Wrath's replying squawk to Arlis' desperate warning was harsh, but she didn't follow through with the attack she'd announced, and didn't try to dislodge the boy from cleaving to her face.
That was Leslyn's job, apparently.
While the doe-eyed boy unknowingly distracted the blue for them, the two of the pursuing griffins who bore the net discreetly slipped into the blind spot behind Wrath. Once they'd adjusted for the drafts in her wake, they opened the net at such an angle that all Leslyn would have to do was go back down her neck, make his way between Wrath's flapping wings, and then walk right off her back to fall into it.
His stomach heavy as a stone, Leslyn reached for Arlis' ankle. He had to get the general's son to safety, there was no questioning that.
It was the thought of Wrath falling out of the sky, the life draining from her bright green eyes thanks to a deadly rain of bolts, that made him hesitate.
He hated and feared her, that much was true. Yet, he could not shake the spine-prickling memories of her impossible actions. The way she remembered Leslyn's part in her capture and repaid it with premeditation and cunning beyond that of a normal animal. The way she "spoke" with Kaleit, creating her own language through expression and movements. The way she led her kin riderless, seemingly with as much awareness and ability as if she were a manling herself.
What more was she capable of?
If Wrath was executed—there was no other word he could use for it—if that happened... it would be the greatest of shames. There could be no other creature like her in the entire world.
His hand closed on Arlis' ankle.
The boy looked down, eyes frantic with fear and wind tearing violently through his hair.
"We have to go," Leslyn called up to him. He felt like he was underwater, being slapped with wave after wave of reason, duty, confusion, and an anguish that he couldn't fully understand.
"I'm not leaving her," Arlis declared.
"Just... come back down here with me, then." Glancing toward the attentive General Xavara, still flying alongside on her black, Leslyn did not loosen his grip on the boy's foot. "If you stay at her head, you'll interfere with her balance."
That seemed to convince Arlis, for he took a moment to gaze into Wrath's eye one more time, then began to make his way down. Leslyn breathed a quiet sigh of relief and started to climb back to Wrath’s shoulders. Arlis, a younger, darker image of his broad blond cousin Koben, was bigger than Leslyn, and he hadn't been sure he could have managed to force him down without sending the both of them plummeting.
As Leslyn returned to where he’d been sitting before and Arlis was about to come within reach again, he caught eyes with General Xavara. The stern-faced woman gave him an expectant look that she then turned on the net that was still awaiting them just behind Wrath.
Guess it’s all up to me. Leslyn grimaced. Now, to figure out how to get him to the net…
In the brief seconds before Arlis would reach Wrath’s shoulders and firmly plant himself astride the griffin again, Leslyn determined that he would have to do his darnedest to employ physical force, since reason didn’t seem to be working. The boy might outweigh him, but Leslyn was strong from the sort of labor that Arlis probably never had to do in his life. He might have a chance with a surprise move.
He looked back, eyes tracing the curve of Wrath’s spine from her shoulders to her tail, ears attuned to the rhythm of her wings. One quick rush in the moment her wings were down should do the trick.
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. Sorry, Wrath. I really, really am sorry.
“General!” One of the riders in Xavara’s posse pointed upward. Several others were already looking up, reflexively raising their crossbows.
Leslyn followed their gazes to see a white griffin diving toward them.
It’s Gunu!
He wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or worried that the Aeriemaster was coming to put a stop to this awful thing. Maybe he could talk some sense into Wrath. Xavara certainly wasn’t going to like it, though.
Other griffins were trailing after Sythe, yet another small posse led by one of Nilvar’s officials. Leslyn looked to Xavara, wondering how she would deal with this interruption.
She was watching along with her soldiers, a frown bending her lips. Her teeth flashed and spit flew as she suddenly turned to Leslyn and shouted, “GET HIM DOWN!”
After a flick of his eyes toward the sky, Leslyn was no longer thinking. He just moved.
Fist clenching the front of Arlis’ shirt, Leslyn threw his own weight as hard as he could, yanking the boy along with him in a mindless leap into the air. Wrath flew on, and they were airborne for a sickening breath. Neither of them even had time to scream before the net hit them.
A moment later, a white blur slammed into Wrath from above, the two griffins dropping from sight. The others who were following Sythe went by with whoosh after whoosh, the sudden change of orientation mixed with pure panic sending Leslyn into a severe fit of dizziness.
He clutched at the net, trying to look down and see what happened, but couldn’t make himself do much of anything for several minutes. He could still hear just fine, though. The air was filled with violent sounds of griffins fighting each other.
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
The net-bearing griffins had brought Arlis and Leslyn to the ground by the time he was recovered enough to make sense of the world again. He could just about sit up properly, and looking up into the sky produced only minor spinning to put up with.
Above, he saw the undersides of the griffins as Gunu and his posse flew over chasing Wrath, who had been bloodied but was still doggedly whistling to those of her company who were still loyal. She still had most of them, though a few had broken off and joined the Aeriemaster’s group.
Oddly enough, Wrath’s formation was much neater than Gunu’s, which didn’t really seem to have a formation, now that he was focusing on it. Kind of haphazard, and the griffins seemed to be snapping at each other if they came within reach. Some were frenetically flapping to speed up and pass others, as if they were racing to be the first to... to do what? Receive the honor of being the one to kill Wrath?
“Are you all right, Leslyn?” the Aeriemaster asked.
“I’m all r—”
Leslyn jumped, head jerking back and forth as he looked between the sky and the man standing in front of him.
Gunu had a raw rash on one side of his face from his forehead down to his chin, blood congealing along his cheekbone and jawline. “Yes, he threw me,” he said, voice so intensely dull that he sounded bored to death.
He looked up again, mouth hanging open. “You mean, he’s up there—?”
“Alone, yes. So are the others. They’ve got their own goals in mind, just now.”
Leslyn couldn’t even comprehend the levels of insanity he had been witnessing ever since the bells had begun to ring... when? Hours ago? Days ago? This stupid battle had been going on for an eternity! When was it going to end?!
He slowly leaned back onto his elbows, staring in disbelief at the continued griffin-fueled mayhem that was unfolding above. After a short rest, he drew himself back to take stock of everything else.
The dracats were all dead, or had fled. Hundreds of head of livestock had been massacred, various bits and pieces and entire corpses littering the field below the aerial battleground. Among the unfortunate herbivores and numerous dracats lay several griffins in complete disarray, bodies twisted, wings bent the wrong way, a leg pointing into the air. None of them were moving. There were almost no rider-griffin pairs on the ground anymore. It seemed that everyone had gone up to fight the wyverns in an all-out effort. Both of the wyverns, those stupid, stupid wyverns that started everything going wrong, were still at large.
The peach wyvern was off near the northern cliffs, many small formations dogging it. It held its head at an odd angle and seemed to be moving erratically. Captain Tannoran’s posse had probably blinded at least one of its eyes and was herding it toward the water.
Aside from its gory wounds, the green wyvern was still whole, but terribly weakened. It was only a short distance away from the town now, but seemed to be in some sort of trance and had not turned from its destructive path, though Koben’s posse was harrying it with bursts of crossbow bolts to one side of its face. It seemed they weren’t painful enough to wake it out of its daze.
Three piercing notes rang out, and Leslyn looked over.
With white Sythe snapping at her tail and the rest of his rowdy group tagging along closely, Wrath led her company as they reformed the line that had been yet again divided and broken. Xavara’s two small posses were in pursuit, having been unable to catch up after Sythe’s surprise attack. Wrath’s line became so long that her griffin followers were doubling back past Xavara and finishing out the queue some distance behind her.
Wasting no more time now that she had the chance, Wrath took her company into a dive toward the green wyvern. Vengeful, as always, she made sure to aim her swoop right over Koben and clip Romo’s head as she did so, getting the satisfaction of making the red squawk.
This time, instead of attacking the base of the wyvern’s skull, Wrath raked her talons across its cheek and along its snout, triggering a thunderous roar. The wyvern thrashed, dropping toward the ground for a terrifying second. Its flailing wings hit several unprepared griffins, mounted and riderless alike, flinging them away. As close as they were, Koben and Romo were among those struck down, but Leslyn was relieved to see them recover before they had to crash-land, returning to glide alongside the wyvern at a more respectful distance.
Meanwhile, Wrath’s company had continued to imitate their leader, repeating her attack dozens of times, one by one. At first, it seemed as if they were just tearing the wyvern’s face apart with no other visible outcome, but slowly, degree by degree, each attack turned the monstrous green creature just a tiny bit more toward the ocean.
The heavy weight in Leslyn’s gut doubled, a flash of grief washing over him. We almost killed her. She was trying to do exactly what she was told, and we almost killed her anyway. For all he knew, she could have been perfectly aware that the wyvern needed to be steered away from the town long before he realized it himself, and had been working on it.
Beside him, Arlis was on his feet, a broad grin on his face. “I knew it! I knew we could trust her!”
When Wrath’s line had been exhausted, both of Xavara’s posses and Koben’s single group took their turns, borrowing the blue griffin’s tactic and adding crossbow fire at close range. It was enough to give the green wyvern the final nudge onto a course straight for the northern cliffs.
By the time the green wyvern was out over the water, Tannoran’s posses had already downed the peach, and joined the others in their efforts to do the same to the green.
Now that victory seemed to be assured, Wrath had had enough of of being harassed by Sythe and his cronies. She broke from her own company and made a beeline for the safety of the Aerie.
Leslyn found himself getting upset when he saw that neither Sythe nor the other pursuing griffins abandoned their attack, seemingly bent on tormenting her.
“Why is he still after Wrath?” he asked Gunu. “She’s redeemed herself. It’s all over.”
“She’s proven herself, yes, but Sythe doesn’t have the understanding to recognize betrayal or execute revenge." Gunu put his hands on his hips, glaring up at the sky where the griffins flew. "He’s a bit more simple than that, and has had only one thing on his mind since he decided to introduce Nilvar’s esteemed Aeriemaster to the dirt.”
“And what is that?”
“Sometime during the battle, by fear or fervor for the fight, it appears that Wrath was driven into her season early.”
Above the distant waters watched over by Crylis, ridden and riderless griffins alike had swarmed the green wyvern, completely shredding one of its wings to the point where it began sinking toward death in the waves far below, and could no longer fight it.
A pair of ear-piercing screeches rang out as a blue and a white blur streaked through the sky over the Aerie grounds and clashed. The two griffins began to fall head over tail, talons locked. Wrath's other suitors abruptly scattered.
Leslyn gasped as the spinning pair came gut-wrenchingly close to the ground. Just in time, they managed to loose one set of talons, spreading their wings just enough to soften a very ungraceful landing upon their own breasts. Grass and dirt flew everywhere.
In a most undignified way, Wrath and Sythe hopped to their feet and shook the debris from their bodies, refusing to look at each other until it was done and their feathers were smooth again. The moment their eyes met, they sprang at each other, bumping their chests together and buffeting each other with their wings. It looked silly enough, so much like a pair of young roosters awkwardly learning how to spar, that Leslyn almost laughed in spite of himself.
“I think she likes him,” Gunu said.