The Marrow of the Spirit Book One: Ashes Against the Grain

Gilda watched the Griffin before her pace back and forth, a look of nervousness on his face. By this time, she was accustomed to the way he acted, and she refused to believe this depressed griffin was once a very cocky and humorous creature, as he said he once was. But, with all he's been through, what most of the creatures where he came from have been through, she could be wrong.

Standing out side the large iron doors that lead to The Moot, the chamber where the griffin Chancellors, The Emperor, and the Prince of Arkon resided, seemed to make this griffin more nervous than usual, which also unsettled Gilda, as well.

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She remembered she she found him bloody, bruised and alone, with a broken wing and leg.

This was in the very outskirts of Griffin territory, right on the edge of the Wild, a place none ventured unless they took the Arkonian roads or flew. Why she was even this far west, she didn't know. Ever since she made an ass out of herself in a certain town, in front of a certain friend, she had returned to her home country, feeling sadness, regret, and shame, an unusual set of feelings for her. She usually acted like an ass all the time and never once thought twice about it. But this time, being sent away by one of her closest friends really struck home for her, and she felt terrible for what happened

Safely in the Griffin Empire, she wandered it's lands, never staying in one place for to long, and finding work wherever she could. She contemplated her life, and behavior; she knew she had to change. And so she did, or tried to at least. Wandering the Empire, she had to learn to live off the kindness of others, and to learn be humble, less offensive. It was difficult at first, breaking old habits usually are, but after some time, she began to learn humility, she learned kindness, and for once in a very long time, felt happy and content.

This was a couple of years back, when mighty Arkon, the neighboring kingdom, was still around. These days, things have changed, and not entirely for the better.

When she first met this griffin, the war in Arkon was recently lost. Word of things going absolutely wrong there when the Minotauri attacked really cultivated when the Prince, Mazbeth II, arrived with an entourage of soldiers at the Griffin capital city, Monolith, and began begging for help from the Griffin Emperor Tenhi. Following the coming of the Prince, he was followed by many refugees, mainly griffins, who sought shelter behind the borders of their kin.

Gilda, at the time, was in a settlement close to the borders of Arkon, where she was working as a relief worker, helping the sick and wounded who crossed the border. She couldn't believe the shape that most of them were in: some were mangled, missing limbs, while others were very close to death.

And it was not limited to just adults, as many children were maimed as well, crying out in agony. Gilda couldn't really grasp what had happened to these creatures. She knew the lands west of the border were tough lands, and that Minotaurs were not exactly the kindest of creatures, but from what she saw and what she heard from survivors...let's just say, it was hard for her to sleep at night.

She remembered being sent by the local healer to retrieve herbs in the woods by the settlement, for they were running low on Mzelchevks root, a traditional herb used for bringing down fever. She remembered scanning a large glade, surrounded by white flowers. It looked beautiful, calm, and tranquil, which was a relief as compared to the horrors back at the settlement. All Gilda wanted to do was relax for a bit and enjoy the scenery; she felt like she deserved a break from the stress of the encampment, and to enjoy the tranquil sight before her, without the sounds of creatures crying in agony.

Yet, she knew better. Lives depended on her to get those herbs, and she knew where her priorities laid. Shaking her head clear of those selfish thoughts, she began to ascend higher into sky, yet, not without one look back towards the beautiful sight below her.

It was at that that moment that Gilda noticed a dark patch towards the end of the field.

Her logic dictated that she needed to leave to find the herbs, but curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she flew towards the dark shape in the field. Within a hundred feet she realized that it wasn't a dark patch of grass, but was a creature. The color red was intermingled with what appeared to be a dark cloak that it was wearing. Landing next to it and taking tentative steps, she noticed that the creature was, in fact, a griffin...and terribly hurt one at that.

At once, Gilda quickly closed the gap between her and the griffin, who seemed to have passed out from his wounds, and began to inspect his wounds. She began to shake him slightly, to see if he was still conscious. He groaned a bit, and opened an eye to look at the hen (griffin female) before him.

"........help..." He weakly said before passing into unconsciousness again.

From there, Gilda painstakingly carried the injured griffin back to the camp, where his wounds were dressed and his broken bones were set into splits. Over the next few days, Gilda was assigned to attend this griffin, who for the most part remained in a deep, yet fitful sleep, and was plagued with fever and, judging by his unsettled rest, nightmares. Of what, Goddess could only imagine.

She knew what he was by the sword that she found with him and the cloak that clothed him.This wasn't just any refugee that she had found in the forest; this was a Ranger, one of the single most skilled warriors on this part of the continent, able to kill a creature within the blink of an eye, trained to withstand excruciating punishment, the very same ban of warriors that tamed the Wild and all it's hardships. And yet before her lay a living legend, broken and weak; a shadow of what the tales of the common folk portrayed them as.

If this was truly a fabled warrior, than what could have caused this amount of damage? She knew they were not immortal by any means, but whoever could fuck up a Ranger this bad was not something Gilda would want to meet any time soon.

It was a frigid morning when Gilda was doing her rounds. Winter was coming in, and it had not been kind to the inhabitants of the settlement. Snow had begun to fall in the wee hours of the morning, and Gilda was about to get caught up in it. A winter storm had been forcasted, the worse that this area had seen in awhile. Sadly for the Equestrians down south, in two months time, the storm would hit them harder than Gilda's current Rook, making it the worse snowstorm Equestria will have seen in centuries. Yet, Equestrians were of no concern of Gilda's right now.  She had several other refugees to visit and apply medicine to before checking on the unconscious Ranger, and wanted to get them done as quickly as possible.

For some reason, she rally wanted to talk to the broken griffin.

She had so many questions to ask him, if he were up to answering him, that is, about life in Arkon, about his experiences in the war, and about the Rangers themselves. Before moving to the Equestrian town of Cloudsdale when she was just a chick, she and her parents lived in small Rook (a term used to describe a small Griffin settlement) by the great Wodenes Forest in the Griffin Empire heartland. There, she would hear tales of the Rangers deeds throughout the lands of Arkon and the Empire (Arkon and the Griffin Empire have always been allies, and Arkon would often send Rangers to aid in any troubles that the normal guard couldn't handle), tales about Feather Arc and his lieutenants taming the Untamable  Lands, of the secretive ceremonies and, most of all, their haunting songs and dirges, which were as romanticized as their skill in battle.

Rangers sang all the time; some were part of rituals, such as of mourning the loss of a comrade or at burials, others were for mundane amusement and to lift the spirits. Hell, every group of new pre-Rangers must sing a ceremonial song before they started training, "The Song of Dispossession", one on their day of graduation, "The Oath of Arc", and one before their first battle, "The Marrow of the Spirit.

For some reason, Gilda was always fascinated by the songs that Rangers sung. Some were light hearted and mirthful, while some made her feel sadder than she had ever felt.

Making her way towards the griffins tent, she became aware of voice emanating from its confines. She heard a sad melody echo forth, and, the closer she came, she heard words of a language she was not familiar with. Entering the tent, she saw that griffin was sitting up straight, his back to her, and was singing a song of grieving, it's melody mesmerizing Gilda, as she listened with open ears:

"Worldes blis ne last no throwe

It wend and wit away anon

The langer that ich hit i knowe

The lasse ich finde pris theron

For al it is i-meind mid care

Mid Sorewen and mid evel fare

And atte laste povre and bare

It lat yos, whan it ginth agon

Al the blis this here and thare

Bilucth at ende weep and mon...

Why seestu thoght and herte

O' Worldes blis that nout ne laste?

Why tholstu that thee so ofte smerte

For thinge that is unstedefast?

Thu likest hony of the thorn, ywis

That seest thy love o' worldes blis

For ful of bitterness it is

Ful sore thu might been ofgast

That here despendes eighte amist

Tharthurgh ben into helle i-cast..."

Soon, the griffin began to audibly sob, as his shoulders slouched under the weight of his sorrow. Gilda could only speculate what the Ranger had been through to sing in such a way, and felt her self also beginning to tear up, while she listened to the griffin continue:

"Shal no good been unforyolde

Ne no quedhed ne wruth unbout;

Wanne thu list, yos, under molde

The shalt habben as tu hast wrought

Nithink wel forthi, ich thee reede

And clanse thee of ech misdeede

That he theehelp at tine neede

That so deere hath thee about

And to hevene blisse leede...

That ever last and faileth nought...."

There was silence as the griffin remained with his back to Gilda. She knew he was aware of her presence, yet did not want to disturb the hawke (male griffin) if he felt in a bad mood. The silence was broken not long after.

"Where am I?" asked the Ranger, still refusing to turn around, but with a sound of nervous hesitation in his voice. Gilda kept her distance, not wanting to provoke an undoubtedly hardened killer, and in a calm voice replied:

"Easy dude, you're alright. Your in a infirmary at a  Rook just pass the Empire's borders."

The griffin finally turned around to see who it was that he was talking to.

"Who are you, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked.

"Name's Gilda. Mr....?"

"Gryden, ma'am. My name is Gryden, the rank of Virtue, of the Wilder-Land Rangers, at your service."

Another lapse of silence begot the room, as Gilda pondered whether to ask the next question she wanted to ask. She had just heard a Ranger song first hand, and the feelings she felt from it washed over like a flood of emotions. The song truly lived up to legend, and was almost hypnotic to hear, as most Ranger songs were. Why? Maybe it is some old magic that dwelt in these warriors of lore, maybe Rangers were just good singers. One could truly never know. Especially now. Ever since she was a chick she had wanted to hear one. It was like a childhood dream of hers, though one that she suppressed when she was older. But hearing the song brought forth a feeling of nostalgia, that left a longing in her hurt.

"um, if you don't mind me asking, what was that song about?"

The griffin allowed a brief moment of silence before responding.

"It's an old Ranger song that was sung in the Uncommon Tongue, the language that the Common Tongue is based off, by Feather Arc and his Lieutenants when they mourned the loss of one of their own, Xasthur, during a battle against a Boar Warlord. The Four first true Rangers were the best of friends, brothers to the end, and when Xasthur fell, they took it extremely hard, and created a song to exult their grief. The song is sung during times of great sadness and pain amongst the Rangers, usually during the wake of a great catastrophe."

Gilda saw heartache grow in the Ranger's eyes as he continued.

"I sing a song of woe for my friends and kingdom. As you probably heard as of now,Arkon doesn't really exist anymore."

Gryden attempted to stretch out a bit, but yelped as a sudden course of pain shot through his body. Immediately, ignoring her common sense, Gilda rushed to his side, and helped him to lay back down. He coughed a few times, feeling light in the head, as his fever began to return. Gilda felt his rising temperature, and began to rub his forehead with a damp cloth. He needed medicine and rest, which meant no more questions today.

"I need to go get some medicine from the head healer. I'll be back with some food as well. Just wait here, okay?"

Gilda began to leave when he heard his voice call out to her.

"Please, when you come back, will you stay a while longer?" he asked weakly "I don't want to be alone right now."

Gilda looked upon his pitiful form with compassion. She had no duties this afternoon, so she saw no wrong with spending some time with the Ranger.

"Sure I will," She replied.

"Good. It's not very often I'm in the company of hot young hen as yourself," he replied with a weak smirk.

And for the first time in a good long while, Gilda blushed, and chuckled sincerely. For the longest time, there wasn't much to laugh or smile about, especially with her constant moving and roaming. Sometimes, there was never enough time to enjoy a laugh and a smile.

"Easy there lover boy. I'll be back soon."

And with that, she departed the tent to retrieve the necessary items for a wounded veteran, who was in need of not only food, water and medicine, but, most of all, a friend.

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Gilda smiled at the memory. Though not the greatest of first meetings, over the weeks that followed, the two became fast friends and, when Gryden became well enough to walk, traveling companions. Word soon reached Gryden's ears that the Prince was in the Empire's capital, he at once wished to set out to meet his Majesty, The Prince was guarded by Rangers, probably the last of their order, and he wished to join their ranks as soon a possible. When he mentioned his intentions to Gilda, she was upset. She liked having him around, and was one of her first few friends in awhile; the thought of him leaving made her feel upset.

So, mustering up her courage, she asked if she could accompany him. Of course he said yes.

Secretly, Gryden was glad she asked. She was pleasant enough company, and always kept his spirits up. And during the nights when he couldn't sleep, she would stay by his side and hold his claw while he wept for all those lost souls in Arkon. But most of all, she filled the void that was left by another dear friend. A friend who he missed, yet loathed all at once. His best friend....abandoned him....his home.....everyone and everything. Yet, Gryden understood why he did so. He had to save his last loved one. A child, no less. But instead of begging him to come along with him, he just looked into his eyes, and then left. He never felt so alone. Gilda was, at the moment, his only friend, and he would not lose her.

So, after two months since the fall of Sanfaran, the pair made their way to Monolith, to reunite Gryden with his liege lord and companions, and hopefully to get answers on several important questions. Why were the Minotauri inexplicably crueler than usual? Who is this new High General that came up with these horrific strategies? But most of all, why didn't the Empire help them, their ally's?

And here, the two stood, before the doors to the Moot. Behind those doors, a furious debate was going on between the political parties of the Empire and the Prince. And just beyond those doors stood the last Rangers on the face of the Earth. Gryden was forbade to go in until a break was held. The waiting was getting on his nerves, and made him far more nervous than he should be. Gilda put a claw on his shoulder to relax him.

"Easy Gry, they can't be in there forever. They'll come out soon."

"Yeah, I know. I just...wanna get in there already, you know? I want to see if I know anyone in there. I wanna know why this happened? I want....justice for all those who were slaughtered."

"I know, Gry, I know. But we have to be patient. I'm sure that the-"

Gilda was cut off by the sound of the large doors opening. A griffin guard walked out, and faced the now stiff visitors that were before him. He turned to the ranger and spoke.

"Ranger Gryden, your presence is requested inside. Your companion must wait outside, for the meantime."

Gryden turned to Gilda, seeing the disappointment in her face as she faced him.

"I'm sorry, Gilda. I guess you gotta wait here."

"Don't worry," she replied "Just tell me everything when you get back."

Gryden smiled warmly at her, and placed his claw on her shoulder for reassurance. And, with a twist of his tail and a flap of his cloak, followed the guard into the Moot Chamber.

*Hey, you should read the authors note. there's some important things about the chapter. thanks for readin'*