By the Silver Wind (59 page)

“You’re free,” Shard whispered.

Her great, dark, serpent eyes met his, and in them Shard saw himself. For one heartbeat they were one. His mind flashed on the dream of the forest fire, the ashes. Then, she added something. For Shard, she imagined rain.

Shard choked back a soft noise of amazement and gratitude. “Yes. I forgive you.”

She tucked a wing and turned, diving low. There, below him, she banked, flared, and ducked her head low, as if imitating a gryfon mantle. For a heartbeat she watched Shard.

“Fair winds,” Shard whispered.

She turned then, and soared without looking back at the Sun Isle, toward her brood, and Shard knew without question that from there she would take her family home.

He looked down at his islands, and saw the great host of gryfons, wolves, birds and the rest, and Hikaru, waiting for him below. During his flight, they had drawn close, clustering all along the Cooper Cliff and fanning out into the field beyond.

Spiraling down, he landed in silence on the highest ledge of the King’s Rocks.

He landed where he had seen Per and Sverin stand so many times before, and from there he could see almost every face that stared at him in mute awe. His breath felt short, and he left his wings open to the cold morning wind. He thought he should say something, but a deep, clear voice rang out first.

Kjorn.

“Rashard, the king!”

A burred, hard voice declared, “All hail the king!” Shard looked at Caj, and his nest-father met his gaze with fierce pride.

Every Vanir who stood there echoed him in a single, sharp, victorious chorus. “
All hail the king!”

Hikaru whipped up from his place and spiraled high like a silver snake, declaring, “The Summer King!
Rashard the Summer King!
”

Voices rose. Birds burst from the birch wood around the forest and sang their approval. Gryfons stood tall and shouted his name, the sun brightened over the sea, and it was spring.

For a moment, Shard flashed on his father’s vision of the future, and he could see it now. He could see that it had begun.

Ragna, Brynja, Caj and the Aesir, the wolves, the half-bloods, even Halvden, bellowed for all the isles to hear.

“All hail the king!”

“Rashard, the Summer King!”

Four moons later, the Daynight dawned cloudy and cool.

Shard stood on the King’s Rocks, his face to the wind, and thought the clouds might burn off before the celebrations began.

After leaving for the spring, Hikaru had returned with Natsumi and their dragonet, a little springborn hatchling he named Terasu, after his grandmother.

Natsumi had shed into warm, pearly scales of bronze, and she was fascinated with the gryfess huntresses. They swapped fighting and fishing techniques, and some disappeared with the dragoness for long afternoons, exploring the islands. Now, she seemed content to help them preen for the Daynight celebrations.

Hikaru’s summer scales shifted in the dawn light, warm, burnished gray. He’d joked that he and Shard truly looked like brothers now, except he being taller. He’d come to celebrate Shard and Brynja’s mating, and to learn what the gryfons and wolves did to celebrate the turn of the seasons. The chronicler should pay attention to all creatures, not just dragons, he’d decided.

After this visit, he would fly with Kjorn to the Winderost. Then, he intended to find the wyrms’ homeland, and renew their bonds.

Shard turned from the sea to look out over the windswept plain and the White Mountains, watching as gryfons went about their morning.

Gryfesses emerged with their kits, each telling their own favorite Daynight traditions. After the feasting and the songs, the mating flights, and the next sunrise, the Aesir would depart for home.

Shard felt regret, but also knew it was time. Their kits were strong enough to be carried across the sea, and Kjorn had a new kingdom to rule.

Out in the field, the golden king sat with little Kvasir, who wobbled about on uncertain legs, leading a play hunt for grasshoppers. Tumbling around him were Terasu, pale white of scale and already the size of a gryfon fledge, Astri’s kit Eyvindr, and Halla, Halvden and Kenna’s kit.

Two wolf yearlings gamboled around them, for Ahanu had brought his family to celebrate the Daynight on the Sun Isle. Then they sped off from the slow and apparently boring gryfon kits to pester Frar and group of fledglings, who were listening to the elder’s tales of Daynights past. Among the fledglings sat Vanhar, Lakelanders, and gryfons of Shard’s own pride.

For a moment, the sight boggled Shard’s mind. He wondered what his father would have thought, to see such a thing. He wondered what Sverin would have. Kjorn’s pleased and amused expression told him all he needed to know.

They’d rebuilt the nests in the cliffs, cleaned the shore, and mourned their dead.

Shard had traveled to each isle, meeting the horses, the hawks and falcons of Talon’s Reach, the snow wolves of the high mountains on the Star Isle. He wanted all to know that the Vanir were home, that he was king, that he welcomed their alliance and their counsel, and that the gryfons would aid them if ever they had need.

