Sins of the Father Part Two - Chapter Eighteen (Patreon)

( Please note that chapter order is *extremely* preliminary. This batch of chapters takes place before the previous batch. )

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Chapter Eighteen

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Valyrym stared down at the long, tan-colored line snaking through distant forest. It was a strange thing, almost like a muddied river, frozen in time. It wound around wooded hillsides, then cut through a low spot in some rocky bluffs. A wooden span crossed a small, swiftly flowing creek. Further towards the horizon, the forests gave way to grassy meadows, demarcated into uneven sections by lines of gray stone fencing, and vast, green hedgerows. Animals grazed some of the pastures. Wooden buildings with colorfully painted roofs occupied a few swaths of land. The odd, brown stripe continued onwards, skirting around the buildings and meadows, branching off here and there into smaller lines that led to gates in the fencing. Only when Valyrym spotted a singular horse and carriage ambling along did Valyrym finally realize what he was looking at.

“A road.” Valyrym pointed a forepaw towards the ground, far beneath them. “That is a road.”

Krek, flying just ahead of him, glanced back over his silver-edged wings. “Very good, Dragon! I see you’ve learned to identify basic geographic features! Perhaps next you’ll be able to tell the difference between a barn, and a tree!”

Valyrym hissed, sharpening his tone. “Krek, that is a road. We’re flying over a road!”

The gryphon banked to the left, sunlight gleaming off his extravagant armor. He drifted closer to Valar, who was flying at his father’s side. “Valar, did your father hit his head while I was out hunting? Or is his age just catching up to him? He seems to be drifting further from shore!”

“Don’t ask me, bird.” Valar tossed his head. “I’ve no idea what goes through my father’s head.”

Valyrym grunted, tucking his forepaw back up against his chest. “I know what a road is, bird. That’s-”

“Oh, good!” Krek retook the lead position. “I’m glad we’ve got that settled, then.”

“Why, Soot?” Valyrym snapped his teeth. “Why are we flying over a road?”

Since they’d left Wing’s Rest, weeks had passed in a countless blur of aching wings and creaking bones. And in all that time, Krek had done everything in his power to keep them away from roads. The gryphon made it clear that much of Illandra was simply too dangerous for dragons to travel near civilizations, and so they stuck to the wilderness. While Valyrym doubted that the Prince would wish for him to be recaptured, given his mission, he also doubted the Prince could simply order his escape to be ignored. It was far more likely he ordered the army to try and track Valyrym down, if only for the sake of keeping up appearances. And even if he hadn’t, the nation of Illandra had a history of slaying dragons. As such, it was far wiser to avoid being seen at all than take any unnecessary risks. It had been so long since they’d even seen a road that it had taken the dragon time to realize that was exactly what they were suddenly following one again.

“Because we need to make a stop.” Krek looked back again, this time glancing at his small passenger. “Your girlfriend and your furry servant need to resupply.”

The urd’thin riding on the gryphon’s back gave an angry little growl. “Vatch not dragon servant!”

Krek ignored him, stretching a foreleg to point with a single digit. “Besides, I know this road. It’s as safe a thoroughfare you’ll find while we’re still inside Illandra.”

“A supply stop?” Valyrym tilted his head, gliding. “Dare I hope you’re just talking about another abandoned inn turned birdhouse?”

“Not this time.” The gryphon shook his head. “We’re going to a market!”

“A market.” Valyrym’s voice was flat, trickles of ice running through his blood. Hind hind paws went cold. “A market, as in, a city?”

“More of a small town, really.” The gryphon beat his wings, accelerating as if to escape the conversation.  The shifting plates of his armor glinted in the light.

Valyrym pumped his own wings harder, following after him. “This conversation isn’t over, Soot!” He drew close enough to snap his teeth at Krek’s tufted tail. “You’ve pounded it into my skull that Illandra remains as dangerous for dragons now as it was in my youth. So why the hell would I ever follow you into one of their cities, let alone allow you to take my son there?”

“Father,” Valar said, his frills flattened. “I assure you, I can protect myself in any city you can name. Besides, I’m sure Krek wouldn’t take us anywhere that wasn’t safe.” The younger dragon turned his attention to the gryphon, an edge creeping into his voice. “Right, Krek?”

