Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) (29 page)

“How did you get chosen, at all?” Kevon gaped, giving in to his curiosity.

“I sat and studied, on the bench above the cavern,” Rhysabeth-Dane explained. “The Aspirants were situated much closer… present, but trying not to interfere with the griffin. I would help take food and water down to them, every so often. It caught Brightwing’s attention.”

“You’re fitting in nicely with the locals, I’ll give you that,” Alanna teased.

“Not as much as some,” Rhysabeth-Dane admitted. “Broma-Dhug, the Stoneguard? He’s the new Fist at Cliffside Camp.”

“How did the rest of that go?” Kevon turned to listen closer.

“Ashera’s second in command is now Seacliff’s Claw. The previous Hand of the Meek has been restored to his position. Stonespire’s Fist…”

“We knew that was going to be the most difficult,” Kevon assured her.

“Rowyn’s rival from Fallenlake Camp. Ashera has not said much on the matter, but she is not pleased.”

“Where is Kylgren-Wode?” Alanna asked. “He’s usually not far from…”

“Teaching the Seacliff Striders to speak our tongue,” she grumbled. “Broma-Dhug was not learning Common quickly enough.”

“The training is nearly complete,” Ashera announced, entering the dining chamber, followed by the rest of the new Riders. “Two days, and we will move back to the camps. Your return was timely.”

“After the meal, we would speak with you alone,” Kevon met her questioning gaze without wavering.

“Double time!” Ashera barked, goading the young Riders through their meal, and back toward the rest chamber. “Now,” she turned and faced the five that remained. “What is so important?”

“Follow us.” Kevon stood and led the way back to the observation platform, where the two wrapped spheres lay on the stone bench next to Rhysabeth-Dane’s research.

“You know, as well as anyone, of the darkness that spreads across the realm,” Kevon paused, turning to address the Griffinsworn. “We’re combating it by destroying the portals that we’ve found, eradicating creatures of darkness when we encounter them.”

“A war we’ve been fighting for generations,” Ashera frowned. “Not for a belief, but for survival.”

“Your people are strong, skilled, and principled,” Kevon nodded. “They have shielded even their enemies from the blight of the chimaera, which makes you all the more fit for this task.”

“You burden us with yet another task?” Ashera’s hand shifted toward the knife at her belt.

“A glorious task, a dreadful responsibility,” Kevon nodded. “A terrifying reward.”

“Your riddles try my patience,” Ashera warned.

“My apologies,” Kevon offered. “This is something I trust no one else with. The elves are worthy, but lack your experience.”

“Huh,” Ashera’s eyes narrowed. “The only thing the elves are possibly less experienced at is riding griffin.”

Kevon unrolled one of the spheres, and held it out to Ashera. “Or dragons?”

“You gave her
what
?” Carlo turned, and lurched as a rock slid from underfoot, sailing off the narrow path and tumbling down to the sea far below.

“Easy,” Kevon cautioned, reaching out to steady his mentor. “No one else has the experience needed to manage this. They already have the power to conquer the lowlands, now that the darkness in their midst has been cleansed. They’ve never acted on it before. The elves trust them, and so do I.” He looked up and to the west at the clusters of Unbound circling in uncharacteristic formations for a moment, before continuing up the path.

“You bring dragons back into the world, and
give them…
”

“They were his to give,” Alanna interrupted, moving up behind Kevon. “I’m glad we’re rid of them. Keep walking.”

“Rider patrols report no chimaera groups between here and Seacliff Camp,” Jacek reported as the others made their way off the winding path, up through the narrow notch at the cliff edge. “We should be there well before the light fails.”

“The new Riders are taking shifts in the skies above us,” Anneliese glanced at a whirling speck high above. “Your dwarf seems to be enjoying herself.”

“The Griffinsworn will not disappoint you,” the Huntmistress added, jostling into Carlo as they began their walk. “They have never failed me.”

“I don’t disagree with his decision,” Carlo rumbled. “But I don’t answer to him.”

“If your Prince does not see the wisdom in this…” Anneliese trailed off, and shrugged.

I’m just glad that Ashera was here to hand this burden off to,
Kevon thought, leaning against the stone slab that flanked the path back down to the nesting grounds.
We have enemies enough without adding dragons into the mix. I’d lose Alanna for certain.

