by K J Taylor
“Excellent. Now.” Arenadd nodded to them. “I shouldn’t be gone long; I’ll be back before moonrise at latest.”
“Yes, sir.” Saeddryn stood, too. “Give my greetings to the others at the Gorge, sir.”
“I will.”
Arenadd left for the griffin roost near the top of the tower. Skandar was there, tearing voraciously at the carcass of a dead griffin. His exertions that day had made him so hungry that he didn’t pay the slightest attention to Arenadd’s appearance and continued with his meal.
Arenadd sat down by the entrance and waited politely. Every so often the sound of tearing sinews made him wince.
The other griffin was more than half Skandar’s size, but the dark griffin had already eaten well over half of it, and he utterly demolished the carcass before he finally had his fill and slumped down beside it, gagging a little.
Eventually, Arenadd had to break the silence. “Do you want to sleep now?”
Skandar opened one eye partway. “Tired,” he said. As if to illustrate that, he opened his beak wide in a yawn.
Arenadd couldn’t help himself; he yawned, too. “Aaaaah . . . ooh, that felt good. Well, I suppose you should rest before we do anything else. You did a lot today.” He yawned again. “So did I. Get some rest, Skandar. I’ll be right here.”
Skandar said nothing. Arenadd smiled to himself and leant back against the wall. His partner had used a lot of magic today and fought for a long time.
I can wait for him, Arenadd thought. There’s nothing else I have to do just now . . .
Moments later, he had slid into a doze.
And a dream.
The sky was the colour of a bruise, laced with blue lightning. Below, on the ground, it cast a ghastly dark light over the battlefield and the dead that lay there. He walked slowly through it, feeling no pain from his wounds. His heart was dead and silent in his chest, and he looked at the dead and felt nothing. They had joined him. They were at peace.
His sickle hung loosely from his hand, blood dripping slowly from its tip. It had killed many men today.
Above, Skandar circled, his mottled wings spread wide. As Arenadd looked up at him, the griffin let out a long, mournful cry.
Arenadd watched the crows begin to gather, and laughed until he cried.
The thump of Skandar’s paws on the wooden floor woke him up. Arenadd sat up, blinking. “What . . . was I asleep?”
Skandar looked up from his grooming and clicked his beak in a businesslike way. “You sleep long,” he said. “I sleep. Dream of war.”
“You too, eh?” Arenadd got up and rubbed his back. “Ow. Damned thing. Do you feel better now?”
“Am strong,” Skandar declared.
“Strong enough to travel again?”
Arenadd had already known that the griffin’s pride wouldn’t let him say anything other than what he said next.
“Am strong!” Skandar repeated. “But why leave? You say, this home now. Why go?”
“We’ll be coming back. I just want to go to the mountains again, to talk to our friends there and tell them what happened. D’you want to go?”
Skandar appeared to think about it. “Mountain . . . where Hyrenna is.”
“Yes, but I don’t know if she’ll be there.”
“Go!” said Skandar. “We go, go now!”
“Are you sure?”
“Am sure!” Skandar snapped. “You come.”
Arenadd climbed onto his partner’s back and steadied himself. “Let’s go, then.”
Skandar braced himself and leapt into the shadows.
Even now, Arenadd was astonished by how fast Skandar could travel in the shadows. He held on and watched the darkness blur past them. They could have been flying at an almost leisurely pace but for the feeling of huge momentum. It made Arenadd feel a powerful sense of triumph and certainty, and pride and awe toward his partner. Skandar was far more powerful than he had seemed, and certainly more powerful than him. He should never forget that, he told himself.
The journey seemed to pass in no time at all. Skandar burst back into a night sky and immediately descended toward a spot of glowing fire. He was over Taranis Gorge, and he landed directly in the middle of the rebels’ camp, sending them running in all directions. Nerth must have prepared them for a possible attack, because the initial panic didn’t last long. In moments men were drawing their weapons, running to find easily defendable positions. Bows were appearing, too. Skandar, seeing them, screeched and lurched threateningly toward them.
Arenadd slid off his back and drew his sickle. “Peace!” he shouted, in Northern. “Peace, my friends! I am Kraeai kran ae, your master and friend! Peace!”