Gryfons took to the sky from their nests and soared out to sea to begin the morning fishing. Shard’s heart lifted, as it always did, to see them. Ragna led a group, Brynja and Thyra with them.

From the river, he caught a flash of russet.

“Catori!”

The she-wolf raced across the plain, throwing up dew with her paws, tongue lolling in a happy pant. She bounded past gryfons and kits and wolves and the two enormous dragons, so out of place among the smaller creatures.

Shard hopped down from the rocks to meet her at the base, and she padded right up to lick the side of his head. He laughed and shook himself as she trotted a happy circle, her tail high and waving.

“I’m so happy for you, my friend! Time for you to make Brynja a queen, at last. And I see the Vanir’s love for her.”

“Yes.” Shard’s heart warmed, and pounded. Above them, even as he’d hoped, the clouds began to drift apart from each other to reveal a summer-blue sky. “She’s been patient to wait for me.”

“It’s right,” Catori said, sitting near him. “Right, to honor the tradition of your ancestors.”

Shard nodded once. “I also meant to ask you and Ahanu if we might hunt on the Star Isle. This will be the biggest Daynight celebration the pride has ever seen, and we’ll need a lot to eat. And I’d like to honor the Aesir with food I know they’ll like.”

Her tailed waved. “But it’s already done. Ahanu thought of that yesterday, and the pack is hunting, so let him surprise you.”

Shard inclined his head, grateful. “Thank you.” His gaze drifted back to the odd mix of kits, pups, and the dragonet at play.

Catori nosed his feathers. “You seem far too pensive on this day.”

“I was just thinking how it’s been exactly a year since Ragna sang the song.”

“Yes?” Catori’s ears flicked away a buzzing fly. “So it has.”

“I was just wondering what might’ve happened, if I hadn’t heeded it, if I’d really thought Kjorn was the Summer King, as Sverin said.”

“Perhaps he was.” She looked at him, her amber eyes bright and mischievous.

Shard flicked his tail, and ruffled his feathers. “You haven’t riddled at me in a long time. But you’re right. Kjorn could have been. Or Hikaru, or any of the gryfons in the pride.”

“I don’t think it could have been
any
of them,” Catori murmured, watching him fondly.

“But what if it wasn’t destiny, but my decision?”

“What if?” Catori echoed, sounding like a raven.

Shard snapped his beak at her playfully.

“But you
did
decide, you did everything you had to, you became the Summer King, and look what it’s done for all of us.”

Shard watched gryfons flying high above them, some on their way to the birch wood and others to Star Isle for kindling. They would have fires in celebration. “But what if another gryfon heard the song, and thought they were supposed to follow it?”

Catori stood and shook her bright summer coat, nipping the air in a laugh. “And how awful that would be! For a whole generation of young gryfons to hear the song and think it was about them, to believe they must rise higher, see farther, listen to all who speak . . . what a terrible, terrible thing.”

Shard eyed her sideways, and laughed. “I suppose you’re right.”

She bowed before him, stretching her long legs and digging claws into the peat. “I hope you won’t think much more about it. Brynja will not appreciate a distracted partner.”

“No, no of course.” Oh, the mating flights. He had watched them every year as he grew. Since Shard was known for his flight skills, they would probably expect great things. He was glad for the weather.

A shadow rippled over them and Shard looked up to see Brynja banking about to land, with a fish in her talons.

“For you!” she tossed it proudly to the ground in front of him and Shard trotted to her as she landed, butting his head against her chest.

“Thank you.”

Brynja nodded to acknowledge Catori, then eyed the cloudy sky. “I’ve sent extra flights out, for fish, and the Vanhar will help to feed all this rabble.”

Shard flicked his ears in amusement. Of course she would already be taking care of things. “Thank you again, my queen.”

“I am not queen yet,” she said, with a spark in her eyes, challenging him. “We’ll see how well you fly today.”

Shard laughed. “Yes.”

They backed away from each other, tails lashing with excitement. Shard admired her face in the dawn, and the dramatic angle of her as the wind rushed against her feathers.

Her eyes shone. “At least it’s such a fair morning, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Shard agreed. The wind brought him scents of pine, of saltwater and of his pride.

Something else, elusive, sweet, and silver touched the air, something he knew he would always sense now, something that he would never quite be able to define.

“Very fair,” he said, and opened his wings, breathing deeply, and gazed at the blue peeking through the clouds. “I think it will be a good day for flying.”

THE END

And finally, here is the list of generous backers whose pledges included a listing in the acknowledgements. Many names will look familiar from previous years. Thank you so much; I'm truly humbled by for your continued support!

In no particular order of amazingness: