Raffé drew his sword, readied his magic, not quite believing his own eyes as he stared at Méo. His eyes were the same brilliant blue as Telmé's, but they were glowing so brightly they hurt to look at. "Go!" he snarled at Edvin, throwing him on the griffon and ordering it back into the air.
He turned back as a second flurry of arrows sent Méo flying back. Raffé shunted his questions aside for later and lunged for Telmé, scooping him up, throwing him over one shoulder, and scrabbling onto the griffon close to Méo.
It screeched as he ordered it into the air, climbing swiftly. Raffé held tightly to Telmé, sword still in his other hand, balance precarious as he used his legs to hold fast to the griffon. He felt Telmé shift and grunt, but the words that tumbled out were incomprehensible.
The
