WingSpan (Taken on the Wing Book 1) (41 page)

Now she has to dig deep into her pride to be a gryphon worthy of Shadow’s guard.

Cloud rises to take wing, grabs a bar of rough homemade eyrie soap and drops back into the flow. She bought some human toiletries during her one trip to Memphis but they ran out more than two years before so she’s at the mercy of the plain bars. At least this time of year they’re scented with local wildflowers or honey.

Then there’s Soar. Cloud went to his den five years earlier when she was twenty. As master of the Sire’s royal guard, he was the most desirable male in the eyrie and sought after by the few single females living there. For Cloud, the master of Lev’s guard was most likely to still be there when she finally earned her place in Shadow’s guard and the fact Cloud had a crush on him didn’t hurt either.

But his closed off attitude in public followed by his private dismissal broke her heart.

We had a thing, Cloud. We weren’t a thing.

As much as she hated leaving home at least she didn’t have to see Soar every day. If she can avoid running into him now, all the better.

Once satisfied the dirt is gone, Cloud steps from the pool and beats water from her feathers. The natural oils make sure they’re practically dry as she pulls a tunic over her head and fastens it below her wings. Then she threads her tail through the gap in the rear of her trousers and pulls them up, securing the drawstring around her hips.

She’s halfway up the tunnel before she remembers to brush her hair.

“Crap,” Cloud sighs.

“Cloud,” a male calls from up ahead and two members of Sky’s own guard appear before her.

“Gryphons,” she kneels but barely gets her knee down before each grabs an elbow. “What?”

“Silence."

The sharp male scent of their well worn armour clashes with the lingering perfumes of the female baths and these two gryphons could snap her in half if they wanted. She pulls her wings in under theirs and grabs at the stone floor with her toes to keep up.

They let her go ten feet from the opening to the eyrie’s main chamber, tossing her toward the end of the tunnel.

Cloud turns and drops into a defensive position, knees bent and fists raised.

“Report to Master Sky in her den immediately.”

“Am I in trouble?” Cloud straightens, chin high. Nobody gets kicked for blowing it in training. Mostly.

“A shame,” one mutters as they brush past her.

“What’s a—” she starts but their steely stares lock her question in her throat. The wave of looseness that jolts her stomach says she’s in a lot of trouble.

Cloud takes a half-dozen deep breaths to quiet her pounding heart before entering the main chamber. Gryphons clean up from dinner as others squat or kneel on cushions around the perimeter or in clusters on the wide stone floor. The third-years' exuberant chatter fills the space. All wear traditional trousers and tunics, a light blend of cotton and wool woven by the students themselves.

Nobody gives her a second look.

Cloud walks silently through the tunnel to Sky’s den. With her wings held still and careful steps she hopes to overhear any sound ahead but she passes uninterrupted by any noise other than the wisp of her feet on stone. Soar would have been to see Sky and his scent lingers wherever the tunnel steepens.

As she rounds the last turn, silver lights bid welcome and she enters the chamber to find Sky at her desk. Centuries of use have chipped the piece around the edges and worn the centre smooth. The graceful, curved, polished steel legs are the work of the intimidating Master and fight instructor seated in a modern, ergonomic office chair.

Master Sky epitomizes contradiction; former Dame and now combat trainer, blacksmith, master swordsman and the closest thing to dame and friend Cloud has since leaving home. She’s also loving dame to several pairs of offspring including Soar and Hunter’s sire. Cloud loves the eight-hundred year old female with all her heart.

But Cloud can’t read her expression and drops to one knee, adding a bow for good measure.

“Master Sky,” Cloud murmurs. “What happened today, I mean...”

She raises her chin as her eyes settle on the single item on the desk; a knife with a six inch blade and a jeweled handle. It can only be a ceremonial item since it appears to be made of gold, rendering it impractical for anything more than collecting dust.

The seconds still around them and a soft sweat breaks out beneath Cloud’s clean tunic.

“Cloud,” Sky says, her voice clear and unhurried. “I hoped you would volunteer an explanation. This knife should not be on my desk.”

“Master,” Cloud acknowledges although what she’s uncertain. The knife has nothing to do with losing it at the sight of a fully feathered female.

Sky stands, pulling her mottled black and brown wings in tight as she steps clear of the chair then relaxes them as she moves around her desk. Her hands grip the rough edge as she rests her bottom on the corner and leaves the knife in view.

“Yes?” Sky tries.

Cloud looks helplessly up at her, completely confused.

“You are aware an item was stolen from Falcon last night.”

“Master,” Cloud nods again.

“Only half an hour ago I learned of its location and recovered it from your den,” she gestures at the knife.

How in heck did it get in my den?

But there’s no point in arguing. Cloud knows for certain she didn’t accidentally pick it up and hide it. She’s never seen it before. Sky found it in her den and any denial will just make her look like a liar
and
a thief.

And a coward.

