Gryphons Quest (18 page)

The entire assembly had heard every word.

Shayla watched the others as a poignant hush continued. Such a disrespectful outburst shouldn't be ignored, but she hoped someone...anyone...would step forward in his defense. That he'd openly defied her wasn't a surprise. The man had been aching for a fight ever since New York and had found the perfect opportunity to pick one. Having made his feelings so public, he knew she'd be forced to judge him. Gryph's parents were presumably back at the castle by now. They shouldn't be the ones to constantly come to his aid. The confrontation from a hurt, albeit drunk and angry man, should have elicited some response. But no one came forward except the Fairy Leader, Lore, She held up her hand to stop him when he would have spoken up for Gryphon and waited. There seemed to be no one else. It was disheartening to think feelings among the Order could be so callous. So, now it was time to hear their side.

"Is there nothing to be said?" she loudly asked. The long silence continued, and she grew angry. "There are those of you he's helped." She scanned the crowd. "Torbin, when your granddaughter ran away from home, it was Gryphon who brought her back before she could end up in London in Goddess knows what kind of trouble. And you, Marceau. When the rain almost ruined your crops last year, Gryphon flew to a quarry and brought back stones for a retaining wall. It saved your harvest. He did this without being asked. Did you thank him? Did you offer him a meal or ask him to stay for the night as you would have done anyone else?"

The man bowed his head. "He's not like the rest of us, Sorceress. He's...different."

"Look around us, you fool. Who among us isn't! The way you're all responding to his difference is exactly how the outside world would respond to us if we were ever found out. We either stand united or we'll cease to exist. There aren't enough of us to fight off the advancement of a world which presses in on us every year. It's our differences that make us strong, and all you can do is wallow in intolerance the same way as the outsiders. Thousands of them die every year because their skin is differently colored or their eyes aren't the same. Are we no better than they? Have we learned nothing?" She paused. "Some or our traditions should be questioned. Especially anything that keeps us separate from one another."

"How do you mean, Sorceress?" a woman curiously asked and moved forward. Others moved with her.

"I'm saying that our magical powers are growing weaker every year. By the end of this century, there won't be enough new blood to promote genetically healthy offspring. I intended to make the announcement later, but now is appropriate. We should rid ourselves of the idea that we can only mate with our own kind."

The crowd gasped and immediately began to converse with one another.

"The Sorceress is right," came a voice from the forest. Lore, the Fairy Leader, approached Shayla and stood beside her. "The law says that we should mate with our own kind. But that rule could be interpreted as mating with anyone who's a member of the Order. Not just Fairy with Fairy or Druid with Druid."

"He makes a point," said a Satyr. "There are only a few of us left. Not enough to breed with after the next ten years."

"But won't that diminish our powers?" asked a man in the crowd.

"It might increase them," said Lore. "Either way, we have no choice. All our numbers are dwindling."

Shayla let the discussions continue. After a time, she raised her hands until there was silence. "So let it be. Anyone wishing to handfast and mate with anyone outside their own race or Clan has full blessing.

And some of you should find O'Connor and speak with him. What he's done in the past was at my command. From this moment on, Clan Leaders will be responsible for their own people." Many in the crowd smiled in agreement while others discussed the possibilities of the Sorceress' edict.

"What of Gryphon? Will you punish him for his disrespect to you?" the Fairy Leader asked in a low tone.

Shayla smiled and shrugged. "All he really did was toss a table aside. There are those present who've already done that while celebrating a bit too much."

Lore laughed. "True. But, he did call you an old hag in front of everyone."

She frowned and placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, and that will have to be addressed. First, find him and make sure he's all right. The man had more liquor in him than a Dublin pub."

"As you command," Lore bowed slightly, grinned, then raced off to find Gryphon.

***

Gryphon fixed his blurred gaze on the moon. "Are you thinking of me?" he whispered to the night sky, hoping his question might reach the right person. Then he pushed his hair off his face with both hands and held his aching head. If only he could get her out of his mind. All he had to do was see some large stone with Celtic pictographs on it, and he'd start thinking how Heather would love to explore the Shire and all the ruins. There were crystal caves below the forest, where semiprecious stones glittered. The castle housed a huge collection of medieval tapestries and scrolls. She could spend a lifetime exploring his world and never see it all. How would she react upon meeting a Leprechaun? He smiled as he pictured the scene.

