Chapter 7-1

Chapter 7: Parting

The next few years passed swiftly, much as the past ones had. Almonihah continued to grow, both in size and skill. Llinos even started to teach the young half-dragon a few druidic spell-prayers, the words and gestures used to importune Naishia for blessings. The Druid explained that all priests of the different gods used some form of spell-prayer to call on their gods. These spell-prayers were the way dictated by the gods to receive their aid in the form of magic. Llinos taught Almonihah a couple simple spell-prayers of healing, as well as a few other useful spell-prayers.

Almonihah's skills with weapons continued to improve, as well. He was becoming accustomed to fighting with a small sword in each hand, though he knew very well from watching Zrathanzon that he was nowhere near as skilled as his mentor in swordplay. He was quite proud when he graduated from the small practice bow he had been using to an actual shortbow, though he used it more like a longbow.

Varack'Nara also matured. He didn't grow much larger than he already was, but he mellowed considerably. By the time the spring of the year in which Almonihah was probably 13 (he hadn't been keeping very careful track of his age), it was obvious that something was on his mind. Something that involved girl griffons and nests. Sadly, Almonihah agreed when Zrathanzon said it was time to let him go. They took off his saddle and the other gear he carried and informed the griffon that he was free to go. After nudging the two half-dragons with his beak in a way that Almonihah guessed was his way of saying goodbye, he took off, circled twice, and then flew off towards the mountains.

Almonihah sighed. He had gotten to be quite skilled at riding Varack'Nara, and almost as good at shooting his bow from griffon-back as from level ground. In truth, though, he would miss both the company of the griffon and the treasured time flying, free from the ground in a way he might never be again.

Despite missing his griffon friend, the year passed just as swiftly as the past years had. The yearly loop was as familiar now to him as Zrathanzon's voice. They neared Llinos's valley a little early this year. Almonihah was looking forward to seeing Llinos and Garekh. The wolf had aged quite a bit as well, but he was still a good friend, even if both of them were too old now for romping around like pups.

As they passed the tree marked with the symbol of Naishia, Almonihah frowned. “Something's wrong,” he said to Zrathanzon.

The Ranger looked down at his pupil in surprise. “What is it, Almonihah?”

Almonihah was silent for a moment. “Something doesn't feel right.” He thought for a moment more. “It doesn't feel... peaceful here, like normal. More... angry?”

The older half-dragon was silent for a moment, then started jogging. “You're right. Something's wrong. Let's go!”

Almonihah ran to try to keep up with his mentor, but slowly fell behind. After a little while, the half-gold dragon topped a ridge and disappeared from sight. Almonihah hurried to catch up, reaching the top of the ridge just as Zrathanzon came back up.

“Stop!” the Ranger yelled as he saw the younger half-dragon, but it was too late.

The area on the other side of the ridge looked like a battlefield. Dead men and animals were strewn about the clearing, including an elven man with a wolf at his feet, both with arrows sticking out of them. None were moving.

Almonihah could say nothing, only shake his head in useless denial of what his eyes reported. To have his family killed not just once, but twice...

“I'm sorry, kid. I was coming back up here to tell you not to look, but...” the Ranger's voice trailed off uselessly.

“But what!” Almonihah yelled, seeking to push back grief with anger. “What could you have told me! They just weren't here right now? It would have just made it worse.” He was struggling to keep from crying as he yelled. “At least I know the truth this way...”

He thought of his father, and his unknown fate, then pushed the thought away as Zrathanzon spoke.

“A misunderstanding,” the Ranger said, as he looked over the scene. “I know that man,” he pointed at one of the dead humans, “a hunter and a trapper. He comes into these parts of the forest sometimes. He was always a bit antisocial, suspicious, even paranoid. He probably saw some animal, say that wolf there,” he pointed at a wolf with a bandaged leg, “Limping his way in here, saw him wandering around bandaged sometime after, and decided that someone here was gathering the wild animals to attack. Seems like the kind of thing he'd think of.

“He gathered together some other hunters and trappers in the area,” he gestured at the other human corpses, “and came here to take care of the problem. They found Llinos here with Garekh. Someone fired an arrow, and the whole valley started to attack the humans. They must have thought killing Llinos would stop them. It just made the animals angrier.” Zrathanzon shook his head, a mixture of emotions playing across his face as he did. “It ended like this.”

Almonihah trembled with pent-up rage and sorrow. “Stupid humans!” he yelled, running over to the nearest human corpse and kicking its head. He fell to his knees with an inarticulate growl and started pounding on the dead hunter's chest until he felt a gentle, clawed hand on his shoulder.

“Does it make you feel better?” Zrathanzon asked, gently.

Almonihah shook his head, still holding back tears. He felt sure that nothing would ever make him feel better.

Zrathanzon sighed long and loud. Then he spoke. “All we can do is bury them. At least they can respect each other in death.”

Almonihah had no desire to do anything, but for some reason, his feet followed his mentor's. The Ranger produced small shovels from his pack. Almonihah had long ago concluded that the pack much be enchanted to contain all of the equipment Zrathanzon apparently carried in it. Then he handed one to Almonihah and instructed him on how to dig graves.

Almonihah threw himself into the work, transferring all his rage into the soil. He attacked the ground savagely, as if it was some evil monster he had to slay. While the graves he dug weren't exactly regular in size or shape, they did get dug. By the time he was finished, the worst of Almonihah's anger and sorrow had passed.

He did, however, flatly refuse to help bury the humans.

