Chapter Thirteen
Olivia clung desperately to Rhys’s neck with both arms, her heels hooked under his wings. It still wasn’t exactly a secure perch for a fight.
Even as that thought flicked through her mind, he conjured a harness that encircled her thighs and calves, binding her tight to his back.
She reached for the magic that filled the cavern. The next minute, she wore her armor again. A sword filled her hands. No, wrong weapon. She transformed it into a spear.
When Olivia had been a little girl, she and her cousins had played at jousting from horseback. She hadn’t forgotten those lessons. Tucking the spear under one arm, Olivia pointed it toward Votos as her heart pounded furiously.
Bracing, she readied herself for the usurper’s attack as the griffin dove toward them . . .
Instead the world whirled sickeningly around her. Thank Goddess for the harness, because she suddenly hung upside down as Rhys rolled onto his back in the air, claws raking sparks across Votos’s magical shield.
Sucking in a desperate gasp, Olivia clung to her spear, barely holding onto it as her lover rolled upright. Her first impulse was to hurl the spear at the usurper, but Kiate’s voice hissed in her mind. Leave him to us. Try to keep the courtiers out of the fight.
A huge red-winged griffin with a golden body dove toward them, shrieking, claws flashing for her head. Olivia drove the glowing lance at its chest with her magic as much as her muscle. The courtier didn’t bother to shield, apparently assuming she wouldn’t have the strength to hurt it.
He found out otherwise. In the instant the spear struck, Olivia shot a spell up the length of the shaft. Her magic stopped his heart. The griffin shrieked and fell, his weight jerking the lance out of her grip. As he plummeted, dying, Olivia conjured another weapon and glanced around.
And almost got a faceful of claws as her next attacker raked the transparent faceplate of her helmet. The visor held—barely.
Gasping, Olivia swung the spear, which became a battle-axe in mid-arc and chopped into the beast’s shoulder. He howled and darted away, trailing streamers of blood. She conjured a crossbow and took aim, but Rhys shot into a steep climb to avoid Votos’s raking attack, and she missed.
It was soon obvious the griffins weren’t used to fighting humans. Which should have been an advantage, but Olivia wasn’t used to fighting them either. Still, she conjured spears and crossbows, axes and swords, and used them all as a vehicle for lethal spells.
But there were so many attackers trying to blast through Rhys’s shields with magic, claws, or sheer brute strength. Minutes went by in a dizzying whirl of deadly attack and defense. Claws and wings battered her shields, and the smell of ozone and the brassy taste of terror choked her. The only thing that kept her on Rhys’s back were the straps that held her there as he maneuvered with savage speed and agility. It was almost impossible to believe he’d struggled so desperately to fight and fly just hours before.
As much as it galled her to admit it, Kiate was worth the appalling price Rhys had paid for his power.
Three of the griffins were down, one from her first strike, two others from Rhys’s claws and magic.
Nirar was in the air now, waging furious war on two more courtiers. Olivia knew through Kiate that they didn’t dare kill her—without her there would be no royal egg, no chance to meld with the elemental. Which their religion told them would doom Griffinkind. So they harried her, trying to keep her engaged and out of the fight.
But that left Olivia and Rhys against four more—and Votos.
* * *
Rhys had never felt such intoxicating power. Feeling the strength of his wings beating the air, the way he could flip and dive with minute shifts of his tail and wings—it was exhilarating.
A brown-speckled griffin shot toward him, shrieking. Rhys drew on Kiate’s magic to send a torrent of green fire at his foe. A blue hemispherical shield popped into being around the creature, and the magic splashed off it. Rhys concentrated, increasing the power until it began to eat its way through the shield. The griffin veered away, screaming.
Too late.
The fire blazed high. When it vanished, the rebel was gone.
Light blurred at the corner of his vision. He jerked his head around to see claws a foot from his face. No time to shield . . .
A spear shot past his head and buried itself in attacker’s chest, unshielded the beast tried for a killing blow. With a triumphant scream, Olivia sent a burst of magic up the spear shaft as Rhys twisted away. He feared he’d miscalculated and she’d be jerked out of her harness, but she let go and clung to him as he arced clear.
The dying griffin sent one last burst of magic toward him as it plummeted downward, but he shielded, repelling it.
