1.3

The Eyrie of the Ridgetail Mountains was in cliffs overseeing highland pastures. No book Jewel had ever seen or heard of was written of it or any of the lore shared between Gryphon riders.

There were other Eyries, far north of even Árva, where the Ridgetails rose into the proper heights of the northern spine peaks and the pinnacle which supported the skyvault.

There were also Eyries said to be across overways to the west in the Realm proper and presumably south among the Magarska from whence their own Gryphon riders must be hatched, though Jewel heard little said of them from Father and the books were as absent as they had been for the Ridgetail Eyrie.

It was a long walk of three days east to get into the foothill lands of Grortovo where the Eyrie was found.

Father had shown her from the air in an evening flight where riders welcomed into the fraternity could land and be met yesterday.

But for the supply caravans and prospective youths wishing to be presented to a clutch, the winding trail up the mountain was the only road.

And it was along this road that they walked with their entourage.

Tsulogothulan swayed along as bonelessly as an eel (which was a kind of swampy fish serpent Jewel had learned of) and left a trail of damp earth and green speckles of duckweed.

The Bog Weird moved with far less human proportions than when Jewel had first met them. The head was still a pale fleshed crescent of blank skin which occasionally sported a single violet eye as big as Father’s fist. But lately there had been a lot more fluidity with everything else.

Also accompanying them was Jewel’s Squire, Smithson, armored in leathers more befitting a knight then a stableboy. He stood so proud in them if still a little stiff.

Muriel was also in attendance, once Jewel and Alexander’s governess and now Jewel’s choice candidate as captain for her nascent footmen. Her hair had gone far more silver then it had been even a few years ago.

But the woman wore riding leathers and armor like she was born to it.

And then the rest of the luggage train of five Hackney mares with other candidates for Jewel’s staff.

The morning had been quiet, fitting for the ceremony of the day. Alexander’s trials for joining the brotherhood of Gryphon riders would begin as soon as they reached the foot of the mountain.

At last they reached the place and Father called a halt with a raised fist.

Jewel, Father and the luggage train would now part with Alexander here at the ‘start’ of the mountain path. (It was technically not, they had been marching in the foothills of the Ridgetails for a full day already).

Father stood for a moment in proper Gryphon leathers already tied onto Zephyrvam. They would be flying today and he’d gotten prepared in the morning rather than waiting until evening.

Jewel stood loaded down with her own luggage in panniers attached to her flying harness.

They watched as the youth that was Alexander looked up at the rough stone, shrub and sparse forest ahead of them.

There was a fork of sorts in the trail.

Really more of a tributary sparser brush that was slightly off from the main road.

To the left was a wide and gradual incline wide and cleared as was suited for horses and carts.

To the right was a rocky forest openness, more a tumble of rough stones rising sharply up into the mountains towards the cliffs than a proper path.

A prospective rider had to reach the Eyrie by the harder way.

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It was unmarked and un-notable except for its presence and clarity; no overgrowth blocked the trail, but no markers denoted it either.

Father squeezed his legs in subtle signal to his Gryphon.

Zephyrvam made the call.

And Alexander stepped up to the rough stones.

A long cry of announcement filled the valley, booming and sharp. The howl answered from the peaks and the sky around them with other cries of welcome and challenge, dozens of Gryphon voices acknowledging Zephyrvam and the prospective Alexander.

The sound buffeted and echoed off the ridgetail and the highlands. Still empty of the herds of sheep that would be coming up later in the year after their numbers swelled with new lambs.

Father nodded hard to his son and heir.

Who, having paused as the cries echoed, now braced himself with a shake and began the long trudge up the mountain to the eyrie. A full pack was all the supply he would be offered for what was likely to be a few days trek on rough terrain.

Jewel and Father for their part waited at the fork for their caravan to finish departing up the left path. Watching Alexander climb with sure and practiced steps, hopping up the stones like a goat despite the burden of his pack.

She could still smell the salt of tears and a little fear that had been settling off her brother.

Once he was beyond Father’s sight around a bend (but just emerging into Jewel’s vision again if she craned her neck high enough) they both took flight.

Zephyrvam’s stormy wake shook the leaves of the fresh foliage and Jewel's almost silent ascent barely made a breeze through the air in the pair’s initial grasps for altitude.

But soon the sun baked highlands and their rising winds caught both sets of wings, Gryphon and Wyrm alike, and they soared into the sky.

All around them riders and gryphons were happy to greet them in waving arms and tilted wings sweeping in circles around the same mountain side.

Jewel for her part responded along with her father and many of their fellow fliers circled with them to watch the trails together.

Other riders were joyfully waving and pointing out the progress of sons, nephews, wards and friend’s children along the various winding and intentionally arduous routes up the mountain to the eyrie.

Jewel did not see Cloudspear yet among them but a few familiar sets of plumage from her first campaign greeted her with friendly sweeps and a few offered japes and acrobatic diversions.

The prospective youths might technically be alone in their journey, to prove their strength, valor, determination and if opportunity arose brotherly bonds with their fellow aspirants.

But they were all of them under the watch of what Jewel could now see were well over three dozen sets of sharp eyes.

Gryphons and riders together.

Father and Zephyrvam made a cant towards Jewel that took a moment for her to parse but eventually she realized it was a clever way to bring up that their meal tonight was likely to be freshly caught mountain goat.

Jewel offered a waving tilt of a wing to acknowledge and express her interest.

She’d never had mountain goat before.

It made sense though, the beasts were obviously scattered all over the hillsides and cliffs around the Eyrie now that she was in the air. They must be some form of lairspawn descendents if the way they could cling to sheer rock walls was anything to go by.

Surely that was some act of natural sorcery.

She suspected they would probably be quite delicious.

Jewel turned her attention back down to her brother, he was making a solid effort to travel up the tumbled over rocks of his path. Burdened by a heavy pack, and likely would be alone to set his own fire and prepare his own supper while Jewel and his father enjoyed a warm meal in the Eyrie.

But he was not alone really.

Alexander might struggle here.

But he would be as safe as possible under the watchful eyes of the gryphons.