“Are you going to stay here, or coming with us?” Alanna stopped and turned to tease Kevon. “We don’t have all…”

Griffin-screeches and sudden wingbeats were broken up by the
thudding
of a dozen or more Unbound landing between Kevon and the others. The unbroken griffin milled around in a semicircle, surrounding Kevon. More Unbound landed every few seconds, and the circle tightened as they crowded in closer toward him.

“What the…” Kevon slipped back into the crevice that led to the path below, limiting the creatures’ access to him as they continued to close in. He stretched to catch a glimpse of the others, and saw Anneliese standing between the now two-score griffin and the rest of the group, motioning for them to remain calm.

‘Enough griffin to scour us from the face of the Highplain’
, Kevon recalled Ashera’s words.
More than enough here to account for all of us,
he sighed at the grim thought.

A dozen feet from where Kevon stood, the moving wall of Unbound griffin stopped, and a single battle-scarred male continued forward. He stalked to within a sword length of Kevon, and sat.

Kevon jumped at the sudden squawk in the waning clamor, as the sitting griffin screeched his displeasure. A wave of murmured hisses and chirps roiled through the milling audience, but faded to the dull rustling of feathers.

They’re waiting for something,
Kevon thought, pushing his words into an Illusion rune so that the others could hear.
If they wanted to hurt us, we’d be dead already.
He took a deep breath, and stepped forward to where the griffin waited.

As Kevon approached, the Unbound before him lowered its beak, shuffling its front claws forward, leaning until its head was waist high when the Warrior stopped at arm’s length. Kevon reached slowly, and scratched the griffin’s feathers above its beak, between the eyes. It hissed, a low steady exhalation, and stretched its neck forward. Kevon smiled and scratched harder, unable to think of another response.

The griffin’s beak clicked around the grip of the sword at Kevon’s side, and lifted it, starting to pull the blade from its sheath.

Kevon’s hand slipped instinctively to the hilt, and he finished drawing the weapon as the griffin released it. He took a step back, dropping into a defensive stance, blade held across his body, as the griffin before him spread its wings and began hissing loudly. The others surrounding them copied their elder, completely obscuring the rest of Kevon’s group from his sight. After a few seconds of the annoying, yet frightening noise, Kevon whipped the sword straight up, and let out a battlecry.

Every griffin within eyesight threw its head back, screeching to the heavens. Kevon could not help but think of the dragons that had called M’phes to her temple on the Plane of Wind. He half expected a portal to open, and see the creator hurtle through it to answer this summons.

Moments passed, and the front ranks of the surrounding Unbound began launching skyward. In the span of a few breaths, every griffin was gone, a dizzying vortex of tan and white spiraling up and away, their implied threat vanished.

Kevon lowered his gaze to the remaining griffin before him. He slowly sheathed his sword.

The elder griffin stood a few seconds longer, squawked, and launched himself after his fellows.

Kevon made his way over to where the others had stopped, glancing up at the slow spiral of Unbound that still whorled overhead.

“What in the world was that about?” Jacek asked as Kevon rejoined the group.

“I have a feeling it’s nothing from this world,” Kevon answered, resting his hand on the sword hilt at his side. “Let’s move. I doubt the Unbound will turn on us. If they do, there’s little we could do about it.”

“Well before the light fails?” Kevon asked Jacek, peering at the crimson skyline. “Seacliff Camp is still an hour away.”

“You can’t walk as fast when you spend half your time looking up,” the Court-Mage grumbled.

“We had no delays to combat chimaera,” Yusa offered. “Kevon’s pets made short work of them.”

“They’re not…” Kevon sighed, stopping to look up at the dozens of griffin that still circled above them. “I don’t know what they are, really.”

“They’re a gift,” Alanna laughed. “And a curse. Just like what I…”

Kevon followed Alanna’s gaze as she quieted and stared toward the southwest. A bright pinpoint of red winked out of existence, and she shook her head.

“I see so much more now, but I can’t always tell…”

“That was real,” Kevon interrupted. “I saw it. It looked like…”

Something tickled at the edge of Kevon’s awareness an instant before the light reappeared, no more than half a mile distant. The rune for Fire splashed into Kevon’s mind, solidifying and sharpening for a moment before dissolving, along with the distant light.

