A Shard of Sun Read Online Free PDF Page B

showed. “I’m ready for everything.”

~ 4 ~
Mourning
     
“Only the long day brings rest
Only the dark of night, dawn.
When the First knew themselves, the wise will say
They took their Names to the Sunlit Land
But their Voice in the wind sings on.”
 
    G RYFON AND WOLF VOICES rose with the gusts of winter wind on the smallest, barren island of the Silver Isles, called Black Rock. Snow covered most of the surface of the isle, which was true to its namesake. On a high slope amid a half ring of broken boulders stood an odd gathering, a mix of Vanir, Aesir, half-blooded gryfons born from each, and several wolves from the Star Isle.
    Caj stood at the back of the gathering, more keenly aware than ever how his feathers stood out against the snow, unnatural in that land—unnatural in any land, feathers the blazing hue of a sea in summer. Other Aesir stood just as bright, their feathers somehow divinely or sorcerously stained in outlandish hues. Supposedly it was a sign of their right to rule, their forefathers’ victory in a war with dragons at the bottom of the world. Caj had begun to doubt, and wondered if anything that he’d ever been told was true.
    “Einarr’s voice will sing on.” Ragna’s declaration carried across the wind, and Caj shuddered at the sight of her. Gone was the false humility, the meekness, the quiet Widow Queen. Standing before the gathering now was the ruling regent, proud and powerful as the moon. She commanded the Vanir of the Sun Isle until their king returned.
    Until Shard returned.
    And what will I be then? Caj wondered, unsure how his nest-son felt about him, in his deep heart. When first he’d heard that Shard survived his plunge into the sea, he’d felt relief and joy. Now, only doubt. Everything was doubt.
    Ragna called out the other names, those who had fallen that winter, either to starvation, the cold, or the final clash with the mad Red King. Caj lowered his gaze to behold the bodies laid out in the snow, their wings stretched out as if they might, at any moment, lift from the snow and fly to the Sunlit Land. Pitiful keening made his ears twitch, and he looked over furtively to see Einarr’s widowed mate, white Astri, huddled between her wingsister Kenna, and Einarr’s mother, a full-blooded Aesir.
    Caj looked away before any of them lifted their eyes to see him. He had failed the pride, failed to restrain his own wingbrother, and now they stood singing songs of mourning for the dead.
    Sigrun pressed to his side, offering wordless reassurance. Caj shifted his wing against his mate, attempting comfort, then flinched at the pain. Hard mud and splint still bound his wing to form, the break not yet fully healed. He’d had to walk, following Sigrun and a wolf through the labyrinth of underground tunnels that connected all the islands. At least Sigrun had walked with him. At least he hadn’t borne the humiliation of being ground bound alone.
    His gaze flicked to the wolves on the far side of the group. If not for them, he too would be among the dead.
    Ragna finished her recognition of the fallen—Einarr, another elder of the Vanir who’d succumbed to hunger, another who’d died in the sea attempting to fish. She turned her attention to the largest wolf of the gathering, a tall, strapping male with black shoulders that blended down into gold and cream on his chest. Two gryfon feathers, braided into the thick fur of his neck, flicked in the breeze, gray and gold.
    The feathers of future kings, Caj thought, poetically, and managed not to scoff. It seemed a vain tradition, the wearing of gryfon feathers, that was growing in popularity among the younger wolves, but there were many things about wolves that Caj still didn’t understand. Still, they had saved his life that winter, and had asked only for his friendship in return. He supposed he didn’t need to understand them completely to befriend them. His sense of honor begged tolerance and curiosity for their ways, rather than