But she didn't belong in this world any more than he could belong in hers. Despite his disfavor with the Order, this was the only place he could live. Or exist. That was all he was really doing. Marking time until life was over. He sighed and resigned himself to leaving for Ireland as soon as he had slept off the booze.

After what he'd done tonight, the Sorceress would call him back for some kind of punishment, and it would be severe. Gryphon couldn't bring himself to care.

There was a rustle in the bushes near him. He growled and slowly slid down the trunk of an oak, hoping its healing powers could alleviate some of the ill effects of his drinking.

"What do you want?" he spoke to the figure in the undergrowth.

"It's just me, Ursula," the Nymph responded as she moved forward and sat next to him. She pushed her silver hair off her shoulders.

"I told your sisters to leave me alone. Now, I'll tell you the same..."

"Please," she interrupted, "don't send me away. I didn't come to annoy you."

The expression on her beautiful face was uncustomarily serious for a Nymph. Her green eyes glittered in the moonlight. "What, then?"

"I wanted to apologize for the way they've acted."

"Who?"

"My sisters. They've been making some crude comments."

There were very few times in his life anyone had ever apologized to him for anything. It puzzled him into silence.

"They'll apologize to you themselves when I can find the little vixens," she promised.

Gryph swallowed hard and waved a hand in dismissal. "I-it's all right. Guess they only thought of it as a joke."

"Betting on the size of someone's urn...well, it isn't funny."

"Wasn't to me. But it's over."

She was silent for a few minutes and watched him stare up at the full moon. "Who is she?"

Startled by the perceptive question, Gryph turned his complete attention to Ursula. "Who's who?"

"The woman. When a man sits alone in the forest staring up at the moonlight, there almost has to be a woman involved."

"If I had a woman problem, you'd most definitely have heard about it." There was no lack of gossip in the Shire. The gryphon having a female would have been the focal point for months.

"Then, it's a lack of a woman, isn't it?"

Gryphon sighed. "Look, I'd really rather be alone. I appreciate your trying to be friendly. That happens seldom enough. But this isn't something I want to discuss."

"We don't have to talk." She sidled closer and put her hand on his forearm, then slowly moved it up his arm and pushed his hair back over his shoulder.

In his inebriated, pitiful state, Gryphon was only thinking of one woman. And only she would ever do.

"You should go."

"You're lonely."

"I'm drunk."

"I know. It doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter if you're thinking of someone else." She placed her hand on his cheek, turned his face toward her and leaned into him. She started to kiss him.

He leaned away and stared at her. "This isn't right, Ursula. You shouldn't be with a man whose attention isn't on you one-hundred percent. I am thinking of someone else."

"I don't care," she repeated. "If you can't be with her for some reason, maybe she'd understand."

That was the trouble. Heather would. She'd want him to be happy, but rolling in the moss with a Nymph wouldn't replace the emptiness he felt. And a woman should have more self-respect than to want to lie with a man just to satisfy her lust.

"Do you want this woman to be happy?"

He closed his eyes. "Yes."

"Then, you'd want her to find someone, wouldn't you?"

The thought of it filled him with jealousy. Especially when he knew no one cold ever love her the way he could. She'd someday lie with some man who'd open her creamy, soft thighs and pleasure her all night. Would she be thinking of him?

"Gryphon, we aren't handfasting. We'd just be giving each other a fantasy for the night. No strings attached. You could even pretend I'm this other woman," Ursula suggested.

He turned his head away. "I could never do that. There'll never be anyone for me but her," he solemnly announced.

"If that's the way it is, then I'll go, warrior."

"You should find someone who's sober. Someone who'll care for you, Nymph. There's nothing worse than being with someone just to ease an ache or to tamp down the fires of lust. Without love, there's nothing. Nothing but emptiness. I know. I'll always know."

She gently touched his hand. "I'll ask the Goddess for a favor on your behalf."

"Ask, beg, plead. Won't do any good. Not on my behalf. She doesn't listen. So, save your prayers for yourself." To his ears it sounded pathetic but true. There were no other words to describe the situation.

