A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen

By Robert Denethon

A tale of gryphons, snow-dragons, elves, dwarves, dragons and men. An evil elf-mage is haunting the frozen wastelands in the north. Hinfane the tavern-keeper finds unlikely allies in the mysterious creatures that come on the first night of the new moon to collect the mead that she leaves out for them. You can fight an elf, and it seems that you can win. But elves are not so easy to kill... Hwedolyn the gryphon ends up going on a quest, barely believing in the purpose of it himself, not knowing how it will end. This is the first in the Gryphonomicon Gryphon-Dragon histories, a saga that spans generations and tells of the battles between gryphons and dragons and the rise of Aerae, Princess of the North, Empress of the South. An epic heroic fantasy in the tradition of Tolkien, C.S.Lewis, David Eddings.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Robert Denethon
• Release date: Aug 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310217210

Robert Denethon

Robert Denethon is a nom de plum and a character in his own footnotes. The real author lives in Lockridge, Western Australia with his naughty two year old puppy dog, a used piano, and a bunch of burgeoning bookcases. His books were written with you in mind if you like gripping fantasy and sci fi novels, some with strange footnotes, weird invented languages, unusual names, disturbing alternate realities, with a slightly realist bent. In other words, he has attempted to write the kinds of books he likes to read. Think somewhere between the extremes of Philip K Dick, Tolkien, Neal Stephenson, China Miéville. He wants people to read his books and would be extremely pleased if you enjoy them!OTHER BOOKSYou may also wish to view Robert Denethon's other books, written under the name Andrew P Partington https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/AndrewPartington

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A Feather on the Breath of Ellulianaen

Robert Denethon

Copyright 2011 Robert Denethon

Smashwords Edition

ISBN 9781310217210

Table of Contents

Cover

Copyright

Table of Contents

Dedication

Beginning

Pronunciation of Names in Normal English Transliteration

Maps

Chapter One The Taverner

Chapter Two The Midnight Sun

Chapter Three Kereth Chufire the Partisan

Chapter Four The Gryphon of Light

Chapter Five Riding the Wings of the Wind

Chapter Six Hwedolyn’s Quest for Vengeance

Chapter Seven Duke Maddon Udvéwynn

Chapter Eight The Other Gryphon

Chapter Nine Chalyom the Gryphon

Chapter Ten Halomlyn’s Dilemma

Chapter Eleven Halomlyn’s Army

Chapter Twelve Vision Of Another Realm

Chapter Thirteen The Nomoi Squad

Chapter Fourteen Gwendolyn’s Family

Chapter Fifteen Rain & Thunder

Chapter Sixteen The Stone Bridge

Chapter Seventeen The Eagle’s Eyrie

Chapter Eighteen The Dragon

Chapter Nineteen Dragon Moon

Epilogus The Succession

Appendix 1 Facts & Pictures Relating to the Archaeologickal Discoverie

Appendix 2 Dates & Times of the Main Events

Appendix 3 Gryphon Language

Appendix 4 Context of the Manuscript Fragments

Appendix 5 Pronunciation of Character Names in International Phonetic Alphabet

Appendix 6 On the Udvélogickal & Eschatologickal in the Hhwedolyn

Bibliography

Other books by Robert Denethon

What is a gryphon?

Dedication

Reckoning what I owe thee

oh those who have helped th’ making...

(About four thousand years of sheer brilliance,

the written word of many ages?

Knowledgeable, these ancestors -

but an iota, my debt to rimers past,

a’laid on the ledger,

if I compare all that I now owe to ‘ner’ angels.)

Undertaken with no reward,

what they all toiled at:

to ‘mold’ one real sapphire,

out of the book:

the crowtrodden, useless, Draft One;

reading, then suggesting th’ abridged versions,

a-tapestried out of older ones.

Jan’s edits, Nobert, Denis, Cliff,

PSK, John B, and my Dad’s,

Adrienne’s, Rachel, Elyse’s,

& Jan Barker,

everyone at St Bart’s,

others & unmentioned & forgotten

but definitely (and also Alex, ay) not unappreciated.

& Thanks, I know, is not enough to repay debts aye - so great -

but I -

I have not got more than that to give to you.

