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Heirling of the Red Sword
Chapter 52: Hanging by a coat over the ledge with a saddle on his head

Chapter 52: Hanging by a coat over the ledge with a saddle on his head

He wished he could have stayed longer with Cinnamon Girl. It had been a cold month since his fall from power, despite the warm season. The loyalty of Cinnamon Girl warmed him and encouraged him. He would be lying if he said he was disappointed by the lack of support from his Circle. He knew that Regis and Kane were against him, but he had anticipated some support. Not from Ria, not because she would betray him, but because she followed the Rules as perfectly as any advancing Fae Lordling could and not lose.

But he had expected something from the others. Not all of them, but at least one of the rest should have benefited from him succeeding if nothing else.

His stomach growled, and his body began to ache as the thrill of battle left him. He wanted to collapse and sleep in the warm embrace of his griffin. But he was not done yet.

There were still the presumed multiple assassination attempts to survive. He then needed to get revenge and establish his place. It wasn’t even midnight yet. What time was it? 8 at night? Hopefully not 9. He had a lot to do in only a few hours.

Feeling warm and safe covered in the canopy of soft feathers and silky fur, he turned his attention inward. He had work to do, after all. Down that dark corridor in his mind, he put the screaming pain of the horrors away. Away he placed his sense of revolution and dread of that dark and twisted place, away he placed his own fatigue and exhausted mental state, and away even his physical pain of overextended muscles and bruised muscles. All these he placed into a dark box, smelling vaguely of charred wood, and slammed the lid closed, and locked it. The quiet screams of all the other traumas he had locked in snarled and raged at him as he left that quiet place in his mind, and he was comforted that they hadn’t gotten out.

He had never managed to box away the trauma of the undead dragon’s corpse and the carnage it wrecked, but at least he did not encounter it as he left that place in his mind.

He almost opened his eyes, as was his habit after those mental exercises, but he remembered just in time and kept them closed. While much of the pain had left, he was starting to feel too hot and cramped kneeling as he was in the griffin’s embrace. He had needed a safety blanket to get his head on the right way. And now, it was time.

Daniel knew that he had to leave the moment of warm embrace.

“Time to go, CG.” He prompted.

“No.” The griffin purred. “I change mind. No go. Just keep your eyes closed.”

“Time to go.” He said again, trying to think what would motivate his pet. “I’m hungry, I need to get food.”

“I no hungry.” She chirped, “If I no hungry, you no hungry.”

His hand moved, surely and swiftly, to the griffin’s muzzle, habit guiding where sight was denied. She stopped making noises and just leaned into the hand. “It’s time.” He said again.

There was a deep, thunderous purr. Warmth, comfort, friendship. The protection and shielding of a loved one from danger.

And then his griffin withdrew.

As silently as a mouse he heard her fly away. He kept his eyes closed, however, because he predicted that she wouldn’t actually leave yet…

And the Law of Fae began pressuring his silly loyal griffin. He could imagine that she had just flown down a few ledges and was ‘hiding’ by covering her own head with her wings. It was adorable and frustrating when she did that at bath time.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The Law of Fae did not find her adorable, though, and shoed her away. She left with hisses and griffin speak that meant, as roughly as Daniel could understand MOST HATED EVIL EGG STEALER, or maybe BED HOG. Both curses were black enough that either would have worked.

“Love you!” purred a defiant voice. “Love you play again soon!” said the random griffin.

And then she was gone.

“Are we even now?” Daniel asked, feeling the hard edge of the ledge under him.

“Well, I…may need a bit of help.” Said Kenton after a moment’s pause.

“Why?”

“That…random griffin left me a little stranded.”

Daniel opened his eyes and sprang to his feet. Relief that Kenton had survived was still sweet in his mind, though thoughts and worries of betrayal still nagged at him.

On the twelfth ledge, over the side, was Kenton, hung by the very same coat he was wearing. Balanced precariously on his head was the dragon hide saddle.

“You traded time with me for the saddle?” Daniel asked, finding the situation absurd.

“I…struck a bargain!” Said Kenton gravely.

They both started to laugh at the same time.

There was the sound of seams ripping, which made Kenton go pale.

Daniel stopped laughing as well, but he still felt somewhat happy

“Wait wait wait. Get my key! It should be in the door.” Said Kenton.

Considering that Kenton was more worried about losing that key than falling to his death helped Daniel realign his priorities.

He approached the old wooden door and found the key. It was lodged in a key hole that did not normally exist. He covered his hand and gripped the key. There was a small sound, like sunlight touching moonlight, and the little gold key came free.

“Don’t lose it!” called Kenton.

“I wouldn’t dare.” He wondered if he could take a key or make a copy. But with the Law of Fae and the Game so closely attended, he knew better than even think of stealing. He carefully folded the chain and put it in his pocket.

“Do you have it?” Asked Kenton, as more sounds of ripping emerged.

“I have it,” Daniel confirmed, and he jumped down to the next ledge, got behind Kenton, and pulled him up to the relative safety of the ledge.

He allowed Kenton to touch the saddle. Magic ownership was odd, and he did not want the Saddle to assume he was attempting to steal it.

Kenton scuttled backward until he had his back against the solid wall of the stable, before carefully and delicately removing the saddle.

“So CG stole the saddle after all,” Daniel confirmed, glancing around.

“You can say the name?” Asked Kenton, hurriedly polishing and brushing dust off.

“It is just short for Certain Griffin. That it happens to be the same letters as a Certain Griffin’s real name is merely a coincidence.”

Kenton laughed again, some form of exhaustion and gallows humor, Daniel was certain.

“So. You know what that place was,” Daniel said, pulling out the key. It dangled between them, gold catching the gentle light of the Stable.

“The Dungeon.” Kenton said, still not looking up.

“Are we safe?” Daniel asked.

“After you leave the Dungeon, you can’t get back in for a day and a night, so says the old wisdom. Unless you find the silver door. But who would want to explore the Dungeon on purpose?”

Daniel had growing unease. The old wooden door was over his head and to the right felt like a normal door. It was a normal door, it led to the outside. “I’ve…never heard about it.”

Kenton moved both of his hands to his head, still laughing grimly. “Mappers used to walk the ways of the Dungeon, so the legends go. Our tradition was ancient. At least, that’s what the whispered words of my mentor told me. The night she went crazy. The last time I was up here, on my last night of apprenticeship. She took me to the door and told me crazy stories. I lost my arm. Barely got it back. Because the door didn’t open then. Just a crack. She forced me to put my arm through. It disconnected. She said that’s how we know the Dungeon is dead, because all the ways in are gone.”

“You got your arm back,” Daniel said. He didn’t truly know much about mappers. Just that Kenton used to be one and that they had terrible jobs.

“Eventually, the Stable was moody and kept playing keep away.” Kenton waved one of his hands around, probably the same hand that had been…borrowed by the Stable. “Least of my worries. The terrifying thing was that she told me that if the King ever discovered it, losing an arm was the least of the worries.”

Daniel had a sinking suspicion in his gut.

“Oh, we’re in so much trouble, Lordship,” Kenton said, looking up at Daniel. Daniel saw for the first time the drying blue blood of Kenton across half his face. “So much trouble. It just washed over me, as I was hanging there. You are in a Game for your freedom now. What just happened…if the Fairy King ever finds out about it…” Kenton finally met Daniel’s eyes. A century of worry, fear, and terror evident like ghosts in a mirror “You will be in a fight for your very existence.”