Flight of the Gryphon

  Flight of the Gryphon

  Ann Durand

  Flight of the Gryphon

  Copyright © 2007 Ann Durand

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in Canada by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon Publishing Inc. of Markham Ontario, Canada.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double Dragon Publishing Inc.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Dragon's Heart Romance

  PO Box 54016 1-5762 Highway 7 East

  Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 Canada

  http://double-dragon-ebooks.com

  http://double-dragon-publishing.com

  Layout and Cover Illustration by Deron Douglas

  www.derondouglas.com

  ISBN-10: 1-55404-451-0

  ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-451-1

  First Edition May 15, 2007

  Also Available as a Large Type Paperback

  Now Available as paperback and hard cover

  A Celebration of Cover Art: 2001 to 2006

  Five Years of Cover Art

  [Companion calendars also available]

  www.double-dragon-ebooks.com

  www.derondouglas.com

  Acknowledgements

  With love and gratitude to my husband, Ray. Without his support, I would not be writing.

  Prologue

  "Don't take her! Please, don't take my sister."

  Katera laid her fingers on the arm of Elder Torkon, but a firm hand on her shoulder yanked her back.

  "Do not touch him," came the stern voice of Elder Rastonon. Katera turned around to face him. He was squinting at her with small, black eyes. A drooping mustache and tapering gray beard tugged at the corners of his mouth, intensifying his scowl.

  "Please, if you must send one of us, send me," Katera pleaded, holding out her folded hands. "We are identical. For twenty-four years, our own mother has had trouble telling us apart. The Master will never know that I am not Adrella."

  "Askinadon will know," Elder Torkon said, as he poured the contents of a vial into the sacred bath. "He is the Voice. He will know. She has been Summoned, not you. If you want to be with your sister during her last hours in Parallon, you will cooperate. The only reason you're being permitted in the elder's bathhouse is to calm her so we can complete preparations before the sacrifice. And if you can't do that, you will be sent away."

  "No, no. Don't send me away." Katera lowered her head. "I want to be with her."

  "Good," Elder Torkon said. "Then you may bring her to us. The bath is ready."

  A sweet fragrance drifted up from the steamy water of the large wooden tub that dominated the room. Katera knew the water had been scented with the attar of the white urlissin in preparation for the sacrificial maiden. With a growing ache in her heart, she left the room to retrieve Adrella, who was waiting on a bench outside the bathhouse. As she looked up, Katera saw the terror in her eyes and slid onto the bench next to her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. They sat leaning into each other, as Katera savored a few precious moments alone with her. Too soon, ElderTorkon called from inside.

  "It's time."

  Katera turned to her sister and scooped up her hands. Hot tears threatened to escape from the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them away.

  "Adrella…"

  "It's all right, Katera. I'm ready," Adrella said, in a small voice. "And please, be careful; you must watch your thoughts. Askinadon will know them."

  Katera forced a smile, and stood up offering an arm. Adrella took it, and they entered the room together. The steam had dampened everything in the darkened room, including the elders, who were wiping their brows. Adrella stared at the tub in the middle, a blank look in her eyes. Elder Torkon motioned her to undress, and stood back to watch. Too shaken to protest, Adrella allowed Katera to help her out of her garments. One by one, Katera draped each item over a chair against the wall until Adrella stood naked and trembling before them. Katera moved protectively behind her as Adrella climbed into the tub. She looked dwarfed inside it, like a child with her knees bunched up in front of her.

  Katera settled on a chair next to the tub and talked to her softly, whispering stories of their childhood and the carefree days before Askinadon had overpowered their small village. Adrella listened in silence, her head tilted to one side and her eyes brimming with tears. When Katera spoke of Banken, the boy who had loved Adrella, a pain pierced her chest as her sister turned her head away. Still, she kept talking, as much to calm herself as Adrella.

  An hour later, the elders instructed Adrella to get out and dry off. Katera handed her a drying blanket, and while Adrella wrapped herself in it, the elders poured a liberal amount of rubbing oil into a sacred gourd and handed it to Katera. She approached Adrella holding it tenderly in both hands and feeling helpless.

  "It's all right," Adrella whispered. "Better you than them."

  Katera kissed her lightly on the cheek, and dipped her hand into the oil. Adrella dropped the blanket, and Katera rubbed the oil in loving strokes over Adrella's shoulders and neck. As her hands worked the oil into the skin over her back, a chill spread through her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. She rubbed Adrella's legs slowly, trying to release the lump in her throat and hoping to postpone the inevitable. As soon as she finished with Adrella's feet, the elders pushed her aside.

  "She needs to dress," Rastonon said, holding up a silken spullera painted with images of the rocsadons, the ferocious dragon-like creatures in Askinadon's corral.

