The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)

by K J Taylor

  Skandar had gathered the straw provided for him into a heap in the middle of the floor and curled up on top of it. He looked as if he was sleeping, but he lifted his head when he heard the door open.

  “Human,” he rasped.

  Arenadd bowed to him. “How are you feeling?”

  Skandar yawned widely by way of an answer, showing the grey, ribbed inside of his beak and the fleshy pinkness beyond.

  Arenadd smiled. “It’s only to be expected. You’ve finally started using magic.”

  “Use magic,” Skandar repeated proudly. “Strong magic.”

  Arenadd nodded. “I knew you could do it. If I can use it, so can you.”

  “My magic,” Skandar told him sharply.

  Arenadd bowed again. “Yes. You’re far better at using it than I am, and that only makes sense. You were born to it; I wasn’t. After all, I’m only a human.”

  “Am griffin,” said Skandar. “Hyrenna say we use magic.”

  “And now you believe her, don’t you?” said Arenadd.

  “Yes, believe.” Skandar yawned again. “Hungry.”

  “I brought you this,” said Arenadd.

  It was a dead dog. Skandar sniffed at it suspiciously.

  “Sorry it’s not much,” said Arenadd. “Saeddryn says she caught it in the street. Later on I’ll send someone to buy you a nice fat horse.”

  Skandar hissed pleasurably to himself and bit into the dog.

  Arenadd sat down by him, hugging his knees. “You and I did good work, Skandar. Everything is going to plan.”

  Skandar glanced up. “You kill?”

  Arenadd nodded grimly. “I timed it all perfectly. The Master of Taxation, the Master of Law . . . all the most important officials. Half the council dropped dead, right in the middle of a meeting. I found out they were going to appoint a Master of War, so I poisoned most of the candidates as well. And before that I snuck into the prison and let the prisoners out. And, of course, we have the Mistress.”

  Skandar chirped. “Do good work!”

  “Yes!” Arenadd had to force himself not to whoop at the top of his lungs. “You see, Skandar? With the council dead and the Mistress gone, they’re as good as crippled! Once we’ve got our ransom and sent people south to buy those slaves, we can start doing some real damage. By the time they get here, we’ll be ready to attack Malvern itself. And then you and I can fly into battle together, and those sun-worshipping scum will know what Northerners and wild griffins can really do.”

  Skandar’s eyes gleamed. “And then I find Kraal,” he said. “And I kill.” And to emphasise those words, he ripped the dog’s carcass clean in half with one blow.

  19

  The Sea and the Sky

  When Erian Rannagonson saw the sea for the first time in his life, he could scarcely believe his eyes.

  “It’s so big,” he breathed.

  Beside him, Senneck ruffled her wings. “Yes.” For once the brown griffin’s usual cool confidence seemed to have failed her.

  The two of them stood on the cliff top where Senneck had landed, looking out over a seemingly endless expanse of blue. It darkened toward the horizon, broken up by shifting patterns of white foam, until it joined with the sky and became a faint grey line.

  “By the sea and the sky,” Erian mumbled. Suddenly, the griffish exclamation seemed to make so much more sense. Even if griffins had no gods, something this awe-inspiring was as good as one.

  He realised that Senneck was looking at him.

  “All my life, I have wondered what the sea is truly like,” she said softly. “Now I have seen it, and I am . . . humbled.”

  Erian squinted as he looked out to sea. The months of travelling had taken their toll on him. But for all that, there was a new strength and certainty in how he carried himself.

  Nevertheless, his voice had all its old boyish uncertainty when he said, “This can’t possibly be right. We must have come to the wrong place!”

  Senneck flicked her tail. “We followed the path of the rising sun. This is where Kraal’s advice brought us. There can be no mistake.”

  “But it’s so huge!” said Erian. “How can you fly over it? There’s nowhere to land! If you get tired, we’ll drown!”

