“No, no, no! It is not fair! It is ungrateful, and cruel, and, and unwise!”
Bjarni had been making his displeasure known for the past hour. He’d ranted about Daphne’s banishment throughout the whole long walk back to the Nest Cove. Where he found the breath or the strength was a mystery, considering he and Daphne were supporting Runar between them, but his fiery temper apparently gave him secret reserves of angry energy. He had done a whole monologue on the outrageous injustice of Mynna’s decree with unwavering passion through every weary step and during all of the frequent stops to let Runar rest. He’d even invented a few highly insulting names for the white griffin into the bargain.
Daphne was touched by his enthusiasm on her behalf, but the young griffin’s single high-volume setting was doing no favors to her already aching head.
“It’s fine,” she said wearily as they stopped yet again. “I get it. The Lore Council was on the fence about helping me anyway. After last night… I completely understand.”
“It was not the Lore Council,” Bjarni said hotly. “It was Mynna. She persuaded Vyth, and they outvoted Eydis. The pointy-headed tyrant even denied thee the safety of the tunnels. Thou must depart overland, out in the open! ’Tis unjust!”
“Still…” Daphne closed her eyes, but she couldn’t get the images out of her head. The ruined dais, the smooth blotches staining the elaborately carved walls, the debris from smashed ledges littering the floor… She opened her eyes and sighed. “I get it.”
“But thou didst save us!” Bjarni protested. “Thy Wordsmithery brought down the Rabid Daydream. Thy Lore-light saved Eydis. How can they punish thee for these noble acts?”
Daphne’s right hand gripped the Prism in her pocket. It had been cold and still since she retrieved it from the stone floor, but its solid familiarity was comforting.
“You forgot the part where I single-handedly wrecked a site sacred to the ancient ways,” she said. “The Hall of Parables is toast. I did that.”
“That was not thy handiwork.” Runar was clearly still in pain, but frequent doses of Eloquent Water were accelerating the recovery of his strength. Now he gave Daphne’s shoulder a gentle nudge with his golden head. “That was the Rabid Daydream. Thou canst not take blame for the disaster wrought by such creatures.”
“If anyone should take blame, ’tis I,” Bjarni said stoutly. “It was my carelessness that spawned the monster. If I had dealt with my fallen foe as I ought… If I had performed the extraction, and reclaimed the word-chains…”
“The word-chains I made for you,” Daphne broke in. “You are both very sweet, but Mynna has a point. I seem to bring trouble with me. And your tribe doesn’t need any more trouble.” She sighed. “Let’s just get back to the nest. I’ll restock, and then I’ll leave. You said the Eastern Gate is near the Nest Cove?”
“Near enough,” Runar replied. “But our departure need not be so immediate. Mynna gave thee a day to recover before making the journey. At sunrise on the morrow, we shall leave.”
Daphne’s heart felt like it was swelling. “‘We’?”
Runar’s golden gaze was as steady and reassuring as the warmth flowing along their emotional link. “Thou art my bond-friend,” he said. “We were joined by the Phrases. If thou must depart, so must I.”
“And I!” Bjarni spread his flame-colored wings wide, nearly knocking his brother and Daphne over in the process. “I shall go with thee!”
“Thou shall do no such thing,” Runar said sharply, then winced.
“It will take thee longer than a day for thou to heal, brother,” Bjarni observed. “Thou will have need of my strength on the journey.”
“Thou art only a Level 2!”
“Level 3 now,” the fiery young griffin boasted. “Despite my… inattentiveness after the first battle, I was able to give significant aid in the second fray. Euloban saw fit to reward my contribution with another leveling.”
“Euloban is merciful,” Runar said dryly.
“But no skill, as is only right. Still, I am a Level 3 Reader now, and thou hast need of me. I shall accompany thee.”
“No.” Runar’s voice was as flat and unyielding as a stone wall, but Bjarni was unfazed.
“I am coming, brother. That is the end of it.”