Most of them recognised his voice and sheathed their weapons. The rest looked uncertain and went back on their guard as Skandar rose up, beak wide open.
Arenadd ran to him. “Skandar, no! Don’t attack. They’re friends!”
Skandar dropped back onto his paws and glared at him. “Metal talons,” he said. “Attack.”
“They’re just confused. Nerth!” Arenadd raised his voice as he dropped back into the Northern tongue. “Nerth, where are you? It’s Arenadd and Skandar. Nerth!”
There was a moment of confusion among the men, and then a man came running to meet them.
“My lord!”
Arenadd relaxed. “Nerth, there you are.”
Nerth turned to his followers. “Put up yer weapons, yer idiots! It’s Lord Arenadd!”
They obeyed, and Nerth came to meet his master.
Arenadd put his sickle back into his belt. “Nerth.”
Nerth bowed low. “My lord—my lord, I’m so sorry, they didn’t realise who ye were. My lord, please don’t blame them.”
Arenadd realised the man was trembling. “Relax, Nerth!” he said. “If anything, I should be thanking you for having them all so well prepared. If I’d been an enemy, I’d be dead by now.”
Nerth grinned in relief. “Thank ye, sir.”
“Now.” Arenadd looked at Skandar. “Skandar, calm down. We’re safe. Nerth, can we sit down by the fire?”
“Of course, my lord!” Nerth quickly issued commands, and his friends hurried to obey. In moments Arenadd was sitting comfortably by the fire with Skandar, and food had been brought for both of them.
Nerth, however, didn’t want to spend too much time on hospitality. “My lord,” he said, sitting down beside Arenadd. “Why have ye come?”
“Just call me ‘sir’ if you really must,” said Arenadd. “Skandar and I have come to bring news.”
Nerth sat up straight. “Yes, sir. What is it, sir? What’s happened?”
Arenadd paused. He could see Nerth’s followers sitting or standing on the opposite side of the fire. Most of them were men who had joined at Warwick, and he even recognised one or two of them, including the man who had made the sickle for him. But all of them looked ragged now, toughened by their time in the wild. He smiled to himself. Nerth had done his work well. He had reminded them of who and what they truly were.
“Sir?” Nerth prompted.
Arenadd brought himself back to reality. “My news is good,” he said.
Nerth grinned. “Sir?”
Arenadd gave a brief outline of the kidnap and ransom of Elkin, followed by the capture of Fruitsheart. The others listened intently, and he saw disbelieving grins spread over many faces.
Nerth’s grin was widest of all. “So the war’s begun, sir?” he said when Arenadd was done. “It’s really begun, sir?”
“Malvern might not know it yet, but it’s begun,” said Arenadd. “The others are at Fruitsheart, preparing for a siege, but Skandar and I came here to give you the news. Now it’s your turn. Report, Nerth.”
“I’ve a few things to report, sir,” said Nerth. “Well . . . two things, mainly, sir. First, as ye can see, sir, we all made it here. I’ve been trainin’ the men in fightin’, an’ teachin’ ’em other things as well, sir. They’re true darkmen again now, sir.”
“That’s wonderful to hear, Ne
rth,” said Arenadd. “You’ve done everything I hoped for and more. Soon it’ll be time for you to come back out of hiding and join the fight. Now, what else do you have to tell me?”
“Well, sir,” Nerth grinned. “We’ve found Hyrenna.”
Arenadd started. “What?”
“She was here, sir,” said Nerth. “In the Gorge. She came here t’lay her eggs, sir. She’s here now, sir.”
“Where?” Arenadd said sharply.
“Not far away, sir. Shall I send someone t’get her, sir?”
“Yes. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir.” Nerth gestured at a woman near to him. “Difyr, ye know where t’find her. Be careful not t’startle her.”
The woman bowed and dashed off.
Arenadd put his hands behind his head and leant back. “Hyrenna. By the Night God, I never thought I would see her again. Is she well?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t speak much griffish, sir, but I could tell her a little.” Nerth paused and sighed. “I told her Arddryn was dead, sir. I dunno if she understood, sir, but I tried.”