They got to Llinos last, in some kind of instinctive show of honor to the fallen druid. It was now that Zrathanzon noted that the elf had been holding something in one of his hands. Gently prying the fingers apart, he saw that it was a finely carved likeness of a unicorn in what a student of heraldry would call a rampant position.

“It's another symbol of Naishia,” he murmured, as much to himself as to Almonihah. Examining it more closely, he found a small 'A' on one of the hoofs. “I think he was making it for you, Almonihah.”

The Ranger handed his pupil the symbol. Almonihah accepted it, tears again threatening to burst forth. He choked them back as he clutched the symbol to his chest.

They buried Llinos, as they had the animals and the humans, in one of the graves they had dug. Zrathanzon planted a seed from a nearby tree at the head of the grave. Both half-dragons were silent as they finished their work, then made camp.

Despite being physically exhausted, sleep evaded Almonihah that night. In fact, he didn't even try hard to sleep. Rather, as soon as he thought his mentor was asleep, he arose from his bedroll quietly, still holding the unicorn symbol. He walked over to Llinos's grave and stood there in silence far into the night.

********

A short, sad chapter. Maybe I should have warned you last time. I'd known this was coming since virtually the moment Almonihah mentioned Llinos. Which didn't make it any easier to write. At least it didn't take a lot of writing.

The next chapter represents a jump of several years. While a lot does happen in between, it seemed that it could be covered best in flashbacks and mentions rather than dragging you through all of it. So be ready for grouchy, antisocial semi-adult Almonihah next post!

Chapter 6-2

The year passed swiftly, much as past years had. Almonihah was pleased to note how much progress he was making in the various skills he was learning, though he could tell from observing Zrathanzon when he took time to practice his own skills instead of teaching his young pupil that he still had a long way to go. Almonihah was particularly pleased when Zrathanzon got a pair of small short swords to for the younger half-dragon to use in place of the daggers he had been using.

The first snow of the year came early, catching them still several days' travel east of Llinos's valley. Zrathanzon seemed a bit worried by this.

“Early winters usually mean trouble,” he explained to Almonihah. “Creatures that can usually get enough food stored up for winter in a normal year sometimes come south to finish getting ready for the snows when winter comes early.”

The next day, as they were traveling, Zrathanzon suddenly stopped. Without turning, he asked the younger half-dragon, “Almonihah, do you notice something odd?”

Almonihah frowned in concentration as he strained his senses for something out of the ordinary. After a few moments, his frown changed from one of focus to one of worry.

“It's too quiet.”

Zrathanzon nodded. “We'd better tread carefully and quietly. No telling what's wrong.”

They traveled in silence for the next few minutes before Zrathanzon stopped again. This time Almonihah didn't need any time to tell what was wrong. There was a narrow swath of large footprints heading south in the shallow snow lingering in the shade of the trees.

Zrathanzon stooped down to examine the footprints, then cursed in Draconic. “Ice trolls,” he spat the words out. “A whole tribe of them. Must have had a tough year up north and decided to come south for easier pickings.”

The Ranger stood up and whistled for Varack'Nara, who was soaring overhead. When he landed, the older half-dragon motioned for Almonihah to get on the griffon. "You'll need him to keep up with me," was his explanation.

Once Almonihah had mounted, Zrathanzon started running in the direction the footprints headed. “There's a village just south of the woods here.”

Almonihah needed no further explanation.

They traveled as quickly as they could, hoping to arrive in time to help. They reached the edge of the forest just in time to see a large group of creatures charging towards the stockade surrounding thing village. The creatures looked vaguely humanoid, though they stooped over and ran with both feet and the knuckles of their hands like some kind of gorilla. Some clutched clubs or spears in their hands as they ran, though how they could hold on to the weapons and still use their knuckles to run was a bit of a mystery to Almonihah. Their hides ranged in shade from a dirty white, like old snow, to a very pale blue.

Zrathanzon broke into a run again as the ice trolls reached bowshot of the stockade. A few arrows flew out to meet them, and while most found their mark, only a couple actually penetrated the thick hides of the trolls, and even those didn't seem to do any true harm. The trolls with spears paused for a moment to throw their spears in reply. As far as Almonihah could tell, they didn't hit any of the men guarding the stockade, but it did make them spend some time ducking and dodging instead of nocking arrows.

“Almonihah, stay back and just shoot arrows,” Zrathanzon commanded as Varack'Nara started to follow after the Ranger . “You and Varack'Nara don't have any business getting close to an ice troll.”

Almonihah didn't need to be told that twice. The first of the ice trolls were getting near the stockade now, and he could tell that, even hunched over, the creatures must be nearly as tall as the wall was. He definitely didn't want to get close to them if he could help it. Varack'Nara didn't seem eager to get close to the creatures, either, and he glided down to a landing well away from them.

When the first trolls reached the walls, they stood up all the way, which brought their clubs and massive fists on level with the top of the wall. One of the defenders managed to put a spear through a troll's eye, and it fell back to the ground with a thud that Almonihah could hear even from where he was. Most of the defenders weren't as lucky, and the trolls' blows sent them flying. Almonihah doubted any of them were alive when they landed.

Then Zrathanzon fired an arrow. As soon as it left his bow, it blazed with a bright white light. It sped through the air much faster than the humans' arrows had, and buried itself deep in the neck of one of the trolls. The beast stumbled, clutching its throat, then toppled to the ground. The other trolls paused to look behind them, searching for this new threat. This gave the human defenders a chance to strike. A fresh barrage of arrows, spears, and other weapons forced those trolls nearest the walls to turn their attention back to the humans. What looked like the largest of the trolls gestured to some of the other trolls, then at Zrathanzon. About half a dozen trolls from the back of the group turned back and started to charge towards the Ranger and his pupil.

