The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)

by K J Taylor

  He had gathered some shellfish from the rocks down by the shore and had managed to dry the meat along with some goat and fish. He gathered up these emergency rations along with some nuts and a dried apple, and wrapped them in a makeshift bag he had made from a crudely tanned goatskin. His feet were tough now, but he had devoted a chunk of his spare time to trying to make a pair of boots. His experiments had been less than successful, but he had cut some strips of leather to wrap around his feet. They would have to do.

  Other than that, he gathered his bow and arrows and his sword, and laid them out ready for the morning along with his cherished water bottle, which he had bought in the marketplace at Malvern. That should be enough.

  He slept very little that night.

  Erian rose at dawn and gathered his belongings. He ate a quick meal of melon and some fish left over from the previous night, and left his hut. Outside, he found Senneck already waiting for him in the grey light.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A little time,” she answered. “I could not sleep.”

  It was odd to see her standing up after such a long time. “What about the chicks?”

  “I left them sleeping. They will be safe; I have taken precautions.”

  She had dragged a heavy log over to the hut’s entrance to block it and had piled sand over the top of that. She had used more sand to cover the holes in the walls. The chicks would never be able to escape the hut, and predators . . . well, Erian had been over most of the island and had never seen any predators beyond a weasel or two. The chicks should be safe.

  He straightened up and tried to contain himself. “Shall we go?”

  She came closer and pushed against him with her head. “Climb onto my back, and we shall fly to the mountain.”

  Erian obeyed. It felt strange and clumsy to be on her back again, and though he still remembered how to balance properly, he had the nagging feeling that he was doing it wrongly. Senneck was obviously in the same situation; she stumbled a little as he shifted about, and for a moment she sagged downward. But she recovered herself and ruffled her wings. “It is a short flight,” she said, in answer to his unspoken question. “I shall not have trouble. Hold on.”

  She took off, and Erian held on as she flew upward to the mountain. Closer up, it looked much taller and more craggy than he had thought, full of spurs and fissures that had been invisible from the ground. Senneck spiralled higher until she was close to the peak and then began her descent.

  She landed on a rare level spot on the mountainside; it looked like a goat track and was so narrow that Senneck had to grip a nearby boulder with her talons to keep herself from sliding off it.

  “Get off,” she said tersely.

  Erian half-fell off her back, landing awkwardly on the path, and instantly lost his balance. He teetered on the edge, and then Senneck’s beak shot out, hooking the back of his tunic. She wrenched him toward her, and he fell hard against the rocks by the path, breathless and dizzy.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Erian got up, wobbling a little. “Ow. Gods, that was close.” He rubbed his head; he had hit it on a rock, and there was a bruise already forming under his hair. “You saved my life, Senneck.”

  She clicked her beak. “As is expected of me. Can you walk?”

  “Of course. Did you see something?”

  “This path,” said Senneck. “Perhaps it leads somewhere. Do you think you can follow it safely?”

  Erian looked ahead. “Well . . . it’s narrow, but there are plenty of handholds. I think I’ll be safe.”

  “Good.” Senneck shifted awkwardly, still half-on and half-off the path. “This perch is too narrow for me. I will take off again and follow you from the air. If you are in difficulty, I will help.”

  Erian didn’t like the idea, but he nodded anyway. “I’ll see where it leads.”

  Senneck thrust away from the mountainside, dislodging several large chunks of rock and a shower of dirt. She found her wings and soared over the mountain, and Erian took a deep breath and began to walk. He placed each foot carefully and kept one hand on the rocks heaped to the side, ready to grab on if he lost his balance again.

  The path was indeed tiny, and far from well used; several times it vanished altogether, and he had to clamber over fallen rocks or dirt to find it again. At other times it became so narrow that he had to put one foot directly in front of the other, as if he was trying to walk on a tightrope. Before long he was breathless and sweating, his fingers bruised from the times when he had had to snatch at the rocks to stop himself from falling, and his shins covered in cuts and grazes. His feet hurt inside their makeshift wrappings.