Without Heather, he'd spend the rest of his existence in a kind of living hell. He'd want her, but could never even touch her face again or see her smile. Perhaps she was even getting on with her life as he sat around in a drunken stupor. But he just couldn't think of going on. And he could never take one woman when another held his heart in her hands.

"I'll go now, Gryphon."

"It's best you do. And please ask your sisters to never make a joke out of me again. It's painful, and I have my limits."

Ursula nodded, backed away, and left him to his pain.

After the Nymph left, he undressed and sprawled beneath the moonlight. At least he could try to dream of her. No one could take away dreams. And maybe, some time in the future, his life could end while visiting his dream world. And he could be in a place where outsiders and those of the Order could live as one. A dream of forever.

FIFTEEN

"I'm sorry, Sorceress. This is how I found him." Lore shrugged.

"Get him up and dressed," she angrily ordered. "I've had enough of this."

Lore shook his head as Shayla strode away. "You're in for it now, old sod." He bent down and roughly shook Gryphon awake. "Come on, man. Wake up. The Sorceress wants you, and I mean now."

Gryphon slowly pushed himself to a sitting position as Lore threw his clothing at him. "Tell her to go bugger off!"

Lore leaned back and howled with laughter. "Not in this lifetime, old friend. I like my balls right where they are, thanks."

Every nerve in Gryph's body screamed in pain. His head felt like a blacksmith's anvil, and his movements were slow and clumsy. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep until the booze wore off.

But Lore didn't look as though he was going anywhere without dragging him along, too. He glanced at the tall man, pushed his hair off his face and used a tree to help himself stand.

"Did she send you to babysit?" he grumbled.

"You can say that. Now, hurry up," Lore urged.

Despite his friend's insistence, Gryph took his time dressing. Then he walked to a small brook to throw water on his face. The reflection in the water didn't remotely resemble the man he used to be. The one he knew she cared for. He shook his head in self-disgust then stood up. Lore, standing some yards away, beckoned him to follow. Gryphon almost turned and walked the other way out of sheer contrariness. But it was quite possible the Sorceress would punish Lore for not bringing him back, just to make a point. In the past, the woman had had men beaten for less.

He couldn't quite remember everything he'd told the Sorceress last night, but he did recall saying he wasn't doing her bidding any longer. No matter. He was tired. Tired of being someone's bloodhound and sick of having no more relationship other than that which could be gleaned from a tawdry night on the forest floor. All that was finished.

"Come on, Lore. Let's get this over with." He strode ahead of the Fairy Leader, determined to get it through the Sorceress' head that she didn't control him.

They found her in the middle of the great clearing, watching some of the men practicing with medieval weapons. For thousands of years, such practices had been taking place. Though the weaponry and the use of it was ancient, there was still no better way to silently defend the Shire and its inhabitants. Unlike a gun, a sword made no noise, and was lethal to any outsider who wouldn't leave when told to do so.

Shayla turned to face them when she sensed their approach. Lore bowed and, with an almost imperceptible nod from her, the Fairy Leader left. She glared at Gryphon and walked toward the woods, confident as ever that he'd follow.

Gryph watched Lore leave and wondered why a man with such pride would humble himself before a woman as cold as winter ice. He stood his ground and waited for her to realize he wasn't going to follow.

Not now or ever again. He watched the furious expression on her face grow as she had to retrace her steps and walk back to where he stood.

"I'll have you beaten to within an inch of your life for being so insolent," she growled.

Realizing she was speaking about more than just his refusal to follow her like a puppy, Gryphon carelessly shrugged. "I don't give a flaming rat's ass."

Truly shocked by his lack of respect, she moved to within a foot of him and stared up into his unshaven face. "You really don't care what\ do to you."

"If the most you can do is have me killed, there are worse things." A calm came over him. At that instant, he knew he really didn't care.

"And what about your parents, Gryphon? Don't you care that they'll suffer if I punish you?"

"They have each other." He sighed. "They'll get over it."

Shayla walked around him in a slow, methodical circle. He ignored her movements and stared straight ahead, a dead look in his eyes. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen a man look so unconcerned about himself. When she faced him again, she gazed into his dark eyes for some time before speaking.

"It occurs to me that a man without a reason to live is a dangerous thing." She paused before continuing. "I'll give you something to worry about."