“I forbid thee.”
“Who shall stop me? Thou?” Bjarni chuckled merrily. “I would like to see thee try it.”
“Thou art too young,” Runar argued, desperation creeping into his voice. “Our father —”
“Would rejoice,” called a hard, squinting voice from somewhere above them.
All three looked up. There, perched on a ledge overlooking the path, was Eydis. She clacked her beak impatiently at the sight of their upturned faces.
“Close thy mouths, young ones. Thou lookest like hungry fledglings waiting for a meal. I have no morsel for thee, only counsel.”
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“Counsel is what we crave.” Runar bowed his head. “Especially from thy wise mind.”
“Absolutely,” Daphne stammered. She felt strangely shy in the presence of the dark brown griffin. No one ever told her how awkward it was to talk to someone she had sort of brought back from the dead. “I love counsel. Counsel’s my favorite.”
“I am accompanying them.” Bjarni, apparently, had a one-track mind to match his single-volume setting. “Thou cannot prevent me.”
“I have no wish to prevent thee,” Eydis replied. She fluttered down to the path, landing beside them with surprising grace for someone who’d been a mindless husk only an hour before. “Thy father Hyddrun would take great delight in the thought of his two sons setting off together on a quest. Even more so at the thought of triunity restored: a Lorist, a Wordsmith, and a Reader, embarking together. And Bjarni is right, Runar. Thou shall have need of his strength. Both thou and the Wordsmith.”
Runar’s voice trembled. “He is so young. I cannot… What if I fail to keep him safe?”
Bjarni cuffed his brother lightly with one reddish-orange wing. “It is I who shall keep thee safe, brother!”
“Indeed, that is more likely,” Eydis agreed. Then she narrowed her eyes at Bjarni. “But thou must hold thy tongue about the esteemed Mynna, and repent the injury thou hast already heaped upon her name.”
Bjarni’s feathers puffed in indignation, but Eydis silenced his brewing outburst with a raised wing.
“Mynna is severe, but she has cause,” the dark brown griffin said sadly. “She has sacrificed much for the safety of our kin. Thou art too young to know the full tale, but thy brother remembers.”
Daphne and Bjarni looked at Runar.
“Mynna is…” Runar turned to Daphne, his golden eyes full of pain. “If thou were to guess Mynna’s age, what would thou say?”
“Um…” Daphne glanced at Eydis. The dark brown griffin nodded, as if giving her permission. “Old? Very old.”
“Older than Eydis?” Runar asked.
Daphne nodded. “Older than Vyth. Older than everybody.”
Runar sighed. “Mynna is but two years older than I.”
“What?” Daphne looked to Bjarni, but for once, the fiery griffin was speechless. She sputtered on instead, “How? What happened?”
“The Wordmaster,” Eydis replied simply. “Or, rather, Hyddrun’s failed assault on the Wordmaster. Mynna was one of the few who returned that fateful night. In truth, it was she who helped me escape the trap. If not for her quick-thinking and deep knowledge of lore — so deep, for one so young — I would have been taken along the others, or slain.”
Daphne’s mind felt sluggish. “And the effort… aged her?”
“Not that effort,” Eydis said. “Afterwards, the surviving few decided we must take thought for the defense of our home. Mynna proposed a word shield large enough to cover the whole mountain, from the edge of the western range to the eastern cleft beyond the Nest Cove. It was a great labor, on a far grander scale than had ever been attempted, but Mynna was adamant. She insisted this was the only way to ensure our safety.” Eydis drew a great, shuddering breath. “She took the whole of the labor onto her own shoulders, and hers alone.”
“Alone?” Daphne echoed. She looked up, straining her eyes, trying to see the invisible protection stretching over their heads. “She made a word shield big enough to cover the whole mountain, and she did it alone?”
Eydis bowed in affirmation.
“That is when she turned white,” Runar said sadly. “Before that day, she was a light brown, like the bark of the Speech Tree in spring.”