The gryphon gave an irritable squawk. “Of course! It’s perfectly safe, there. I’ve stopped by plenty of times on my travels. I’m not even the only gryphon who visits. They’re used to us, there.”

Valyrym snorted. “Oh, well, how wonderful for you birds, then. What about dragons, Soot? Is it safe for dragons?”

“It’s perfectly safe for dragons,” Krek said. “Especially by Illandran standards.”

Valyrym snarled. “Meaning what? They’ll only try to capture us alive, rather than slay us outright?”

“Relax, dragon.” The gryphon warbled, a slightly frustrated sign. “I would not lead Valar anywhere I did not feel comfortable enough-”

“Your comfort is not what I’m questioning!” Valyrym growled, lashing his tail against the air. The movement made him wobble slightly in the air.

Alia’s weight shifted against his back. She patted his neck. “Careful, Val.”

Valyrym curled his neck around to offer his beloved passenger a sheepish smile, his ears low. Her dark hair was tied back behind her head, trying to keep the worst of the flight tangles at bay. “Sorry, Alia.”

“That’s alright.” She stroked his scales, and then raised her voice to call across the rushing winds. “Krek, perhaps it would be easiest if you’d just tell us all where you’re taking us?”

The gryphon squawked again. “I’ve been trying to! But your grouchy old consort keeps interrupting me. I swear, a poor gryphon can hardly even finish a sentence without-”

“Just answer the damn question!” Valyrym balled up his forepaws against his chest. “Before I yank out all those garish silver feathers and make Alia a new hat!”

Alia laughed, rubbing Val’s neck. “I don’t think feathers would make for a very good hat, Valyrym.”

“No, you’re probably right.” Valyrym shook his head. “I’ll just toss them in some muddy ditch, then.”

“Case in point!” Krek shot the dragon a dirty look. “I’d like to toss you in a muddy ditch, right about now.”

Valyrym rumbled laughter. “You’re welcome to try, Bird. But when I best you again, I’m going to pull off that gaudy helmet and pluck you balder than the ugliest vulture-”

“Father!” Valar’s voice was like a scalpel, sharp and precise, cutting Valyrym off without wounding his pride anymore than was necessary. “That’s enough. Krek, just answer the question.” The younger dragon waited a beat, then spoke again just as Krek opened his beak to retort. “Without complaint or commentary.”

Krek ground his beak in frustrated silence for several long moments before finally answering. “A market town named Kartaros. You’ve been there before, Valar.”

Valar glided along at Krek’s side for several heartbeats, his head tilted in thought. His blue-tinted frills suddenly lifted. “Wait, we’re going to the Village of Red Roofs?”

Krek made an irritable chirruping noise. “It’s called Kartaros. Why you dragons insist on giving things more elaborate than they already have, I shall never know. But yes. We’re stopping in Kartaros.” He shot the dragon a glare. “Assuming that meets your father’s criteria for safety.”

“They never tried to harm us before,” Valar said, drifting back towards his father’s side. “So that’s fine with me, at least.”

Valyrym curled his neck to regard his son. “You know this village, Valar?”

The young dragon nodded. “I’ve been there a few times, yes. Several times with Krek, as well as ferrying traders from my current home. They have the largest market in the local region, so people come from all around.”

“And not just humans,” Krek said, his voice carrying back on the wind. “Occasional gryphons, too. Along with the odd caravans of va’chaak, koraa’gi, and other species. Hell, Valar’s not even the only dragon they’ve ever seen.”

Valar grunted, a strangely scoffing noise. He held up a forepaw as if to ward Krek off. “Let’s leave our visit with my dear Trouble out of this.”

Krek clacked his beak, idly drifting back and forth as he flew ahead of the group. “I wasn’t even talking about her.”

The older dragon glanced between his son and the gryphon. “Dare I ask?”

Valar shook his head. “I’d rather you didn’t.” He glanced at Krek again, then quickly looked away. “What is important is that I’m willing to vouch for this village’s relative safety. By Illandran standards, it’s practically welcoming to dragons.”

