The sky over the Aerie was filled with griffins, the five battle units having all gathered from their respective corners of the Nilvar landmass for a final push against the remains of that day’s dracat horde. Leslyn shielded his eyes against the setting sun and watched as the dark silhouette of one griffin dove after a dracat, its talons catching the enemy by the neck. It paused, treading the air with the dracat struggling and beating its wings against the griffin’s legs. A second griffin came near, raking its claws down the dangling animal’s front. Leslyn was glad for the sun then, for the strong shadow it cast obscured the ugly burst that spurted from the dracat’s belly. The creature dropped from its captor’s grasp, either dead or moments from.
Eyes following the falling animal well below the main fight, Leslyn caught sight of a set of eight low-flying dracats who were fast approaching the area of the grounds that had been set aside for emergency treatment. They were chasing a wounded griffin who was coming in to land.
Hoisting his crossbow from where he’d carried it under his arm, Leslyn jogged that way, following an already well-tracked path through the tall field grass.Loading a bolt as he ran, he converged with several volunteers and recruits, including Erin.
The group of twelve or so formed a semi-circle and aimed their bows, letting loose as soon as the dracats were in range. As they’d been trained, those in the middle aimed for the center-most animal, and those on the outer thirds of the circle went for the two dracats furthest to either side.
They knocked down those three easily, then reloaded in almost perfect tandem. They repeated the maneuver, taking down three more. With two dracats left, they reloaded a second time and took aim.
Peripherally, Leslyn saw movement on the ground somewhere ahead of them. “Got it,” Erin’s voice rang out, and she went toward the movement, skirting the area where the last two dracats would almost certainly fall.
As the group shot the last two animals down, he looked over just in time to see Erin shoot at the grounded dracat during a pause in its pained writhing, her bolt striking right between its eyes and stilling it for good. It was a bit of a lucky shot for anyone, but Leslyn couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride at the sight. She’d been practicing almost obsessively between battles lately, and it was clearly paying off.
Not long after that, the battle was finished. The horde was relatively small so it’d been a fairly short but stressful fight. The stress was due to the fact that the dracats had come in so late in the day. They’d been maybe a half hour away from having to depend solely on the griffins’ mild ability to see in the dark until Crylis’ light became bright enough for manling eyes to take over. That was practically a guarantee for extra casualties.
Leslyn checked in with Prince Koben as soon as he spotted red Romo in the mass of griffins that came in to land. The animal was exhausted after leading that last push right after another full shift, so he'd be relieved immediately. The youth unbuckled the his saddle and then took it off with Koben's help.
As prince and squire closely checked the red griffin over for hidden bleeding or other critical wounds before taking him back to his apartment, Captain Tannoran came by leading his similarly-exhausted black. He watched the two work until Koben noticed him standing there and raised his blond brows in askance.
"Any word on the Medelapura?" the captain inquired.
"Not since you asked yesterday," Koben said with his usual, though slightly battle-frazzled smile.
"He's taking too long to retrieve it." Tannoran frowned, for some reason glancing at Leslyn, who continued to work as if he hadn't known he was being watched. "The longer we keep that seabeast inland, the larger and more dangerous she grows. The merling could use her to turn on us at any time."
That Coyrifan again. So few even knew of his existence, but it seemed everyone around Leslyn was overly-concerned with the merling of late.
"If you don't trust me, trust Katharesa's sense," replied the prince.
"That doesn't matter," Tannoran insisted, crossing his arms. "Even if she has the Medelapura, she'll still be stranded in our same territory as before. The merlings aren't going to suddenly decide to welcome her to sail past their arbitrary borders, especially if they learn what we've taken back from them." When Koben proceeded to ignore him while looking Romo over, the captain stepped forward, grasped him by the shoulder, and forced him to turn. "Koben, you need to stop this 'huntsman' nonsense before you get yourself killed. I'll remind you again that your father the king is old and weak."
"And I'll remind you that Arlis is young and strong."
With Tannoran still gripping Koben by the shoulder, the two men coolly held each other's gazes for a time. Finally, Tannoran sighed and released the prince, half-shoving him away. "You're a fool, Ben. A fully-feathered fool.” With that, he went back to his black griffin, laid a hand on its shoulder, and began walking with it toward the Aerie.
“You’ll thank me, someday,” Koben cheerfully shouted at his back.
Leslyn watched the exchange with a strong degree of skepticism, so used now to the prince’s back and forth with his contemporaries that he didn’t even bother to avert his gaze when Koben turned and caught his eyes.
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“Say your piece, dear squire.” The words were sighed, but the prince was unable to smother the pleased smile for vexing Tannoran that was still plastered across his face.
“Sire.” Almost as frustrated as the retreating captain, he spread his palms in a helpless gesture. “You know he’s right. Why don’t you ever listen?”
Koben put one hand on a hip and gave a good-humored shake of his head. “Tannoran is correct, but he’s not right. There’s a difference.”
“Tannoran is correct that if you die doing what you think is the right thing, we’re no better off than we were before.” Cued by Koben’s bemused grin, Leslyn caught himself mid-point in the direction of the prince’s chest and politely lowered his hand. “Arlis might take over as heir in your stead, but he’s not like you. If you fall, there’s no one who can truly take your place.”
