Kings of the Sky

Monday, August 17th, 2009 | Tales

Mendrion and Siggorund evaded their strange pursuers only as long as it took them to reach the snowline of the north face of Gryphon Mountain and descend halfway down. During those days, the small men had continued to search for them on the lower slopes, unaware that the pair had slipped through the caverns and emerged away from them. Because the Seer and the warrior had left no trace, the searchers were forced to divide up into small bands and spread out.

They were just as noisy, though, giving the travelers notice of their presence.

Since the searchers were wandering aimlessly as they worked their way across the slopes, Mendrion and Siggorund hurried ahead of them in a wide circle. “I would like to know why they’re chasing us,” the Seer said to his silent companion. “But I don’t want to get close enough to them to ask. I may have to go without knowing and just remain curious.”

Siggorund stopped. When Mendrion halted as well and turned, the warrior pointed at Mendrion’s satchel, then crooked one finger. “The Claw?” Siggorund nodded. “But it doesn’t answer why questions. Only wheres and whats. Maybe whos, but I’m not sure.”

The warrior shrugged. He tensed as a familiar horn blast echoed through the trees. Siggorund put up a finger for a moment. He spun and climbed onto an outcropping of exposed rock that rose up from the slope. In seconds, he was flying down toward Mendrion, eyes wide.

“What…” Mendrion began, but Siggorund pushed him, and they began running.

Only moments passed before they plunged headlong into one of the very bands they were trying to avoid.

Everyone’s eyes bulged for a second or two. Then, as some of them raised their weapons, Siggorund yanked his sword free and laid about him. A few went down, unprepared for the warrior’s strength and quickness. The rest scattered.

“Siggorund!” Mendrion cried. “We need one alive!” His stomach churned at the sight of several small bodies motionless. This can’t be the way of things, he thought. Is Gryphon Mountain such a wild place as to merit this…?

One of the pursuers had fallen in his haste to escape, and Siggorund grasped his jacket. With the small man suspended two feet above the ground, the warrior brought him over to Mendrion. The small man struggled, kicked, and shouted. “Be quiet,” Mendrion said, his innards still tight and heavy. “We won’t hurt you if you answer my questions and then leave us be.” He looked at Siggorund. “Quick, let’s find a place we can talk without being found—at least for a little while.”

They found a stream and walked up the middle of it until they saw a thick stand of pine. They entered its shade, needles rustling under their feet. Siggorund set the man down and pinned him against one of the trunks. “Now,” Mendrion said, doing his best to sound firm and menacing, “what are you? What race?”

Their captive’s chest heaved as he puffed and wheezed. Siggorund had been carrying him, so Mendrion figured he must be afraid for his life rather than tired. “Calm down,” he said. “Tell us what we ask, and you’ll go free.”

“Niflung,” the man answered.

“What?”

“Niflung,” he repeated. “You asked what I am—I’m a niflung.”

“Related to dwarfs?”

The small man spat. Mendrion wiped the peripheral spray from his face and grimaced briefly. “Not if I can help it,” the niflung said.

He looked like he was going to spit again, but Mendrion held up a hand. “Save it. Now, why are you chasing us?”

“We’re being sent out. It wasn’t our idea. We really couldn’t care less about the Seers as long as they leave us alone.”

“Whose idea was it then?”

The niflung raised his eyebrows slowly as his frown deepened. “Korashal,” he said. “It’s Korashal.”

“Who is that?” Mendrion said, and he glanced at Siggorund. The warrior’s eyes had gone wide. “Siggorund, who is Korashal?” he asked before remembering that the warrior wouldn’t be able to answer. “Who is it?” he demanded of the niflung.

Siggorund looked behind him; the sounds of more niflung hunters reached Mendrion’s ears too. Their captive kicked the warrior in the shin and tore away from the resulting loosened grip. He dashed out of the stand, yelling, “In there! In the trees! They’re in there!”

The two companions raced out of the copse on the opposite side, heading back up the slope. Two bands of niflungs came after them, shouting and whooping. Mendrion’s eyes locked on a massive figure that lunged forward from one of the groups and lumbered toward him. His mind flashed to a swaying bridge and crazed laughing. This wasn’t Durgul; this one was larger and less civilized looking, if that was possible.

Mendrion and Siggorund lurched up the slope to escape. They were no match for the troll’s speed. It closed quickly, horned head tossing and spit spraying from its bellowing maw. Mendrion could only guess what they had done to it to drive it berserk. He fell back.

The troll was nearly upon them when a shadow passed over. An even larger form crashed down onto the maddened creature. Mendrion scrambled to a safer distance, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the ensuing battle. The troll’s challenger leaped back. An eagle’s head stood erect above the powerful shoulders of a lion, feathered wings unfurled to lend an illusion of size. The gryphon needed no aid in this area, however, for Siggorund would have had to stand on Mendrion’s shoulders to reach its back.

Its madness driving it to senselessness, the troll unstrapped a gnarled club from its back. With the weapon gripped in both hands, it charged the gryphon. The gryphon leaped and bounded first to one side and then the other. Its fierce gaze fixed on its opponent without wavering. When one swing threw the troll off balance, the gryphon barreled into it, throwing it to the ground.

The gryphon was on the troll instantly, taking a hold with its claws. With a powerful spring, it launched into the air, briefly keeping its grip, and then letting go. The brute rolled like a boulder down the slope toward the niflung bands. The sight of the large body tumbling in their direction was enough to startle them out of their stupor, and they leaped to either side. A number of them came up with arrows nocked to bows and aimed at the gryphon. Mendrion feared a volley of arrows was capable of taking down even a gryphon.

Before the first shaft could be loosed, a second gryphon swooped down along the line of warriors. Its paws swiped at the niflungs, scattering them. The arrows hissed in various directions, harmless.

Both gryphons attacked, but Mendrion could tell they were holding back. The niflungs and the troll broke and fled back into the trees.

Breathless, Mendrion watched as the gryphons waited and then turned. They strode up the slope toward him. Knowing they could catch up effortlessly should he run, and sensing that they meant him no harm, he faced them. The first was nearly white over its entire body, both fur and feathers. The hooked beak was nearly black. The second bore a color like that of a lion’s coat, and Mendrion found stripes in its fur just a shade darker than the rest, so subtle that he nearly missed the difference.

They stopped when they towered over him. Their golden eyes rested on him for several moments. The Seer thought he should say something, but he couldn’t decide what. Finally, the gryphons dipped their heads toward him. Then they heaved their bodies into the air, wings pumping to lift them upward until they disappeared over a shoulder of the mountain.

Mendrion and Siggorund watched them until they were gone. Then Siggorund grinned and grasped Mendrion’s shoulder. The other hand gestured forward, down the slope. Mendrion nodded, glanced once more skyward. Then he and Siggorund were hurrying down the mountainside once more, taking advantage of the flight of their pursuers. Gryphons and the Seer of Gryphon Mountain had met at last; and as the former had made an opening for the latter, Mendrion hastened forward on his journey across the mountain, hopeful that the wonderful creatures would ever be nearby. They were truly kings of the sky and of Gryphon Mountain itself.

This tale is #7 in “The Coming of the Seer,” the story of how Mendrion becomes Seer of Gryphon Mountain. Read the beginning of the story, “The Seer of Gryphon Mountain.” The next tale is “A Hidden Sword.”

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