The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)

by K J Taylor

  “Yes,” Arenadd said darkly.

  In spite of what had happened, he felt a strange calm and certainty as he went into the tower with Skandar. He remembered the Night God visiting him in his dreams, and remembered her whispering advice and the comfort she gave him. She was with him, and she would not let him fail.

  But he did have a moment’s doubt. Just briefly, as he went down the ramp beyond the trapdoor that led into the tower, he had the nagging feeling that he had forgotten something. But he couldn’t for the life of him decide what it was.

  He shrugged it off. It probably wasn’t important. If it was, he’d remember it eventually.

  As he explored the tower, he quickly saw even more evidence of the attack that must have taken place in his absence. The upper levels were deserted; the defenders had gone, leaving behind signs of their fight in the form of bodies.

  Arenadd stopped to look at one or two of them. All of them were Southerners, and from their clothing he could tell that they were griffiners. If any of his own people had died here, their friends must have taken their bodies away. At least that meant enough of them had survived . . .

  Something else occurred to him at that moment, and he swore and ran away.

  He found the governor’s quarters and ducked inside, with Skandar on his heels. The bedchamber had been badly damaged; he could see sword cuts on the furniture, and blood had left a stain on one wall. There were no bodies here, at least.

  Arenadd freed his sickle and padded into the griffin nest.

  It was full of griffins, all asleep.

  Arenadd stopped in the doorway, motioning to Skandar to be quiet. He stayed as still as he could, quickly taking in every griffin in the room. Four . . . five . . . six of them, all big and powerful looking. There was no sign of Hyrenna’s chicks.

  Skandar poked his head through the door, over Arenadd’s shoulder, and sniffed, “Kaanee,” he growled. “Kaanee!”

  The griffin nearest the door started awake, rising in an instant with his beak wide open. When he saw Skandar, he stopped abruptly. “Mighty Skandar!”

  Arenadd returned his sickle to his belt. “Kaanee. Thank the Night God.”

  Kaanee came toward them. He was dragging one foreleg and there were chunks torn out of his feathers, but he looked strong enough. “I did not expect you here so soon,” he said, hastily ducking his head while his fellow griffins stirred around him. “Mighty Skandar, I am pleased to see you are unhurt. May I ask how the attack on Skenfrith succeeded?”

  “Have captured human nest,” said Skandar. “Tall nest burn, enemy die. Leave friend griffin there to guard.”

  Kaanee eyed them. “Good. And your human . . .” He looked at Arenadd. “I am sorry, Lord Arenadd, but I had heard that you were . . .”

  “I’m fine,” said Arenadd. “Kaanee, where are the chicks? Hyrenna’s chicks—they were in here.”

  Kaanee glanced over his shoulder. “They are well. We have guarded them and your commander ever since you left, master.”

  Arenadd looked past him and saw Saeddryn rising from a heap of dried reeds. “Kaanee? What’s . . . sir!”

  Arenadd smiled at her. “Good morning, Saeddryn. Are you . . .” He trailed off.

  Saeddryn picked her way through the nesting material and stood in front of him, head bowed as if in shame. There was a bandage wrapped around her head.

  Arenadd reached out and gently lifted her chin. “Your eye . . .”

  Saeddryn grimaced. “I was lucky, sir. It was a glancing blow.”

  “You haven’t lost it, have you?” said Arenadd.

  “It’s a wreck, sir,” Saeddryn said resignedly. “But I’ll live.”

  As she spoke, the chicks roused themselves and wandered over. Arenadd crouched to look at them. They appeared to be in perfect health, and he breathed out and silently offered up a prayer of thanks before he straightened up. “Tell me what happened, Saeddryn.”

  She was giving him a slightly apprehensive look through her remaining eye. “Sir, if ye don’t mind me askin’ . . . are ye all right?”

  “What? Oh.” Arenadd felt his chest and suddenly noticed the bandages. “Well, I’m . . . uh . . . not in any pain. Thank you for taking those blasted things out of me. Skandar says you were a great help.”