  But while the path may have been difficult to use, it never petered out altogether, even after he had thought he had lost it more than once. It always reappeared, gradually winding its way up the mountain toward the peak.

  Every so often, Erian glanced up to see Senneck flying overhead. She looked very far away, but he knew that if she thought he needed help she could reach him in an instant. It helped to comfort him and keep him going. But still the path went on, and he had no idea when it would end and whether it was leading to anything.

  But this had to be where the weapon was. Senneck was right: where else would his ancestors have hidden it? What else on this island looked like a landmark? What else reached this high into the sky—toward the sun, and Gryphus?

  As if to encourage him, the sun rose as he climbed, growing brighter and brighter from behind the mountain until it had set its peak ablaze with pure red and golden light. Erian, struggling on through a clump of spiny bushes, saw it and felt awe burn in his chest.

  “Gryphus, guide me,” he prayed.

  A distant call from Senneck reminded him of the task at hand, and he forced himself to look down again. He was nearly at the peak of the mountain now. The rocks here were a pale golden colour, flecked with silver. Ahead, he saw the path widen and sighed in relief.

  Once he had gone some way further, the path suddenly took a sharp upturn. Erian paused briefly to rest and then forged on up it, gritting his teeth with the effort.

  The path grew yet steeper. Before long he found himself almost climbing it, hauling himself up on the rocks that protruded from the mountainside. When he tried to put his foot on the path itself, the sandy soil gave way and his leg thrust straight downward, pulling him off balance. For a few heart-stopping seconds he scrabbled for a foothold, before he mercifully found one and pulled himself to safety, where he held on for a good long moment, gasping in shock.

  A little while after that, he was ready to go on.

  It seemed the path would never level out again. But, finally, he thrust upward with a hand and found a clump of grass hanging over a ledge. He grabbed hold of it, paused to take a deep breath and pulled. A quick and rough struggle hauled him up and over, onto a flat spot at the base of a heap of rocks, just wide enough for him to lie down on. He used it for just that purpose, his nose ground into the dirt, and wheezed.

  There was a sudden loud thud from above him, and he started up, but it was only Senneck, preched on top of the rock heap and looking down at him.

  “Erian, are you hurt?”

  Erian sat with his back to the rocks, his head pounding. “Exhausted.”

  “I think this is as far as the path goes,” said Senneck, her voice sounding rather distant through the thudding in his ears.

  Erian grunted a response and wiped the sweat off his face with a grubby hand. “All . . . right,” he mumbled a little while later, and reluctantly stood up.

  Senneck was right, the path ended there. He climbed around the rock heap but found nothing. “Why in Gryphus’ name would goats want to come up here?” he said aloud, in irritable tones, before deciding to try the other side of the heap. Might as well, after coming all this way.

  And that was where he found the entrance.

  It was small, just a gap in the rocks only large enough for his head to fit through. He clung to the edge and p
eered in, and the breeze coming from inside instantly told him that there was a space beyond it.

  His heart beat fast. “Senneck, I’ve found something.”

  She climbed over to look, and was quick to see what he had seen. “There is a cave beyond these rocks,” she declared.

  Erian’s excitement mounted again. “This must be it! I’ll see if I can fit!”

  He ignored Senneck’s protest and pushed forward, thrusting himself into the gap. He managed to fit his head and shoulders in, wedging them between two rocks with difficulty, but the gap became much narrower beyond them, and he became stuck almost instantly. He managed to pull back out, after much swearing and a moment of panic, and leant against the rocks, red faced. “Godsdamnit!”

  “Move away, Erian,” Senneck snapped. “I will clear away the rocks, but you must not get in the way.”

  Erian hastily obeyed. Once she was satisfied that he was out of harm’s way, Senneck climbed a little further down the heap and levered at one of the large rocks with her talons. It shifted, and she hissed and wrenched at it. A moment later it came free, and she sent it tumbling down the mountainside. A good number of other rocks went with it.

