Gryphon Riders Trilogy Boxed Set by Derek Alan Siddoway

Author:Derek Alan Siddoway
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: young adult, young adult fantasy, gryphons, griffins, gryphon riders, dragons, dragon riders, epic fantasy, new adult fantasy, clean fantasy
Publisher: Derek Alan Siddoway
Published: 2018-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Ivan grew stronger in small increments over the next few days until at last Eva knew the Scrawl was going to be alright. He soon returned to his old self but refused to talk about what he remembered from the days of delirium following the fight with the Hippiriot horsemen. From what Eva could gather, the dreams and delusions had been almost as bad as the pain from the wound itself. When he recovered enough to understand where they were, it was all they could do to keep him in bed until he was strong enough to walk.

“I can’t believe the Mother of Cities is real,” he said, shaking his head. When they told him about the temple he grew even more excited. “This could be one of the oldest places of rune lore in all of Altaris! I’ve got to see it all.”

Anarchos visited often and, although he remained kind and courteous to all of them, seemed to have a special interest in Ivan. Most of his questions revolved around rune magic and the priest asked very little about their journey or purpose in traveling so far east.

“I have something special prepared for you tomorrow,” Anarchos told them once Ivan was able to rise from his bed and walk on this own. “It has been a long time since a rune master walked the streets of the Mother of Cities and never have we been blessed with a visit from gryphon riders. We shall hold a feast in your honor!”

True to his promise, Anarchos sent temple acolytes — more young children — to assist them in preparing for the feast. They took them first to the bathhouse beneath the temple, the bubbling, warm water reminding Eva of the hot spring within the caverns of the Gyr. The children seemed enthralled by the presence of the outsiders, even if they couldn’t speak a word of the western tongue.

After refreshing themselves, Ivan, Eva, Sigrid, and Chel found new clothes laid out for them in their separate chambers. The women were given soft cream-colored tunics and pants while Ivan had a maroon robe like Anarchos. As soon as they were ready, a small boy escorted them to the feast.

Instead of going back into the temple, the acolyte led them down the parkway and up the small hill to the smaller building across the garden. Inside, they passed the stone slab where Anarchos had healed Ivan. Glancing down at the floor, Eva recalled Ivan’s thrashing and a shudder ran through her, despite the warm weather. They passed down a winding hall until the soft murmur of voices echoed through the stone passage. When they reached the feast hall an exotic sight greeted them.

Hundreds of dishes covered a long wooden table stretching the entire length of the room, surrounded by milling people, talking, laughing and eating. Like everything in the Mother of Cities, there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to their dress. Some were clad in plain, roughspun clothes, while others wore extravagant outfits, bedecked in jewelry and body paint.

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