“Stay here,” the half-gold dragon whispered to the younger half-dragon, then continued running towards the trolls.

Almonihah obediently halted. He watched as his mentor fired two more arrows even while running, each shot felling another troll. Then he was too close to the trolls. He put his bow away and drew his sword, which burst into flames. Almonihah wondered why his mentor hadn't used all of the magical abilities of his weapons when they had been fighting the fell-wolves, but filed away the question as he drew his bowstring to do what he could do to help the older half-dragon.

Zrathanzon nimbly dodged the club that tried to smash him as he reached the four trolls, and neatly hamstrung the troll who was wielding the club. The giant creature cried out in pain as its leg gave out underneath it. The Ranger was already moving on as it fell, slashing the wrist tendons of a fist that tried to smash him, stabbing another troll in the kidney region, then ducking under another club.

Almonihah, who had been looking for an opening, thought he saw one. He fired his little arrow at the eyes of the troll who was clutching his bleeding wrist with his other hand. He watched his arrow as it flew to its target, only to see it skip off the thick hide of the troll's shoulder. Determinedly, he knocked another arrow and took another shot.

While his pupil was doing what he could, Zrathanzon had worked his way back around to the hamstrung troll, which was shakily trying to get back up on its other leg. Zrathanzon darted under it as it rose up on its knuckles and one leg, his sword flashing. The troll collapsed to the ground, its last breaths bubbling through the blood flowing from the gash in its throat.

One of Almonihah's arrows finally penetrated the troll's hide. The creature grunted in surprise, looked up at the young half-dragon, and started charging towards him. Then it toppled face-first into the ground as it too was hamstrung, as Zrathanzon moved to protect his protégé. The Ranger jumped up on its back and stabbed his sword down into its back, piercing its heart. Then he ducked under a club as one of the remaining two trolls swung at him, then jumped off the dead troll just high enough to chop into the attacking troll between its ribs. As it fell, he quickly finished off the last remaining troll.

The battle at the stockade was going badly for the human defenders. Only one more troll had fallen, and there seemed to be only a few warriors still fighting those that remained. Zrathanzon hurried towards the stockade, and then, once he was sure he was close enough to be heard clearly, roared out something in a harsh, guttural language that Almonihah didn't recognize, though he guessed it was probably Trollish.

Whatever the Ranger said, it got the attention of the big troll. He responded in the same guttural language that Zrathanzon had spoken. The half-gold dragon responded, and then the big troll said something to the other trolls. They started to back away from the wall.

Zrathanzon called out to the remaining human defenders. “They've called a truce while I settle this with their chief. If you stop fighting, they'll stop.”

Warily, the humans stopped firing at the trolls. Meanwhile, Zrathanzon and the big troll who must have been the chief the Ranger had referred to approached each other. They spoke some more, the troll chief emphasizing some points by pounding his club on the ground. After some discussion, they both fell into ready stances and started circling each other.

The troll struck first, springing forwards and slamming its club down surprisingly fast for such a large, ungainly-looking creature. Zrathanzon wasn't caught off guard, however. He had already dodged to the side, his flaming sword slashing towards the chief's forearm. Surprisingly, the troll managed to move quickly enough that the sword only singed its hide. A little bit surprised, Zrathanzon leaped back just in time to avoid a counterattack from the troll chief. Clearly this wasn't going to be as easy as the other trolls.

They circled warily for a little while longer. This time Zrathanzon initiated the exchange, dashing forwards to slash at the troll. It swung its club high at his head as he neared, but the Ranger, rather than dodging, dove under it, coming to his feet inside of the troll's reach before it could recover from its swing. He slashed at it, and it could only dodge enough to turn what could have been a very dangerous blow to a painful gash across its belly. It did have a surprise for Zrathanzon, however, as it kicked him hard enough to knock him back beyond the reach of the club.

Despite obviously being caught off guard by the blow, Zrathanzon turned his landing into an acrobatic roll, somehow ending up back on his feet before the troll chief could take advantage of his blow. It swung at him, narrowly missing him. As it recovered from its swing, the half-gold dragon breathed a gout of fire at its face. While it truly didn't do a lot of damage—troll hide is amazingly tough—it did blind the big troll for just long enough for Zrathanzon to get inside its reach again. It managed to get its arm in the way just in time to turn what would have been a stab in the kidneys into a stab in the arm, but from the way the creature grunted, it was obvious that the deep wound had caused it a lot of harm.

Zrathanzon danced back out of the way as it brought its club back around, then again as it whipped the weapon back. Then he darted forwards as it stumbled a bit, its wounds slowing its recovery just slightly. He wasn't quite in time to dodge as it suddenly turned its stumble into a swing. The club only hit him glancingly, but it was enough to knock him over, though again he rolled with the blow right back onto his feet. As the club passed by again, he dodged back, then struck the club two-handed with his sword. It stuck deep in the wood, and was ripped out of his hands as the club passed by. The troll said something that was clearly boastful. Zrathanzon simply warily circled, watching the chief.

The troll idly walked towards Zrathanzon, swinging its club lazily. It clearly no longer regarded the Ranger as a threat. Zrathanzon simply continued to dodge, watching the troll carefully. After a while it got a strange expression on its face, as if suddenly realizing that it had failed to account for something. Then it yelped and threw its now flaming club away from itself. Zrathanzon ran after it, then retrieved his flaming sword from it, its work well-done.