  Adrella stepped into it as Rastonon held it open for her. He slid it up her legs and over her hips, securing it around her waist. Abundant layers of soft cloth tumbled to the hemline and floated onto her bare feet, forcing her to gather and lift the material whenever she moved. She dropped the skirt when Torkon held up a red flowing top, also silken, and raised her arms to allow him to pull it over her head. Her bare breasts lifted and disappeared under it as Torkon tugged it down over her hips. Finally, he wrapped a yellow shipunta three times around her waist in the traditional fashion, tucking and pulling the tail through from top to bottom. Over it all, they threaded her arms through the leather harness that would allow Askinadon's ghastly servant bird, the giant takatak, to retrieve her at the altar and deliver her to its master on the summit of Kan Mountain.

  Now fully dressed, the elders seated Adrella and allowed Katera to brush her long hair and lace it with the small, red blossoms of the lidala vine. Katera wove it delicately through the long strands of her sister's shiny, dark hair and gazed into her large, green eyes. She resisted the temptation to say goodbye. Adrella didn't need a farewell to remind her that she would not be returning. None of the maidens who were Summoned each year returned. Katera twisted the last flower into place and leaned back to admire her sister's beauty. Adrella's smooth, buttery skin and delicately chiseled features mirrored her own, though the expression of resignation and defeat did not.

  "You look lovely," Katera whispered, but the words felt empty, inadequate.

  She wanted desperately to reassure Adrella, to give her hope, but the elders seized Adrella under her arms and lifted her from the chair before she found the right words. As they sequestered her in the adjoining room, they told Katera that isolation would preserve Adrella's purity before the sacrifice that evening. No eyes would be permitted to fall on the maiden and d
evour her beauty before then.

  As the sun sank into the western Shirkas, the elders marched Adrella, whimpering before her family, into the clearing in the forest where the altar at Kopa Na An was tended. She was laid on her stomach on the long table in front of it, the harness on her back exposed. A golden statue of a man in flowing robes towered over her. She waited, shaking, on the table while the elders chanted their verses to alert the takatak. Apart from the elders, families alone were allowed to witness the spectacle…and then, only as long as they heeded instructions to join the chanting. Katera watched her mother and father, their faces ashen, as they mouthed in horror the words to beckon the beast that would approach and seize their daughter.

  The wind beat into her face as the takatak approached with its black wings bent and pumping, its long shadow falling over the entire company. Dust and leaves swirled around her feet as the huge bird descended upon Adrella, screeching through its crooked beak. Adrella cringed before the beast as it clinched its talons onto the harness around her back. Then she rose within its grasp crying softly, her silky hair reaching for the ground over bare arms. A cool, gusty wind whipped at her spullera and sent it thrashing around her legs.

  Katera listened to her mother's choking sobs as Adrella rose above the trees. They watched, unable to look away, until the thick ashy clouds surrounding the summit of Kan Mountain swallowed the dark takatak and the small figure of Adrella beneath it. The final sacrifice was not for them to see, and like the others before, it would remain a mystery to the villagers of Parallon. Katera swallowed hard and followed her parents home, numbly placing one foot in front of the other. Her sister and only sibling, who had held the most cherished part of her, was gone.

  Chapter One

  Two Years Later

  The ringing in Katera's ears grew louder, and she knew the Voice would soon break through. She pulled the long, narrow Shalpacan wrap off her shoulders and cinched it around her head, but it didn't help. The ringing was inside, in her mind. She shook her head vigorously, hoping to spin off the whispers that had begun, but it was as if they were tethered to her thoughts, springing away and bouncing back again.

  Katera, listen. The Voice was deep, urgent.

  "No!"

  The time draws near. You must prepare.

  "Leave me alone!"

  You have been Summoned.

  "No. I'm not going. I won't go."

  I await you. You must obey.

  Katera flung her wrap to the ground and tore down the steep hill toward the river, sliding over the barren spots where the soil was loose. Her silken waistband caught on the branch of a bush and unraveled from her waist as she continued her wild trajectory down the slope.

  Every year, several of the village girls were targeted, but never, in the ten terrible years that Askindon had ruled over her people in the village, had he targeted the same family twice. Two years after her sister had disappeared into the sky, the Summons had arrived for Katera. She had dared to believe this fate would escape her. She had dared to think that she'd been pardoned from this doom in exchange for the sacrifice of her sister.

  The news of Katera's Summons rolled through Parallon like an avalanche from the surrounding Shirkas. Her mother had lamented this second Summons loudly, and her father, furious and still grieving the loss of Adrella, had fought the elders as they had restrained him from rushing up Kan Mountain to confront Askinadon himself.

  Katera refused to subject her parents to another presentation at the altar. Perhaps even more, she wanted to defy the god that had never appeared before her people, yet ruled them with the intensity of one who lived inside their minds and hearts, privy to every desire and weakness. She would not give herself over so easily. Better to engineer her own demise, sending the message to Askinadon that not all would obey him or his perverse Voice.

  Katera. Come to the altar.

  At the bottom of the hill, she slid down a short, muddy bank and plunged headlong into the raging river, hoping to drown forever the Voice that was still hissing words into her mind. Immediately, the current swept her into the frothing center and sent her bobbing downstream toward the falls. It tugged at her feet, pulling her down, and it was all she could do to keep her head above the water. Her raven dark hair, which had been bundled behind her head, tore loose from its clasp and flowed out in great lengths around her.

