Alliances

Samar appeared in full regalia, down to spurs and a gilt-edged mantle. Behind him six warriors worked to guide a balky male griffon toward the circle. A smear of dried blood stained the animal’s leg.

“Come forth, the first pair to be bonded!”

Chathendor stepped aside to allow Samar to pass. The griffon smelled Hytanthas nearby and charged directly toward him, almost trampling Porthios in the process. To his credit, Porthios stood his ground. The warriors caught the griffon’s bonds and dragged him to a halt. The beast settled a bit, and the elves withdrew. Chathendor closed the circle again. Samar stood as near as he dared to the unruly griffon.

“In the name of E’li and Astarin, Matheri and Quenesti Pah, and by the grace of the Blue Phoenix, we join this warrior to this steed!” The words were punctuated by a fresh glare of silent lightning. Everyone but Porthios looked up. Even Ironhead lifted his beak to the startling display.

“Let it be done!”

Porthios put the bowl to Samar’s lips. Samar sipped, eyes clenched against the incredibly bitter taste of the potion. Then, as Porthios bade him, Samar turned and slit the griffon’s muzzle strap with his knife.

This was the most dangerous part of the rite. Griffons had been known to pluck the eye from a springing mountain lion. A slash of that cruel beak, and Samar would die.

Lightning flashed again. Ironhead screeched to the heavens. Seizing the opportunity, Porthios dipped a hand into the cup and flung droplets of potion into the gaping maw.

The beak snapped shut and the creature froze for an instant. Then he lunged for Porthios, ready to rend him limb from limb. Porthios darted backward, plainly shaken, and Chathendor quit the circle altogether.

“It didn’t work!” Kerian cried, giving voice to the anguish on every face.

“It must!” Porthios made a fist. “The ritual was flawless!”

Samar was backing away from Ironhead. In seconds the griffon would likely slice its bonds with its beak and wreak havoc on its tormentors, or fly away and be lost forever.

Porthios felt someone draw the stone bowl from his hand. Alhana stood so close, he could feel her breath against his mask as she whispered, “You are royal, husband, but… much changed. I prayed you would succeed. But I am a daughter of Speakers, and I know this ritual too. You must allow me to try.”

It was plain Porthios loathed the truth of her words, but he was indeed “much changed.” He relinquished the bowl.

“Do you remember my words?”

“I remember everything.”

Wind whipped over the plateau, tearing at Alhana’s cape. Lowering her head against the gust, she advanced to the circle’s edge. Samar and Chathendor both pleaded with her to keep back. Black hair swirling around her head like an onyx corona, Alhana commanded Samar to resume his place. He did so with alacrity.

Awkward on hobbled legs, but determined nonetheless; Ironhead came at Samar. Alhana commanded the griffon to halt. Its aquiline head turned, and the beast advanced on her instead.

Alhana tilted her face to the roiling clouds and repeated the pronouncement word for word.

Once again, lightning flared. Ironhead didn’t salute it with a cry. He hissed at the intrepid queen.

As had Porthios before her, Alhana dipped her fingers in the potion and flung droplets into the beast’s mouth. In the uncertain light, it was difficult to follow their flight, but the change in the griffon’s manner was abrupt and amazing. It ceased stalking Alhana, stood immobile for a handful of seconds, then bent its forelegs, lowering its head to the ground. The proud Golden griffon was bowing to the Queen of Silvanesti.

Samar went to Ironhead but still hesitated to touch the griffon. The sound of Alhana’s laughter startled him and everyone else present.

“Don’t be afraid, Samar! He accepts you!” she cried. Despite the laughter, her eyes swam with tears.

Samar put a hand on Ironhead’s shoulder. The griffon did accept his touch, and it was Samar’s turn to laugh. He cut the creature’s remaining bonds. Wings and feet free, Ironhead stood by his newly-made rider, head held high.

A joyous shout went up. Alhana turned a radiant face to Kerian. “Oh, I had forgotten! It has been so long since I heard them.” Alhana touched her temple with one hand. “I had forgotten how wonderful it is!”

The Lioness showed her own jubilation by slapping Hytanthas’s shoulder so hard, the young warrior staggered.

Only Porthios did not join the celebration. He stood silent and dazed, his arms hanging at his sides.

Frantic cries interrupted the moment of Alhana’s triumph.

Elves from the camp came streaming toward those gathered at the sacred circle. “Look up!” they yelled. “Look in the sky!”

Those who’d witnessed the bonding became aware of new sounds: the clash of arms, the shouts of elves, and the screams of horses. They looked up.