Wind Under Wings

Prologue, Part One

So! This work has been on hiatus on Wattpad for nearly a year but I've come to bring it back up to speed. A prologue has been added as well as a few changes to characters. Chapters have been broken up into smaller bits for easier reading. If you have any feedback just let me know!

The night was growing stale, the griffin knew. He could feel it in the heavy drooping of his eyelids, in the weary wingbeats of his flight. Dawn was not far off, and his long claws clenched and unclenched in silent yearning for when the blessed sun, oh mighty Hazkraz, would rear above the horizon to dispel this bitterly cold, misty darkness with his brilliant light. Then the griffin seemed to check himself, and his eyes flickered a little guiltily toward the silver moon hanging low in the air far off. Of course he, Fithgrol Thunderwing, revered Liertel as much as Hazkraz, as most Impirleon griffins preferred to hunt while under her dark reign, but all the same, his half-frozen wings were tired and he would be able to fly on much easier with the sun's soothing warmth touching his feathers. Only a little longer....

Finally the darkness began to lift, and Fithgrol's scarred ears pricked as he spied the mountain in the distance, through the blue-gray mantle of dawn. It was the first and smallest one in a chain that branched westward but by far it looked the most inviting. The mountain was swathed in newly budded greenery with a waterfall that gushed from near its peak, shimmering as it cascaded down into a lake at the heart of a wide, forested valley. It all looked very comfortable, nestled within the mountain's rocky arms and perched haughtily above a wall of cliffs that overlooked the lower wooded hills beneath it. At last. The sight roused new vigor in the exhausted griffin and he pumped his wings all the harder. Frigid, biting wind lashed through his feathery mane as he sped across the sky. He felt more than heard the other griffins behind him doubling their effort, desperate to keep up with their ruler.

Fithgrol tossed his beak and glanced over his shoulder at his Order. Behind him were two groups of griffins. The larger group, flying directly behind him, was his khazleer, his warriors. They looked every bit as worn and weathered as he felt but none showed signs of weakness. Their fierce eyes were trained on him, awaiting his every command. The other group was smaller in number and these griffins were likewise smaller in size. The keralkleer, his aerial scouts and messengers.

Fithgrol let out a shrill whistle. At once a griffin detached from the second group flew to his side. It was a hess, a female, and she was mindful not to draw level with him. She stayed just at his flank, looking his way with her full attention.

"My Gryp?" she said, her tone respectful.

"Are you sure this is the place?" Fithgrol tilted his beak at the mountain ahead of them. Desperate as he was to land and close his tired wings there was still much to do, and no time for mistakes. "This is Tekma?"

The hess dipped her beak. "I have flown here with Afryst before, my Gryp. That mountain is Tekma, there is no mistaking it."

"Good."

She drifted away behind him, rejoining the ranks, and Fithgrol flew on.

Hazkraz's light had pierced the sky by the time they finally arrived at the mountain, touching ground on the pebbly shore of the lake. Fithgrol spared a few moments to stretch and allow the wash of light to warm his back and aching wings while the rest of his Order landed around him. Then, wings rustling, he trotted into the shallows and took a long drink of the icy water.

Before long a pair of griffins came winging down close by. They were carrying an old krall, a male griffin, by his wings, heedless as he keened in pain. They swooped low and dropped him carelessly to the ground. He did not rise but lay where he'd fallen, puddled in a black heap. It was only when Fithgrol had drunk his fill did he finally raise his head to gaze over at his prisoner.