He stood over her roaring, his yellow eyes blazing, his broad beak open above her throat.
She shoved the Amulet into his face.
He drew back blinking.
She got up and stood facing him. He watched her intently, his golden eyes searching her face at first hungily and then with curiosity. When she didn’t back away, his look softened. Gently he lifted a broad lion’s paw and touched her face, a paw soft as velvet, and warm. He slid his paw down from her cheek over her chest to rest upon the Amulet. She daren’t move. He opened his beak in the grin of the hunting eagle as if he would rip her suddenly, and when he spoke in a coughing roar she was faint.
“What do you want, child of Bast? How come you to have the Amulet?”
She swallowed, trying to make her voice work. “I—I have a right to the Amulet, it was my mother’s. I—have no mount powerful enough to carry me into battle.”
He looked hard at her. “What battle?”
“The Netherworld is at war.” She looked into his broad, avian face. “Siddonie of Affandar has gone to war to conquer all the Netherworld.”
He looked hard at her. “You come here alone.”
“Yes.”
“You would go alone to fight her? And how would you stop her?”
“I would stop her with truth. She wins with lies, with deception, but the Amulet can destroy lies.”
“You have only the Amulet with which to defeat her?”
“And a sword. And—and your power, if you would carry me.”
“And what would I gain by doing that?”
“Siddonie caged you. She took you from your forests. If you help me defeat her, you will fly free again.”
The Griffon shifted his weight. When he tried to lift his cramped wings, she could see they were stiff. His gaze didn’t leave her. She stared back at him boldly. He stroked his beak across his paws, then turned his head and with his thick beak he groomed the golden fur over his thin ribs. He seemed to be listening to something far away, or to something within himself. She waited.
At last he looked full at her again. “There is more at stake in this battle, young woman, than you yet know.”
He said, “Old, dark powers are rising. The queen has waked the primal dark which is the sire of all evil.” He looked at her intently. “Do you not sense this? Does not the rising power of that deep and primary evil touch you, daughter of Bast?”
The Griffon nodded sagely. “The serpent rises, Catswold queen. The dark enemy of Bast again rises.” He poked his thick beak at her. “Show me the Amulet. Hold it up so I can look at it.”
She held the emerald before him and brought a spell-light to shine on it. Deep within, the emblem of Ra burned. The Griffon’s gaze grew intense. When he had looked a long time he snapped his gaze on her suddenly. “We are kin, daughter of Bast. You bear the blood of Sekhmet. You bear the lion’s blood.”
She shivered.
The Griffon placed a heavy paw on her shoulder. “Dark stirs now across the Netherworld. The Serpent Apep stirs and wakes; the primal dark wakes.” The Griffon’s broad golden beak opened wide enough to swallow her face. His breath smelled like spoiled meat. “I must eat a proper meal before we start out. I am weak; they know nothing about feeding griffons.”
She led him up the stone stairs to the next level, and watched him cut down hams with a sharp snap of his beak and tear them apart and devour them. Up the next flight, in the scullery, he drank dry the water barrel. She could see through the scullery windows that Terlis and Briccha still worked in the garden, picking beans. As she led the Griffon out toward the courtyard he said, “What made you think you could wake me and not be eaten?”
She laughed. “I had to try.” She gave him a wink, as she had seen Morian wink, and a slow smile. “The Harpy warned me you were fierce.” They moved into the empty courtyard, and Melissa slid onto his warm back.
He looked around at her and spread his golden wings and he leaped skyward in a rush of wind, rising straight up above the palace. She stared down at Terlis, saw the white oval of the child’s face looking up, then they had left the palace behind, tilting so close to the granite sky she had to duck. He shouted, “Are you afraid?”
“Yes, I am afraid.” She stroked his neck as her heels dug comfortably into his sides. The Griffon twisted around again and gave her an appraising look. Under his old, wise gaze Melissa felt very young.
He said, “Remember, daughter of Bast—daughter of Sekhmet—one must ride into battle meaning to kill. Any other thought courts defeat.” He banked low over a forest. “If you die, you die. One cannot think of that; it saps the strength.” He sped above a deep valley, then above rising white cliffs. “The battle has centered at Cressteane. I sense it like a stench blowing. I sense her there: the dark queen.”
Chapter 66