“That is also when she joined the Lore Council,” Eydis added solemnly. “Vyth and I were the only remaining members since the failed assault. After that great deed, we asked Mynna to join us. She had proven herself wise beyond her years, and better versed in the ancient ways than many of her elders. I always respected Mynna, but over the past year, I have come to value her insight and cherish her counsel.” The dark brown griffin turned to Bjarni and her voice became as hard and narrow as her eyes. “So however strongly thou or I may disagree with Mynna on this particular matter. I must insist that thou speak of her with the honor that is he due.”
Bjarni hung his head.
Accurately interpreting the boisterous young griffin’s continued silence as sufficiently abject remorse, Eydis turned to more practical matters.
“Where wilt thou go?” she asked Daphne. “I know thy desire to free thy Mark, but thou cannot hope to assail the Wordmaster’s fortress in this state.”
Daphne glanced at Runar. “I… we think the Under Library might still be accessible. If I’m going to find a way to help Mark, that seems like the best place to start.”
Eydis’s face was impassive. “Our scouts report the Devouring Winds are abroad. They are in the tunnels. Thou fought one thyself in a sacred dalamelle. What makest thou think the Under Library is not destroyed?”
“The Wander Wood is still green, so the Winds can’t have drained all the words from the soil,” Daphne explained. “Maybe the under-waters are still flowing. It just… feels like a chance worth pursuing.”
She looked to Runar, who nodded and cleared his throat. “The Under Library is vast and ancient. More ancient even than our halls. The Hall of Parables was built to contain the stories flowing along the Lorist Way from the Under Library. It is the heart of Euloban, and the center of its lore.” Runar’s golden eyes were shining now, alight with a flame brighter than his younger brother’s plumage. “If even one corner of that lore remains, we must recover it.”
“And the Cleansing Flame!” Bjarni added. “We can take back the Library and save Euloban!”
Eydis raised a single brow. “Thou hopes to find the Cleansing Flame?”
“I do not merely hope. I believe!” Bjarni had recovered from his bout of silence and was once again drumming his talons against the rocky ground. “We shall find the word like a spark, spoken from the darkness beyond the darkness of the plague. Then we shall unleash a river of fire against the Wordmaster, and bring his fortress down upon his foul, pointy head!”
Eydis looked from Bjarni to Runar.
“I have no such lofty ideals,” the golden griffin assured her. “I merely wish to aid Daphne. We must find a way to help Mark.”
“By sending a river of fire against the Wordmaster!” Bjarni crowed. “And bringing his fortress down upon —”
Eydis lifted a wing, and Bjarni went instantly silent.
“Ancient legends aside, I agree with thy plan,” she said. “Though even ancient legends seem more likely today than they have in… oh, many a year.”
The squinty eyes looked at each of them in turn. Daphne thought their gaze was softer than before, transformed by a rekindled wonder burning in their depths.
“Hold to thy hope,” Eydis said. “And to thy belief, and to each other. Follow the ancient ways. The Lorist Way, in particular.”
“You mean the tunnel?” Daphne sighed. “Mynna said I wasn’t allowed to use the tunnels. She’s afraid I might wreck them, I guess. Not that I blame her.”
Eydis smiled. “Mynna’s zeal does her credit. But I, too, possess deep knowledge of lore. I deem it unwise for the first quest of triunity in over a year to tread overland, exposed to the Winds and Wordmages.”
“Then how shall we proceed?” Runar asked. “The tunnel entrance in the Hall of Parables is guarded.”
Daphne caught a mischievous glint in the dark brown griffin’s eye.
“I have lived longer than all of thee. Long enough to have my secrets.” Eydis turned, spreading her wings to prepare for flight.
“Rest today, and make thy preparations. Tomorrow, before the first light of dawn, come to my cove. I have a way for thee.”
Then she took off, soaring into the morning air with a cry that, somehow, sent Daphne’s heavy heart soaring with her.