“Meaning they haven’t tried to shoot you down, yet?” Valyrym snorted. “Krek, if you even consider taking my son somewhere-”

“Father, enough already.” Valar said, gesturing with a forepaw. “We’ll be fine. These villagers are the live and let live sort of people, I think.”

Krek glared at Valyrym across his wings. “You should listen to your son, because he’s correct. The people here are more than willing to tolerate dragons when there’s money, and trade involved. Besides-”

“Tolerate?” Valyrym snarled. He’d have spat fire at the word, were he still able. “Well, as long as they tolerate our foul presence, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Krek chirruped, a drawn out, irritated sound. “Valyrym, look at it this way. The further out into the deep country we get, the more the prevailing attitudes about dragons and other species begins to shift. Especially in the Outer Provinces. Obviously, many of them once had far friendly relations with dragons before they were absorbed into Illandra.” He glanced back. “Your own history illustrates that well enough. The noble houses now in charge of Aran’alia may hate dragons, but that doesn’t mean the average citizen out there feels the same way.”

“He’s right,” Valar said, matching his father’s pace, wing beat for wing beat. “We couldn’t land in Sigil Stones without being attacked. Especially given the state of mother’s simmering conflicts. But, if we alighted in some far-flung trade town…” Valar trailed off, gazing at his father for several long moments. “Hell, they’d probably recognize you, and celebrate our arrival.”

Valyrym grimaced, his ears flattened. Somewhere inside him, chains rusted with age dragged his heart towards a cold, sorrowful pit. “No. They wouldn’t.” Valyrym swallowed. “Human lives are short, Valar. All those who once called me friend in Aran’alia are long dead.”

Valar only stared at him. “Their stories aren’t. Curse and lament your fate, belittle and denigrate yourself all you will, Father. But in Aran’alia, you’re still a gods-damned legend.”

Krek flared his wings, slowing his flight until he drifted back to Valyrym’s other side. “Valar speaks true. You, and his mother, are forever ingrained in that place’s collective memory.”

Valyrym looked away, staring across the horizon. Meadows, pastures and farmland stretched nearly as far as he could see, broken up here and there by rocky bluffs, groves of trees, and the snaking lines of creeks and rivers. He flattened back his frills, uncertainty swirling in his mind. “Perhaps so.”

“The point we were trying to make,” Krek said, his voice far gentler than before. “Is that we are now far enough away from the heart of Old Illandra’s corrosive influence to encounter pockets of civilization willing to accept that you aren’t an evil monster just because you’re an ugly old lizard.” Before Valyrym could reply, he waved a paw at Valar. “Or a handsome young lizard.”

Valar waved right back at Krek. “Or a hideously deformed cat with a beak.”

Krek clicked it a few times. “And with wings. We’re closing in on the southern Outer Provinces. While their history with and hostility towards dragons varies widely, they do generally have more historical precedent of openly trading with other peoples in general. Kartaros is not only one of the few towns of note in this region, but also sits at the crossroads of the only two thoroughfares eventually connecting this region of Illandra to the nearest provinces. As such, it’s not uncommon for various peoples from all over to venture here in order to trade. Which means, by Illandran standards, they’re as open-minded as you’re going to get.”

“Yes, okay, Bird.” Vatch playfully swatted the back of Krek’s neck. “We get idea! Is small trade town, is used to strangers. Bird not need use every word in book to explain.”

“You’d think that, Vatch, but apparently Grandpa Lizard back there requires a detailed explanation of my safety certification process for each and every location we may visit.” Krek tossed his head, chirping. “Perhaps he’d be better off simply learning to trust me when I say someplace is safe.”

Vatch pressed his hands to his ears, groaning. “Bird use so many word it give Vatch headache!”

Valyrym rumbled laughter. “Yes, Vatch, I agree. All that birdsong gives me a headache, too. And you know what else gives me a headache?” Valyrym snapped his teeth again. “Worrying about my son’s safety in dangerous lands!”

“You know what, dragon?” Krek dipped a wing, banking away. “Since you’re so concerned about this city’s safety, why don’t we land on the road well outside town? That way, Valar and I can go ahead and make sure it’s safe for you to enter.”

The old dragon growled through grit teeth. “That isn’t what I-”

“More importantly, I can get away from you for a little while.” Krek tucked his wings, breaking into a spiraling descent.

