Ann Durand - Flight of the Gryphon

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Flight of the Gryphon
Ann Durand
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 devour 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."
The large hoshdel knelt slowly in the mud beside her, the heat falling off the animal's immense belly and
bathing her in its mist. The silver man's long arm reached out and hooked her around her waist. Plucking
her out of the mud, he slung her over the animal's withers onto her stomach in front of the saddle horn.
Before she could object, the hoshdel rose and was barreling out of the mud and into the forest at a
gallop. Her heart thudded in fear as she realized the silver man was heading the animal in the wrong
direction, away from the river. She tried to cry out again, but her voice faded into the noise of pounding
hooves. The man's thigh was inches from her head, so she stretched her neck out and let her teeth sink
into the silver suit.
The layer of suit was thin, like a single shaving from the ternok tree used for writing. Her teeth did not
puncture through it though, which was odd, since she felt the flesh beneath it yield under her bite. The
silver man yelped, reined in the hoshdel and pried her loose, tossing her unceremoniously onto the
ground.
She landed in the dirt on her back, the lasso still attached to her foot. She stared up at him, the Voice still
reverberating inside her head. He hopped off his hoshdel brandishing a long, slender dagger. Katera
gulped and sat up, but he pushed her back to the ground, pinning her with one arm. With the other, he
brought the knife to her forehead, pressed the sharp tip into it and sliced. A streak of warm red liquid
trickled between Katera's eyes just before she passed out.
Chapter Two
Katera's eyes opened slowly. She could see nothing in the blackness. She reached out and felt a pad
beneath her filled with something soft, like bird down. She felt around it. It was laid out over a hard
surface. Was it rock? Stretching her arm out further, her hand hit a wall, a bumpy wall. Was she in a
cave?
Her forehead throbbed, and she remembered. Her hand flew to a small bandage over her forehead. The
silver man…he had cut her. What happened after that? Who had bandaged her?
She patted her hands over the rest of her head and body. Everything felt fine. Other than the cut, she was
not harmed. But why did he do it? Her Lan Ma Ke had glowed in safety around him. Could it be that her
gift had failed her?
She heard a faint scuffling in the darkness and froze. A dim light glowed in the distance. Someone was
coming. She rolled off the pad and crawled on her hands and knees over the rock floor. Whoever it was
expected to find her on the pad. If she could find a place to hide...a crevice, or maybe a way out…
Her head bumped lightly into another rock wall. She stood and felt her way down the length of it. The
light behind her grew brighter. She could hear footsteps. Frantically, her hands traveled over the rough
stone surface, searching.
Too soon, the light rounded a corner and flooded the cavern. She spun around to face the intruder.
Under his chin, he held a lanadik, the light-without-fire carried by the Kastaks. From the dark shadow
outlining his face, she recognized the silver man with the golden hair. She glanced around the room to get
her bearings. A large wooden table, rough-hewn, lay against the far wall. Another wooden structure
resembling a chest lay next to it. More furniture lined the wall next to the pad on the floor. Someone lived
here. Her gaze turned back to the man behind the light.
"Well, I see you're up," he said. At the sound of his voice, her Lan Ma Ke erupted in a blaze of warmth.
No, she realized, as her tension dissolved, she need not fear this stranger in the ulli suit.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"The last time you asked me that question, you were writhing in the mud." He crossed the floor and stuck
the lanadik inside a sconce mounted on the cave wall. "Are you sure you want to ask again?" He laughed
and turned to her. In a soft voice, he added, "There were words screaming in your head, right?"
Katera nodded. She'd forgotten about the Voice. She hadn't heard it since she'd awakened ten minutes
ago. Again, she touched the bandage on her forehead.
"What…what happened?"
The silver man laughed. "That evil voice inside your head is gone. That's what happened."
"How? I mean…who are you?"
"Okay, that's the third time you've asked." He smiled. "I guess you deserve an explanation. My name
is…well, just call me Mikolen. I have lived in these caves for ten years."
"That's how long Askinadon has been on Kan Mountain. You're not…you don't keep his company, do
you?"
The smile fell off his face. "No, I do not."
"Yet, you wear the ulli."
Mikolen pinched the sleeve of the strange silver fabric. "The ulli. Yes, that's what your people call our lab
suit. I wear the ulli, because I hail from the same place as Askinadon, but I do not…keep his company."
Mikolen dropped his hand, paused. "Why were you headed down river? I didn't see you struggling to get
out."
"I did not want to leave the river. I wanted to go over the edge."
"To your death."
He stated this as if Katera was not aware. "Yes."
"Why?"
He crossed his arms and looked at her with his head cocked. A strand of his golden hair escaped from
the tie behind his head and fell loosely over his shoulder. She wondered, briefly, what he looked like with
his hair down.
