Heirs of Prophecy - Lisa Smedman [85]
A heartbeat later, Valatta's arms drooped. Swiftly, she kneeled down and removed the ring from her mount's ankle, revealing the sleeping form of her griffon. Chagrined, she handed the ring to another of the windriders, then limped to one of the standing stones and leaned on it, clenching her teeth against the pain of the scratches on her leg.
One of the other windriders caught Lord Kierin's eye, glanced in Valatta's direction, and raised his eyebrows in a silent question. Lord Kierin gave a slight shake of his head.
"Continue the tests," he ordered.
As Valatta's mount lay sleeping on the ground, a second griffon was fitted with the ring. This one displayed none of the high spirits that Elsanna had, instead accepting the ring without fuss. It crouched quietly, wings folded, until the ring was removed again. The windrider whose mount it was beamed proudly and passed the ring to the next.
Then came an interruption. "Lord Kierin, someone approaches," one of the elves said. He pointed to the southeast.
The sun had sunk below the horizon, painting the western sky a vivid red, but there was still enough light to clearly see the figure that winged its way toward Moonrise Hill. It had an unusual shape, and it took Leifander several moments to figure out that the creature was a winged elf-very rare, even in the lands to the north-supporting another, who clung to her chest.
As the avariel elf drew closer still, a second, smaller shape became visible in the air beside it, one that winged its way along strongly and without hindrance. It looked like a large bird, but with a body that had a strange silhouette, almost like that of a griffon.
With a sinking heart, Leifander recognized it as a tressym. It was the one he'd seen more than once in the
past few days. He'd suspected that it was following him and had taken great pains to lose it, but now the creature had found him again, and it had brought company. If word of the windriders' ability to render themselves and their mounts invisible became common knowledge…
Lord Kieran glanced at Leifander and asked, "Were you expecting someone else to meet us here today?"
Leifander shook his head.
Lord Keirin gave a brisk, decisive nod. "Riders!" he shouted. "To your mounts!"
He strode toward the man who held the ring, thrusting the open box at him. With a slight bow, the fellow popped the magical ring back inside. The others swung up into their saddles-all except Valatta, who stared in frustration at her sleeping mount.
Lord Kieran snapped the box shut and tucked it into a bag at his hip. He mounted his own griffon and jerked the lance free from its holder.
"I want that avariel forced down," he ordered. "I would prefer we cause no wounds, but if arrows are the only thing that will convince the elf to land, so be it."
He glanced at Valatta, who was tugging at the reins of her mount in a futile effort to wake it. He flicked a hand in the sleeping griffon's direction and spoke a word to awaken it. An instant later, the griffon was on its feet, head twisting as it scanned the windriders all around it, who were rising into the air on their mounts.
As the winged elf drew closer to Moonrise Hill, Leifander's mouth gaped open as he saw who the person she was carrying was.
"By the Trickster's ears," Leifander swore, "what is she doing here?"
A moment later, he realized Larajin's danger. Half-elf his twin sister might be, but she looked fully human. As soon as the windriders got a close look at her, they'd assume she was an enemy spy and feather her with arrows.
"Lord Kierin, wait!" he cried, running toward the
griffon as it leaped into the air. "The woman being carried by the winged elf is my sister. Call off your riders!"
For a terrible moment, Leifander didn't think Lord Kierin had heard. His griffon continued to soar upward after the others, then Lord Kierin's voice rang out, "Riders! Hold your arrows."
Leifander craned his head, watching anxiously as the windriders caught up to the winged elf, wheeled their mounts in a tight circle, and fell in on either side of