The troll chief watched Zrathanzon approach closely, obviously aware of how the Ranger had just turned the tables. This time, as the half-gold dragon charged, there were only fists to meet him, and while they moved quickly, he was faster. He managed to get around to the side of the beast, and slashed the back of its leg. As it stumbled, he nimbly moved behind it, stabbing deep into its back in a couple of places. It tried to recover, keeping its weight off of its leg, but it was obviously being slowed by its injuries. It just couldn't move fast enough any more to keep the Ranger away from its vitals.

The battle didn't last much longer.

After the troll chief stopped twitching, Zrathanzon stepped up on top of it and turned to the trolls, who were looking at him uncertainly. He called out in their guttural language, pointing to the dead troll, then to himself. Then he took the remaining trolls in a sweeping gesture, still speaking in Trollish, then gestured sharply to the north.

Grudgingly, the trolls started straggling towards the north. Turning his attention briefly to Almonihah, Zrathanzon called out in Draconic, “Make sure to stay out of their way.”

Almonihah didn't need to be told to stay out of the way of the sullen trolls. He and Varack'Nara were far off to the side when they passed, grumbling in their harsh tongue. Obviously, they weren't happy about leaving without the food they must have come for, but just as obviously, they didn't want to mess with the Ranger.

Once the trolls were out of sight, Almonihah and Varack'Nara returned to Zrathanzon's side. Zrathanzon turned to his pupil from watching the edge of the woods.

“Let's see how much of that herb-lore you remember.”

They approached the gates of what remained of the stockade, leaving the griffon outside with orders to stay put . One of the remaining guards hailed them as they neared.

“Ranger! Praise the gods that you showed up here in time!”

“Just wish I'd been earlier,” was the half-gold dragon's reply.

“We're just as glad you showed up when you did,” the warrior said. “You coming in?”

Zrathanzon nodded. “See what we can do for the injured.”

The warrior motioned to someone behind the wall, then turned back to the half-dragons with a sigh. “I'm not sure there's many you can do much for, but we're grateful for anything you can do.”

They entered the village, and it was clear what the guard meant. There were several men sprawled on the ground, and even a couple partway through walls of some of the homes in the village. None of them were moving.

After asking around a bit, they found the place the surviving wounded had been taken. There were only a couple of them, men who had only been struck glancingly by the trolls. A priest was there, caring for them. He looked up as the two half-dragons entered.

“I've done everything I can for them. They should be fine in a few days,” the priest said, stepping aside for the Ranger to inspect his patients.

Zrathanzon shook his head. “I doubt I could do anything more than you have.”

The priest nodded in appreciation, then turned back to his patients.

The Ranger turned to his pupil. “Let's go. There's not anything more we can do here.”

A few villagers thanked the half-dragons as they passed on their way to the gates. Just as they reached the gates, a woman's voice reached them, cursing them. Almonihah flinched at the yell.

“She's grief-stricken. No doubt her husband was one of those we were too late for,” Zrathanzon murmured to his pupil.

“Oh,” Almonihah replied, her words still ringing in his ears.

**************************

This is the end of chapter 6. I hadn't really known about the whole section about the ice trolls until pretty recently, when Almonihah decided to inform me of just how good of a warrior Zrathanzon really was.

So, I guess this is my second fight scene. This one's a bit more detailed, as appropriate to Almonihah's greater age and faculties at this point in time. How do you think it turned out?

Chapter 6-1

Chapter 6: Flight

“So is he ready yet?” Almonihah asked, barely able to contain his excitement.

Zrathanzon gave Varack'Nara an appraising looking. He was about the size of your average riding horse—minus his wings, of course. His wingspan was more than twice his length. “He should be able to carry you soon. Just wait a few days more.”

Almonihah sighed, disappointed that he hadn't said today. Still, he could wait just a few days.

Maybe.

They walked in silence for a little longer, and then suddenly, Zrathanzon stopped. “Almonihah, there's something I want to make sure you understand,” he said, his voice very serious.

“What?” Almonihah's response was just as serious.

Zrathanzon squatted down so that he was almost looking straight into Almonihah's eyes. “You may ride Varack'Nara if he lets you, but you have to remember, he is still his own creature. You do not own him or control him, and if he lets you ride him, it is only as a favor to a friend, not because he has to.” The Ranger paused for a moment to make sure his words had sunk in, and then asked, “Do you understand what I mean?”

Almonihah slowly nodded. “I think so. Varack'Nara is a friend, not a pet.”

Varack'Nara, hearing his name but unable to follow the Draconic conversation, screeched a bit peevishly, as if to express his dislike of being excluded from such a lengthy conversation. Almonihah grinned a bit at the griffon's timing. This brought an inquisitive screech from Varack'Nara, but Almonihah just shook his head in response.

They made camp a bit early that evening. After they had everything set up for the evening, Zrathanzon got out the tools and materials he had been working with. This time Almonihah got a closer look at what the Ranger was making.

“Is that a saddle?”

Zrathanzon chuckled a bit. “This is part of why I wanted you to wait. It's a lot safer to ride a griffon with a proper saddle. Not to mention it's easier on the griffon.”

“Oh.” Almonihah was silent for a bit, then asked, “So how long until it's ready?”

The older half-dragon chuckled again. “A bit impatient, Almonihah?” Then he sobered a bit. “I said a few days more, and that's when the saddle will be done.”

