I ducked instinctively, fearing that the wyverns had returned, but I was brought to my feet by the screams of nearby townsfolk. We were quick to locate the source, arcing our heads back as we followed the crowd's pointed fingers. The figure surfed the silver sky, hidden in the cloud cover before heading into open air. Its wings were feathered, and its large hind legs trailed awkwardly behind as it took a sharp, downward trajectory.
I whispered my praise when I was certain it was no wind drake—I had many run-ins with griffins, and they were far preferable to the scaled alternative. Arrow pointed at the horrible hybrid, I knocked my bow and waited for the time to strike. It soared like a comet, hurtling towards the village at terminal speed, but just before it hit the ground, it fanned its great wings, slowing its fall and near-leveling the surrounding houses from the force of the wind.
After a quick recovery, I retrained my sights on one of its wings, hoping to steal its flight with one well-placed shot. It was perched atop a home whose thatch roof caved in from the weight of the animal, now squawking and harassing the frantic civilians who passed beneath. I let off a breath and let fly the arrow, and an instant later, a blinding flash and a clap of thunder caused me to drop to my knees in agony. Lightning had speared the air in my arrow's wake, but it wasn't my doing.
"Damn," the swear slid off her tongue. "Just right of it."
I raised my hunched head when the lightning dissipated, the smell of static clinging to the air in the seconds following the bang, and an electric strand still arced between her fingertips. When I looked again for the griffin, it had wisely fled into the cloudy sea, somehow safer from lightning there than on the ground—safer from arrows too. With still-red eyes, I muttered angrily as I untied the horse's lead again.
“A word of warning next time?”
“Sorry, Kaiser. I’ll give you a shout next time so you don’t piss yourself.”
“Wonderful,” I scoffed, fixing my bow. One angry yank of the reins sent us back on our way.
We galloped to the high tune of brisk wind as we exited the village and followed the path leading west into the mountains. The first stretch was simple enough to follow without the map we’d been granted; the snow was paved with fresh footprints, and there was only one route that didn’t lead us to free fall. Up a ways further, the wagon wheel tracks turned off, and the white that covered the ground was still pristine.
"According to the map, we just need to go left at the fork and keep on from there," Cordella advised as we went. When I didn't give her affirmation, she prodded my shoulder with a pointed finger. "Kaiser?"
"Okay."
“Alright. And not much breathing room up this way, so keep light on the reins and it should be smooth sailing, god willing.” Another tentative poke. “Did you get that?”
“I got it.”
“Is everything alright? You aren’t having second guesses again, are you?”
“They never really stopped the first time, but no, I’m alright.”
“Sorry if I’m being a bother, you just seemed in higher spirits before we left.”
“I told you I’m fine.”
My lingering irritation must have lent an edge to my response because she brought it to question soon after. "You’re mad at me."
"I'm not mad, I just wish you would tell me before you go slinging lightning from your hands."
"So that's what it is, you're irked I took the first shot. Well, I'm nothing if not charitable, so I suppose I could give you the next one if it makes you feel better."
I didn't much appreciate her belittling. "I'd feel better if you didn't miss. I was a second away from pinning it."
"Oh, sure. Then when that didn't work, you would have given me a go?"
"After it did work, there would have been one less griffin tormenting Chenglei. You don't need flash to be effective."
My phrasing gave her pause. "Flash?"
"Do you need an example? You were closer to melting that golem than killing it."
"You'd rather I stand aside and let you kill yourself?"
"I could ask you the same thing. The way you throw away ether, I don't—"
The sentiment fell short, but she must have known where it was headed because her next retort came slower than the last. "What was that?" The words were torn from my throat by the swift change in demeanor, her mocking tone now deathly serious. "Go on. As I seem to recall, this isn't the first time you've stopped me from using magic. There must be a reason."
"I just don't want to see you hurt," I squeaked.
"Is that it? Are you sure you're trying to defend me and not your ego? Because I don't need your—" She caught her tongue before the last of the steam left it. She was right though. Her rebuttal sent me reeling, but I couldn't say that it was unwarranted given my choice of words. My wanting to keep her out of combat was more a result of my pride than it was preservation, and I hadn't considered how insulting it was to reject her help. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."