  “It will be a challenge,” Senneck admitted. But she acted as if she hadn’t noticed Erian’s agitation. She, too, had changed during the journey: she had become stronger, harder. Away from her old, easy life, she had taken on something of the ragged ferocity of a wild griffin. Her fur and feathers had grown thicker to protect her from the cold, and she looked to have grown physically larger as well, which was odd, considering the poor and sporadic food she had been living on.

  “You really think you can fly over that?” Erian persisted.

  “I believe I can try,” Senneck said primly. “And I have come too far to give in without a fight.”

  Erian squared his shoulders. “Yes. You’re right. But how are we going to do it?”

  “We will rest here tonight,” said Senneck. “In the morning, at sunrise, we shall set out. I shall fly until noon, and if by then I do not see the Island of the Sun I shall fly back and we will consider another plan.”

  “It sounds like a good plan to me.”

  They left the cliff for the beach below it, where it was a little more sheltered, and Senneck curled up on the sand while Erian built a fire. Once it was burning, he sat down and warmed his hands. He’d wrapped up some meat and stowed it in his tunic, and now he brought it out and staked some of it over the fire to cook. He gave the rest to Senneck, who gulped it down in one go.

  “It’s not much,” said Erian.

  “It will do for you,” said Senneck.

  “I mean for you,” said Erian. “I don’t know if there’s any game around here.”

  “It does not matter,” said Senneck. “I shall not hunt tonight.”

  “Why?” said Erian. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I am, but I shall not eat. Tomorrow I shall fly on an empty stomach. It will make me lighter in the air.”

  “Oh,” said Erian. “That’s clever. I suppose I should leave a few things behind, too, then.”

  “Yes,” said Senneck.

  “I haven’t got much . . . I could take my boots off and my belt . . . and my . . .” He clutched instinctively at the hilt of his sword.

  Senneck looked at the weapon and then at him. “Not your sword,” she said. “I think it would be better to keep it with you. There is no telling what we may encounter on the island. And it would be a pity to lose it, after all we went through to retrieve it.”

  Erian wanted to hug her. “Thank you, Senneck.”

  She laid her head on her talons. “Eat and sleep now, little human. Tomorrow, we fly.”

  Erian let her rest and chewed on some dried berries from his pocket while he waited for the meat to cook. Once it was done and he’d eaten it, he sat and polished his sword, and thought.

  It was odd, really. Gryphus had chosen him, Erian, but had merely commanded him to do the very thing he most wanted to do. Kill the murderer, save Malvern and be a hero. Gryphus had come to him and was helping him to find the way. Giving him what he wanted.

  Erian felt a warm little glow in his chest, as he always did when he thought of that. Him, chosen by Gryphus! Not some arrogant noble, not some highborn lord, but him. From farm boy to warrior, to hero, to legend. It was so magnificent it made him want to cry.

  “I’ll do it,” he promised the setting sun. “I’ll do it, Gryphus. I won’t lose faith in you or Senneck.”

  “I am sure the Day Eye is glad to hear it,” Senneck mumbled and covered her head with her wing.

  Erian slept soundly that night, curled up on the warm sand by the fire. His sleep had become much more restful over the last few weeks, most likely because he had been going to bed so exhausted every night. The dark dreams had more or less ceased, though from time to time he would wake up in the middle of the night, cold and sweating.

  But not this night. This night
his dreams were peaceful and happy.

  He dreamt that he was back at Malvern, up on the top of the Council’s Tower. There was a party taking place around him; he could see the long tables laden with delicious food and cups of sweet wine. Music was playing, and there were other people there, dancing, but they were an irrelevant detail—faceless and silent. All except for one of them.

  She came out of the crowd to meet him, her sweet face smiling, green eyes alight with happiness. Erian. Come, dance with me. She held out a delicate hand.

  Erian took it and kissed it. What dance?

  The sacred dance, my sweet warrior, my Erian.

  And they danced. He didn’t know the steps, but that didn’t matter. This was a special dance, and it didn’t feel as if he was truly dancing at all, at least not in the usual way. This was a magical gliding, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony, as if they were flying without their feet leaving the ground. And all that mattered was Elkin and her soft flower scent and her eyes looking into his.