The next few days seemed very long, but they finally came and went. The saddle was finished, and after a couple iterations of putting it on Varack'Nara and making readjustments, Zrathanzon finally declared it was ready. The saddle was settled into place, the straps tightened, and everything seemed to be in place.

Remembering what Zrathanzon had said, Almonihah went up to the griffon and said, “Varack'Nara, I'm ready to fly with you. You don't mind having me ride, do you?”

Varack'Nara shook his head, then stooped down so it would be easier for Almonihah to mount. Almonihah looked back at Zrathanzon. The Ranger motioned for him to go ahead and get on.

Almonihah studied the saddle for a bit, trying to remember what his mentor had said about mounting and trying to figure out how to put it in practice. After a bit, he carefully put one foot in the stirrup, stepped up, and grabbed onto the saddle itself. After a few seconds of pulling and shifting around, he was finally seated properly in the saddle.

Almonihah bent over and whispered, “Ready?” to Varack'Nara. The griffon nodded his head, then stood up with an enthusiastic shriek. Almonihah, caught slightly off guard by the sudden movement, convulsively gripped the front of the saddle.

Once Varack'Nara was standing, Zrathanzon did one last check on the saddle straps, then asked Almonihah rather pointedly, “When are you going to get strapped into the harness?”

“Oh, yeah,” Almonihah said, suddenly realizing he'd left the straps that were supposed to help secure him in the saddle during flight dangling every which way.

After everything was strapped, buckled, and double-checked, Zrathanzon slowly went over the various signals and riding techniques one last time with both the rider and the ridden one last time. Finally, he said, “Now, I want you two to stay low and take it easy for a while until you're both sure you've got the hang of this. Riding a griffon isn't easy, for both the rider and the griffon, so both of you need to take your time. You shouldn't go too fast or do anything crazy for quite a while. Do you two understand me?”

Both of them nodded. After a moment's pause, as if to give them time to reconsider, Zrathanzon said, “All right. You can start.”

They both just sat there for a moment, as if unsure exactly how to start. Then Almonihah murmured something to Varack'Nara, and he started walking, then running, and then leaped. That leap coincided with a powerful downbeat of his wings, which was followed by another, and then another, as they climbed up above the treetops and into the open air.

Almonihah at first found the whole experience rather uncomfortable—every flap of the griffon's wings translated into a sudden jolt in the saddle, each of which seemed like he was being slammed into the ground. After a little while, however, he started figuring out how to anticipate them and move with them, which made them somewhat better. He still suspected he would find places he never thought could get sore by the end of the day, but it was bearable enough that he could stop focusing on not getting rattled to pieces or out of the saddle and look around.

And what he saw took his breath away.

They were flying fairly low, maybe just ten or fifteen feet above the level of the trees. The trees were going by quickly below them—faster than they looked like they were going when he ran his fastest, and Varack'Nara was just gliding now. He found that he liked gliding a lot better than flapping. It didn't involve nearly so much jerking around.

Now that he was starting to relax a bit, Almonihah found himself grinning. The wind flowing past him felt just like he had remembered... that is, imagined it. Though it really had seemed like a memory. What was that Zrathanzon had said? Something about how his dragon half seemed to remember things?

Soon enough, the sheer joy of flying pushed aside all questions. There was a feeling of... freedom, was perhaps the best word for it, as if slipping the ties of gravity let loose all the fetters of life. The sights, the sounds, and the feel of the wind made an exhilarating mix that made the day to day cares of existence fade away.

“No wonder you spend so much time flying!” Almonihah said to Varack'Nara.

The griffon screeched in agreement.

As they flew, Almonihah grew more comfortable in his seat, though he suspected it would still take a lot of practice before he really moved completely in unison with Varack'Nara, the way Zrathanzon had said an expert griffon rider did. He still had a bit of trouble anticipating the first jerk when the griffon started flapping his wings after gliding for a while, but he could usually do pretty well after that.

They circled back around, heading back towards where Zrathanzon was standing, watching them. As they passed the Ranger, Almonihah lifted up his arms and let out a whoop of joy. As they turned again, heading off in another direction from the clearing where they had taken off, Almonihah looked over his shoulder and saw his mentor shaking his head in what he thought was probably amusement. Almonihah just grinned wider.

After a few more minutes of flying, the young half-dragon began to realize just how sore he was going to be. It was always bad when it started even before he stopped whatever was making him sore.

“Maybe it's time we landed,” Almonihah said wistfully, disappointment at his lack of endurance evident in his voice.

Varack'Nara circled the clearing, descending slowly until he was about at the level of the tree tops, then angling downwards to land. Almonihah didn't realize just how hard of a jerk landing was going to make until it hit him.

“Oooooowwww...” he groaned as something particularly sensitive connected with the saddle.

Zrathanzon grinned as he walked up. “I told you that landing was the trickiest part, didn't I?”

Almonihah simply nodded in mute, painful agreement.

The year passed quickly for Almonihah. He and Varack'Nara flew most days, until, by the end of the year, it seemed second nature to both of them. Their endurance improved, as well, to the point that they could spend several hours in the air without Almonihah ending the day sore, though the griffon did require periods of rest on the ground. Almonihah hadn't thought about it before, but it made sense to him when Zrathanzon explained how tiring flying really was, especially with added weight. It also explained why Varack'Nara ate so much on the days when they spent a lot of time in the air.