  Erian coughed in the cloud of dust. “Is that it? Did you do it?”

  Senneck flicked her tail to clear the air with her feathery fan. “The hole is larger. Try again, but with care. There may be loose rocks.”

  Erian didn’t need any further prompting. He hurried back and found that the gap was indeed larger, more than large enough for him to fit. He climbed through it without a pause. Beyond, to his astonishment, there was . . . light.

  The rock heap had been covering the entrance to a cave in the mountain. Erian went in, wonderstruck. There was light inside—daylight. There had to be another way out, and thank Gryphus, he wouldn’t be needing a torch.

  “Erian!” Senneck’s voice came from outside. “What have you found?”

  Erian turned back, “Senneck, it’s a cave! Come and look!”

  “I cannot fit through that hole.” Her voice drifted back. “Wait, and I shall force a way through.”

  Erian took shelter just inside the entrance while she pushed the rocks away, and saw something that made his heart leap. A carving in the stone.

  He reached out to touch it, brushing the dust and sand away. It was a simple symbol, at about eye height, and from how worn it was he could tell it had been there for centuries. Nevertheless, he recognised it, and his hand went to the amulet around his neck.

  Outside, the sunlight was suddenly cut off with a crash. But it reappeared a moment later, and he saw a shower of rocks fall away to his left, in a landslide that exposed the cave entrance entirely.

  Moments later Senneck appeared, coughing irritably. “Erian.”

  Erian grinned at her and backed further into the cave. “Senneck, look at this! See? There, cut into the rock! It’s a sunwheel! Senneck, we’ve found the place!”

  Senneck squeezed into the cave. Once she was inside she looked at the spot he was indicating and hissed softly in surprise. “The symbol of your people. Perhaps Kraal was right after all.”

  Erian ducked past her and touched it. “Of course he was. This is the Island of the Sun, and this cave must be where the weapon is. You were right.”

  “Let us explore the cave,” said Senneck. “We shall find out soon enough.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Erian. As he turned to go after her, his eye was caught by something else. There was another carving, on the opposite side of the entrance to the sunwheel. He examined it, puzzled. The symbol looked vaguely familiar.

  Senneck was already pressing deeper into the cave. “Erian, come!” she called. “Do you want to search for this weapon, or do you not?”

  Erian shook himself and went after her. It didn’t matter what the symbol was; he had important things to do.

  Behind him, the sun shone into the cave. It illuminated the sunwheel, filling its simple lines with shadow. The other symbol, though, stayed in darkness.

  It was a triple spiral.

  The cave didn’t look like anything much, at least on the surface. It was small and low-ceilinged and vaguely round, lined with jagged rocks. Someone had painted images on the walls, but time had faded them to little more than shades of brown and grey.

  There was a hole in the centre of the roof, and the risen sun shone through it. It seemed to glow with an otherwordly light, turning everything it touched to gold, and when Erian saw it he knew. This was where the sun touched the earth.

  Without even knowing what he was doing, he took his sword from his back and laid it down in front of the heap of rocks where the sun glowed. Then he knelt before it, bowing his head.

  “Gryphus,” he murmured aloud. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I know this is your home. I know it is. This is where you wanted me to go. Gryphus, guide me. Help me. Show me the way to destroy the Cursed One. If I am Aeai ran kai, your chosen warrior, then give me the power I need to win this struggle. Give me the weapon, so that I can confront Kraeai kran ae and put a stop to his evil forever. Gryphus, I am yours. Please, help me. Give me the weapon and I swear I will use it to do your will. Gryphus, please answer me . . . Help me.”

  He kept his head bowed once his prayer was complete, and waited. He knew he had already said everything he had to say, and done everything he had been asked to. Now all he could do was wait for Gryphus to answer him.

  But no reply came.

  Still, Erian waited.

