Tales of Vyscher Book 2

Chapter 18

Fehrys was flying through the air, his arms wrapped tightly around Luce's waist. They were on their third mission, some ogres were raiding the flocks of herd beasts in the far south of the valley, and they were to encourage them to move on deeper into the mountains. They were flying aboard a mammoth griffon, with a Sky Knight named Hrul, who was their ride to the ogres tonight.

The air was crisp, Luce leaned back into him, her warmth welcome at this altitude. Her deep red hair was braided tight to keep from blowing into his eyes, and he could feel her staff between them thrumming with power. Another good mission and they would be able to take a break, a sevenday to relax and rest up. He could almost feel the waters of the royal spas and Luce next to him in the pools. A quick glance downward showed several large herds of the long haired mountain sheep that they were looking for, it was time.

"Ready Luce?" he had to speak up to be heard over the rushing air.

"Of course, I'm always ready!" She smiled back over her shoulder at him.

Reaching down, he unsnapped his leather leash from the griffon's saddle, so he could jump off with Luce. She reached around, smiling, and touched him on the shoulder. Instantly he tingled, the spell making him feel lighter than a feather, and he grabbed the saddle to keep from floating off behind the fast-moving griffin.

She was still smiling back at him when the ballista quarrel slammed into the belly of the griffon, passing right through it, and embedding itself in her leg. He was looking into her eyes when the initial shock wore off and the pain hit. Her scream would never leave his memory. The stricken mount convulsed violently once and Fehrys was thrown upwards as the rest plummeted downward.

He watched them fall. He watched them splash into the river far below. He saw them floating downstream though they were too far to tell if they had survived. He saw the ogres wading into the river, and a giant the size of an oak tree with the ballista like a toy crossbow in his hands laughing at their efforts to swim out to their prey. He saw them drag their captives up the hill. He saw them celebrating. He saw.... all too much. He wept uncontrollably, his tears falling like a tiny rain shower into the river below.

But, while he saw it all, neither the ogres nor the giant ever looked back up. They never saw his grief. They never saw him drift downward like a feather, wishing he could cast his own spells to speed up. They never saw him land and slide through the grass like the giant plains snakes that could eat a horse. They never saw him stalking them at all.

They never heard him gliding through the shadows into their campsite.

But they heard the screams and shouts start when he drew his blades.

Finally, they saw death in his eyes when they came for them. And he only stopped when there was a tributary of blood running down the hill to join the river below.

Fehrys always awoke from the dream as he was lighting Luce's pyre. Drenched in sweat and crying in his sleep, he awoke sobbing and stifling his screams. It had been the first time he'd had the nightmare in several sevendays, and the first time he'd had to deal with it on his own. When Alia was about, she always had a way of knowing, and being there for him in his worst of times. But he was on this mission alone, and he had no one to help, no one to turn to or hug.

He'd followed the trade road out of the east gate then turned north at Welltown, where another road guided him. He had used his magic to sprout dragon wings, which were a lot better than walking, but more tiring than riding Maltia with Alia. Yes, he'd become spoiled! Spending the night in a small grove of trees, he was awaked before dawn by his nightmare, and now faced the prospect of another day of flying.