Free The Griffin's Flight by K.J. Taylor Page A

inspiration, “there’s no reason for you to come with us to Norton. If you want to be cured of this curse, whatever it is, then we should go to the cave first. What do you say?”
    Skade was silent for a long time. “Agreed,” she said at last. “But there is a problem.”
    “What’s that?” said Arren.
    She fiddled with a lock of her silver hair. “I do not know the way to the cave,” she said. “I am as lost as you are.”
    Arren’s heart sank. “But don’t you know anything about where it’s supposed to be? What it looks like? Anything at all?”
    “It is said to be near a river,” said Skade. “Between two mountains. The legend says it is not far from a place called Healer’s Home, where herbs of every kind grow.”
    Arren scratched his beard. “I’ve never heard of any place like that. But I’ve never been that far north, so—”
    “We could find it by following the river, maybe,” said Skade. “The mountains must be part of the Northgates.”
    “Yes, but there must be dozens of caves in the mountains,” Arren said wretchedly. “How are we supposed to know which one it is?”
    Skade shook her head. “The spirit cave must not be too far from the river. If the Healer’s Home is a village or a city, it would need to be built near water.”
    “Wait a moment,” said Arren. “Healing—does that mean there’s a temple there?”
    “It could,” Skade conceded.
    “Well, if it’s an important place for healers and healing, it makes sense for the priesthood to be running it or at least supporting it,” said Arren. “So if we can find a temple near the river—”
    “What temple?” Skandar interrupted.
    Arren glanced up. “Oh. It’s a building, Skandar. It would have a roof shaped like this”—he made a dome shape with his hands—“and a big gold disc on top.”
    Skade looked thoughtful. “That makes sense. I am willing to try.”
    “We’ll do it, then,” said Arren. “All we have to do is find the river.”
    “Norton,” said Skandar.
    “What, Skandar?”
    “Norton,” the black griffin repeated. “We go to Norton. Not cave. Not want go there.”
    “I don’t care what you want,” Arren said coldly. “I am going to this cave, and you can’t stop me,”
    It was the wrong thing to say. Skandar snarled and lunged forward, scattering the fire with his claws. His beak struck Arren directly in the chest, knocking him violently to the ground, and before he could get up, the griffin had pinned him down, his huge talons threatening to crush him. Skade darted out of the way, but neither of them paid her any attention.
    Arren found himself looking up into a pair of blazing silver eyes. Skandar brought his beak down toward him, hissing. “My human,” he rasped. “Mine!”
    Arren struggled. “I am not yours, damn you!”
    Skandar pressed down harder. “Mine!”
    “Gods damn you!” Arren yelled. “Get off me! Get away from me! I hate you!”
    “Mine!”
    “No!”
    Man and griffin stared each other in the face for a few moments, challenging each other. Arren knew that, if Skandar wanted to, he could crush his chest to a pulp. He had done it to men in the Arena, dozens of times. It had made him famous. But he glared back anyway, not caring what the griffin did.
    “Now you listen to me,” Arren rasped, the pressure on his rib cage making his voice sound strange and hoarse. “This is your fault, griffin. What happened to me was because of you, understand? I am going to the spirit cave and I am going to be healed there, and you can go to Norton or anywhere else you want, but you can go on your own. Because I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of you, and I’ve had enough of this, and you can help me or you can go away. I don’t care.”
    The silence stretched out for what felt like an eternity. Skandar did not move. Arren could feel the griffin’s hot, rank-smelling breath on his face and see the myriad of tiny black veins that crossed the silver in his eyes. The only