Valar sighed, sparing Valyrym a quick look. “Come along, Father.”

“Oh, very well.” Valyrym dipped a wing, turning to follow his son towards the ground. “Let’s all do as your moody boyfriend demands.”

“Father,” Valar said, his voice sharper than before. “Enough. You’re each as bad as the other. I think he’s actually getting irritated, now.”

Valyrym only snorted, watching as the gryphon swept in over a long stretch of hard-packed earth. “How can you tell?”

Valar set his jaw. “A lifetime of friendship.”

Valyrym’s heart sank towards his hind paws. It was all too easy to fall into old habits, to cover fear and pain, sorrow and uncertainty with sarcasm and insults, to hide the tattered threads of his aging soul behind his teeth, and his claws. If anything, the bird’s ego matched his own all too well. Every snide remark demanded one in turn, every insult demanded he sharpen his tongue yet further. And yet, what were the bird’s insults, if not armor for his own wounded heart? It dismayed the dragon to consider that he and Krek were not so different. And truthfully, Valyrym knew not the bird’s limitations. Valyrym had no way of knowing when a friendly jest turned into a sharpened claw, cutting too deeply. More importantly, his son cared for this gryphon. And if he should bruise Krek’s feelings, intentionally or otherwise, then surely Valar would ache just the same.

The dragon took a slow breath, then held it until he caught up to his son. “I’m sorry, Valar.”

Valar waved him off. “It’s fine, father. Just try and cut Krek some slack, alright? And try and remember why he’s doing this.”

Ahead of them, the gryphon touched down on the earthen lane. He alighted on his hind paws first, hopped a step, and then dropped his forepaws to the ground. He trotted onto the grassy area alongside the road, where an ancient, patchwork fence of willow boughs and stacked stones ran. Valar landed next, galloping a few paces to slow his momentum. Valyrym back-winged as he neared the ground, bleeding as much speed as he could to try and provide a smoother landing for his rider. Once he’d landed and come to a stop, he waited for Alia to unbuckle herself from her makeshift safety harness.

Alia soon hopped off the dragon’s back, stretching her arms over her head. “Oh, it’s good to be back on the ground again. As much as I love getting to fly with you, Val, I don’t think my spine has quite adjusted to being seated all day long. Let alone all the take offs and landings.”

Valyrym stretched his wings out as far as he could. Then he dropped his chest to the dirt road, stretching out his back as well. Something popped, and the old dragon grunted, straightening up. “Nor has mine.” He folded his wings again. “At least my wings don’t ache quite as badly each night.”

“That’s something at least, right?” Alia unbuckled the rest of the harness from the dragon’s back. “Maybe if this market proves itself useful, we can get something a little less…” She folded up the various straps and buckles, then went to stuff them into her pack, belted around Valyrym’s hind leg. “Cobbled together.”

“We can certainly look.” When she was finished, Valyrym shook himself. “I’m going to go speak to the bird, a moment, before he leaves again.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Alia went to his head to stroke his muzzle. “You are a little hard on him sometimes.” She lowered her voice, smiling. “Yes, he’s an asshole.” Alia smirked. “But so are you. And sometimes, even assholes get their real feelings hurt.” She kissed his nose, then backed away. “Go say your piece.”

Valyrym padded towards the gryphon. Vatch was busy unbuckling his own safety harness and belongings from around the gryphon’s armored form. The dragon waited until Vatch was completed, and Krek had stepped away from his smaller, brown-furred rider.

“A moment, bird?”

Krek glanced at him, eyes narrowed beneath the scalloped edges of his silvery helmet. “How’s your headache? Are you sure listening to my voice isn’t going to make it worse?”

Valyrym cringed inside, a single, sharp talon piercing through his chest. He settled back onto his haunches, sighing. “I’m sorry, Krek.”

“You’re damn well better…” Krek trailed off, blinking. He tilted his head, looking like a confused raven playing dress-up as a knight. “Wait, what?”