Gryphon took a slow, deep breath, refused to rise to the bait and kept staring into the distance. She couldn't argue with someone who simply wouldn't let himself be manipulated any more.

"In two weeks, at the end of the Samhain celebration, I want you before the bonfire. You'll stand before the Order and accept my judgment. Will you show up on your own and accept it like a man, or will I have to have you dragged there in chains?"

Gryphon sharply turned his head toward her and glared. "I'll be there, Sorceress. Don't send anyone for me unless you want them dead." He quickly turned and stomped into the woods.

She watched him go, sadly shook her head and murmured to herself. "You're making things so much more difficult than they ever needed to be, my lad. And you're going to feel quite foolish before it's all through." With that thought still on her mind, she smiled and walked back toward the castle.

***

Gryphon took one last long look in the mirror. Only out of pride and respect for his parents had he showered, shaved and put on his best black leather. He'd painted his face with the blue woad marks of his Celtic forebears, braided his hair as a warrior and belted on his broadsword. Though he had no intention of using his weapon, he was still a Druid warrior, member of a noble lineage and would take his place for judgment looking the part. Whatever happened, he was determined his mother and father wouldn't have any reason to feel any more shame on his behalf. He looked out the castle window, grabbed his black cape and turned toward the door.

Upon hearing he was to be judged, his parents had pled with him for days to apologize to the Sorceress for his behavior. James had railed on about the need for conformity and how the safety of the Order as a whole depended upon obedience to her will. Gryph had heard it all before. Obedience had never gained him a thing except contempt from the very people he'd tried, albeit grudgingly, to serve.

And he couldn't conform when there were no standards for being a gryphon.

The worst of it was watching his mother sit and silently cry. To her he had apologized. It almost broke his heart, what was left of it, to hear her beg his forgiveness for meddling with his future. He shook the thoughts away and kept walking.

Judgments usually meant beatings or worse. As he approached the bonfire, he couldn't see any sign of Legion, the Whip Master. That meant he was due for the worst. It just didn't matter any more. He stood at the fringe of the crowd, pulled Heather's blue scarf from his leather jerkin and tied it around his left bicep. As members of the Order saw him and word quickly spread that he'd appeared for judgment, the crowd silenced and parted. He heard murmured whispers about the scarf, and it gave Gryphon one last moment of perverse pleasure. Tied as it was, the scarf represented the medieval favor of a woman and would cause gossip and confusion as to who its owner might be.

Before them all, the Sorceress stood on a large stone platform. Flames from the fire reached far overhead and provided an eerie background for her. The wind blew her long silver hair and white robe as she raised her hand and beckoned him forward.

His parents stood to the Sorceress' left, several other hooded figures to her right. Gryphon moved forward, climbed the steps and faced her with his head held high. He could hear his mother crying and was sorry for her sake. He was vaguely aware of his father pulling her close. There had been no other way things could end. He simply didn't belong.

Using her powers over the wind, the Sorceress amplified her voice so that everyone could hear. "Face the crowd, Gryphon O'Connor."

He turned and looked into the faces of those nearest him. Lore looked back and slowly shook his head. There was true regret in the Fairy's eyes. As others moved a little closer to the platform, Gryphon imagined he could see that some of them wore the same expression. Perhaps that was just his subconscious trying to make it easier. His brain's way of making final preparation.

The Sorceress' powers were awesome. She could destroy him with a wave of her hand. He took a deep breath, looked straight ahead and cleared his mind. No matter what anyone thought of him now, he was a warrior, and frost would form at the hottest regions on Earth before he'd show fear. His ancestors had fought alongside King Arthur. Gryphon was determined that his last actions wouldn't shame that history or himself.

Shayla stepped forward and stood beside him. "Have you anything to say, O'Connor?"

He stared straight ahead, kept his mouth shut and let the crowds think what they would. His last thoughts were his own, and they were thousands of miles away with a woman he loved and wouldn't ever see again.

"What I do now is for your own good and that of the Order." She stopped, lifted her eyebrows in an imperial fashion and caught the blue scarf as it fluttered in the Autumn breeze. Then she turned and addressed one of the hooded figures across the platform. "Does this belong to you?"

The figure came forward, walked in front of Gryphon and turned to face him. "Yes, it's mine."