“Did she react?”
“Not much, sir. I mean, I’m not really sure, sir.”
Arenadd looked into the fire. “I think she probably knew she wasn’t going to see Arddryn alive again. What about her eggs, though? Have they hatched?”
“Yes, sir. I’ve seen the chicks, sir. Three of them, sir. Very healthy,”
Arenadd glanced at Skandar. “You hear that, Skandar? You’re a father.”
Skandar looked blankly at him. “Father?”
“I’m sure Hyrenna will tell you when she gets here.”
Arenadd chewed at the spit-roasted venison Nerth had given him, and settled down to wait.
A little while later, he heard a swish of wings from overhead and stood up. Beside him Skandar rose, too, spreading his wings in readiness to attack. The men around the fire moved hastily out of the way, and an instant later Hyrenna landed.
Skandar made a strangled snarling sound and ran at her. She reared up in response, talons extended and beak open.
“Skandar, don’t!” Arenadd yelled.
The two griffins struck each other, hard. Hyrenna lurched backward and nearly fell, but she recovered herself and pushed toward Skandar, wrestling with him. The two griffins struggled, biting at each other’s shoulders and shoving with their chests, making odd high chirping sounds all the while. For a while it looked like Skandar was winning, but then he suddenly backed off and the two griffins relaxed, chirping and grooming each other. Arenadd realised that they were speaking griffish as griffins did among themselves when no humans were part of the conversation—too quickly and primitively for any human to understand except on the most basic level.
Arenadd didn’t need to understand anyway. They were only saying the same kind of things humans said when meeting each other, and it was none of his business.
He waited politely until they had calmed down and Hyrenna finally turned her attention to him.
He bowed low. “Hyrenna. I’m honoured to meet you again.”
The grey and rust-brown griffin came closer. She looked older than he remembered, but fitter as well. She was much younger than Arddryn had been, only middle-aged by griffish standards.
She stood over him for a moment, taking in his sight and scent. “Arenadd Taranisäii. I did not think I would see you again at all.”
Arenadd bowed again. “I can’t say anything to make it better, Hyrenna. All I can say is that I’m sorry.”
Hyrenna hissed. “Sorry! What does that mean to me, human? You abandoned us. Abandoned Arddryn, your protector and friend, your own blood relative! She believed you had fled because you did not want to fight, because you were either a coward or a traitor. She died believing that. Tell me, Arenadd: what can ‘sorry’ do to undo that?”
Arenadd stared at his boots. “Nothing, Hyrenna, and I know it.”
“Well then.” She sat back on her haunches, regarding him through her great orange eyes. The white markings around them and her beak made her face look like a mask. “If you know it, then what can you offer me?”
Arenadd clasped his hands together. “I have been punished for what I did to you and Arddryn, Hyrenna,” he said hoarsely. “Over and over again. But I set Saeddryn free, and her friends. They’re safe.”
Hyrenna clicked her beak. “Saeddryn lives?”
“Yes. She’s in Fruitsheart, with Skade.”
Hyrenna stood up. “Why?” she said sharply. “What is she doing there? What have you done?”
“What Arddryn wanted me to do,” said Arenadd. “Begun the war.”
The brown griffin stared at him. “The war—how? What have you done to begin it?”
“Warwick fell to us,” Arenadd said briefly. “Most of the men here joined us there. Skandar and I kidnapped the Eyrie Mistress and held her for ransom—successfully. Now we’ve conquered Fruitsheart, and I intend to make it my stronghold, at least to begin with. I’m gathering followers, and right now they’re preparing for when the Eyrie sends griffiners to take the city back. If Malvern wants to keep control of this land, it’ll have to go through me first.”
Hyrenna looked at Skandar. “Is this true?” she said. “Skandar, is your human telling the truth?”
Skandar blinked lazily. “Human tell truth,” he said. “We fight, many times. Kill many. See!” He raised his wings, showing the fresh scars on his flanks. “Have new territory,” he added. “Good territory. Soon, will have even bigger territory. Will be greatest. Human promise it. We fight, together. Great warriors!”