  Erian groaned pleasurably in his sleep and curled in on himself, his fingers twisting themselves into the coarse cloth of his trousers and clutching at it.

  In the dream, Elkin laughed. Not now. There are other things to do. See, here?

  She led him toward the crowd, but the people seemed to fade away, and there were two griffins. Senneck, smoother and sleeker in his dream, her feathers shining with a golden sheen. Her eyes were like sapphires. Beside her was Kraal.

  Erian knelt in front of the white griffin. Mighty Kraal. Kraal looked down on him, his golden eyes peaceful. But there seemed to be something odd about him, as Erian looked up. The griffin’s outline seemed to flicker, as if there was something inside him that had a different shape or size—the bones of some other creature in some other time.

  I am old, Kraal said, his voice echoing. I am so old, but I have seen much. Cross the skies like the Day Eye, always open, never closing or waning. Fight as your father would.

  I will, said Erian. Wait for me.

  Look for the rising of the sun, said Kraal. Do not fail us.

  I won’t.

  Then rest; rest and be ready.

  After that the dream ended, or if it continued Erian didn’t remember any more. He turned over onto his back, his hand brushing against Senneck’s flank, and kept his face turned skyward until morning came and the sun brought light back to the world.

  Senneck crouched low on the cliff top, her tail lashing. “Are you ready?”

  Erian shifted in his seat. “I think so.”

  “Then let us begin,” said Senneck.

  Erian braced himself as the brown griffin launched herself into space. For a moment he could see the boiling foam below them, rushing upward, but Senneck quickly steadied herself. She climbed to soaring height and flew away, straight toward the rising sun at a steady pace.

  For his part, Erian had to do more than stay put on her back. Riding a griffin was far more complex than most people thought; he had to stay alert and sensitive to her motion in the sky, leaning forward when she put her head down, or to the side when she leant on one wing. The rest of the time, he had to stay as still and steady as possible, lest he upset her balance. Perhaps it wasn’t as physically demanding as walking or swimming, but it was mentally exhausting—as he had learnt over and over again on their journey. Only a few days ago he had let his concentration lapse and had leant to the wrong side, nearly overbalancing Senneck in the sky. He still had a deep gash in his arm that had yet to finish healing from where she had bitten him in return for that particular mistake. Most griffiners had plenty of similar scars, so he had all but forgotten it by now. Even so, it was a lesson.

  Time dragged by. Erian saw the sea pass below them, frighteningly featureless and changing every second. It was impossible to tell how far they had gone. The sea might be awe-inspiring, but now he was beginning to see why it was also dangerous. There were no landmarks, nothing to remember. Nowhere to land. At one point he took the risk of looking back over his shoulder, and his stomach lurched when he saw how far away the cliff was now. It had faded to a black shape on the horizon; it would be all but invisible well before noon came. The thought made him feel panicky: what if Senneck couldn’t find her way back?

  There was no way of sharing that fear with her while they were flying. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down. Trust Senneck, he reminded himself.

  But as they flew on and the sun climbed slowly higher in the sky, he had to repeat it to himself again and again. He kept his eyes on the horizon, but he couldn’t see any sign of an island. There was nothing but that same grey line he had been watching ever since they had first started out.

  The sun moved closer to its zenith. Noon was approaching. Erian’s backside ached unbearably. His fingers were numb from gripping Senneck’s harness. He had left his boots behind, and his feet were freezing. The sun had scorched his face; he could feel it burning, as if in embarrassment. His stomach hurt with hunger. It was maddening.

  But still Senneck flew on, and she was showing no sign of stopping. Her wings beat more slowly, and every so often her head drooped, and Erian knew she was as tired as he was.

  The sun was directly overhead. Noon had come. And still there was no island in sight.

  Why isn’t she turning back? Erian thought desperately. It’s noon. We’ll barely make it back even if she turns around now! Why is she still going?

