Crossroads and Other Tales of Valdemar

Except it was not a shadow against light.

It was light, and everything else was shadow compared to it.

Treyvan stepped back, one step. Two. The figure in the center rose up onto its hindfeet. It was Kelvren, but he was radiating light like nothing Treyvan had ever seen before. His body color wisped away, replaced by a glow from inside the feather shafts themselves. The edges of every feather gleamed and rippled in a yellow-white radiance, like the edge of burning paper. His eyes more than glowed—they shone outward in tapered rays of light, wherever he looked.

Kelvren raised a hindfoot, then the other, and stepped up into the air. Calmly, he shone there, suspended off the ground, watching everyone.

And with a single wingbeat, the gryphon of light shot up into the air as a streak, and was gone. He went up higher, until he was a bright speck in the sky amidst the stars.

No one could say a word.

The mote of light descended a minute later.

It shone even brighter than before, and swept over the encampment, making shadows shift as if a new sun was lighting the night up. Kelvren’s flight was effortless.

He backwinged once, and with the lightest of touches, settled atop the mill with his wings spread wide, and regarded everyone below.

Hallock, Pena, Ammari, Whitebird, Rivenstone and Jeft staggered, stunned, to Treyvan’s side. “What—just happened?” Ammari asked.

“I have no idea,” Treyvan admitted.

“Just look at him,” Whitebird gasped. “He’s beautiful.”

“That’s the damndest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hallock said.

“He looks just like that tapestry back at White Gryphon,” Rivenstone gasped.

“That’s my gryphon,” Jeft said.

The gryphon of light stayed atop the mill for ten minutes, then he sprang up from the mill’s roof and dove to alight in front of the crowd, banking in to brake and hang in midair without a single wingbeat. His eyes swept them, one by one, and murmurs of astonishment came from nearly everyone.

Kelvren spoke.

“I have become—sssomething morrre than I wasss beforrre—but my hearrrt and allegiancssesss arrre unchanged. Ssso hearrr me,” his voice boomed. “I know what I mussst do. The forcssesss at Deedun know little of magic. Theirrr sssoldierrrsss arrre mossst likely bewilderrred by magic; and by now, they know what a sssingle grrryphon can do. I believe they will rrressspond to what they can sssee, and by that, even the sssimplessst of magic is made magnitudesss ssstrrrongerrr. He who isss afrrraid isss half beaten.” He lifted his from the ground and fanned his wings as he rose, suspended in midair. “I will ssstrrrike, and I will ssshed no blood. And I do it in the name of the Guarrrd, the Herrraldsss, and the Crrrown. Forrr all of you. Forrr all of usss. Forrr Valdemarrr!”

The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts.

The light from Kelvren’s eyes flared brighter, and swept over to Treyvan. “You underrrssstand,” he said, his voice seeming distant. Kelvren gazed upon the rest, where they’d gathered with the convalescents. The illumination surrounded them all, sharpening the shadows. “My frrriends—I will neverrr forrrget you.”

And with those last words, Kelvren rose, did a wing-over, dove down from four winglengths up and slammed his claws down to the ground. The earth trembled, and loose earth momentarily heaved up to knee height. The resulting crater ignited into a white, scintillating brightness. When Kelvren leaped into the sky, the sunlike glow stayed. Then with several massive wingbeats, the gryphon powered away from the crowd, driving up debris and dust, and with each downstroke his brilliant wings surged brighter. Below him, a jagged incandescent line two wings’-width wide crackled up from the shimmering focal point, and split away from its origin. The shimmering swath on the ground directly followed his flightpath. He swept through his skies, leading the line of sunfire from the Changecircle, through the camp, to the great Trade Road. He followed the Trade Road precisely, and the brilliance followed him on the ground. With each wingbeat Kelvren absorbed more magical power from the air, and the swath trailed him as light, following every twist. He coursed faster with each wingbeat than any gryphon he had ever known of. He flew for hours, tracing the Trade Road below, leaving a trail of light all the way to Deedun.

And it did not fade.

Mercenaries and militia alike looked up in astonishment, uncertainty, or stark terror at the figure that shot past them by the time an arrow could be nocked.

Candlemarks passed, and the path of coruscating light etched into the road still did not fade.

Only when he reached Deedun did Kelvren backwing and hover in midair in front of the tallest of the High Keep’s towers. He stared at it, and concentrated.

The citizens of Deedun saw, line by line, the crest of Valdemar, three stories high, burn itself into the wall of the keep’s tower, and blaze like daylight across the city.

And like the wide line of light the length of the Trade Road, it too, did not fade.