by K J Taylor
Kraal didn’t linger over her body. He climbed back onto his platform, trembling with pent-up fury. “I will not tolerate insolence,” he said again. “And let none forget it. Soon my human will be recovered, and we will form a new council. When we are together again, none will stop us. And let rebels and traitors beware.”
26
Traitors
Hyrenna arrived at Fruitsheart a day after Arenadd and Skandar, carrying two of her chicks in her talons and the third perched on her back. She flew straight to Skandar’s roost, completely ignoring the few badly aimed arrows that came her way, and when she landed, Skandar and Arenadd were both there to meet her.
The grey-and-orange griffin put her chicks down and lay in the straw to let them snuggle with her for comfort. “I have come,” she said brusquely in answer to Arenadd’s polite welcome.
Arenadd gripped the head of his walking stick. “Thank you for coming, Hyrenna,” he said.
“It is no more than what we agreed,” she said, and turned her attention to Skandar, who nibbled affectionately at her head feathers before lying down beside her.
“I’m sorry my sentries attacked you,” said Arenadd. “They haven’t been very well trained yet. But I’m sure you could have dealt with it. Now, I’ll send for Skade. It’s best if you two meet and get to know each other before you leave.”
Hyrenna clicked her beak. “I agree. But before then, I would speak with you.”
Arenadd bowed. “Of course.”
“Good. Now listen. Here are my chicks, and this is how you must care for them. They must be fed well, but not overfed. Half their body size in meat for each chick every day will suffice, and they must have bones to peck at to strengthen their beaks . . .”
Arenadd listened dutifully as Hyrenna droned on, detailing every aspect of how the chicks were to be fed, watered, sheltered and taught.
“Teach them griffish,” she said. “Speak with them every day to see that they learn. Teach them all the griffish lore they must know, tell them the stories, pass on all you know. I will teach them the rest when I return. Is that all understood?”
Arenadd bowed again. “I’ll care for them as if they were my own, Hyrenna. You have my word.”
“And you will protect them with your life,” Hyrenna added.
“That’s what I would do for my own children,” said Arenadd. “So it’s what I’ll do for them. Don’t worry; you can trust us.”
“I will trust Skandar more than I trust you, human,” Hyrenna said coldly. “Now bring me food and water. And send for this Skade. I assume she does not speak griffish?”
“She does,” said Arenadd.
“Oh?” There was a note of surprise in Hyrenna’s voice. “So she knows griffins?”
“More than most griffiners I’ve met,” said Arenadd. “Trust me.”
“I prefer to trust my own judgment,” said Hyrenna. “Send her to me now.”
Arenadd’s expectations were gloomy when he sought out Skade and brought her to the nest: Hyrenna was in such a bad mood he doubted if Arddryn herself could have brought her out of it.
But, to his surprise, after a rather formal beginning the silver-haired woman and the griffin took to each other very well. Skade addressed her new partner with the utmost politeness, which pleased Hyrenna, and the two of them sat together and talked.
The chicks seemed to like Skade as well—one of them let her touch his head—and she helped Hyrenna to feed them chunks of raw mutton. Afterward, well fed and tired, they went to sleep, one of them snuggled down in Skade’s lap.
Skade stroked his feathers and talked to Hyrenna, discussing the journey and their mission. Hyrenna questioned Skade about her background and how she knew Arenadd.
Skade was careful without being evasive: she told Hyrenna that she was from Withypool and had grown up among griffins, and briefly explained how she had been forced to leave after killing a man—a Southern man, she lied—who had killed a Northerner who had been her friend. Hyrenna, by now apparently very pleased with this well-mannered human, accepted the story easily enough.
“So, I see you understand the arrogance and the unjust nature of the humans from the South, though you are one yourself,” she said. “I can see why Skandar and Arenadd accepted you to their cause.”
“Arenadd saved my life,” said Skade. “I love him.”