RD

Dedication to the Second Edition

Lo, these words owe ever to thee,

friends, as your help there guided me.

So to all these will this tome bee

writ: E.R., D.K., C.H., et al.

Beginning

Aiyh yn hychyyr

Pronunciation of Names in English Transliteration

Gryphons

Hwedolyn

Hweh-doll-in - A male gryphon

Halomlyn

Hay-lom-lin - Hwedolyn’s father

Tiawéflyn

Tee-ah-waif-lin - Hwedolyn’s mother

Atdaholyn

Ate-dah-holl-in - Hwedolyn’s cousin

Milélyn

Me-lay-lin - Hwedolyn’s uncle, Atdaholyn’s father, Halomlyn’s brother in law.

Thwyrlyn

Th-weir-lin - Hwedolyn’s aunt, Atdaholyn’s mother, Halomlyn’s sister

Gwendolyn

Gwen-doll-in - A female gryphon

F’dwyr’llyn

Fid-weir-lin - Gwendolyn’s Mother

Gothlirlyn

Goth-leer-lin - Gwendolyn’s Father

Chalyomlyn

Chah-lom-lin - A wise female gryphon, of great age, a friend to Gwendolyn.

Also called The Oracle of Hwendoryllyan.

Moçallyn

Moss-ail-in - Milélyn’s mother

Camgwynt

Cam-gwint - Milélyn’s father

Lhydlaedlyn (deceased)

Lid-laid-lin - Hwedolyn’s grandfather. Known as ‘the Gryphon Who Lied.’

Humans

Hinfane

Hin-fane - The tavern-keeper in the town of Hathion Kathuiolké, a woman.

Gothur

Goth-er - Hinfane’s husband, originally the Tavern keeper until he took ill.

Kereth Chufire

Ke-reth Chew-fire - A partisan, part of the rebellion against the Nomoi Empire.

Camhar

Cam-hah - A tall red-headed miner with fair skin

Vivish

V-eye-vish - A dark-skinned miner from the south

Gwalt

G-walt - A tall bearded miner

Tesed

Tess-ed - A merchant

Zhallad

Zh = s as in Asia - Zhall-ad - A merchant, brother of Maddon Udvéwynn

Duke Maddon Udvéwynn

Madden Ood-vey-win - Duke of kingdom of Hashae Chillaella, Zhallad’s brother, Hval’s father.

Hval Thaddon Udvéwynn

H-Vahl Thaddon Ood-vey-win - Son of the Duke of Hashae Chillaella, and successor of the title.

Uchwotfyrd whose nickname is Huch

Ooch-what-feared - Husband of Ondfuth

Ondfuth

Ond-footh - Wife of Huch

Nomoi Elves

Huhufwuerifwuerionaena-iashelosha-kashohosha-rithydénaen-thoihathyloi (true name – not used in daily life)

‘who-who-fway-ri-an-ay-na-i-ay-see-la-sah ka’sɒ-sa ri-di’ay-day-ee-nain doy’ha-di-loy In the story, he is called elf-mage or elf Nomoi elf, A Chancellor – the highest ranking military wizard, who reports directly to the Emperor.

Emperor Lhaghr’n’fumu

La-gra-nee-foo-moo - The Nomoi Emperor.

Prince Rhaglan

Rag-lan - Son of the Nomoi Emperor, and successor to the throne.

Dwarves

Haldar son of Manthur

Hal-dar, Man-thur - King of the Underground Realm of UnderNurther.

Klaer son of Aelig

Clair, Ay-lig - King of the Underground Realm of Minthenmor.

Hrammir son of Liothan

H-rammer, Lee-oh-than - King of the Underground Realm of Vatrarfahond.

Fota son of Hrindaz

Foh-ta H-rin-daz - King of the Underground Realm of Finthanzud.

Wyverns

The First Wyvern

Thah Ferst Why-vern

The Second Wyvern

Thah Sek-und Why-vern - Both wyverns, dragons with two legs and two wings, able to read minds.

Dragons

Dragon

Drah-gen

A rather unintelligent dragon.

Snowdragon

Snow-drah-gen

A fire-and-ice breathing dragon of the far north.