He sensed more than saw Votos whip around a stalagmite to dive for Olivia. Rhys twisted, flinging his wings wide, rolling in the air. The usurper’s claws raked over his belly instead. Not a deep cut, but the strike would have torn Olivia in half. Rhys angled his tail to catch the air, sending himself shooting into the usurper’s path. Votos back-winged as Rhys breathed a gout of green flame in his face. Rolling clear barely in time to avoid incineration, the usurper darted away.
Rhys shot after him. Images flashed through his mind, Kiate’s memories of the abuse his mother had suffered. Votos’s claws scoring Nirar’s head as she turned away to save her eyes. Her abuser battering her with his wings as she cried out in pain.
Why didn’t you protect her? he snapped at the elemental.
But even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. The spells that bound Kiate wouldn’t let him manifest his power through Nirar. Using elemental magic was the war chief’s job, a separation of powers designed to protect their people from the queen’s abuse.
Which had done nothing whatsoever to protect her from their abuse.
You’re going to pay for that, you bastard, he snarled at Votos.
She deserved it! Your father fell to me—Kiate should have been mine. The bastard swerved behind a stalactite, then spiraled up its length with Rhys in hot pursuit. Would have been, if your lying mother had not hidden you away.
My father trusted you! Rhys launched a fireball at Votos’s feathered tail, but the usurper folded his wings and dropped, avoiding the strike. He thought you were a friend, and you assassinated him with a coward’s strike. You didn’t dare meet him in fair combat because you would have lost. Just as you’ll lose now.
Someone shrieked—a griffin death cry. One of the courtiers who’d been trying to hold the queen lay at her feet, her claws sunk deep in his skull. She mantled her wings, raising them as she screeched at the remaining courtier, and blasted magic into his face. The fireball burned so hot and furious he didn’t have time to shield. Bursting into flame, he vanished.
You’re all alone now, Rhys shouted after Votos as the usurper dodged his strike. And you’re done.
No, I’m not. Votos doubled back to fling himself past Rhys, toward the queen, claws reaching.
He meant to kill her.
Oh, I fucking don’t think so. Rhys lunged as the usurper flashed past, wrapping his claws around one of Votos’s forelegs. Flinging his wings wide, Rhys braked and whipping him around. The usurper twisted, grabbing Rhys’s right paw-hand with his left, wings spreading wide. They spun in the air around the pivot point of their joined grip, centripetal force dragging at them like gravity.
Olivia screamed. Rhys realized the only thing keeping her on his back was the harness. If he lost his grip, they’d slam into the cavern wall and she’d be crushed. He clamped harder, seizing Votos’s captured foreleg with his free paw-hand to steady his grip.
They spun even faster.
The usurper brought up his rear legs to claw at Rhys’s belly. Pain slashed him, white-hot. Votos meant to disembowel Rhys as Kiate had done in the illusion. But this time it would be real.
Rhys curled, raking at him with his own rear legs as they spun toward the water below. He barely managed to suck in a breath before they hit in a fountain of glowing spray. The magic burned his senses as they plunged deep, still ripping at each other.
The glowing shaft of a spear thrust past Rhys’s head as Olivia tried to drive it into the usurper’s throat. Votos released his grip on Rhys’s leg and snatched at the shaft with one paw-hand, dragging Olivia across Rhys’s shoulder. Votos reached for her with the other, obviously intending to crush her skull as she hung helpless in the harness.
Rhys grabbed the spear and wrenched with all his supernatural strength, redirecting the thrust to drive it into Votos’s body. With a shriek of triumph, Kiate sent a magical blast the length of the shaft.
Votos’s beak opened in a soundless drowning screech as he burst into magical flame, underwater or not.
Shit! With a desperate heave of power, Rhys launched himself and Olivia out of the water. They barely escaped the boiling cloud of steam that exploded after them.
For a heartbeat he wheeled over the lake, as he and Olivia choked and coughed. When he had his breath again, Rhys scanned the cavern warily. The other survivor was his mother, now winging toward them. Blood smeared her feathers and furry sides from the claws of her captors, but he could feel her grim satisfaction. He’s dead? she demanded.
Yes.