  Come to Kopa Na An tonight as the sun touches the edge of the western Shirkas.

  "I'll die first!" she shouted to the sky, and allowed the river to swell over her head.

  She did not want to live another day if it meant surrendering to Askinadon. She felt herself pulled more rapidly downstream toward the falls and a sure death. Beyond the edge, the water plummeted five hundred feet onto a large pile of rocks, before cascading another hundred feet into a deep pool. Katera did not struggle. It was the only way.

  As she rounded a bend in the river, her head burst out of the water, and the roar of the falls filled her ears. It would not be long now. She twisted her body around to see the edge where the path of water disappeared. Ah, there it was. She wanted to see it. She wanted to watch as she dipped over the side. She would cry out her blasphemy then, at the last moment. She'd use the old language-the forbidden one. Askinadon would be powerless to silence her.

  Akka Ya Askindon. Damn you, Askinadon.

  He had never before been denied a virgin. It was time. Time to crack through his fortress of uncontested power. Time to demonstrate the force of a will other than his own.

  The current released her feet, so she turned on her stomach and stretched out on top of the water, bracing herself for the dive.

  Something snagged her foot. A violent yank stopped her dead in the middle of the river, sending swells of froth churning around her. She gasped and shook her foot furiously, but whatever it was, it held her unyielding. Then, it slowly turned her ankle, dragging her body onto its side. In a series of short, powerful tugs, it jerked her against the current toward the riverbank.

  Soon, she burst free from the ferocious tow in the middle of the river and sped toward the edge, where her legs hit the muddy bank. The thing wrapped around her foot hauled her, sliding, out of the river and up a gentle slope. She came to rest on a landing, her wet and muddy spullera forced over her head.

  She pried it off her face and peered at her foot. A rope, looped tightly around her ankle, led to a large hoshdel, a four-legged beast of burden, snorting about twenty feet away. Her eyes followed the rope up the animal's shaggy, red body to a man frozen in the saddle and staring at her. Swiveling around in the mud to sit up, she pulled her spullera down over her knees, confronted his gaze…and shuddered

  He was wearing an ulli, the garment of the fearful Kastaks, minions of Askinadon who roamed everywhere to perform the dark biddings of their master. The ulli, a single, tight-fitting shiny silver suit, shimmered upon him like oil on water. The sleeves were long and extended over his hands, wrapping around his fingers like gloves. His pants covered his legs and formed snugly over his feet like silver boots. Without a seam, button, tie, or fastener anywhere in sight, it laid upon him like a coat of iridescent paint. A red emblem marked the chest with a series of three interlocking circles. His hair was long, wheat-colored and tied back off his face. His features were strong, and his blue-eyed stare unrelenting. Hateful servant of the dark one. She did not intend to submit and was about to curse him when he spoke.

  "Where did you think you were going?"

  His face softened as he broke into a grin. The non-threatening tone of his voice startled her. She looked at him more closely. His eyes were sparkling with humor, even kindness. Her Lan Ma Ke, a gift she'd inherited from her mother, glowed like an ember in her chest. Triggered in extreme circumstance usually by a human voice, her Lan Ma Ke allowed her to feel the intentions of others, be it warm and inviting or dangerous and threatening. She knew the moment she heard his voice that he was not going to harm her. This man could not have come from the cartel of Askinadon. Yet, he wore the
ulli.

  "Who are you?" she asked.

  His laugh startled her more than his voice. It was deep…and playful, an attitude nearly vanquished from Parallon.

  "I asked you the first question," he said, as if he were teasing.

  She opened her mouth and was about to demand her release when the Voice slammed back into her thoughts like a charging herd of rocsadons. She jammed both hands over her ears.

  Katera. You dare defy the Great One.

  "Ahh!" Katera wailed, boxing her ears.

  For this, you shall suffer. Katera's head slumped between her knees. You will listen to my Voice as it rings in your head like one thousand screeching whistles. It will not end until you arrive at the Kopa Na An and summon your takatak. Go now. The Voice echoed painfully.

  "Nooo."

  I will make you suffer, Katera. Every word unleashed an avalanche of daggers inside her skull. Katera stumbled to her feet, her arms wrapped around her head. She started back in the direction of the river…back to the falls, where she knew she could stop the pain, the suffering…forever.

  "Stop!" she shouted, as the pitch and volume mounted. "Stop. Please stop." She had managed a couple awkward steps in the mud when the rope, still secured to her ankle, yanked her back to the ground.

  Katera. Do not hesitate. The Voice had become so shrill that she felt her head would explode. You may not hesitate. Run, run to the altar like the hoshdel, or you shall perish in great misery.

  Katera struggled to release the lasso around her ankle, but panic had made matchsticks of her fingers, and she fumbled like a small child.

  "Help me!" she screamed, but the silver man was already edging forward on the hoshdel, coiling the rope. When he reached her side, she looked up at him, her face wet with tears of pain and exasperation. "Help me, please."