“Pholos…” Kevon felt the magic and the heat from the portal at the same time, hot on the back of his neck. A tug on his jacket, and he fell backwards into the inferno.

Chapter 46

Ash and steam clouded Kevon’s vision, the surrounding heat surpassing that of his frontier forge in a matter of moments.

“Quickly!” Pholos rasped. “They’re coming! They’re both coming!”

Kevon climbed to his feet, and wiped at his eyes. He sprinted after Pholos, along the rocky shore of a flaming lake, across a crumbling stone bridge that spanned a flow of molten stone that flowed into the lake. He could feel an oddly familiar sensation, something he’d felt only twice before in his life. It was as different from the other two as they had been from each other, but he could tell what it was immediately. He stopped, and turned toward where he felt it. “But it’s…”

“No time!” Pholos cried over the booming eruption of a nearby volcano. “We’ve all been betrayed! Hurry!”

Mindful of the differences of time between his world and the other Planes, Kevon rushed to where Pholos stood, deep in concentration. He opened his mind to his friend, and the magic flowed into the runes that opened the portal.

“Go!” Pholos shouted, shoving Kevon before him, leaping in after.

Kevon stumbled through the water to the shore of the stream, glad of the cool soaking after the heat of the previous few minutes. He moved to where Pholos had fallen on the shore, curled in on himself, sobs of suppressed pain convulsing through his body.

A sharp intake of air, and the Mage steadied himself, rolling to a seated position. “The cold burns worse than the fire,” A few breaths later, Pholos stood. “They’re not here yet. That’s good. There is still time.”

“Time for what?” Kevon asked. “You tear me away from our friends, bring me here? Where are we even…” Kevon glimpsed the two ships anchored off the shore to the northwest. “The beach. Camp is that way.”

“Wait,” Kevon stopped in mid-step, holding Pholos back at arm’s length. “Who is coming? We’ve been betrayed?”

“Holten.” Pholos’s breathing was almost calmed down, but his eyes belied his composure. “I haven’t found him, but I’ve felt him.
Over there
. I’ve felt the signal, between the worlds. Felt the thing that’s been hunting us both.”

“If that’s what I felt, I don’t think…” Kevon shook his head. “What signal?”

“Fires, in a pattern,” Pholos explained. “I’ve felt them off and on, gone to investigate. They were burnt out, abandoned, in random places. I thought. Then I found a campsite near one of them. Then another. It looked like your campsites. I couldn’t catch up on my own, even when I could tell which way you were going.”

“All right,” Kevon sighed. “Someone was signaling Holten?”

“From just out of sight of the camp.” Pholos pushed past Kevon to move up the hill before them, crouching as he neared the top.

“Martin,” Kevon whispered before his friend even came into view over the crest of the hill.

“I’ve been able to stay ahead of Holten, having more experience with the Plane of Fire. Crossing the ocean through it really slowed him down.” The reflections of Martin’s signal-fires shone in his eyes. “But he’s going to be here soon. And the other one. It’s never followed me through to here, but…”

“It can’t,” Kevon reassured him. “Let’s deal with Martin right away though. He stood, looking toward the fires.

“He’s gone!” Pholos cursed under his breath. “There! Nearly back to camp!”

“You could feel the signal-fires from the other side?” Kevon asked, stepping down the hill so that he could stand without being seen. “That’s where Holten should emerge, then?” he asked at Pholos’s nod.

“We’ll circle down by the shore, work our way toward camp,” Kevon decided. “Maybe we can draw Martin back out, discover what else he knows about Holten before he arrives.”

Without waiting for an answer, Kevon began the descent to the shoreline, peeking over the hill toward the camp every few steps.

“Kevon!” Pholos hissed, throwing himself at the hillside, inching up to peek back toward the signal fires. His normally raspy voice cracked more than usual. “It’s too late!”

Feeling the Fire magic build, Kevon fell to the ground. He crawled up near Pholos, peering over the top of the rise to where the portal had opened.

Holten appeared, a twisted and haggard version of his former self, but recognizable even at this distance. He reduced the size and glare of the portal with a gesture, but kept it open, and began gathering power from it.

Kevon watched in awe as the power built, ghostly flames playing over Holten’s flesh and clothes as the magic grew in strength. He watched for an opportunity to move against his former Master, to turn the spell against the now hellish figure only a stone’s throw from his hiding spot.