“How kind of you to say so.”
“Can’t you be serious for one moment?” Leslyn glared at the smiling prince until he realized why Koben was just staring with raised brows as if waiting for him to continue. “—Sire.”
Satisfied, Koben crossed his arms and walked a few steps to one side, then turned and paced back the other way before facing Leslyn again. “The truth is, dear squire,” he said, “there is nothing I am more serious about than protecting everyone who belongs to Nilvar. If I can pave the way for Katharesa to succeed, the merlings will no longer be a problem. Neither will the dracats nor any other beasts on land or in the air or sea, as Flood and Dry will be no more when Crylis is restored.”
It was a nice thought, to be sure, but Leslyn wasn’t any more reassured than he’d been before. It was just too big of a task for one man to shoulder, no matter how strongly he believed. And, no matter how strongly everyone else disagreed, there was just no talking Koben about of it.
With a sigh much like Tannoran’s, Leslyn gave up and went back to checking up on Romo.
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The next day, the recruits were still weary from the battle, but luckily basic training didn’t require too much strength from them. Or shouldn’t have, had everything gone perfectly for once in Leslyn’s life.
Gathered with their keets in the heavily-tracked field pocked with stamped-out “islands” and large bloodstains from the events of the night before, they were each issued a small saddle made of scrap leather that would fit their still-growing keets. It had been about a month since their first lesson, and all of the keets were noticeably larger—except for Valiant. As he was far too small for the standard issue keet saddles, Leslyn was given what had once been a towel, cut into pieces and resewed into something that sort of resembled a saddle.
By now, all fifteen of the newest recruits were perfectly capable of belting up a full-sized griffin under their saddles, so saddling Wrath’s young children should have been an easy task.
While Leslyn followed a growling Valiant in circles, trying to coax him into staying still long enough to apply the makeshift saddle, some of the others were chasing their keets clear across the field both with and without saddles. Cursing the strict dietary rules that prevented them from using food as a motivation for good behavior, Leslyn tried to remain patient with his keet and wait for Valiant to give him an opening.
A small handful of bigger, stronger recruits, such as Kaleit, simply manhandled their keets with a quick pin-and-wrap maneuver. That was all well and good, except when one’s keet was a nasty black called Zabor. Less than five minutes after he’d been strapped in, the black had shredded his saddle to bits. The keet’s smug look of triumph was wiped right off as Kaleit knelt on him and belted on a fresh saddle. They repeated the act five times before Zabor finally realized that he couldn’t escape something he didn’t like by destroying it, and began sulking in his usual fashion.
By then, Valiant had become distracted, sitting on his hind legs and flipping the tufted tip of his tail back and forth as he watched the others who were still actively fleeing from their masters. Leslyn swooped around from behind, practically scooping the yellow keet into the saddle and quickly tying it off around Valiant’s belly.
As if he’d been run through with a sword, the young griffin went limp and slumped over sideways. Far from harmed, the keet’s ears were pinned tightly against his skull and his clear blue eyes squinted in the sourest look Leslyn had ever seen on that fuzzy little face. Like an annoyed manling tapping his foot, he thumped the ground with his tail.
“You can still move,” Leslyn calmly informed him. The keet completely ignored him, laying his head down in the grass and thrashing his tail harder.
With a loud exhale that wasn’t quite a laugh, Leslyn looked around to see how the others were doing.
Arlis was working his usual griffin-magic, cupping red Larx’s face in his hands and talking quietly to him. Already wearing his saddle well, the keet was still somewhat tense, but quickly relaxing as the boy petted him and made repeated adjustments to the unfamiliar tack, showing the griffin that there was no harm.
Erin’s blue Phoebe, of course, was similarly well-behaved, though she kept trying to get up and walk out from under from the saddle that insisted on following her everywhere she went. Every time the little blue stayed still for more than a few seconds, Erin’s eyes would go distant, as if she were falling deep into thought. Leslyn could easily guess where her mind was going in those moments.
Though she tried to hide it, her unnatural addiction to the merling Coyrifan had been escalating. It was quite obvious that she was communicating with him through her necklace when the Renegades were sent for guard duty at the Eastern Basin, so much so that Leslyn was sure that Kaleit had figured it out as well, and was still trying to decide what to do with that information.
Not only that, but Leslyn had caught the girl skipping chores at the Aerie twice now, taking one of Tannoran’s horses out toward the basin alone to talk with the merling in secret.
He was fairly certain that Koben and the Aeriemaster were aware of her shirking and clandestine visits, and possibly General Xavara as well—but for some reason they were letting her be, for the moment. Maybe an experiment, of sorts. It was worrying, but Leslyn still couldn’t bring himself to do anything more than watch.
What worried him most was what might happen if Tannoran found out that she was sneaking off, as she was still technically beholden to him as his ward until she married. The captain had made it quite clear where he stood when it came to Koben’s involvement with the merling and his seabeast.
It felt as though time was growing short. Leslyn was quite convinced he could fix things if given the chance, but Liren wouldn’t be due to return to Nilvar for some time yet, possibly not until the end of Flood. If Leslyn had anything to do with it, he was going to get quite the earful about claiming his illegitimate daughter the moment he and his gray set foot anywhere on the island again.