"Because I had been Chosen." Katera lifted her chin. "And I would rather die than go to Askinadon."
"Ah." Mikolen nodded. "One of the Chosen. Lucky you."
Katera leveled her eyes at him. "My sister was Chosen, also."
"Your sister, too? Really?" He sounded surprised. "That's a new one. Two virgins from the same family."
His eyes swept over Katera's body outlined inside her clothes, and settled on her eyes. Her face grew
hot.
"Askinadon is a greedy rat," he declared.
A greedy rat? How did this strange man get away with this blasphemy? And what did he mean, as you
call him? What did he call him? One did not deviate from the titles that Askinadon gave himself and his
servants. Did this man not fear the wrath of Askinadon? Did not the Voice scream vengeance inside his
head? She had chosen to die, but why was he willing to risk everything?
Then she remembered: the Voice was gone from her head forever. Could that be true? Was he free from
the Voice, as well? She fingered her bandage tentatively.
"How does that feel?" he asked.
"Alright." She dropped her hand. "Why did you cut me?"
"To remove something," he said, digging into a pocket in his ulli. "To get this out of your head." He pulled
his hand up and held out a small, thin, flesh colored disc.
"That was in my head?" Katera peered at it.
Mikolen nodded. "This is the Voice. When this is gone from your head, the Voice can no longer speak
inside you."
Katera was stunned. The Voice lived inside the will of Askinadon, a will powerful enough to enter into
the minds and thoughts of her people, did it not? How could that big booming Voice with all its power fit
inside that insignificant little round thing?
"Askinadon is a god," she said, disbelieving. "He rules over us, as well as the Kastaks, the rocsadons, the
takataks…all the beasts of the realm. He resides on the summit of Kan Mountain and sees everything.
He does not live in that little thing." She pointed at it. "Askinadon is all powerful."
Mikolen threw back his head and laughed. Katera waited, surprised…and more than a little embarrassed
as he paraded around the room, roaring happily. When his mirth had ebbed, he drew his head down and
spoke quietly, his eyes twinkling.
"My dear girl, whoever you are…the power of Askinadon does indeed live inside that little round thing. It
contains the full extent of his power. With it, he controls his entire empire. When it is gone from your
head, he no longer has any power over you."
It must be true. Her head, though throbbing from the cut, had never felt quite so…light. Not since she
was sixteen years old, before that terrible day that Askinadon had announced his presence. She felt free,
free to think…free to wonder…
"Where did Askinadon come from?" she asked, her spirits soaring for the first time in many years. "Our
people…we used to be so happy. And then one day, he was just there. His kingdom simply appeared on
the summit of Kan Mountain. How did he get here? And what of the virgins that he calls to him? What
happens to them? Do you know if they're alive?"
"Whoa, whoa." Mikolen held up both hands. "That's a lot of asking. We're going to have to take this one
question at a time." His eyes traveled over her clothes. "But first things first. You, dear lady, need a bath."
He was right. Her hair, her spullera, her panna, everything, was caked with dried mud, not to mention the
streaks of dried blood on her face.
"Do you have a…"
"Place to bathe?" he finished. "Yes. And it's ready for you. You can wash while I find you some clean
clothes. When you're finished, we'll eat. Then you can ask your questions."
Katera felt a wave of relief surge through her. Her Lan Ma Ke was glowing like the moon in its fullness.
This silver man…Mikolen...he must be another god-a god opposed to the horrible Askinadon. A flicker
of hope sparked inside her. Maybe he held the power to fight and win against Askinadon.
Holding the lanadik, he led her through a low tunnel to another large cavern, dominated by a natural pool.
The room was very warm and humid. As he turned to light another lanadik on the wall, she noticed a trail
of steam rising from the pool and drifting toward several small sky holes in the chamber ceiling.
"A hot spring," Katera cried, elated.
"I hope it's not too hot," he said.
Katera stuck her hand in the water. It was quite toasty-just right.
"It feels wonderful," she said, feeling shy. "Thank you…Mikolen."
Mikolen smiled warmly, obviously pleased. "There is a blanket over there." He pointed to a bench. "You
can dry yourself when you're done." He turned to leave, carrying his lanadik and heading toward the
tunnel. "I'll be back with clean clothes."
"Thanks again!" she called, after him. As an afterthought, she added, "My name is Katera."
She thought she heard him chuckling as his footsteps faded away.
Chapter Three
Adrella shifted Rorken to her other hip and leaned into the crank, drawing the pail of water in its final
yard out of the well. Rorken, just fifteen months old, gurgled his pleasure as the pail reached its summit.
"Wa," he said, reaching out his small hand toward it. "Wawa."
"Yes, water, for your bath." Adrella tied off the line and lifted the pail off its hook, all the while juggling
Rorken around her bulging belly.