“And he loves you, and therefore trusts you,” said Hyrenna. “I see. Yes.” She looked up at Arenadd, who had politely watched the whole conversation from over by the door. “I am willing to work with this one,” she said. “You have chosen her well, Kraeai kran ae.”
Arenadd held back a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Hyrenna. When will you be ready to go?”
She dipped her beak into the water trough. “Tomorrow, at dawn, and no later.”
“Skade, is that all right with you?” said Arenadd.
She nodded. “I will be prepared.”
After the meeting was over, Kraal returned to his nest. He was tired, but the anger still burned inside him. The council was in tatters, and the griffins were beginning to rebel. Unless Elkin recovered soon, he would lose control of Malvern . . . and the North.
Still, he allowed himself another moment of pride for how he had dealt with Warwick. The griffins he had sent had been some of the worst troublemakers—the most vocal of those mocking him behind his back, the slowest to dip their heads when he came near. With them gone, the city was peaceful again and several dangerous challengers to his power were far away, where they could do no harm. And if some of them died at the hands of Kraeai kran ae, then all the better.
Kraal landed in his nest and hissed triumphantly to himself. Elkin would have nothing to worry about when she recovered; he had done good work for her. With that thought, he passed through the archway into her room with his wings folded neatly over his back.
Lady Karmain the healer was still there, resting by the fire with her partner. They stood up when Kraal entered.
“How is she?” he asked brusquely.
“Better,” said Lady Karmain. “The fever has gone down, and she’s had some good rest.”
Kraal’s confidence rose even higher. “Excellent. I will see her now.”
He went to her bedside and looked down at her. She looked pitifully small and frail, almost lost among the bedclothes. He could see her chest slowly rise and fall, every breath an audible rasp. She smelt of sickly sweet disease.
Kraal touched the side of her head with his beak, with a gentleness that would have astounded anyone who had seen him kill with it mere moments before. His breath touched her face, and she stirred and groaned.
“Elkin,” Kraal said. “Elkin, do not be afraid. I am here and you are safe.”
Her eyes crinkled but did not open, and she mouthed something barely audible.
“Elkin, I must know,” said Kraal. “Where are they? Are they in Warwick? Only tell me this one thing, Elkin. They must be found.”
Elkin’s hand, resting on the blankets, clenched into a weak fist. “Fruit,” she mumbled.
“I will tell them to bring you fruit later,” said Kraal. “Elkin, where are they? Where did they keep you prisoner? Do you know?”
The fist clenched more tightly. “Fruit,” she said again. “Fruit . . . place.”
“Fruit place?” Kraal repeated. “Elkin?”
She sighed and slumped again, her face slackening as she drifted back into sleep. Her hand uncurled, and something small and green fell out. Kraal sniffed at it; it had a sweet scent that he thought he recognised. Fruit.
His tail began to lash. “Pear,” he muttered aloud. “But where did you find that? Fruit . . . place?” A hissing, rasping snarl began to rumble in his throat as he realised.
Fruitsheart.
Saying goodbye to Skade was one of the hardest things Arenadd remembered doing in his life.
He and Skandar were up on top of the tower at dawn, with Hyrenna standing by and waiting while the lovers said their farewells.
A
renadd held Skade tight, pressing her into his chest as if he were trying to take her into his body and make her part of him forever. “Please, stay safe,” he said quietly. “Please, Skade, stay safe. Don’t die. Never die. I don’t care if you fail, I don’t care if you lose the money or if you give in and come back, just come back to me alive. Please, Skade . . .”
To his shame, he couldn’t stop tears leaking from under his eyelids. He held her even closer and swallowed a sob.
Skade seemed to understand. She caressed him, losing her hands in his hair the way he liked her to. “Hush,” she said softly. “Please, Arenadd, do not cry. You will make this more difficult for me, and for you.”
Arenadd couldn’t help it. “I’m so scared,” he whispered in her ear. “Gods, I’m so afraid.”