Ahhhhhh. Good. Very good. I wasn’t sure I’d taken all the proper steps to bring this possibility about. There are so many variables in these things, and sometimes I don’t see them all.
But you did this time.
Yes. She turned her yellow gaze on Olivia. As I thought, you were the deciding factor.
“Congratulations on your foresight,” Olivia said tartly. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to find out how badly your son is hurt. Rhys, you need to land. He went after you like a Cuisinart.”
Now that the first flush of adrenaline had begun to fade, Rhys was aware of waves of cold agony radiating from his stomach.
Oh shit, this is going to be bad.
Yes, land, the queen said, urgency in her voice. Blood streams from you, my son.
Obeying a wordless directive from Kiate, he fell more than landed on the stone platform under the Portal Falls. Pain jolted through him as he hit, and his legs almost buckled under his weight.
“Release the harness and let me down!” Olivia demanded.
He was beginning to feel really cold, and it took him a moment to figure out how to banish the spell holding her on his back.
Shock. I’m going into shock.
Olivia slid off his back. Her armored boots clicked as they hit the stone. He looked around blearily as she ran to his injured side. She cursed so colorfully at what she saw, he’d have raised an eyebrow if he had one. “You need to shift, Rhys,” she told him grimly. “That’s the only thing that’s going to heal this before you bleed out.”
But he didn’t know how . . .
And then, thanks to Kiate, he did. It was so obvious, he didn’t understand why he hadn’t seen it before. Closing his eyes, he tamped down his magic until it could no longer maintain his immense griffin body.
That was why he’d shifted the moment he reached the Mageverse. Sudden exposure to so much native magic had triggered his transformation, and he hadn’t known he needed to block that power to shift back.
Now it seemed the world expanded around him as his body shrank, shifting, reforming, as the foaming tide of magic swept over his skin.
The pain vanished, leaving behind relief so intense Rhys felt almost light-headed. He staggered.
A slender arm encircled his waist, and Olivia slid under his armpit, bracing him upright.
Opening his eyes, Rhys found he was indeed human again. As Olivia had predicted, his injuries had healed with the shift.
And best of all, Olivia held him.
With a groan of pure relief, he wrapped both arms around her and drew her tight. Amethyst eyes looked up into his, and a brilliant smile curved her lips.
God, he wanted to taste that mouth.
So he did, pulling her right off her feet, kissing her with urgent hunger. She kissed him back as he cradled her, tongue swirling around his, sharing his breath.
What an odd custom.
He reluctantly put her down to find Nirar watching them, radiating a sense of maternal indulgence. It was a strange emotion coming from someone so alien.
An uncomfortable thought hit him: What’s Nirar going to expect from me? Does she think I’m going to stay here and be her war chief? After all, the usurper was dead. Someone needed to rule the griffins, but he had no desire whatsoever to do it.
And I have no desire for you to do so, the queen told him coolly. I have ruled our people for five hundred years, and I can go on doing it for another two thousand.
Knowledge appeared in his mind as if he’d always known it. Griffinkind was a matriarchy, though for the past thirty years Votos had forced Nirar to rule as he demanded.
It hadn’t just been his father’s power the usurper had stolen—it had been his mother’s.
We are not now at war with any other tribes, Nirar told him serenely. I am more than content to take up my duties again without any interference. And I have a great deal of work to do, if I mean to repair the damage Votos did. There was the edge of a hiss in her thoughts. All I ask is that you appear with me before our people to show them that Kiate lives embodied again—and that you will lead us in war should it be necessary.
Rhys inclined his head. It would be my honor.
She cocked her head. Are you sure? After all, in your heart you are human. Why should you fight for us?
He suspected the question was a test. Involuntarily, he looked down at Olivia. Even though he didn’t voice the question, she seemed to read his thoughts, because she nodded.
Rhys looked up at Nirar and smiled, meaning it. I’m not just human. I’m griffin, too. But I wouldn’t be anything at all if you hadn’t protected me. And you paid a high price to do it. Whenever you need me, I’ll fight for you.
“And so will I,” Olivia agreed.
Nirar cocked her head, examining her. For a moment, Rhys wondered if she’d sneer at the offer, since she outweighed Olivia by thousands of pounds.
And yet, respect tinged her thoughts as she replied, I have no doubt of it.