"No, you’re right. I shouldn't have insinuated that you needed protecting. You're plenty capable."
"I understand your worry, but it's unwarranted; I'm no apprentice, nor am I a child. I said before that we can't always afford to waste time, and if I see that my magic can expedite things, I'll use it without restraint. You can't forbid me."
I had no argument and expelled a final breath through clenched teeth. "I won't. Just promise me you won't be overzealous. I think I'll lose my hearing if you keep at it like that."
Her heated exasperation quickly cooled into complacency. "I'll be safe. Would you expect any less of me?"
Were she not sitting behind me, she would've seen the cynical look on my face. It pained me to admit when I was wrong, especially when it was so clear in hindsight. More than whatever menaced the mines, this is what worried me: not that we were too weak to hold our own, but that we were too strong not to. We were so used to our own company that when it came down to it, how were we to function as a team? We'd done nothing but push and pull each other down since we joined parties. Even now, we were as good as strangers.
As we continued the climb, there was a subtle but steady shift as we increased in altitude. A shrill ringing filled my ears, while a gelid breath numbed my lungs. The passage forward became steep, and we knew that we'd have to carry out the last leg of the trek on foot or else risk our mount's well-being.
When the curvature grew too sharp and the ice too slick to get a foothold, I slowed us to a stop and slid onto my feet with a jolt. "It won't be long, pal," I said softly, stroking the animal's mane. Cordella likewise dropped from his back and supplied a thick, knit blanket. We wouldn't want to return to a glacier where our horse stood. Conditions were harsh up here, but he was tied up underneath a dense enough tree to stop any snowfall that may come in our absence. Thankfully, we didn't have much further to travel on our own, and the path was marked with signs to prevent the miners from getting lost if, by chance, the weather grew dire.
It was hard going, battling the breeze that fought to restrain us, and the mountain moaned as if begging for us to turn back. We continued—deaf to its pleading and blind to the signs it waved before our faces. We had made it only a short way up when a familiar sound echoed off the rocky terrain. I cautioned Cordella and took a knee, scanning the air for the griffin. As I expected, it stalked us since our first encounter, dwelling in the clouds and waiting to strike once it was advantageous. This time, however, when it glided from the snow-capped spire, we were well prepared.
Its hulking back legs were the first things to contact the ground, its wings shaking off the frost before they folded. What a miserable creature they were—an ugly amalgam of lion and eagle—a limbo somewhere between the two but not entirely either. The muscular legs and large paws of its hindquarters were unsuspecting, but past its torso was a coat of mixed fur and feathers, both of which tapered around its twisted front talons. Worst of all was the head of the raptor, juxtaposed with the powerful feline form. In classic lore, these animals were touted for their grace and strength when, in reality, they looked the product of a child's twisted imagination.
Without hesitating, I grabbed my bow and flung an arrow, doing little to tune my aim. My ruse had the desired effect, pushing the griffin onto its heels and thus allowing us time to act. "This one is all yours!" I assured.
She returned a dire look. "While I appreciate the newfound confidence, I wouldn't mind a hand."
I grinned as I exchanged my bow for my long sword. This time, when the air grew warm, I didn't stop her. I needed to show her that I saw her as an equal, and the only way to do so was to let her fight alongside me. Meanwhile, the vulturous beast was watching intently from afar, head askew. When we refused to make the first move, it growled its impatience and took to its leonine legs, the ground thundering beneath its gait.
It was quick, but Cordella was ready; she struck preemptively, releasing a stream of fire and coating its body in the warping plasma. Its dry feather shot up in flame, but all it took was a great beat of its wings to simultaneously snuff the fire and send the griffin soaring overhead.
Unlike trow, griffins were notoriously clever, capable of both lasting rancor and the quick thinking needed to bring down their prey. It circled above us like an insect around its disturbed hive, bobbing in and out of the shroud. Cordella had her hands together again, a sharp focus drilled into her countenance that shattered when the beast lunged with its vicious talons.