She let go of him to look him in the face. “Do not be afraid!” she commanded, her voice clear and ringing. “You are the Shadow that Walks! The man without a heart! You do not know fear!” She touched his cheek, tracing the scar with her fingertip. “And most of all, you are my Arenadd,” she added more gently. “I am no seer; I do not know the future or anything more than what ordinary mortals can know. But I do know that we shall not be parted forever. Before this war ends, you will be in my arms again.”
“Skade, we don’t know that,” said Arenadd.
“But I know,” said Skade. “Arenadd, this is not only a sorrow for you. And if you will command me to return, then here is my command for you.”
“Anything, Skade. Anything.”
“Protect yourself,” said Skade. “You know you are not invulnerable, Arenadd, and you must not let your powers make you think otherwise. Mortal weapons may still injure you, and despair may still claim you. And if this man, this Aeai ran kai returns . . .”
“I’m not afraid of him, Skade.”
“But you must not dismiss him!” said Skade. “If there is a weapon that this Bastard has found, if he has been . . . chosen to fight you, then you may still be vulnerable. Do not be complacent. Be cautious. Overconfidence is your weakness, Arenadd. Do not allow it to become your downfall.”
“I won’t, Skade. I promise.”
“Then see that you keep your promise,” said Skade. “Now—” She stopped abruptly, turning to look. Arenadd turned, too, his hand already on his sickle.
But it was only Saeddryn. She emerged into the grey light, blinking and tired, but alert enough. “My lord,” she said, bowing. “I’m sorry if I startled ye, but I thought I should come t’see off the Lady Skade.”
She looked sharply at Skade, who looked back, unwavering. “Saeddryn. I am pleased that you have come.”
Arenadd tucked his hands into his sleeves to keep them warm. “And so am I. How are things down below?”
“Quiet,” said Saeddryn. “Most of the others are still in bed, sir. Now . . .” She walked past him, to Hyrenna.
The old griffin lowered her head to let Saeddryn stroke her feathers. “Good morning, Saeddryn. I am pleased to see you again.”
“And I’m pleased to see ye, too,” said Saeddryn, in fractured griffish. She paused a moment, and then hugged Hyrenna around the neck, pressing the side of her face into her feathers. “I’m so glad ye came back,” she said softly. “I was so afraid ye were dead, Hyrenna. Now Mother is gone, ye’re the closest thing I have to a family.”
Hyrenna nudged her gently. “Saeddryn, you have much of your mother about you. Her strength, her will and her grace. It makes me glad to think that you carry something of her, and I know that she would be proud to see you now, as great as you have become . . . and due to become greater still.”
“Thank you, Hyrenna. That means everything to me.”
“And to me,” said Hyrenna. “Care for yourself, Saeddryn, and help your master to care for my chicks. Stay close by him, little human. Honour and obey him in all things, for it will mean to honour and obey your mother as well.”
Saeddryn folded her hands over her stomach and bowed her head. “I will, Hyrenna. I wish ye good luck on yer journey. Bring our brothers an’ sisters back safe.” Then, softly, she said the blessing over the griffin, murmuring the words in Northern.
Arenadd watched and then stepped closer, joining his voice to hers.
“Wisdom of Serpent be thine, wisdom of Crow be thine, wisdom of valiant Wolf. Swiftness of Deer be thine, strength of Bear be thine, courage of Man, magic of Griffin, protection of the Moon and the Stars.”
The words rang in Arenadd’s ears as Skade embraced him one last time and gave him a sweet, lingering kiss on the lips before she let go and climbed onto Hyrenna’s back. She had the money bags slung in front of her and a long dagger in her belt, and she settled herself down among the griffin’s feathers.
Hyrenna stepped toward Skandar and nibbled at his shoulders. “Good fortune go with you, Skandar Deathwings,” she said. “I entrust our chicks to you; help your human protect them, and protect him. Trust in your strength and your magic, and your enemies will be destroyed.”
“You teach,” said Skandar. “Teach well. I remember, always.”
“And I trust you to do that, Skandar,” said Hyrenna, and with one last affectionate push at him with her beak she turned away and began the short, rough run that preceded flight.
In that moment, Arenadd had a strong urge to run after her, to shout at her to come back, to plead with Skade not to go.
He didn’t move.
Hyrenna’s wings opened and began to beat hard. Skade held on to the harness, steady and confident on the griffin’s back. She braced herself, and then Hyrenna took off.
Arenadd went to Skandar’s side and rested a hand on his shoulder as they watched the old griffin fly higher and higher, all power and control in the sky with her wings spread wide and her tail rigid for balance. She flew higher, spiralling, until she was tiny—a black outline against the endless blue. She turned southward and flew away.
Arenadd heard footsteps behind him, and Saeddryn came to join him. “I wonder if we’ll ever see them again?” she said.
“We will,” said Arenadd. “I trust Skade completely.”
She looked at him. “An’ I trust Hyrenna completely.”
“Then it sounds like we have a good balance,” said Arenadd, but there wasn’t much emphasis to the sarcasm.
Saeddryn nudged him in the arm. “Don’t fret, sir,” she said unexpectedly. “Hyrenna’s one of the strongest griffins ever born. She might be gettin’ on now, but she ain’t no pushover, sir.”
Arenadd glanced at her and smiled. “I know. She defeated Skandar once, after all.”
“Only before he found his magic, sir,” said Saeddryn. “Now I doubt there’s any griffin could challenge him.”
“The Mighty Kraal, maybe,” Arenadd muttered.
“Well, we’ll see, won’t we?” said Saeddryn. She yawned. “I’d better go below, sir. Got t’get everyone up an’ workin’. I’ll see ye later.”
Arenadd rubbed his eyes. “All right. I’ll see you then.”
He knew he should go with her, but he didn’t; he didn’t feel like dealing with people just yet.
Skandar didn’t seem in a hurry to go anywhere, either. He sat on his haunches, the wind ruffling his feathers, and peacefully groomed his wings.
Arenadd kept his eyes on the retreating dot that was Hyrenna and Skade, until it had long since vanished on the horizon. Gods, I miss her already.
The sun began its slow ascent, and Arenadd and Skandar, silent and comfortable in each other’s company, watched it spread light over the sky.
And that was why they were the first to see the dark cloud approaching from the west.
Skandar saw it before Arenadd. He looked westward for a long moment and then said, “See something.”
“What?” said Arenadd.
“Cloud,” the dark griffin said simply. “See?”
Arenadd followed his gaze. “I don’t see . . .” He trailed off.
There was a dark smudge on the horizon. It was difficult to tell how far awa
y it was, but it looked big.
Arenadd squinted. “What is that? Is that a storm?”
Skandar clicked his beak. “Too fast,” he opined.
“If it’s not a cloud, then what is it?” said Arenadd, but a horrible possibility had already occurred to him. “Oh gods,” he groaned. “It can’t be. Not this soon!”
But as the cloud came closer, moving with great speed, the suspicion grew with it. Perhaps he should have acted at once—sounded the alarm or run to warn the others. But something kept him where he was, still unwilling to trust his own senses as he kept his eyes on the cloud, watching details emerge.
Now it was much closer, and it looked less dense. He could see it seething like a nest of ants.
When it was nearly over the city, it exploded. Dark shapes shot outward from it, dozens and dozens of them, pinwheeling in all directions. And that was when Arenadd’s suspicion became awful certainty.
Beside him, Skandar reared up, screeching in rage.
“Griffins!” Arenadd shouted. “Skandar, sound the alarm! Call!”
Skandar wasn’t listening. He ran to the edge of the tower, closest to the oncoming horde, and screeched again and again, calling his name in a demented challenge. “Skandar! Skandar! Darkheart! Skandar! Darkheart!”
A mad babble of swearwords streamed out of Arenadd’s mouth as he ran for the trapdoor. Griffins! Not now, not now, not now! It’s too soon!
He wrenched the trapdoor open and was about to jump through it, but he stopped and ran back to Skandar, shouting, “Skandar! Skandar, come here! Skandar!”