Varack'Nara had just about reached his full growth by the time the leaves started falling from the trees. He was just a bit bigger than the big horse breeds that carried armored knights, though it would only be later in his life that Almonihah could truly make that comparison. It made it a bit of a stretch for Almonihah to ride the griffon, even though he had been growing, too. He could still ride, though, and he wouldn't have given up his time in the air with Varack'Nara for anything.

They had to cut down a lot on their time flying during the winter. For one thing, while Almonihah was slowly getting to be more resistant to cold, he would still have needed some much heavier clothing, and for another, griffons weren't particularly resistant to the cold, either. The half-bronze dragon couldn't really complain of being bored, though. His training under both Zrathanzon and Llinos occupied him quite thoroughly.

One day, Almonihah asked a question he had been thinking about for quite a while. “Llinos, you wear that thing around your neck to say you worship Naishia, right?”

Llinos smiled. “Yes, child,” he responded, brushing his fingers across the tree carving in question. “It is one of the many symbols used for Naishia. Not only does it declare my allegiance to Naishia, it is also blessed so as to be used in my druidic magic.”

Almonihah nodded in satisfaction at being right, then asked, “And you wear one to say you worship Bahamut, right, Zrathanzon?”

The Ranger simply nodded his head.

“So... do you think maybe I should get one?”

They were silent for a moment, then Zrathanzon asked, “Is that your way of saying you've decided on a god that you want to worship.”

Almonihah squirmed uncomfortably for a bit, then nodded.

“So which one is it?” Zrathanzon asked, after another moment of silence.

Almonihah answered this question without any hesitation. “Naishia.”

Llinos nodded, then spoke. “I trust you are aware of what worshiping Naishia entails?”

Almonihah nodded again.

Llinos smiled. “Then She will be glad to have you. I think I can arrange for you to get a symbol of your own, if you so desire. I suspect you will also want me to teach you more of the worship of Naishia?”

“Yes,” Almonihah responded.

“I trust this is acceptable to you?” Llinos asked Zrathanzon.

Zrathanzon nodded. “He can choose for himself.”

“Then let us begin.”

Almonihah's training for the rest of the winter was much more focused. Llinos spoke with him of the worship of Naishia, and of the respect and defense of the wild lands of Draezoln that it entailed. He also spoke to him of the principles of druidic magic, though he did not teach him any over this winter.

The winter seemed to pass even more quickly than the year before it had. All too soon it was time to leave Llinos's valley and head back east. Almonihah knew that the possibility of him simply remaining in the valley existed, but despite his newly declared allegiance, he didn't think he could stay in the valley all year. He always felt restless by the time the winter ended.

***************

Well, this was a bit longer of a section. The section about riding Varack'Nara was written at jet cruising altitude. I didn't even do that on purpose, either. The flight is part of the reason this post is longer, though.

A couple really major events in Almonihah's earlier life, here. There's really not much more in his early life. Expect things to jump in a couple of chapters.

Chapter 5-2

As Zrathanzon had predicted, it took a couple weeks before Varack'Nara was ready for traveling, and even then they had to travel slowly—not in the least because a close eye had to be kept on the griffon. While he seemed perfectly fine with being raised by two half-dragons, it was clear that the hatchling had a lot of griffon in him. Hatchling griffon, to be precise. Which meant he had something of an instinct to pounce on anything smaller than him that moved.

Varack'Nara grew quickly as the trio slowly meandered their way east. While Zrathanzon indicated that it would take him two years at least to reach full adult size, he also said that most of that growth happened during the first year. Almonihah seemed a little bit envious of this, given that his own growth was a bit slower even than a human child's, but as the days turned into weeks, it was clear that Varack'Nara was going to be as much a friend to him as Garekh was... at least when the hatchling was older.

By the time the summer came, the little griffon wasn't quite so little any more. He was more the size of a pony. And if possible, he was even more of a handful. While he wasn't quite so likely to go pouncing on mice that he had seen out of the corner of his eye, Varack'Nara seemed to compensate by being even more curious about everything else.

“There are times I wonder how they manage to survive childhood in the wild,” Zrathanzon commented to Almonihah in Draconic, after a particularly close call with a pit fisher.

Almonihah just grinned in agreement.

It wasn't much longer after that when Zrathanzon started trying to teach the griffon how to fly. It was a rather interesting sight, to see a wingless half-dragon instructing a griffon on how to get off the ground, but surprisingly enough, it seemed to be working, if only because Varack'Nara could understand the Common Tongue. As Almonihah listened, he realized just how much his mentor must have watched the various animals of Draezoln go about their daily business. Then he thought of a question.

“Zrathanzon, why is it that Varack'Nara can understand the Common Tongue? It's not like we taught it to him.”

Zrathanzon kept his eyes on the griffon, which was still struggling to get airborne. “Because everything that has half a brain can. He could speak it, too, if it wasn't for the beak.”

Of course, that answer just opened up another question. “Why is it that everything can understand it?”

Zrathanzon was silent for a moment, then shrugged. “I'm not really sure,” he admitted. “If you asked a priest of Mashano, they'd tell you it was their god's gift to the world. They might even be right, though it may have been more his gift to the humans rather than Draezoln.”

Just then, Varack'Nara managed to get off the ground... for about five seconds. His landing left much to be desired, though it did get a bit of a chuckle from Zrathanzon and a bit more laughter from Almonihah. Zrathanzon went over to the griffon, checked him over, then reassured him that, despite how much he hurt (and his plaintive screeches certainly seemed to indicate his landing had been painful), he was just fine. Then he proceeded to give him some tips on how to avoid a repeat performance.


