Page 9 of Knight's End
Chapter Three
We finally figured out how to fly. It took nearly three hours and it wasn't pretty. It also wasn't in any sort of combat formation. Isla’s bears could have flown to the edge of Evaness by then. We had no hope of catching them. No hope of stopping them. We could only focus on what we could do at that moment—learn to fly. As Ryan pointed out, you could only win the battle at hand. You couldn’t worry about things beyond your reach.
“The castle’s frozen. The militias have been mobilized,” he told me. “We need to do what we can to make the most of this opportunity. We need to get these gargoyles to fly.”
Each of my knights straddled a beast and took turns taking off and falling off the stubborn creatures, most of whom refused to touch back down to the ground to let us dismount. We had to slide off and try not to face-plant in the slippery mud.
Connor did his best to heal whatever bruises he could under Ryan’s coaching, but more often than not he created too much new skin, until we had raised, itchy, patchy sections of flesh. Cerena ended up with a raised patch on her chin that looked as thick as a mole. Declan started refusing healing altogether, stating that the bruises were preferable.
We coaxed the beasts like they were stubborn toddlers. They required constant direction, threats, and enticements. We pooled our knowledge of Evaness’ old gargoyles, Shire and Hazilla. We had all ridden on them before, Declan sparingly, but those gargoyles had been trained extensively, ridden for nearly fifty years. Those gargoyles were like the best trained horses. They only needed a nudge to head in the right direction.
These new gargoyles had to constantly be reminded of their purpose, their mission, even which direction to head. Gestures alone didn't work to control them. We were all constantly muttering commands: "Forward, up, lean left." They were often distracted by things like clouds.
On a practice circle over the forest, my stupid shite of a gargoyle spotted a creek and attempted to barrel roll through it. With me on its back.
“Up!” I screeched, as soon as we surfaced, half-drowned by some shallow rapids. The water was ice-cold, even at midday, because winter was rapidly making its way toward the seven kingdoms.
After the creek incident, I decided newborn gargoyles were quite exhausting and exasperating.
Declan seemed to have the worst trouble with his mount. It appeared his gargoyle was lazy and didn’t like to fly high. It was constantly skimming the trees with its wings.
Ryan wouldn’t let anyone ride with me for security reasons. “Better if more of us can block and protect you,” he said. So, I rode alone, though some of my knights doubled up. Quinn, since he had just discovered he could speak and couldn’t yell himself raw commanding an idiot gargoyle, rode with Cerena. Blue, since his speech could be impaired by his new power at any moment if he listened to a thought, rode with Ryan.
Our five beasts put us through a battle of wills that made me swear I never wanted children the next time we took a break and sat.
I sat on a stump and wailed, “Magical infants are the worst. I’m never having any. Hear me now. None!”
My knights had only laughed at that.
Blue had said, “We can just give the kids away. Maybe as tournament prizes. ‘Congratulations. Your skill with the sword has earned you a year of swaddling.’”
“No one would ever enter a tournament again,” Ryan said.
“Good, then I’d never have to sit through another one,” Declan contributed.
Connor said, “That’s what nannies are for.”
Declan added, “Or we can give the kids to foreign nations. Send them off for some treaty when they start throwing fits. That’ll teach them.” He joked, but there was a bitter undertone of reality to his words. He hadn’t been a toddler throwing fits, but he’d been sent away by his mother, an embarrassing bastard child the Sedarians hadn’t wanted to see. Of course, they’d sent him to protect Avia, too. But he hadn’t known that. He’d only known he’d been sent off like some poor pig to slaughter.
My Declan had been hurt by that. It still hurt him. It ripped me to pieces to know that it still ate at him. I couldn’t stand that. He was worth so much more. And knowing how he used to hurt himself, how much self-loathing he used to carry because of it—my hands curled into fists.
I clambered off my beast, fought sliding into a split in the mud pit, and went to him on his gargoyle. I held up my hands. He had to pull me up, because his gargoyle was a bit too tall for me to mount on my own.
Once I was seated behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist, leaned my cheek against his back. I tried to picture our lovemaking in my mind, and how utterly and intensely adored he was. I tried to pull those emotions up so he could feel the truth of my words.
His hand settled around mine and squeezed when I said, “Nope. Never sending our kids off. That would be a very foolish thing to do. Our kid would probably be a genius. And grow to love that other kingdom so much that he felt like it was home instead. And he might just become a national treasure there, with his own holiday, and—”
“Excuse me, getting jealous over here,” Blue called out. “How come I’m not a national treasure? And what’s this holiday business? How do you get your own holiday? Do you all have holidays? I’ve got a shite parent, too.” He sent us all a mental image of Sultan Raj and then opened his mouth to complain again, but nothing came out.
I laughed and sent him a mental image of himself wearing a jester’s hat and saying,Duh-oh, I forgot I can’t talk.His jester-self started dancing a jig, his long hair bouncing up and down on his shoulders.
He lifted his hand from his gargoyle’s neck to shake a fist at me but laughed.
I gave Declan a quick squeeze and a kiss, before sliding down and going to sit in front of my new husband, who’d moved his gargoyle close.
I hated the thought of any of them feeling left out. Or jealous. Not when we needed to bond and work together—not when so much was at stake. I also got the added benefit that Blue was much better than I was at controlling his gargoyle during our practice flights. Or he had been before I climbed on with him, anyway.
When we took off for another round of flying, his movements were far more jerky.