* * *
Griffins, it turned out, knew how to party.
Olivia sat draped in the crook of Rhys’s furry foreleg, leaning back against him. Night had fallen over the griffin city, but hovering globes of magic provided plenty of illumination. Griffins, like eagles, were daylight hunters. Though their distance vision was five times as acute as a human’s, their night vision was no better.
She and Rhys lay on a curving wooden platform supported by three huge trees sixty feet off the ground. Though Olivia was a native of Mageverse Earth, she had never seen oaks of such size. Many of them appeared to be thirty feet in diameter and hundreds of feet high. She strongly suspected the griffins’ magic was responsible.
Then again, how else would birdlike creatures the size of elephants live in trees?
She glanced around in wonder. Half a dozen griffins shared the platform with them, and another twenty or thirty occupied other platforms or perched on nearby branches.
Only magic could explain how the trees supported all that weight. True, Kel had told her griffins didn’t weigh anywhere near what they should; their bones were honeycombed rather than solid, much like those of birds. Even so, they were huge. Olivia would have been seriously intimidated, had it not been for the possessive way Rhys cradled her.
Not that anyone was inclined to be hostile after the queen’s account of the fight with Votos. Her description of Olivia’s role in the battle was sufficiently glowing that the surrounding griffins eyed her with amazed respect.
But then, they were inclined to treat anyone who’d had a hand in killing Votos as a hero. Evidently the queen wasn’t the only one who’d loathed the war chief and his bullying coterie.
Remembering Ansgar, she knew exactly how they felt.
A large platter full of fragrant meat levitated over. Its contents probably tasted every bit as good as it smelled, but Olivia was stuffed to the lungs as it was.
Rhys levitated a chunk of meat, flipped it into the air, and snapped it up just as neatly as his fellow griffins. Remembering how much trouble he’d had managing food the night before, Olivia smiled in satisfaction.
A sweet, high-pitched voice made a churuping sound.
Olivia looked around to find herself eye to eye with a griffin. . . . chick? Cub? She wasn’t sure what you’d call it, other than cute. The creature’s head seemed to be mostly huge golden eyes and a small beak, surrounded by a cloud of pale downy feathers on its head, back, and tail, with a ridiculous amount of fluffy fur everywhere else. He—or she—had outsized paws that went with its outsized body; though obviously very young, the little beast was almost as big as Olivia herself.
“I wish I had my cell phone with me,” she told the baby. “You’d be a huge hit on YouTube.”
They’d think he was Photoshopped, Rhys pointed out.
He had a point.
The baby pranced closer and plopped down beside Rhys’s foreleg. Olivia eyed him longingly. “You think he’d let me touch him?”
The queen looked over and sent some mental comment to the baby that flashed past so quickly, Olivia missed the details. She gathered it was an order not to take a bite out of her. Encouraged, she sat up and leaned over to cautiously brush her fingers over the fluffy head. The baby griffin looked up at her and batted at her hand with a velvety paw. Claws sheathed, thank the goddess. “Aren’t you the cutest thing ever?”
Perhaps one day you’ll have your own, the queen said.
Olivia looked up, startled. “My own baby? Or . . .” She looked at the little griffin, who spread its stubby wings and pounced on her foot. Spotting the sharp little beak opening, she threw up a quick shield around her foot—barely in time, as the beak closed to gnaw. “I don’t think that would work.”
The queen’s amusement shimmered through her mind. Many things are possible with magic. Especially when Kiate wills it so.
Well, yeah. But . . . She found her gaze sliding to Rhys, who was holding a rapid-fire psychic discussion with another male griffin.
Would he want to have children—or anything else permanent—with her?
As if reading her mind, Rhys looked down at her. Big golden eyes lit.
Oh, God, did he just hear me think that?
* * *
The thought that Olivia wanted permanence—even children—with him filled Rhys with a delight more intense than anything he’d ever felt in his life.
He knew exactly what he was going to do about it, too.
He fell silent, making plans as the celebration continued around them. He badly wanted to get her alone, but on the other hand he didn’t want to be rude about it. That probably wouldn’t be a good idea considering everything they’d sacrificed to get to this point.
So instead he bided his time—and plotted.