It took a couple more days before Varack'Nara managed something that could really be called a flight, but once he got the hang of it, it seemed he spent more of the day in the air than on the ground. Almonihah watched with undisguised envy as his friend cavorted in midair. It seemed, as he watched, that he could almost feel the wind whipping his frill around, and feel his wings pumping to pull himself higher into the air, and see the everything on the ground below getting smaller as he climbed...

He blinked and shook his head a bit. He was surprised at how vividly he could imagine flying. Then again, it hadn't really seemed like daydreaming. It had been more like... a memory.

Zrathanzon glanced over at the younger half dragon, gave him a bit of a knowing grin, then turned his attention back to the path they were walking.

They walked in silence for a little while longer. Varack'Nara glided down and landed next to them as they entered a clearing, his sides gently heaving as he caught his breath from the exertion of flight, and a cheery twinkle of pure joy in his eye. Almonihah looked at the griffon jealously, until his expression turned suddenly thoughtful.

Zrathanzon had a pretty good idea what his little pupil was thinking. “He's not going to be strong enough to ride until at least next spring,” he said to Almonihah.

Almonihah grinned a bit sheepishly at the acuity of his mentor's insight into his thoughts, but said nothing.


The rest of the year passed quickly. Varack'Nara's growth seemed to slow somewhat as the year wore on, so that he was about the size of a small horse by the time they made their way back to Llinos's valley. Zrathanzon had started to get the griffon accustomed to the idea of carrying weight on his back, and he'd also started to give Almonihah some pointers on riding a griffon. He insisted, however, that it would still be at least until spring before he could actually try doing it. While the young half-dragon was quite eager to try, he somehow managed to obey his mentor's instructions.

Llinos didn't seem to have changed much from the first time Almonihah had met him, but it was obvious that Garekh was much less of an eager puppy than he had been that first winter. While he was still obviously glad to see Almonihah and curious about Varack'Nara, his greeting was more of a sedate trot up to the visitors rather than the eager leap and licking that had greeted the young half-dragon many mornings two years ago. Varack'Nara, however, was still obviously young, curious, and energetic, which was enough to make many of the other animals in the valley just a bit nervous.

There seemed to be a change in the things Llinos was teaching Almonihah, as well. Whereas before he had spoken mostly of herb lore and the various creatures of Draezoln, interspersed only sometimes with mentions of Naishia, now the druid spoke often of the sacred places of the wilds and the magic of nature. While Zrathanzon had continued teaching him of the various gods, Almonihah had continued to express particular interest in Naishia, so he suspected that the Ranger had mentioned something to Llinos. Truthfully, he didn't mind. Perhaps it was just because of his way of life for the past few years, but he felt that something about the wilds was special, even sacred. The teachings of Naishia seemed to resonate with this sense, more than the what he knew of the philosophies of the other gods.

While he did have the patience to wait for the spring, Almonihah couldn't quite hide his anticipation of riding on Varack'Nara. Even though he enjoyed his time in the valley as much as he had in previous years, the fact that he was waiting for spring made it seem to pass slowly. The riding lessons from Zrathanzon only made his anticipation keener.

Almonihah noticed that sometimes, when he returned from spending time with Llinos, Zrathanzon was working with some leather and other materials. When he asked what was being made, the older half-dragon would simply answer, “You'll see.”

Finally, the days started to get warmer, and the snows started melting from the ground. Soon, Almonihah, Zrathanzon, and Varack'Nara left the valley for the year and headed back east.

***********

This is actually the end of this chapter. This one was a bit shorter than a lot of the others have. I actually considered combining it with the next chapter, because they're both fairly short, but I thought it made more sense to have the two chapters.

If Almonihah had lived on Earth in our times, he probably would have been obsessed with airplanes as a kid. Don't believe him if he says otherwise.

Chapter 5-1

Chapter 5: Fledgling

After being turned away at the village, the pair headed west again, making for Llinos's valley. They made good time, arriving well before the first snow. Almonihah was glad to see Garekh again, and he had a long list of questions for Llinos.

The winter passed quickly, much as the last one had, with Almonihah learning more of the natural world and the teachings of Naishia, as well as practicing more of his Ranger skills. He was getting to be a decent shot with a bow, and Zrathanzon had him start practicing with a (practice) sword in each hand. He said that Almonihah could someday be a very accomplished swordsman with his natural ambidexterity.

The snows lingered late into the spring that year, so they left the valley later than they had the past year. This time Zrathanzon took Almonihah north through the foothills for a little while after leaving Llinos.

As they were heading north, Zrathanzon suddenly stopped and motioned his pupil to be silent.

“Look,” he murmured in Draconic, pointing at a small cave opening in a nearby cliff face.

Almonihah peered at the cave, trying to figure out what the Ranger was referring to. Then he saw something move in the cave opening. He could just make out a feathered head with a rather sharp-looking beak.

“Probably a mother griffon watching over her eggs,” Zrathanzon whispered in explanation.

Just then the head turned in their direction. With a loud shriek, the griffon took to the air, heading straight towards them.

Zrathanzon said something angry in Draconic that Almonihah didn't quite understand. “Get back into the woods!” He said urgently to the younger half-dragon.

The two hurried back into the woods, but the griffon seemed quite determined to find them, even landing and chasing them on foot. Even though it wasn't as fast on the ground as in the air, it still seemed to be gaining on the pair.

With another angry word, Zrathanzon grabbed his bow, whirled, and in one smooth motion drew, knocked, and fired an arrow. It struck the griffon right in the forehead, dropping it almost instantly. After it was still, Zrathanzon sighed and motioned to Almonihah.