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"Gah! I need you to buy me time! Keep it off of me and I should be able to ground it."
Understood. I sneered and placed my palm on the weapon, forming an ember between my skin and the metal. In a rush, like sparks to tinder, it took to the surface, and my own flame roared to life. It erupted like a ten-foot torch from the end of my grip, and that was exactly how I chose to wield it. Now, when the griffin dove, I could keep it at bay with a fiery arc.
The avian head squawked and cawed as a stray foot caught in the flame and fur-lined legs kicked briefly against the wind. Now that I’d become the immediate threat, its head snapped to me, staying level as it gained altitude and centered over top of me. Then, at its apex, it tipped over and tucked its legs.
“Cordella?” I asked nervously as it picked up speed, spreading its paws wider through its descent. When she gestured from the corner of my field of vision, I ducked to spectate.
Her palms were overlaid and facing outward, and her arms began to shake at her elbows. In a slow, controlled motion, she slid them apart and released an aqueous deluge. Like a beam, the torrent shot into the sky and hit the monster square, seizing its ability to bend the wind to its will. It thrashed against the water, fanning its drenched wings to slow its fall, but ultimately, it was moving too quickly. It hurtled like a meteor back down to earth, striking its crust with startling force.
I stifled a grin. I might have been hesitant to employ her destructive methods, but I had to admit: that was damn impressive. She had dropped the beast in one decisive blow, making the intrusion no more than an inconvenience. "You don't waste time," I told her. She was smug, no doubt thinking up a clever, cutting remark when a pained sound interrupted our celebration.
I crept onto the scene, wincing as I entered the shallow crater; it wasn’t pretty. The virgin white had been desecrated and decorated with scarlet spray. I’d heard that cats landed on their feet, but it seemed that didn’t apply to the unholy union. Its legs were splayed, and the hollow bones of its forelimbs were visible through its abrasions.
“Oh god,” she could barely get out before turning her head.
As I approached the struggling mass of feathers, my blade remained at my side, though not for protection. Its paltry squawks were a sure sign of defeat were the sight not enough. It had only just survived the collapse, clinging to life despite the severity of its wounds. I positioned the blazing brand over the beast's rising belly. The battle may have been over, but I was a gracious victor, ready to deliver mercy’s final blow when I caught Cordella’s glance.
I froze. She averted her gaze but was unable to hide her pained grimace. The disgust in her cheeks made my blood run cold, and when I returned my attention to the griffin, all of my strength was usurped by the sickly feeling in my stomach. Its eyes—they locked onto mine the same as hers, sending a rippling pang of guilt along my chest and weakening my grip. To leave the creature in its agony was a deed more monstrous than putting it there, but suddenly, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to see it through.
Do it, I urged myself, trying my regain control of the wavering weapon. I’d done this countless times, so what stopped me now?
"Kaiser," spoke another voice, more softly than the internal one.
My eyes clamped tight as I drove the steel through the chest, one last cry and the hiss of the red-hot blade telling me I'd struck true. When they opened, they met the now lifeless stare of a slain beast. The blood spat and boiled as I pulled the instrument from the wound, turning a gruesome sable while it forever seared the brand. A stinking cloud of steam filled the breeze as I cooled the blade in the snow bank. Then, not wanting to dwell there for longer than I had to, I stowed the knife and fled the scene, my accomplice falling into my wake.
Climbing onwards still, the temperature sunk like a stone in a pool. Reflecting our somber moods, the gray sky heavied and filled with delicate flakes that dusted the tops our heads. Whether for warmth or solace, Cordella cradled an ember between her hands, a warm breath used to keep its tiny heart humming as we go. Doleful were our faces, and our eyes downcast. I wasn’t sure why we mourned—the beast was far from the first to fall to the cruel device on my waist, yet I felt something different this time than usual. It wasn’t the griffin, but the way she looked at me, watched on in horror as I ended the feud that made me keenly aware of how vile it was.