Theologickal

Ellulianaen or Udvé

E’lu-li- ay-nenn, Ood-vay - The God of humans, dwarves, gryphons, and the Other Elves.

Afazel

A-fay-zel - The evil bat-winged god of the Nomoi elves.

Maps

Map of the Known World

Chapter One

Mynowelechw Ayn

The Taverner

lla Æ’ Mhalim

Two weeks after the funeral the weather was getting colder and the woodpile was low, so the taverner of the town of Hathion-Kathuiolké, a widow by the name of Hinfane, was out in the backyard chopping wood. Tonight was going to be the night of the new moon and the sky was overcast; it would be a dark night, and who knows what dangers lurk in the wilderness after dark?

She decided to get the wood chopped before it got too late.

Later on she realised how fortunate it was that she had decided to do it early that night. Many things might have turned out differently if she had left the chore till later. But she knew nothing of this at the time. It was just a chore, a bone weary, muscle aching chore. Despite the cold, the sweat poured down her arms.

Her husband Gothur would have done this job.

She had not had time to grieve, because the tavern had to be managed by someone, and so it had fallen to her to do it, ever since Gothur had taken ill. He had not survived his illness. His last words were, Hinfane, remember our love, but now she could barely remember Gothur’s face, or even the sound of his voice, or the touch of his hand. Hinfane had no feeling any more. She merely kept her mind on the next job that had to be done. In a way, she was thankful for the hard slog of running the tavern, for it stopped her from thinking too much.

She heard something in the woods, the flapping of wings, then something scraping; like the feet of a beast raking the forest floor, but it wasn’t a reindeer. It was a four-footed beast, though - she could tell from the pattern of the steps. Thinking that a large wolf had scared an owl she grasped the axe-handle firmly. It did not sound like a snowdragon - their wings were faster; in any case, those crafty denizens of the icy, godforsaken desert had not troubled the tavern since her husband had fought them off, killing a couple of them in the process, soon after they had first purchased the ancient stone tavern from the previous owners, many, many years ago.

She waited, axe at the ready.

A whisper rasped in the darkness. I mean you no harm, taverner. I come to offer you a bargain, two goats for a barrel of mead. If you agree, on the night of every new moon you will leave the mead in the copse of trees, at the south of the town, and I will leave behind two goats tied to a wooden stake. If you do not try to see me or find out who or what manner of creature I am then the bargain will stand. But if I find you watching for me when I come to get my mead - if you’re hiding in the bushes or behind the trees - or if you seek by any other means to find out who or what I am then the bargain will come to an end.

Hinfane said, Whoever or whatever you are – that sounds like an excellent bargain to me! I give you my word – I will not try to see you or find out who or what you are. There will be a barrel of mead for you waiting in the copse of trees on the next new moon. By what name do I call you?

Milélyn.

And she heard the flapping of wings again, and she realised that these wings must be much, much larger than the wings of an owl.

So it happened that after twenty-seven days, on the night of the next new moon, she left a barrel of mead in the copse of trees and found two goats tied to a wooden post in the same spot in the morning, as the mysterious voice had promised. And as she took one of the goats out to the rear of the tavern to be slaughtered, she wondered to herself, what manner of creature could this Milélyn be?

She could only think of one creature under the sun or the moon that was so large that its feet raked the forest floor, able to fly, and walked on all fours, and spoke the ancient tongue, and had such an inordinate fondness for mead that it would risk anything, even for a single drop of the honey-brew.

Something mightier and more glorious and more golden and stronger and faster and more powerful than either the king of the beasts or the king of the skies – a beast that lions resemble in having fur and manes and tufts upon their tails and tremendous strength (though lions are weaklings by comparison) – a beast that eagles resemble in having feathered wings (yet not a quarter of the span) and sharp eyes (yet not quite so keen) and a beak and talons (yet not a fraction so deadly!)

A gryphon.