“Hate to do that,” He said. “It was my mistake for letting her see us.” He was quiet for a moment as they reached the dead griffon, then continued, “We should see if she had any eggs. We might be able to save her kids, even if I had to kill the mother.”

They made their way to the base of the cliff in which the griffon's cave was. After taking a good look at it, Zrathanzon told Almonihah to stay behind while he climbed up. It took him a lot of effort and time, but the Ranger made it up to the cave, then disappeared inside it. A couple of minutes later, he came back out, his backpack bulging out a bit more than when he had gone up. He made his way back down the cliff face a bit more quickly than he had gone up.

“Only one egg,” he commented to Almonihah when he reached the bottom of the cliff again. He pulled the egg out of his pack carefully as he spoke. It was certainly much larger than a bird's egg, being perhaps a bit larger than Zrathanzon's head. “That's a bit strange. Usually griffons lay three or four at a time. Now, we've got to figure out what to do with it...” he trailed off as he thought.

Almonihah frowned in thought as well. “Are we going to hatch it?” he asked after a moment.

Zrathanzon slowly nodded. “If we can. Griffon eggs can be a bit tricky to hatch, even if you don't remove them from their original nest. It's what we're going to do after it hatches that worries me. Griffons are more intelligent than most people give them credit for, but griffon hatchlings can be... difficult.”

Almonihah looked at his mentor inquisitively. “Have you tried raising one before?”

The Ranger chuckled. “Can't fool you, can I, kid? I have tried once before...”

“It didn't work so well?” the younger half-dragon asked after Zrathanzon had been silent for several moments.

The half-gold dragon simply shook his head, his lips quirking upwards a bit at a memory. Then he sobered. “I can't say I was ever planning on trying again... but it looks like I may have to.”

“So... what do we do first?”

“First...” Zrathanzon replied thoughtfully, “We'll need some kind of nest for it. It probably won't take long to hatch—griffon eggs usually hatch fairly early in the spring—but it'll be a few weeks more before the hatchling can travel. So we need a good campsite.” He paused for a moment in thought, then continued, “There's a good one just a couple hour's travel east of here. Let's go set up camp, and then we can figure out how we're going to do this.”

It did, indeed, take them only a couple of hours to reach the campsite Zrathanzon had referred to , a small clearing beside a stream that had one of the old fire rings Almonihah recognized from other campsites they had used. After they set up camp, the Ranger instructed his pupil to gather various materials for constructing something of a nest for the egg, while he worked on keeping it warm. Each time Almonihah returned with more nest materials, it seemed the older half-dragon was trying some other way to keep the egg warm.

Once they had built up something that looked like a large nest, Zrathanzon carefully placed the egg in it. Then he sighed.

“I think we're going to have to do this the same way griffons do. Body heat.”

The next couple of weeks were something of an interesting experience. Laying under a blanket curled up with a griffon egg on a makeshift nest was certainly not something either of them had ever expected to do. In time, however, Almonihah noticed the egg wobbling, and then cracks starting to form.

“Zrathanzon! I think it's hatching!” He called out.

The Ranger, who had been fletching some arrows, came over, took one look at the egg, and ordered Almonihah to grab some of the meat they had prepared for exactly this occasion. By the time he had retrieved the meat and returned, there was a small beak poking out of the egg, busily working to remove the rest of the eggshell. Zrathanzon just silently nodded at Almonihah as he returned, then started carefully pulling bits of shell off to help the hatchling out.

Before long, the hatchling griffon was free of its shell. It didn't look like much—a bedraggled mess of damp feathers and fur. It couldn't have been much more than a foot long. Zrathanzon carefully picked up a small piece of meat between two fingers and held it out in front of the hatchling. It considered it for a moment, its amber eyes focusing on the food in front of it. Then it rather eagerly snapped at it.

Perhaps a little bit too eagerly.

Zrathanzon said something rather angry in Draconic that Almonihah couldn't quite understand as he snatched his bleeding finger back. After a few moments of muttering more Draconic under his breath, the Ranger muttered, a bit louder (though still in Draconic), “At least we know what to call him.”

“What?” Almonihah asked, his attention still focused on the griffon.

“Varack'Nara,” was the Ranger's terse response.

Almonihah grinned a bit. Varack'Nara was Draconic for “Razor Beak”.

Zrathanzon glanced at Almonihah's grin. “Why don't you try it?” he said, a little bit jokingly.

“Okay!” Almonihah seemed surprisingly excited at the opportunity given what had happened to the last person to feed the griffon.

Zrathanzon whispered him some instructions, and he carefully selected a piece of meat and carefully held it in front of Varack'Nara—just a little bit further away than the older half-dragon had. The hatchling considered the proffered meat carefully, and then just as carefully bit into it with his beak . Almonihah let go of it, and the little griffon gulped the meat down.

Zrathanzon observed the whole proceeding with an expression of mingled amusement and disbelief. “Maybe you should be the one to feed him,” he said.

******************

Yes, there's a griffon. No, it's not Zakhin'Dakh yet. This just explains to some degree why Almonihah and Zakhin'Dakh get along so well. You'll also note that all of Almonihah's childhood friends had four legs. I have a feeling this has... had an influence on his adult opinions, shall I say?

Chapter five. This is quite a ways further than I've ever gotten on a work like this before. In fact, I think it's the longest single piece of writing I've ever written. Which is why I know it's rough. So I'd still appreciate helpful comments (Hint, Hint). Compliments would be nice, too.