When the other griffins finally headed back to their own nests, he turned to Nirar. My thanks for the feast, he told her, adding a psychic sample of the enjoyment he’d felt. But it’s time we return home.
Nirar gave him a long look. Yes, I see that it is, she sent back, and he knew she’d also sensed his anticipation. You have a busy night planned, I see.
It was a good thing his face was covered in feathers, or he’d probably be blushing. So I do. Good night to you, mother. If you ever have need of me . . .
I shall call for you, never fear.
He looked over at Olivia, who reclined on his forearm with the griffin cub draped over her feet, producing cute little purring snores. Olivia looked barely awake herself.
Let’s go home, he thought at her.
Starting away, she looked up at him, a bit bleary. “What?”
I said, let’s go home.
She brightened at that, a happy smile curling her lovely mouth. “Oh God, yes. I’m desperately in need of some sleep.”
Not that desperately, I hope. He studied her, wondering if he should put off his plans until the morning.
But if anything, her eyes sharpened as her smile grew. “That depends on what you have in mind.”
I’d tell you, but I don’t want to scandalize my new relatives.
She laughed softly as he bent, picked her up in a paw-hand, and lifted her up to the harness and saddle he conjured on his shoulders. Once she was buckled in, he gathered himself and leaped into the air. His wings beat, carrying them easily into the night sky.
Olivia had already sent a message to Kel to tell the Magekind they’d survived the fight, so there was no need to return to Avalon.
It was a good thing, because Rhys desperately wanted to be alone with her.
“Want me to open a gate back to your house?”
But Kiate had already told him what he needed to know. No, I can do it.
Rhys sent magic beaming out ahead of him and concentrated on his own lovely house—the stone and cedar shakes, the scent of the poplars and pines. A glowing pinpoint appeared in the air and instantly expanded outward wide enough to accommodate his wings as he soared through.
The crossing was much worse than he expected. It felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs, and he beat his wings furiously, trying to stay airborne. He hit the ground harder than he’d intended, jolting a gasp from Olivia. She swung out of the harness an instant before he fell to his knees.
They were human knees by the time he hit the ground. Rhys stared down at them, braced on his knuckles as his breathing heaved. “Fuck, you weren’t kidding when you said there was no magic here.”
“Only what we bring with us.” A slender hand landed on his shoulder, feeling much bigger than it had when he’d been a griffin. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” he grunted, struggling to catch his breath. For a moment, he had the panicky feeling that his power had vanished, and his head snapped up. But when he reached within himself, images flashed through his mind—Kiate. I’m here. I shall not abandon you.
Reading the question before he could ask it, Kiate added, Even here, we can transform to griffin. It’s merely a bit more difficult.
Although he was hard put to imagine any situation so dangerous he’d need to be an elephantine cross between a lion and an eagle, it was nice to know that was an option.
Wearily, Rhys climbed to his feet. His gaze fell on Olivia, and he straightened, suddenly aware of a burst of new energy.
She stepped in close, and cupped the side of his face in her palm. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
The smile lit his face with the force of his incandescent joy. “Fine, now that I’m human again. Let’s head upstairs and get some rest.”
She lifted an iridescent platinum brow. “Are you sure rest is what you want?”
Rhys smiled. “Well, it’s been a busy night. Between all the brushes with death and the griffin victory celebration . . .”
“Yes, but I’m still up for a little celebration of our own.” She smiled wickedly.
“Are you sure? Because if you’re not going to have a good time, there’s no point.”
She rose up on her toes and wrapped her slender arms around his neck. “I think it’s safe to say that I’m up for anything you are.” And kissed him, slow and deep, lingering until heat rolled through his veins.
Olivia tasted of roasted meat and Mageverse spices, smelled of tangy wood smoke and fresh air. His hands found her waist and drew her close until he could feel every inch of her body along his—particularly against his approving cock. With a growl of delight, he swirled his tongue around hers, licking and tasting, adoring the feel of her under his hands.
He sent a swirl of magic around them both. When he stepped back, they were both naked. And blessedly clean, since she’d conjured away any remaining blood and sweat before the feast, and he’d occupied a different form altogether.
Rhys bent and swept her into his arms to demonstrate his greater-than-human strength by carrying her up the stairs two at a time.