As if it were happening in a dream, Gryphon slowly lowered his gaze from the horizon and stared into her face. "Heather," he mouthed. His voice had deserted him.

James and Gwyneth rushed forward.

"You brought her here to watch our son's judgment? An outsider!" James angrily whispered.

"You'll get her killed," Gwyneth gasped in a low voice.

"Hush, both of you, and step back. This is among Gryphon, this woman and me. And a judgment doesn't necessarily mean punishment."

James reluctantly pulled Gwyneth back.

Heather and Gryphon hadn't heard the exchange. They stared, fixated, at one another.

The crowd began to mill about, and a murmur of voices rose over the confusion on the platform.

Shayla turned to them, raised her hands and loudly announced, "This woman claims the right to handfast with The O'Connor." She quickly walked toward Heather, pulled her away from Gryphon and pushed back the hood of her green cape. In the blaze of the fire, everyone could see her face.

"She's lovely" someone said. "Who is she, does anyone know?"

A general commotion began among the Order. Shayla waited and watched.

Still too stunned to react, Gryphon stood and tried to focus. What in the name of Herne is Shayla doing? Some instinctive part of him screamed out that he should get to Heather. Protect her. Another part of his brain was telling him that judgment had been passed, he was in the next life and she was there with him. It made no sense. For the first time in his life, his mind and body just wouldn't connect. It was all like some alternate reality.

"Since O'Connor doesn't seem to have anything to say, I'll challenge him for the girl," a loud voice rang out. A tall man in a black, hooded cape stepped from the back of the crowd. Everyone gasped and backed away.

"Valerian," Shayla acknowledged, "come forward."

He sauntered toward the platform, mounted the steps and bowed before the Sorceress. His gaze drifted toward Heather, moved up and down her slender form appreciatively, then back to Shayla. "I want her."

Heather began to shake. The man was dangerously handsome, but his green eyes held no warmth at all.

"You don't even know her, man. Why do you challenge?" Shayla asked.

His eyes met Heather's. "She's just too damned beautiful to let the gryphon have her."

The sound of a sword being drawn caused the crowd to gasp. The blade of it came within inches of Valerian's chest.

"Back away from her, or you die," Gryphon snarled. He'd finally been propelled forward by the overwhelming need to protect what he saw as his.

Valerian threw back his cape and quickly drew his own sword.

"Not on the platform," Shayla warned, then turned to the crowd, "Clear an area."

The Order moved back.

Gryphon backed the man down the steps of the platform by holding his sword to his chest. The instant Valerian's boots hit the ground, Gryphon was on him with a ferocity he'd never before felt. He swung his blade in a high arc toward the other man's skull.

Valerian raised his to block, then swung low toward Gryphon's chest. The tip of his sword caught Gryph breast high and slashed a long mark through the leather of his jerkin. Steel cut into his flesh.

The wound was minor, but the feel of his own blood being drawn energized Gryphon, and he swung his blade even harder. In accordance with ancient law, it was forbidden for any member of the Order to shape shift when a challenge such as this was made. Gryphon wouldn't have changed whether that rule existed or not. He wanted blood drawn with his own human hands. Years of frustration and anger poured out of him. Over and over he pummeled the man with blows and barely gave him a chance to do anything but block. He was fighting for everything he ever wanted, and no one would stop him.

Heather watched in horror. One of them would die while fighting over her. She would have moved into the fray, but James quickly pulled her back and pushed her into Gwyneth's embrace. The older woman held on to her. Though Heather tried to break away, Gwyn was stronger, and James came to his mate's aid. They wouldn't let her free. Wouldn't let her get to Gryph.

Fighting for his life, Valerian thrust his broadsword toward Gryphon's abdomen. Gryph jumped back, and the other man charged. Valerian hit him in the face with his elbow, and Gryphon fell backwards and to his knees.

Valerian saw it as a way to finish Gryphon off, moved to his rear and swung down toward the kneeling man's head. Gryph blocked the blow by bringing his sword up and parallel to the ground. In a split second, he was on his feet, swung around and sliced his attacker's thigh open.

Valerian dropped his weapon and hit the ground. Panting, Gryphon moved over him and placed the blade of his sword to the man's chest. The beaten man raised his hand.

"I yield, O'Connor." He sucked in air as his open wound continued to bleed. "You must want her very badly."