The Last Guardian by Jeff Grubb Page B

Magus. “I should have remembered you were in the tower. With everything, I assumed you must have been a…”
    “Sir?” interrupted Khadgar. “Time is of the essence?”
    “Time,” said Medivh, then he nodded, and the intensity returned to his face. “Yes, it is. Come on, don’t lollygag!” And with that the older man was up on his feet and taking the steps two at a time.
    Khadgar realized that the haunted tower and the disorganized library were not the only reason people left Medivh’s employ, and hastened after him.
    The aged castellan was waiting for them in the tower observatory.
    “Moroes,” thundered Medivh as he arrived at the top of the tower. “The golden whistle, if you please.”
    “Ayep,” said the servant, producing a thin cylinder. Dwarven runes were carved along the cylinder’s side, reflecting in the lamplight of the room. “Already took the liberty, sir. They’re here.”
    “They?” started Khadgar. There was the rustle of great wings overhead. Medivh headed for the ramparts, and Khadgar looked up.
    Great birds descended from the sky, their wings luminescent in the moonlight. No, not birds, Khadgar realized—gryphons. They had the bodies of great cats, but their heads and front claws were those of sea eagles, and their wings were golden.
    Medivh held out a bit and bridle. “Hitch yours up, and we’ll go.”
    Khadgar eyed the great beast. The nearest gryphon let out a shrieking cry and pawed the flagstones with its clawed forelegs.
    “I’ve never…” started the young man. “I don’t know…”
    Medivh frowned. “Don’t they teach anything among the Kirin Tor? I don’t have time for this.”
    He raised a finger and muttered a few words, touching Khadgar’s forehead.
    Khadgar stumbled back, shouting in surprise. The elder mage’s touch felt as if he were driving a hot iron into his brain.
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    Medivh said, “Now youdo know. Set the bit and bridle, now.”
    Khadgar touched his forehead, and let out a surprised gasp. Hedid know now, how to properly harness a gryphon, and to ride one as well, both with saddle and, in the dwarven style, without.
    He knew how to bank, how to force a hover, and most of all, how to prepare for a sudden landing.
    Khadgar harnessed his gryphon, aware that his head throbbed slightly, as if the knowledge now within had to jostle that already within his skull to make room.
    “Ready? Follow!” said Medivh, not asking for a response.
    The pair launched themselves into the air, the great beasts straining and beating the air to allow them to rise. The great creatures could take armored dwarves aloft, but a human in robes approached their limits.
    Khadgar expertly banked his swooping gryphon and followed Medivh as the elder mage swooped down over the dark treetops. The pain in his head spread from the point where Medivh had touched him, and now his forehead felt heavy and his thoughts muzzy. Still, he concentrated and matched the master mage’s motions exactly, as if he had been flying gryphons all his life.
    The younger mage tried to catch up with Medivh, to ask where they were going, and what their goal was, but he could not overtake him. Even if he had, Khadgar realized, the rushing wind would drown out all but the greatest shouts. So he followed as the mountains loomed above them, as they winged eastward.
    How long they flew Khadgar could not say, He may have dozed fitfully on gryphon-back, but hands held the reins firm, and the gryphon kept pace with its brother-creature. Only when Medivh suddenly jinked his gryphon to the right did Khadgar shake himself out of his slumber (if slumber it was) and followed the master mage as his course turned south. Khadgar’s headache, the likely product of the spell, had almost completely dissipated, leaving only a ragged ache as a reminder.
    They had cleared the mountain range and Khadgar now realized they were flying over open land.
    Beneath them the moonlight was shattered and reflected in myriad pools. A