It was apparent now, and while it stung my eyes, I still thought it confounding. I fled Abdera with hands soaked in man’s blood, but I hadn’t felt it then; there wasn’t the slightest tinge of regret to tell me I'd done wrong, but putting an animal out of its misery had me convinced the devil walked the earth in my shoes. I suppose I took pity on it, hunted for no mistake other than living. Funny how our emotions were bound to a moment's rationale.
My sentiments were cast to the wind when outside words clanged against the walls of my introspective barricade.
"I'm sorry you had to do that Kaiser. I meant for it to die from the fall."
"That wasn't your fault. You did wonderfully. I couldn't have done any better myself."
“Still, it had to be difficult. To look it in the eyes before you...”
“Trust me, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I had no reason to struggle but just—froze," I breathed. "I've been fighting these dastards all my life. It shouldn't have meant anything to me, but I could barely keep it steady."
"So what? Is it wrong to hesitate? I think anyone would."
“But that’s never stopped me, not even when it came to that guard, so why should it be difficult now?"
"And why shouldn't it be?" She griped. "You're telling me you'd rather be desensitized? That's preferable to feeling a shred of compassion? If you think that holding onto your humanity would make me think less of you, then you're just being silly."
Her words were warm despite the coldness of the lips that spoke them. They didn't prick at my ethics. Rather, they kept me from jabbing at them myself.
My cheeks warmed a little as a brittle smile hoisted itself onto my lips. How surreal—I thought in the moment—to hear two voices instead of one. This was the first in a long time, if not the first time at all that I could confide in another soul. There was comfort in it, but also another, less describable feeling in my gut. It wasn’t familiar to me.
“I’m sorry.”
“What? Why are you sorry?”
“I have a way of worrying about stupid things, and I’m not used to someone listening. This is all new to me.”
“Oh, you’ll get sick of it before long, but it does have its perks. Better than wrangling with it yourself, anyhow. You can trust I’ll never hesitate to give you my honest thoughts.”
“You certainly haven’t so far,” I laughed, and she smirked back.
“And right now, I’m thinking you should quit if you know what’s good for you.”
I laughed again, but this time at the absurdity of our situation. What a pair we made. Here, we advanced to what may well be our final destination, and we’ve both a stride that’s been broken and repaired. As it turned out, in both life and death, that griffin had contributed to the growth of our unlikely partnership, and in knowing this, I was content.
From then on, we carried an air of levity against the burdensome breeze, though only until it became too thin. Our breath was rasp, robbed by the pinnacle and the view from atop it. I could see everything from the ridge: the treeline, dense at the base and diffuse towards the peak, along with the great town, steeped in the lightest of haze. We soon crossed a frontier—a line demarcated by the most stubborn of flora—and none passed it. Even the shrubbery respected the edge of its jurisdiction, but we were too daft to follow nature’s intent. We trod on ground undisturbed, layer upon layer of the sandy white blanket draped neatly over the barren floor.
Finally, our path ended at an unsuspecting snowdrift, another muted dune in the white desert; were it not for the corner of the placard peeking out from the pile, we would have continued on, for it was otherwise unmarked.
Cordella stood before it and blew into her hands as she fanned them, causing the dull flame to grow to nearly ten times the size. The great flare leveled the ice and filled our lungs with a vapor that, upon settling, revealed the mine's opening.
"Impressed?" she quipped.
"Constantly," I replied, coming to peer over the lip. From our vantage point, it seemed a bottomless well stretched before us, one whose lapping black waters would surely drag us away. I crouched and hung my legs over the precipice, but I couldn't see much of anything below, and when I waded in, I felt nothing under my feet. "Is it too late to turn back?"
"Why? Afraid of the dark, Kaiser?"
"I think I've every right to be," I muttered, gaze lost in the empty cavern. After all, it wasn't the darkness but was in it that scared me.
Standing this close to the mouth of the abyss, it was only natural I started to hear its whispers, and I didn't like the things it told me. I said a silent prayer. Then, before the voice of reason could plead otherwise, I surrendered myself to the maw that opened indefinitely around me, and whose tendrils reached out in anticipation. I'd plunged willfully into the void, only lacking a pale hand to greet me as I knocked at his door. This was Death's domain, not ours.