Chapter Two

Mynowelechw Sonhayu

The Midnight Sun

iolla Æilycha Had

In the mountains to the north of the tavern a mighty golden-winged creature with a tawny coat, a feathered mane, four iron talons and a beak with the power to grip like a mighty portcullis, could have been seen gliding above the cliffs of Aritha on the updraft like a feather drifting lazily on the warm air above the hearth-fire of an eyrie, if anyone had been watching. From the distance, any human or elf would have thought the creature was merely an eagle. But this was no eagle. It was the beast that is the king of all the birds that fly in the sky and the master of all the animals that crawl on the ground, a mighty gryphon, and even among gryphons this one was more strong-taloned, square-beaked, wide-winged and barrel-chested than most. His name was Halomlyn son of T’kshamuae, and he was flying to his sister Thwyrlyn’s eyrie, high up in the Mountains of Danudain.

Following about half a league behind him were Halomlyn’s mate Tiawéflyn, a slighter, more delicate gryphon, more golden of hue, with more subtle, gently decorative wing markings, undeniably beautiful, and their cub Hwedolyn, a bundle of golden and tawny fur and feathers and talons, with large golden eyes. Halomlyn was loath to leave Tiawéflyn and Hwedolyn at the eyrie to fend for themselves, considering the trouble that might be upon them, but he had asked them to follow a good distance behind, for if there was any trouble he would rather face it on his own and let Tiawéflyn get the cub away quickly.

Their flight-path took them into the shadows of nameless cliffs and through the mists and vapours that linger round the craggy mountain peaks of the distant north, as hidden as any flight-path could be considering that the sun was up.

If it had not been an urgent matter Halomlyn would not have gone, for gryphons do not like to travel when the sun shows his face - ordinarily they leave their excursions for the darkest of all nights, the night of the new moon - but the importance of Halomlyn’s message far outweighed the risks of making a daylight flight.

Immediately upon their arrival the adult gryphons told the two cubs, Hwedolyn and his young cousin, Atdaholyn, to go hunting in the rugged vertical mountains a league northeast, where even the hardiest two-leg would come to grief on the perpendicular cliffs, craggy pikes and jagged, sharp-pointed menhir-like rocks in the valley below that encircled and protected the mountain like the spears and man-traps in the ditch around a castle.

While the two cubs went off and hunted, the adult gryphons gathered around the hearth-fire of the eyrie and folded their wings.

Halomlyn spoke first.

We have come to visit, brother-in-law, sister, because we must share counsel as to whether we stay in this borough. The last time that I saw you I told you I had seen the signs of a mage – wyrded animal remains, the stench of magic - and so I knew you would be even more cautious than usual. But yesterday, something happened: and that is why I come to you now... He paused for a moment as the other gryphons gathered closer and then continued, whispering, I saw the mage himself!

The other gryphons’ ears pricked up and their tails swished.

Here is how it happened: I was out hunting to the northwest of our eyrie, on the rugged side of Mount Alcanhilith when I found a cave that might be good for an eyrie – of course, Tiawéflyn and I already have an eyrie, but I am always keen to find another cave or cliff somewhere nearby, lest we must leave our present eyrie because it has been discovered by men or elves, or a dragon is troubling us, or for any other reason, and so I had found this cave. Farther down that side of the mountain, as you know, there are many corpses of men and dwarves and elves who have tried the pass to the south, and for that reason I did not think to encounter any elves or sons of men there. I flew into the cave to see if it was large enough to be an eyrie, and when I did, fear clutched at my heart, for in it there were many bones of bears and wolves and other mountain beasts, and so I knew it must be the lair of the snowdragon.

The other three gryphons held their breath as Halomlyn told his tale; this was the same snowdragon that Halomlyn and Milélyn had fought eight years before, forcing it away from the borough of their eyries. Now it haunted the northern borders of their habitation like a white will-o’-th’-wisp, flitting through the sky, lurking in the clouds at the edge of their territory and emerging to taunt them from time to time.

Halomlyn said, "I flew back out, but as I emerged from the cave I saw the mage himself, striding up the mountainside in great footsteps, so I stayed hidden where I was, at the cave mouth. He wore Nomoi armour with a cloak of indigo about his shoulders and a hood covering his face, so I could not tell if he was elf, man or dwarf. I guessed, however, that this mage was an elf, and not one of the human Nomoi mages - of course there’s not many of them, anyway - and I was proven correct.

"Then I saw a flash, in the sky! I looked up and saw the snowdragon drifting through the clouds, sinuous as mist, like a salmon swimming in the coastal currents of the sea.

