Yet transformation magic warped every feather and hair. The spell lay over the creature like a spiderweb, complex and delicate. It hadn’t been done by a master mage—there was a certain roughness to the weave that indicated the hand of an amateur, and Aodhan could have unraveled the whole thing with a flick of his wand—but it was still an impressive piece of work. The ritual must have taken a lot of time and effort.
Why in Herne’s name would someone go to all that trouble to transform a griffin into a griffin?
“Enough,” the Golden Knight said in icy tones. Aodhan jerked out of his baffled reverie, tensing—but the knight hadn’t been talking to him. “Decide, Sir Ferghal of the Summer Knights.”
“Oh, let him through, Sir Ferghal.” Cathy sounded off hand, but Aodhan could see how tightly she was holding herself. “This grows tedious. Surely you can grant hospitality to the great Golden Knight. He must have traveled a long way on his quest—though not, I suspect, as far as myself.”
She aimed these last words at the Golden Knight directly. Aodhan knew she was fishing for any hint that he was indeed her friend’s mysterious ally.
Be careful, Cathy.With the eagle eyes of the griffin still fixed on Cathy, alert for any twitch, Aodhan didn’t dare try to send a warning down their thin bond. Trapped behind her, he couldn’t even catch her eye. All he could do was stare at the back of her neck, praying to all the goddesses that she wouldn’t reveal too much. Something is going on here. Don’t give yourself away.
If the Golden Knight recognized Cathy’s hidden message, he gave no sign of it. “Welcome me into your lands, or do not. The choice is yours. But be warned. One way or another, I will fulfill my quest.”
“I have no wish to be your enemy, brother knight.” Ferghal sounded sincere about that, at least. “I hope that the same is true of you. May I have your word that you come as a friend, with no intent to harm me or mine?”
“I will not cross blades with you, unless you impede my quest.” Despite the words, Golden Knight’s voice was so chill, Aodhan half-expected to see frost bloom across the man’s breastplate. “This much I can promise, Sir Ferghal of the Summer Knights. I do not seek your blood, nor to take anything that is rightfully yours. Now drop your wards and allow me to pass.”
No!Aodhan wanted to yell, but Ferghal wouldn’t have listened to him. And in any event, what could he say? ‘Watch out, that griffin is actually a griffin!’ wasn’t the most convincing of warnings.
Ferghal hesitated a moment longer, then inclined his head. “As you wish, brother knight. I welcome you to my lands.”
As Ferghal raised a hand, preparing to lower the wards, Aodhan looked again at the griffin. He could feel the spell over the beast, like knotted threads. Not a dense tapestry like the spell wound through every cell of his own body, but a more subtle alteration.
Only someone truly skilled in transformation magic could have read that complex web… but he was a master mage. He followed the lines of the spell, seeing how it pulled the creature away from its original shape. Just a tweak here, and an adjustment there; to make the curve of the beak more pronounced, the feathers stiffer, the fur darker…
And Aodhan knew not only how the griffin had been transformed, but why.
“No!” he shouted, grabbing for his wand. “Don’t—!”
Too late.
Ferghal dropped the wards.