"Baa baa," he laughed. "Wowon tik baa."
"Yes, Rorken take a bath."
Adrella cooed, kissing her baby lightly on the head. Swinging the pail to her side, she hoisted Rorken
higher on her hip and lumbered off to her shelter, her swollen tummy leading the way. As she turned the
corner toward the harem's quarters and her hosta, a dome-shaped house of clay and sticks, she froze in
her tracks. A tall figure stood next to it dressed in an ulli. She spun awkwardly on her heels and started
back around the corner, but it was too late.
"Adrella!" the Kastak called. Adrella turned to face him, but did not approach. "Come here," he ordered.
Reluctantly, she moved toward him, swaying from side to side over her enormous load of child, bucket,
and belly. The Kastak drummed his fingers on his biston, the small device hooked to his belt that
summoned the Voice. As he motioned to lift it, she picked up her gait, spilling a good portion of the
water as she wobbled toward him. When she reached him, she lowered the pail onto the ground and
wrapped both arms around Rorken. Carefully, she pinned her eyes on the Kastak's feet.
"What is your bidding, Kastak Morchison, greatness be yours?" she asked, addressing him in the manner
of respect that was demanded of Askinadon's wives.
Kastak Morchison curled his lip, sneering down at her from his lofty height of six-feet seven-inches. He
squinted with his tiny, black eyes, which appeared as dark slits in his puffy face. She knew that he hated
her and would have her balancing on top the terrifying post inside the rocsadons' lair while the animals
raged around her, were it not for Askinadon. Morchison had learned her opinion of him when she had
acted out her mockery in front of the other wives, laughing after hours when they thought the kingdom
slept, when they believed the Voice had retired for the night. She had taught the others to speak freely
about Askinadon and his horrid Kastaks in those twilight hours when they assumed no one was listening.
But on this night the Voice had not retired.
She had been imitating the walk and talk of Morchison, strutting with her chest held out, her chin high,
when the words crashed into her head. Adrella, you scorn the Kastak. Come at once to my palace.
The others trembled as Adrella made her way out the door of her hosta where they had all gathered. She
walked down the dirt path, past the rocsadon's high stone corrals where long columns of mist propelled
into the air, and through the great gates into the courtyard of the palace. Askinadon was waiting for her,
his thick arms crossed over his chest, his ulli gleaming in the light of the lanadiks dotting the walls. She
lowered her head in front of him, as was the custom.
"Your bidding is my only desire, God of Parallon and Husband of my Dreams, greatness be yours," she
said, mouthing the requisite words and managing, once again, to conceal her disdain.
"Look at me, Adrella." His voice was soft. She lifted her head in practiced obedience and stared into the
cool, grey eyes of the man who tortured her daily with his perverted will. His face was pale and dry,
etched with lines that crisscrossed over the loose skin of his cheeks. His hair, sparsely distributed, was
graying at the temples. "Adrella. Dear, dear Adrella. You know the rules. No mockery of my Kastaks or
me…ever."
"My deepest apology, Master." Adrella knew how to appease this monster. She needed to stay on his
good side for the sake of her child, for the sake of all the children and their mothers. "Your great wisdom
is, as always, received in humble gratitude." She curtsied to the ground, her hands crossed over her chest
in supplication.
It had worked. Askinadon released her back to her hosta with an admonition. Yet, when Morchison
learned of her ridicule of him, and astonishingly, her subsequent release without a single hour in the
rocsadon's den, he openly fumed.
"One of these days," he promised her, "I will lead you personally to the rocsadons. And when I
do…when I do…"
Only Askinadon's merciless grip upon his Kastaks had kept the full effect of Morchison's wrath at bay.
That, however, did not prevent Morchison from deriding her at every opportunity. Even now, as she
jiggled Rorken in desperation to keep him quiet, the Kastak eyed her with undisguised contempt.
"So, great whore of Askinadon, why don't you hand over your little tot to me?" He asked, watching her
closely. "I'd like to start training him. Eventually, he's going to have to learn, so why don't we get started
early?"
The sneer on his face grew into a sickening grin, and Adrella's heart skipped a beat. The threat was real.
Only the sons of Askinadon were targeted for membership in this brutal band of slave-warriors, and
while their apprenticeship did not begin until the tender age of five, a Kastak could request a charge
摘要：

FlightoftheGryphonAnnDurandPrologue"Don'ttakeher!Please,don'ttakemysister."KateralaidherfingersonthearmofElderTorkon,butafirmhandonhershoulderyankedherback."Donottouchhim,"camethesternvoiceofElderRastonon.Kateraturnedaroundtofacehim.Hewassquintingatherwithsmall,blackeyes.Adroopingmustacheandtapering...

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