"The snowdragon descended, its torso twisting in mid-flight, as snowdragons’ snake-like bodies do. It stopped above the mage, hovering, flapping its silvery wings like a demented hummingbird.

"Its bright white scales glinted and flashed in the sunlight. In a puff, it snorted out a cloud of snow and steam. The two-legs looked up at it.

"The snowdragon said, ‘Elfynn-Mage!’, thus proving my guess correct that the two-legs was an elf, for the snowdragon was close enough to see his elven ears, the translucence of his skin, and those distinctive pointed eyebrows. ‘Elfynn-Mage,’ repeated the snowdragon, ‘Your magic causes the whole land to stink like the stench of the sewers of the city of Aros! Why come ye here to the north, where your kind is not welcome? How do you come to be where you do not belong?’ The snowdragon’s tone was insolent. It twisted in mid-air so that it faced the elf-mage, whilst still slowly gliding backwards.

"The elf-mage appeared unimpressed by this aerial trick; his voice took on a sneering, contemptuous tone, ‘You are indeed an ill-mannered variety of snowdragon! Alone I have walked from the Great Southern City through the mountains of Nilhaeoi and the forests and farmlands of the northern kingdoms until I reached the desert of Hilhaglil–Gludza. I walked on beneath the harsh sun with no water for many days, ever northwards through the wilderness! But I sustained myself by wyrding desert creatures, and I warn you, snowdragon! – that included two inquisitive desert dragons who ignored the stench of magic which you say hangs about me like sewerage.’

" ‘Ha! You jest, elf, or boast foolishly,’ said the snowdragon, wavering slightly in his hover, ‘Few mages have the power to wyrd even a small dragon, let alone one of the desert dwellers, and if one could, he would be a chancellor at the head of the Emperor’s army, not a wandering elf lost in the wastelands.’

" ‘Am I not then a chancellor?’ The elf peered at him with a fey gaze.

" ‘Another jest,’ the snowdragon replied bravely, but his voice betrayed a tremor of uncertainty, for he must have known what is generally known amongst dragons and men, that is, that elves seldom lie, or cannot. The snowdragon then withdrew to glide at what he must have thought was a safe distance.

" The elf sneered again, his lip revealing his teeth. ‘Jest? Do ever elves jest? Do elves ever say aught but the truth? But I shall overlook your impertinence, snowdragon, if you only tell me if the people of the town of Hathon-Kathuiolké are partisans, or loyal to the Emperor.’

" ‘Somewhat loyal, mage. Are any loyal to the Emperor, except the elves themselves? I know the humans of this town, mage. In return for shiny baubles and trinkets I fly above and find them veins of quartz and gold; of course, if I came upon a miner on his own then I would eat him, for humans are treacherous, greedy creatures and richly deserve such a fate. They mine for quartz, platinum and palladium, especially platinum. There are traders farther down the mountain who are always glad to pay a goodly price for what they call the ‘elf-gold’. I think they be partisans though; but tell me, which human is not? You will be going into their town?’ he asked.

" ‘Why should I tell you my comings and goings, dragon of the snow? There are partisans from the south who’ve come to these wastelands to escape the Nomoi rule, and who knows that my purpose in being here might not be to bring them to the Emperor’s justice? Or perhaps I am here today to wyrd a snowdragon,’ said the elf-mage, and he wore no grin upon his face as he said it.

"The snowdragon’s words came out like rocks in an avalanche tumbling down a mountain: ‘If ye be looking for partisans, an old widow she is, who be taverner of the tavern that gives all the travellers shelter, and the necessities, too, to the townsfolk – meat, vegetables, bread, milk and mead – any partisans would certainly stay there at her tavern, if they were actually fleeing the Emperor’s mighty battalions! Though I doubt whether they would accept an elf as a guest! Anyhow, elf, I must be leav– ’

" ‘I have been to many human taverns and alehouses. They do not perceive that I am an elf, snowdragon. They think that I am human.’

