happen again. However, the truth was that he’d never had as much fun sparring with Gavin as he did in the Kirelm arena with complete strangers. He hadn’t even caught most of the soldiers’ names, and yet he’d been welcomed like a brother and friend from the moment they found him. They snickered and teased like a family. He’d even become a legend for his ability to take a hit in the ring.

“My friend,” a voice nearby said. “We must speak.”

He glanced to his left as a Kirelm soldier he didn’t recognize pulled just above him, flying with steady ease.

“You’re leaving us at the Rose Cliffs, is that right?” the Kirelm asked.

“I was going to drop off a few miles sooner, so I suppose you could say that.”

“It’s close enough. The general has an assignment for you.”

Uh-oh.
He took a shallow breath to keep his voice steady, but his mind raced at the thought of which pants-wearing vagabond it likely involved.

“What would that be?” he asked.

“Follow this new Vagabond. Stay out of sight if you can, since Blood Ithone didn’t tell us to help her, but see that she arrives at the Villing Caves. Send word once she’s been taken by the Lossians.” He slipped a smooth pebble into Braeden’s hand. The rock glowed blue at his touch, and a silver rune materialized in its center.