“I’m sorry.” Valyrym lowered his head in a half-bow. “I am often unfairly callous towards you, and…” He swallowed, licking his muzzle. “I should not be.” He slowly raised his eyes. “Honestly, I know not what else to say, without sounding as though I am making excuses. I did not mean to genuinely aggrieve you, now or at any other time. So I apologize. I would like to tell you that it won’t happen again, but…” Valyrym cast a sidelong glance back at Alia, his spined tail tip twitching. “I’m told I am an asshole, so I am certain it will.”

Krek stared at him for several long, silent moments. He flicked his tufted tail back and forth, back and forth, head still tilted. The gryphon remained silent just long enough for Valyrym to begin to suspect his apology was about to be rejected, only for Krek to finally speak. “Thank you, Valyrym. I cannot say I expected that, but it is appreciated.” He lowered himself to the ground, his forepaws outstretched, and wings mantled. Krek bumped his beak to the grassy earth in what Valyrym assumed was a gryphon bow. “I am…” He grunted, marshalling his strength. “Also sorry, for the same reasons.” Krek rose back up, his beak half-open and ears splayed at the sides of his helmet in gryphon smirk. “Believe it or not, I have also been accused of being an asshole.”

Valyrym lifted his frills, a grin parting his muzzle. “If I said I believe it, would I have to apologize for that, too?”

Krek warbled laughter, shaking himself. His armor rattled. “No, I’ll let that one slide.” He took a breath so deep that Valyrym could only imagine how puffed out his feathers would have looked, were he not clad in armor. Then the gryphon let it back out in a long sigh, deflating just as quickly. “You know, dragon, it was not the insults, or the jibes that prickled me under my pinfeathers.”

Valyrym blinked at the expression, but decided against commenting on it.

“I’ve spent most of my life being playfully derided by your son, after all.” Krek chuckled, turning his head to watch Valar. The younger dragon had busied himself striding back and forth in front of Alia and Vatch, as if putting on some sort of performance. “And now I see his father has a sharper tongue still.” Krek clicked his beak once. “Hell, I’ve heard the lines about birdsong and headaches from Valar more times than I can count. At this point, any insult you can think up ought well just roll off my back like water over dear Ayly’s favorite villainous duck.”

This time, Valyrym could not hold his tongue. “Villainous duck?”

Krek warbled, and waved his paw. “A story for another time. The point is, dragon, the insults should not get to me. But what did get to me, and what will carve my bones to their very marrow?” Krek’s gaze remained locked on Valar, even as something dark and fevered crept into his voice. “Is the assumption that I would ever willingly take your son anywhere that was not safe. I know, Dragon, that you have waited half your life to see him again. Just as I know that now that you have, all you want to do is keep him safe. But while you were wasting away in that dungeon, hoping against hope that your son was still alive, I was at his side. Loving him.”

Valyrym swallowed again, looking down at his paws. “I know, Bird.”

“You don’t.” Krek settled down on his haunches alongside the dragon, his tufted tail draped over Valyrym’s. “You think you do, but you don’t. I love your son, Valyrym. Perhaps even more than he realizes. I have chosen to spent my life with Kathlyn, just as Valar has chosen his own family. But that does not diminish my love for him by even the tiniest fraction.” Krek took a breath, ever so slowly turning his eyes back to Valyrym. “I need you to understand something, Valyrym.”

The dragon forced himself to meet Krek’s gaze. “Go on then, bird.”

“By many measures, I am nota good person.” Something cold and dangerous uncoiled deep within the gryphon’s emerald eyes. “In fact, in my youth, I was a very bad person. Until the day your son nearly killed me, and in his mercy, dragged me from my darkness and let me glimpse the light. He showed me a kindness I did not deserve, and from that kindness grew a love, unparalleled. It will never fade. And I can never truly repay that kindness. But I did my utmost, when I was still young, to try. Until one day, I paid it forward, by saving another life.”

Valyrym nodded once. “The Queen.”

“The Queen.” Krek’s voice was flat, almost unnervingly so. “Though she was not yet queen at the time, and I did not know she was royalty. I saw only a young woman, who somehow found the strength to fight off the attackers who left her lover dead. But there were more on her heels, and they were closing in. And so I took them apart, and I flew her to safety. I flew her to your son.”

Valyrym arched his neck, his spines raised. “Wait. You took her to Valar? I suppose I had gathered that she’d met him through you, but…” Valyrym had picked up fragments of the story, and he’d tried to piece the puzzle together best he could. Yet gaping holes remained in his knowledge of the three of them, and friendships they may well have forged, long before Kathlyn ever took the throne. “I should very much like to hear the entirety of that tale.”

“And in time, so you shall.” Krek’s tail lashed, but only once. “For now, all you need know is that my act of kindness coaxed forth a second, all-consuming love. A love far more forbidden than Valar and I. To the Queen, of a kingdom like Illandra? To admit love for a gryphon, for…” Krek ground his beak. “A beast. It would be shameful beyond measure. Perhaps even to the point of damaging her hold on power. In fact, we have never truly even spoken our love aloud. Your son has heard me say ‘I love you’, and he has proclaimed to me his love in turn. Yet, Kathlyn has neither heard those words, nor spoken them to me.” The gryphon thumped a paw against his armored chest, his voice shaking. “And that hurts, dragon. It hurts. But the pain does not diminish the truth of it, nor the strength of our bond. Your son, and my dearest Kathlyn, I love them equally. Thus, do I wish to protect them, equally. And you know the lengths to which I have gone to protect my Kathlyn. I have, quite literally, committed high treason…” He gestured at Valyrym. “Just to try and keep her safe. So, when you suggest to me, that I would ever take Valar somewhere he might not be safe? That is what wounds me.”

Valyrym slowly reached out, and set his paw atop Krek’s armored one. He lowered his head, and gently bumped his nose against the gryphon’s ear, just beneath the scalloped edges of his helmet. “I am sorry, gryphon.”

Krek swallowed hard, turning his face back towards Valar. “Thank you. I tried to keep him out of this, you know. Begged him to stay home, with his daughter, where he would be safe. But he’s as stubborn as you are.” He swiveled his ears. “As stubborn as we are. And I could not keep him out of this. But I swear to you, on my own black heart, that I will do everything in my power to keep your son safe.”

Valyrym snorted, nosed the gryphon once more, then lifted his head. “Thank you. But you’re doing all this for love, bird. I’d hardly say you have a black heart.”

Krek went still, and silent. When he finally spoke again, his voice had changed into something cold and dangerous. “You don’t know me, dragon.” The gryphon’s words twisted into an urgent whisper. “All the goodness in me is but a hollow shell, held together by those I love most. But beneath that shell? I fear there is a nightmare, waiting to be unleashed upon the waking world.”

The old dragon shuddered, his scales rustling. Somewhere, deep in the buried recesses of Valyrym’s battered heard, The Dread Sky smiled at the thought of a kindred spirit. “I know that feeling all too well.”

“I know you do.” Krek lashed his tail another time. One wing twitched. “Were I in your place, back then, I would have done the same thing. With one exception.”

Valyrym splayed his ears, glancing away. “Go on then.”

Something terrible crept into Krek’s voice, word by treacherous word. “I would never have given myself up. I would have left the king to his barren grief, with no respite to be found in my capture. And then I would have burned Illandra to the ground, along with all his hopes and dreams. And when his life was in ashes, I would vanish, and he would never see me again.”

All at once, something frightening clicked in Valyrym’s head. “You already have it planned, don’t you? Your revenge. If we can’t save her.”

Krek only stared down the road, watching Valar laugh with Alia and Vatch. “That’s what I need you to understand. How deeply I love them. And what I will do, if I lose them.” He took a breath, swallowing. “Like I said. I am not a good person.”

Valyrym gently stroked Krek’s armored foreleg, almost wishing the bird was out of his armor, if only for his touch to provide more comfort. “Bird, I think we’re more alike than I had ever fathomed. When I lost Amaleen, I could…” Valyrym lifted his forepaw, pressing it to his chest, above his heart. “I could feel the goodness, bleeding from me. Day by day, breath by grief-stricken breath. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Krek’s wings trembled. His voice was hoarse, and shaking. “Perhaps that is what makes you a better person than me. You only turned to vengeance when you were crushed by the weight of your loss. But me?” Krek snarled, a low, feral sound. “I’ve already prepared for it.”

The dragon patted Krek’s armored forepaw again. “I don’t know what sort of answer you want from me, bird. But I am grateful for your honesty, in this moment. I do not mean this as an insult, but I gather genuine honesty is a rare privilege for you.”

A tiny smile flitted across Krek’s face, parting his beak ever so slightly. “That it is.”

“Then I thank you for it. And…” Valyrym sighed, stretching a wing to drape it across the gryphon’s back. “I will not patronize you by wasting our time, trying to dissuade from whatever vengeance you may have dreamt up. For all the regret I have wallowed in, this last century and a half? I know all too well that if I lived my life a second time, and I lost her again? I would make the same terrible mistake all over again. There was nothing that could ease that pain. And so I dare not speak to your potential pain, as if by having experienced that loss myself, I somehow know it better than you. I do not. Instead, I will say only that I understand you all the better, now. And I give you my word, that I will do all I can to keep your Queen safe, to spare you that immeasurable suffering.”

Krek turned his head, his ears flat against his helmet. He sniffed once, then cleared his throat. “Thank you, dragon.”

Valyrym tightened his wing around Krek, gently hugging him. “You’re welcome, Bird.” All at once, Kylaryn’s voice echoed through his head, unbidden. From a time when they spoke, when Illandra first set foot within the realm of Aran’alia, and war at last seemed inevitable.

You should take her somewhere safe, Valyrym. While you still can.

Valyrym did not know why the memory suddenly popped into his head, but it suddenly seemed too relevant. “May I offer you a piece of advice, that you will surely ignore? Just as I myself once ignored it, in hopes of serving a greater good.”

The gryphon turned his face back towards Valyrym, confusion etched across his features. “Go ahead.”

“Once, long ago,” Valyrym said, patting Krek’s forepaw. “When war came to Aran’alia, and Kylaryn and I discussed how to respond.” Valyrym took a slow, shaky breath. “She told me I should take Amaleen somewhere safe, while I still could. I refused, because I could not abandon the people who had taken us in.” Valyrym lowered his voice till it was little more then a whisper. “But you have no such war to fight. You need not throw yourself against Kylaryn’s army. Let Illandra itself fight that battle, if it comes to it. Do what I did not.” Valyrym squeezed Krek’s paw. “Take your beloved somewhere safe, while you still can.”

Krek’s ears drooped. “You think I haven’t already considered it? Kathlyn would never allow it, anyway.”

“I fail to see how she could stop you.” Valyrym rumbled, flicking his tail. His spines tore a few small ruts in the grassy ground. “And for all the righteous fury she will bring to bare upon you, what will it matter, so long as she lives? Whatever damage you do to her precious plans can eventually be undone, so long as she lives to undo it. None of us know if we can stop Kylaryn, bird. So while we’re here, in this moment of understanding between us? Allow me to say it once again.”

Krek said nothing, but already, Valyrym could see the cogs turning behind the gryphon’s emerald eyes.

“Just consider it, Krek. Do what I never could. When we reach the Queen, take your love and go. It may be your only chance to save her.”

Krek swallowed, looking away. “I have given it great thought, you know. But I hesitate, fearful of how it may change the way she feels for me. This journey she’s on? This attempt to atone for the sins of her ancestors? It is her legacy, dragon. It is all she wants in the world. If I take that from her-”

“She can’t atone for anything if she’s dead.” Valyrym’s words struck the gryphon like a physical blow. Krek recoiled, looking as if he wished to hide away inside his armor. Valyrym softened his tone. “If you lose her, then her feelings for you will no longer matter, will they? Her plans, your relationship, these things may yet be mended, but her life? That is irreplaceable. That is your priority, is it not? Saving her life? Then I say, you take her somewhere safe, and stash her there a while. In all your travels and spy work, you must know of places even Kylaryn cannot easily reach.”

“Many.” The gryphon chuckled, a few feathers fluffing up around the scalloped edges of his armor. “Several of which I have already contacted. But she’s the Queen of a powerful nation, dragon, the ruler of an empire. She’s not a stolen piece of artwork, I can’t just ‘stash’ her in a safehouse closet. Still…” He drummed claw tips against the earth.

“I’m sure you’d find a way. And when she’s safe…” Valyrym lifted his head, gazing up at the deep blue sky. It watched over them, impassive and uncaring as always. “We’ll deal with Kylaryn, one way or another.”