Free By the Silver Wind by Jess E. Owen Page A

reason for it now. We’re all in this storm together. There’s no reason to go through any of this alone.” He stepped forward, locking Shard in his gaze. “Let them help you, love you, and be there for you, now that . . . now that I can't."
    Shard’s throat tightened. At those words he realized he was really leaving Stigr again, that with Kjorn’s plan to treat with the creatures of the Winderost again, this time as a conquering prince. He wouldn’t see his uncle again for nearly a moon, when, if all went according to Kjorn’s plan, their forces would meet at the Voldsom to confront the wyrms once and for all.
    “Take your own advice,” Shard finally said, and butted his head against Stigr’s good wing. The older gryfon laughed and nipped Shard’s feathers before backing away, and bowing down to give a one-winged mantle.
    “Now let’s go reassure your pride they’ll see you again in short order.”

    Sunlight warmed the hilltops as Shard walked among his pride, reassuring them that all he did was for them. It had been his idea, after all, to return Kjorn to his birthright as king of the Dawn Spire, in order that Shard himself would take up his rightful place in the Silver Isles and avoid another war between Vanir and Aesir. It was the best solution, but not the easiest one.
    Shard approached Frar, who laid on his belly in the grass with his face toward the dawn light. The air was clear and sweet, and the sky clear of clouds, paling to daylight blue.
    Shard sat beside the old gryfon, the last he would speak to. He hadn’t wanted to gather them all and make a speech, but simply wanted see each of his fifty assorted exiles, reassure them and share a moment so he would stay real in their minds.
    “Frar,” he murmured.
    “My king,” he said, not opening his eyes. Rather than seem healthier by his days of eating well and the better comforts around the lake, the old exile seemed more weary, as if he’d been clinging to the edge of a cliff and was gradually relaxing his grip. Shard was determined to see that he made it home.
    “Our plan to leave, to fly and be home by the Halflight is still in place. I hope you understand why I’m going with Kjorn.”
    “I do now. I didn’t at first, but Stigr and I had a good long chat.”
    Shard tried to picture what that chat would’ve looked like, and chuckled quietly. “I’m glad you have a friend in him. Frar, trust that I will return, and trust that everything I do is for the Vanir. I will return, and take you home.”
    Slowly the old Vanir turned his head to gaze up at Shard, then made an abortive movement to stand and bow.
    Shard shook his head. “Rest. Ketil told me you’re concerned about being sent into battle.”
    “Ketil has a wide beak. I don’t complain. I will do whatever you ask of me.”
    Shard ducked his head to hide his amused expression. “She cares. I admire and need her strength. But know this, I will send no Vanir against the wyrms who doesn’t wish to fight. Only I owe Kjorn my loyalty.”
    The old gryfon looked doubtful. Shard stood, lifting his wings a little in the morning light.
    “Frar, son-of-Eyvar, you who were first to come to my beacon, I pledge to you that your days of struggle are over. When my business is done here, all I ask of you is the flight home.”
    Frar gazed at him, and Shard wondered if he was thinking of Baldr. Then he did push with some struggle to his feet, and bow. “Thank you, my lord. Anything else I can do in your service, I will.”
    “Watch over the Vanir while I’m gone. With Stigr, teach them the old ways. Assure them I’ll return.”
    “I will do it.”
    Shard inclined his head. For a moment, they stood together to watch the sunrise, then Shard heard the commotion of others at the edge of the Vanir nests, and left him.
    Closer to the water, Shard found Vanir gathering on the wet beach. Ketil spotted him and loped over, opening her wings in greeting. She looked preened and refreshed and