Hyrenna looked at him, then at Arenadd, her tail flicking rapidly. “The war . . . you have already begun it, and I did not know . . . Arddryn would have . . .”
“I know she would have wanted to see this,” said Arenadd. “And I’m sorry she didn’t. But I’m sure her spirit knows, wherever it is now.”
Hyrenna stood very still. For a moment Arenadd expected some sort of outburst from her, but in the end she only let out a great sigh and lay down on her belly. “Then Arddryn’s faith in you was not misplaced,” she said. “And nor was mine in Skandar. Skandar—” She stood up abruptly, looking at him. “Skandar, I have something to show you.”
Skandar blinked. “Show?”
“I have taught you to speak griffish properly,” Hyrenna said acidly. “You may be powerful, but you are also lazy. Now, come to me, and see.”
Difyr, the woman sent to find Hyrenna, emerged into the circle of firelight, holding a large bundle in her arms—three griffin chicks, squirming and hissing angrily. When they saw their mother they broke free and scuttled over to her. She spread her wings over them, and they hid behind her legs, chirping.
Hyrenna nudged them toward Skandar. “See here, Skandar, what you have given me. These are your three sons. All of them are sturdy and strong, and all bear your colours.”
Skandar looked at the three squalling chicks. “Son?” he said blankly.
“Hatched from the eggs we made,” said Hyrenna.
Skandar lowered his head to look at them. One of the chicks boldly reared up and bit at his father’s huge black beak, his own tiny beak tapping on its hard and pitted surface. Skandar peered at him as if he had no idea of what he was looking at.
Arenadd, watching, could easily tell that the chicks were Skandar’s sons. Their downy feathers were silver, and all of them had black on them somewhere: one had the same night-coloured hindquarters as his father, another had the same black cap and ear tufts, and the third had black scattered through the feathers on his tiny chest.
Seeing them scurry around their father, Arenadd felt a deep and painful sadness grow inside his chest.
My best friend is a father, he thought. Even if he never cares. And he’ll never know how much he has compared to me. His life, his soul, his heart . . . his family.
He looked away, shuddering. The bitter truth had been with him for a long time, but he had never properly acknowledged it until now.
The Night
God gave me power and status and protection, but she took from me as well. She took my life and my heart . . . and she made me sterile. I know it. I’m the Master of Death, and what does the Master of Death know about making life? No, I’m the Night God’s creature now. And the Night God can’t give life—only take it away.
25
Skade’s Quest
After he had seen his young, Skandar wanted to leave. But Arenadd had more to say to Hyrenna. The grey-and-orange griffin was more than eager to listen.
“I want to know everything,” she told him. “Speak, Arenadd. Hold nothing back.”
So Arenadd did. He outlined everything that had happened so far, in as much detail as he could. She took a lot of interest in the plans he had made, particularly with regards to Skade’s quest to buy the slaves.
“It will be dangerous,” she observed. “Are you certain you wish to take that risk? After all, it would not be your own life you would be putting in danger.”
“I am,” said Arenadd. “And so is Skade. If she has enough protection, she’ll be fine.”
“Very well, but how much protection can you provide?” said Hyrenna. “Too large an escort would draw too much attention.”
Arenadd looked up at her. “Yes. But it’s not size that counts; it’s quality. Hyrenna . . .”
“Yes?”
“Hyrenna, finding you again changes a lot,” said Arenadd. “You see, the biggest problem I can see is this: Skade will be carrying a lot of money. A lot. And people are going to wonder just how she came across it and just who she is. They’ll ask questions, and I’m not sure Skade can answer all of them.”
“How do you plan to guard against this, then?” said Hyrenna.
“Well . . .” Arenadd took a deep breath. “Something has occurred to me. You see, everyone gets asked questions. There’s always someone willing to poke their nose where it’s not wanted; there’s always curiosity. But there’s one kind of person who’s immune to that. Someone no commoner would ever question. Someone everyone in Cymria respects as a matter of course.”
Hyrenna clicked her beak. “You want Skade to pose as a griffiner,” she said. “But you have no griffin to send with her.”