Cloud sits hard on the stone floor as she understands what this means. Theft is one of the most shameful things one gryphon can do to another and if she’s been brought before Sky then Sky believes she’s guilty. Cloud’s dream of becoming a ranger is over. There’s nothing left for her here or at home for that matter. Her hands shake as she reaches to Sky for comfort but she draws them back. A thief will never join Dame Shadow’s guard.

She’ll never be trusted again.

Sky sinks to the floor and takes Cloud’s trembling hands in her own.

“I admit you were reluctantly accepted into my program,” Sky explains. Cloud looks past her at the knife before dropping her head. “Your unknown parentage and your youth. Due entirely to Talon and Lev’s praise for your determination and hard work I took you in, certain you would wash yourself out in a matter of months.

“But instead you became one of my best students; first up in the morning and the last to retire. I have been deeply proud of you, Cloud, up until now.

“But my feelings cannot prevent me from dismissing you. Do you understand?”

“Master,” Cloud chokes out. The harsh breath empties her lungs of all the air they hold.

“Stand,” Sky orders as she gets up. She doesn’t speak again until Cloud is on her feet. The stone under her no longer feels solid and she leans, catching her balance before widening her stance.

“Cloud, you are hereby expelled and will leave within the hour. You will not discuss the reason for your expulsion until you return to the Vancouver Island Eyrie. I will give you seven days to do so then your crime will become public knowledge.”

Cloud nods, unable to manage the word ‘Master,’ and turns for the tunnel.

“Cloud,” Sky says, her voice laced with the compassion she couldn’t express before. “You have three months to prove you are more than what the stolen knife suggests. Return in three months. You will apologize. You will be punished.

“And maybe I can reinstate you as my student.”

“We have broken a good gryphon, Soar.” Sky leans on her desk, roughly pushing the gaudy knife away. “And her failure in the chamber... I pray she has the spirit to return and face me again.”

Soar steps from a niche a dozen feet up the tunnel leading to his grand-dame’s sleeping den. As he approaches her desk, he listens for Cloud but her footsteps have already faded.

“She didn’t argue or fall apart,” Sky continues, wings sagging with sadness.

“There’s no other way,” Soar says. And no chance for second thoughts. Sky has sworn Falcon to secrecy for seven days and now the knife Hunter took has been recovered there is no going back.

“I know,” she sighs. “I don’t doubt the importance of your quest.”

“My favourite grand-dame,” Soar sighs and hugs the old gryphon. “There will be no repercussions on you if I fail. Nobody in the Vancouver Island Eyrie knows what I’m doing and neither does Hunter.”

“Yes.”

“Her story has to hold up."

Soar lifts the knife from Sky's desk and twirls it in his palm.

"You know of Calgary's public efforts for recognition of democratic eyries by the Grand Council. Cooper, its leader, has gained friends in the Council and those friends could force our traditional eyries out. If Cloud doesn’t believe her story she won’t survive Cooper. Cloud will be sniffed out as a spy if her story has any cracks at all.

"Nearly every other gryphon we've sent into Calgary wound up dead."

Soar puts the knife down and leans on the desk.

"Soar... Does she know how you feel?" Sky puts her hand upon his back.

Soar shakes his head and moves away.

"The movement to destroy traditional eyries centers around Calgary. Cloud’s birth eyrie at Welch Peak and the Vancouver Island Eyrie I serve have been devastated twice by rogues believed to be loyal to democratic eyries."

"I don't need a history lesson so you can avoid your feelings," Sky sighs. "Too many good gryphons have died over the years, both my kin and my friends."

“Lev thinks I’m taking some personal time after my visit here and he’ll believe Cloud ran off in shame.

“I guess I better go after her,” Soar says as he walks to the tunnel.

“Soar,” Sky calls and he stops, certain she’s about to tell him off. “She is a good choice for you. I’m curious why you haven’t pursued her. Tell her. Tell her before...”

Before I send her to her death.

Damn, what do you tell your grand-dame who thought she knew everything about your personal life?

“Who says I haven’t pursued her?” Soar remarks and Sky raises an eyebrow, demanding more. “If I asked she would have walked away from her dream to stay with me so I ended it. I hurt her, grand-dame, and when she learns what I did to her today she’ll never speak to me again.”

“Indeed,” Sky mutters, her voice betraying both worry and anger. “In three months, Master Soar, you will assume the position of apology in my sparring chamber and I assure you, whichever pieces Cloud has left you with will be mine.”

Chapter Three

Cloud’s frustrated growl reaches Soar long before he gets to the covered opening to her den.

“No, no, no,” she mutters then her voice fades as he takes a couple of noisy steps to get her attention. Even so upset, she should know better than to draw attention to herself.

Soar pushes past the curtain to find her kneeling amongst her scattered belongings. She spins, mouth half open, and whitens before returning to packing.

“Just when my day couldn’t get any worse,” she jams a handful of underwear into the bottom of her worn pack with such force her hand bursts through the bottom. “Do you have to stand so close?”