"The snowdragon blinked with double eyelids, and though I could not see the face of the elf-mage through the hood of his cloak, I assume he did a magic spell that made his face look human, for the snowdragon twitched in surprise and said, ‘Truly, elf, it is an excellent trick, but there be more to being a man than looking the man. None has the gift in Hathion-Kathuiolké of smelling magic, but the widow perhaps has the fey eye, and might be able to intuit your little deception. An elf-mage travelling in disguise! We are indeed living through strange times.’ He flapped his wings – rather urgently it seemed, to leave - but at that very moment the elf-mage lifted something aloft that glinted in the light, a shining object, perhaps, a jewel of some kind; I could not see what it was, for the elf-mage’s hand was obscuring my view of the thing. The snowdragon turned about in mid-air.

The elf-mage said, ‘Living through…? Heh! Perhaps not! Look at my little trinket, snowdragon. Look into it. Look into the eye of Afazel.’ I cannot guess what the trinket was, but the snowdragon stared into it.

Tiawéflyn asked, Why did he stare into it? Could he not realise it was a trap? For Tiawéflyn had not studied the gryphon-lore as deeply as Halomlyn had.

Halomlyn replied, "Snowdragons are deeply enamoured with trinkets and all manner of jewels! He could not stop himself – anything that glints or sparkles or shines is an object of great fascination to them. He looked into it, stared into it, he could not help staring into it. What he saw in that talisman I do not know, but as he was mesmerised he suffered an almighty spasm in mid-flight and began frantically flapping his wings, he threw his head up and howled in a high, soprano voice, almost like a beautiful singing elf’s voice, yet tormented, then dashed his body against the rocks, gasping aloud, his limbs thrusting forth erratically, his wings thrashing and tail lashing to and fro like a mountain horseman’s whip. He came to rest on the pale, bright snow with his wings unnaturally bent and broken beneath his shattered body, his nostrils spewing out ice and fire alternately. Finally the light left his eyes and his scales crumpled inwards, but his tail remained twitching like a beheaded snake on the glinting, icy ground, until it too finally came to rest.

The elf-mage returned the trinket to his cloak and continued on his way as though nothing untoward had occurred. I waited for several hours before I even dared to venture out of the cavern-mouth to fly home.

The other gryphons breathed again, stretched their limbs and their wings, then gathered crouching again around the fire.

Tiawéflyn said, An unsettling tale, Halomlyn.

Milélyn, a leaner, smaller, wirier gryphon than Halomlyn, sporting a narrow face and beak and bright, sparkling eyes, leapt into the conversation, saying, Indeed, brother-in-law, a powerful mage, an elf-mage, as you say: this can be no common or ordinary Wizard who has visited our climes! He is sure to be a high-ranking Nomoi of great power, perhaps even a chancellor as he implied. To wyrd species that are unrelated and elements that have little to do with one another is the mark of a great power in the world of magic. We must keep our eyes to the ground constantly. But leave our eyries? I think not. Halomlyn, your sister and I have spent much time and effort in making this eyrie habitable, and I for one have no wish to be at the mercy of a different taverner, for the risk of discovery is always there whenever we go out to barter for mead or hunt in the mountains.

Halomlyn’s sister Thwyrlyn, a larger, less delicate female gryphon than Tiawéflyn, opened her wings for a moment, revealing attractive, unsubtle wing markings of brown and black, folded them again, leant forward and said, Speaking of mead, our summer stores of mead will soon be at an end. The nights will begin to darken again in less than two weeks. How long should we wait before we fly again to the tavern for mead?

Milélyn said, The taverner will leave the mead out for us, once the nights are dark again. She knows that we might not collect the barrel until the second or third new moon.

Thwyrlyn said, If this threat was not present we would fly in two months and seven days – on the new moon after next according to my reckoning - but our supplies will hardly hold out until then. How do we know when it is safe to fly again above the human towns and the southern parts of our territory?

Halomlyn replied, When there are no more corpses of wyrded animals, no more unnatural storms, and every unclean sign of tainted, blasphemous magic is gone! Thwyrlyn snorted.

Milélyn leant forward a little, folding his wings tighter, and said, almost conspiratorially, In any case, we could always use the mead from that cave on the Hathion River.

Tiawéflyn adjusted her wings and said, "Hmmph! I would not be surprised if a man or dwarf has discovered it and stolen our barrels – it is very close to town,