Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Hallock squeezed a few of the neck feathers, each wider than his spread hand. “I’m here, Kelvren. And believe me, there are many here who admire you for what you’ve done for me.” Hallock saw that where the gryphon’s feathers had been cut away in clumps along his side and flanks, bandages had fallen away and seeping wounds glistened. “You have wounds coming open again, Kel, we need to get you out of here. You look like you are in terrible pain.”

Kel held him there for a few more heartbeats, then patted the man’s back before pulling back to meet eyes again. “A good meal helpsss, and the good will of otherrrsss. And ssseeing you, my good frrriend. What would Genni think of thisss day, mmm?” The gryphon shifted his weight, flinched, and let the wing he was trying to move lay where it was. “I do hurrrt, yesss. And I need a placsse to ssstay. And to get clean.”

The gryphon lowered his head to the table, and let its weight rest on the curve of his beak while he kept his eyes closed. He sagged a little more with each breath. Hallock held out his hand and rubbed the gryphon’s mud-crusted brow ridge. “I know somewhere you can stay, my friend. We’ll take you there.”

Kelvren lifted his head and looked sidelong at Hallock, with a slight grin. “You know what I sssaid beforrre. Pain sharrred isss . . . pain halved. I sharrred half of my pain with the mayorrr . . . and I feel much betterrr now.”

Hallock gathered up a squad and they helped Kelvren trudge from the mess tent through the cantonment, a pair under each wing and one at each shoulder. Soldiers came out from almost every tent and watched the slow progression. Some came over to ask if they could help—everyone seemed to know who the creature was, or at least what he’d done. Jeft followed along, looking worried each time the gryphon slipped or groaned. When they passed one of the corrals, several horses pressed in closer to see what this curiosity was. “Why aren’t they terrified?” one of the soldiers wondered. “He’s a huge predator, shouldn’t they be bolting?”

“We do not . . . ssscarrre mossst crrreaturrresss . . . unlesss we intend to. It isss . . . a peculiarrrity of usss,” Kelvren wheezed. His exhaustion was showing, and he stopped to rest.

“You have a lot of those,” Hallock teased. “Hoy, look. That dapple gray, that’s Dughan, my mount when my forehead got redecorated.”

Kel made an effort to look over, but still his head hung low.

Hallock tried to keep the gryphon’s mood light. “I’m ordering that you be fed well. Some of the men were suggesting we make up a fake squad, to allocate the food for you. It’s an idea with some merit—but I think I carry enough weight now to have you cared for outright.” He spoke instructions to a runner and then sent her on her way ahead of them. When they arrived near the convalescents’ tent Hallock had visited earlier, the sorting barrels had been pushed to the back and several cots had been folded and pushed aside. Nearly everyone was awake, and every eye was wide. Enlisted men spread out a canvas tarpaulin on the cleared space, and the squad gingerly guided the gryphon in. Kel all but collapsed on the spot, and sprawled sideways onto his good—or rather, less injured—side, panting. An unhappy private, nearly pinned by the gryphon’s fall, crawled out from under that side’s wing.

“Healer Birce will be here soon,” Hallock reassured Kelvren, knelt down beside him. “Devon, too, on his usual rounds. They’ll fix up those plasters for you when they check everyone else.” He waved over a folding stool and set it in front of Kel’s beak, patting the canvas. “Here . . . a place for your head.” He grunted, and lifted Kel’s head to rest flatly upon it.

After a candlemark of reassuring talk and gawkers coming to see the beast that saved the captain, the Healers arrived to tend to all the self-named “gimps.” In the hours that passed, a couple of dozen soldiers asked the captain if they could touch Kelvren, and after the first one scratched at his brow ridges for half an hour, Kel consented to all.

The cloud cover broke and Treyvan and Pena found themselves in searing sunlight. They’d made a short Gating to shorten their flight time, but then found themselves with a strong tailwind and Treyvan calculated it’d be quicker to fly directly for as long as that lasted. Despite the desperate circumstances, Treyvan found himself feeling good about it. He hadn’t been on a truly long flight since the return to Haven from the Plains. Now feeling the sun on his back, the magic tingling through his feathers, watching the terrain roll on below, he exulted in the glory of flight.

:Pena,: he Mindspoke. :You don’t need a rest soon, do you? I have good thermals ahead.: