Wind Under Wings

Prologue, Part Two

Fithgrol hitched his wing back up and instructed his warriors to place Konirri's eggs before her, all five of them. "If you say you will cooperate then this is your chance to prove it. Do you know what comes next?" he asked her.

"Of course." She glared straight at him, avoiding looking at her eggs.

Fithgrol's wings twitched, a little uneasy now, and he noticed his fellows tensing around him. This did not come easily to any griffin, but allowing the hesses to remain in their home came at a heavy price: they would not be allowed to carry the bloodline of enemy kralls. Even defeated ones, Fithgrol could not permit it.

Five warriors surged forward. They clawed and pecked the eggs, scratching at the hard shells. Konirri's wings lifted and for the first time her cold expression wilted to one of anguish. Sarzel keened weakly from his spot on the ground nearby but neither of them moved to protect their clutch as they began to crack under the assault. And then the shells broke open, and the precious golden liquid bled across the earth. An ugly sight. The khazes were quick to bury it all.

Fithgrol did not spare time for them to mourn. He was impatient to have the whole ordeal finished with and sauntered quickly over to Sarzel. The warriors who had broken the eggs tailed him, and when they reached the old krall they fanned out to surround him.

"What are you doing?" Sarzel's voice rose with fear. His tattered wings flared out as though to take flight but they were pressing in too close for him to maneuver. "You said I would not be killed if I did as you commanded!"

"And you won't be," Fithgrol answered coolly. "But you will suffer punishment for instigating the Age of War, for putting my Order through war, for forcing us to sacrifice many of our numbers just to defend ourselves. You will pay dearly for that indeed."

A strong khaz came from behind and pinned Sarzel to the ground. Another snatched Sarzel's wing and extended it wide. Fithgrol lifted his beak and gave the order.

"Prune him."

Sarzel's pitiful screams were fit enough to tear the sky in two, but Fithgrol's warriors were quick and efficient workers. Before long they abandoned Sarzel, leaving him gasping and bleeding at the shoulders. And two black, tattered wings were placed on the ground at Fithgrol's feet.

"Former Gryp of the Order of Tekma, your reign is finished here," Fithgrol roared. His own wings beat the air with savagery. Sarzel cowered with his tail between his legs, his orange eyes widening like a frightened doe. Then he keened again, shrilly, before wheeling round and fleeing the lake, diving into the trees.

"Make sure he leaves the territory," Fithgrol ordered, and several khazes at once broke away from the group and vanished after the elder. He could hear them jeering at Sarzel as they tailed him, buffeting him onward with their wings or snapping at his heels. "Wingless bird! Keythong!" they cried with relish, their voices ringing clearly through the forest.

Fithgrol waited until he could hear them no more, then let out a deep sigh. The hardest part was over, but then he noticed Konirri watching him. When their gazes locked she stiffened.

"Will you Prune me as well?" she asked.

"No," he told her. "It was not you or the other hesses here warring with my Order."

"Only because our eggs gave us no choice."

"True. Spring is a poor season for Orders to be picking fights. You have your old Gryp to thank for that. Still, you did not fight so you won't be punished." He stalked over to her though, appraising her, wondering if he liked her boldness. He dropped one of his wings again, watching her closely for her reaction, but like before Konirri did not hesitate to lower herself before him. He was pleased at her promptness. It showed her willingness to accept him entirely as her ruler. She would give him no trouble.