  After a long moment, he dared to look up. Nothing had changed, but the sunlight looked somehow brighter. Or perhaps he was only imagining it.

  But nothing had happened. Gryphus had not answered his prayer.

  Erian let out a low, miserable sigh. He opened his mouth to say something else, but in that moment he saw movement, and froze. Something was up on the rock heap, something alive.

  “Gryphus?” he breathed.

  The thing moved again; he could hear scrabbling at the rock. Then it appeared, rising over the top like the sun rising over the mountain, silhouetted in black against the light.

  It was a rabbit.

  Erian, seeing the little animal pause to comb its ears, groaned aloud.

  The rabbit froze for an instant as it saw him, and then bolted. It leapt from the top of the rock heap and ran past Erian, toward the cave entrance, in a blind panic. Erian turned and saw it bound across the floor before Senneck rose up from beside the entrance and pounced. She flicked the rabbit upward with her talons and caught it in her beak, and then swallowed it in a single go.

  Erian relaxed. “What in Gryphus’ name was that thing doing in here? Oh, who cares? Senneck, I—”

  Senneck didn’t seem to hear him. She sat back and scratched her throat with her talon, gulping slightly as the rabbit went down. And then she stopped dead. Her eyes went wide with shock, and she sat there, one forepaw still raised.

  “Senneck?” said Erian. “Are you all right?”

  The brown griffin stood up abruptly, planting her paws well apart on the floor. There was a rigidity about her that looked strangely familiar to Erian, but her eyes had a fixed, staring quality about them. She opened her beak, and a horrible gagging noise came out.

  Erian stepped toward her. “Senneck! Oh no! What’s happening? Senneck, are you choking? What should I do? Senneck!”

  Senneck looked straight through him. She took several jerky steps forward, toward the rock pile, beak still wide open. She certainly looked as if she was choking; the sick sounds from her throat grew louder and harsher, until they had an almost metallic edge to them, and she kept her neck stiffly extended and her beak open, saliva dripping from its tip.

  Erian was panicking. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how, and he knew that if he came too close while she was distressed she could attack him. But he had to do something.

  “Senneck! Senneck, please . . .”

  Senneck stopped. She made another strangled rasping noise and then began to rock gently back and fort
h, tail lashing. A faint gold light appeared around her body and then grew brighter and brighter, unbearably, until it outshone the sunlight coming in through the roof.

  Erian gaped and then wisely dived for cover as the light gathered itself in Senneck’s throat.

  He hit the floor and covered his head with his arms as the light shot from her beak, and a heartbeat later a blast of pure gold seared into his eyelids and he was consumed by heat.

  The sound of it was indescribable. A rushing and roaring, like fire but a hundred times louder, mingled with a high sound like a voice singing a single note. A hot metal smell burned in Erian’s nose, but behind that there was another scent—a sweet, wild, wonderful scent that made him think of Elkin and Senneck and a warm home full of love and children running about him.

  The light grew more and more intense, covering him like a blanket of flames. He felt as if it was burning him alive, turning his entire body to ashes. But, strangely, it didn’t hurt.

  The roaring grew louder . . .

  Erian was terrified, and yet, somehow, somehow he loved it. The light filled him with a hot passion, like lust or hate or joy—some powerful emotion that could change the world. He felt as if it was killing him, but he loved it, wanted it, needed it, and nothing else mattered, nothing . . .

  When the light and the heat began to die, he wanted to scream or cry. It was over. It was gone. He was alone.

  He came back to his senses to find himself lying on his face on the cave floor, shivering and sobbing. The light was gone, and so was the heat. Everything was as it should be.

  He dragged himself to his feet and tried to see.

  “Senneck?”

  His voice sounded shaky and not like him.

  He staggered forward.

  “Senneck?”

  She was lying in front of the rock heap, breathing slowly. Erian went to her side to see if she was hurt, but as he reached her, he stopped and looked stupidly around.