  Finally, as the sun ever so slowly started to sink toward the land they had left behind, Erian lost his head. He tugged at Senneck’s harness, yelling over the wind. “Turn back! Senneck, turn back! We’ll be killed!”

  Senneck bucked sharply in midair, nearly throwing him off her back. Then she recovered herself and gave a violent jerk of her head, tearing the harness out of Erian’s grip. He threw himself forward in terror, this time nearly falling straight over her head to his death, but she lifted her head, shoving him back in place, and he managed to take hold of the harness again.

  For a long moment after that, all he could do was sit very still. His heart pounded sickeningly; he felt as if he was going to faint. As he began to calm down, he suddenly realised just how close he had come to falling into the sea, and his stomach lurched.

  But Senneck had not turned back.

  Erian looked ahead, toward the horizon, and saw nothing. Not a sign.

  “Oh Gryphus,” he groaned aloud, partly in shock at his brush with death, and partly in horror. “What is she doing? She’s mad!”

  He was not stupid enough to try to get her attention by pulling on the harness again, and he kept quiet for a long while, terrified. But he couldn’t keep his silence forever. Eventually, he started to shout at her again, pleading with her to turn back.

  For a long time, Senneck completely ignored him. And then, abruptly, she sent a reply. She put her head down and screeched—a long, deafening screech that slammed into Erian’s ears and made his head ring with it. In the same moment, she struck a great blow with her wings and shot forward. Erian, with great presence of mind, threw himself flat, and then they were flying—really flying, rushing through the air at an incredible speed. As Senneck beat her wings harder and harder, no longer soaring with the currents in the air but fighting them, she sped up. The wind tore at Erian, making his hair stream out behind him in a tangle of yellow. He shut his eyes and held on. It was all he could do.

  It felt like a long time before Senneck finally slowed down again, and it was a little longer before Erian was finally able to sit up and open his eyes.

  He took a moment to recover himself, and then looked ahead once more. Still nothing.

  Erian blinked. Or . . . no. There was nothing there.

  And still the terrible flight dragged on. When the grey smudge finally appeared on the horizon, Erian thought he was hallucinating.

  But he wasn’t.

  Senneck was beginning to falter. She had never carried him for a full day. Even half a day without any breaks was a stretch. But it was far too lat
e to turn back now.

  Erian, clinging on, saw the smudge slowly begin to resolve itself into a definite shape, and felt cold despair plummet into his stomach. They had found the Island of the Sun, he had no doubt about that. And it was undoubtedly going to be the last thing they saw before they both died. Senneck could not possibly fly that far.

  There was no way of knowing if Senneck was aware of this, but even if she was, she did not give in. She kept on going steadily, riding the wind whenever she could. But the air over the sea was cold, and there were no thermals to help her.

  Erian kept his eyes on the island, hoping against hope. Gryphus help us, he thought.

  But deep down, he knew that Gryphus could not help them.

  Slowly—painfully slowly—the island grew more defined. Eventually, Erian could see the mountain that rose out of its centre. It looked jagged and unfriendly.

  Senneck’s wings were beating less and less frequently. She was beginning to struggle.

  Erian knew it was going to happen, but when it did, it tore his stomach away from his gut and straight into his throat.

  The island was straight ahead now. He could see the mountain, and the hills and the shore gathered around it, dark with trees beyond the sand. They were nearly there.

  And then they were falling.

  There was nothing Erian could do. He threw himself backward, clinging on for dear life, and shut his eyes.

  Senneck’s wings had collapsed, the feathers fluttering uselessly as she plunged headfirst toward the water. Erian dared to look, and saw the sea rushing toward him, sickeningly fast. He shut his eyes again, and braced himself for the impact.

  But it never came. An instant before they hit, Senneck suddenly opened her wings and caught herself, gliding straight over the water. Erian, realising what had happened, opened his eyes and felt hot relief rush through him, mingled with joy.

  Senneck, wings held out stiffly from her sides, opened her beak wide . . . and blew.