  Saeddryn switched to the Northern tongue. “Sir, there were five knives stuck in ye. One of ’em was straight through yer heart.”

  “I know,” said Arenadd. “These knives, I think.” He touched one of the weapons tucked into the back of his belt. “Good steel. I think I’ll keep them. Of course, if I meet the owner, I’ll have to give them back. It would only be good manners.”

  Saeddryn pulled herself together. “It’s the power, isn’t it, sir?” she said. “Ye’re healin’ even faster now. Ye’re gettin’ stronger, sir.”

  Arenadd nodded. “Yes. I can feel it.”

  “Ye’re sure there’s no pain, sir?”

  “Only in my stomach,” said Arenadd. “I’m hungry. Come on, let’s go and get some food. And while we’re on our way, for the love of the Night God, tell me what happened here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Skandar had been making halting conversation with Kaanee but looked up as the two humans made for the door. “You go?”

  “I need to get something to eat,” said Arenadd. “D’you want to come?”

  “I come,” said Skandar and followed them out of the chamber and down through the tower, stopping occasionally to eat one of the bodies left lying in the corridors.

  Saeddryn walked beside Arenadd and told him everything in a low, terse voice.

  “They came when ye’d barely even left. Dozens of ’em. They can’t have known Kaanee had joined us, or they’d have brought more. Thank gods we outnumbered the bastards, but—”

  “But they were better armed,” Arenadd put in. “And you had no good archers.”

  Saeddryn nodded. “We’d have been destroyed if it hadn’t been for Kaanee. Him an’ his friends attacked the bastards in the air. Nearly half of ’em died, but they fought the griffiner scum off in the end. Not before they’d dropped firebombs an’ destroyed half the tower, mind.”

  “How many humans have we lost?” said Arenadd.

  “Hundred,” said Saeddryn. “Mostly in the city, but in the tower as well. Davyn’s dead, Rhodri close to it.”

  Arenadd swore. “What about the rest?”

  “That Iorwerth,” said Saeddryn. “Sir, ye’ve found a perfect commander. Sure, he’s young an’ he ain’t fought before, but he’s a clear thinker—knows what’s best t’do an’ does it quickly.”

  “Excellent.” Arenadd nodded, pleased. “I knew he had potential.”

  “He saved my life, sir,” said Saeddryn. “I got caught in one of the explosions when the firebombs hit. Cut up my arm somethin’ bad. I was knocked silly an’ would’ve burned t’death, but Iorwerth pulled me out of there. I lost the eye later, when some of the griffiners got into the tower t’fight us directly. But don’t worry, I killed the bastard,” she added grimly.

  “Is everyone else safe, then?” said Arenadd, as they reached the kitchen.

  “More or less, sir.”

  “More or less?” Arenadd tensed. “Oh gods, what about Torc?”

  “Torc’s fine, sir. Even joined in the fightin’. He’s braver’n he looks.” Saeddryn sounded almost fond.

  “And Caedmon?”

  Saeddryn closed her eye for a moment. “We did our best, sir. Ye have t’understand how fast it all happened. One moment everyone was gettin’ food an’ organisin’ ’emselves for the day, the next we was bein’ attacked.”

  “Yes, I understand, but did you get him to safety?”

  “I sent Davyn t’get him an’ Torc t’safety,” said Saeddryn. “They was halfway down the tower when the firebombs started comin’. Davyn died shieldin’ Caedmon. Caedmon was hurt. Torc stayed with him an’ fought t’protect him when the griffiners came down the tower. Afterward he helped carry him t’infirmary. The boy’s a he
ro, sir.”

  “And Caedmon? Is he all right?”

  Saeddryn hesitated, then dared to touch his hand. “He’s dyin’, sir.”

  30

  Lost Memories

  Arenadd said very little while he and Saeddryn ate, both ignoring the complaints from the kitchen, where it seemed Skandar had decided to tear down a hanging side of beef. Saeddryn, realising her master was thinking, respected his silence, though she looked as if she wanted to talk.

  Eventually Arenadd said, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

  “Ye weren’t t’know, sir,” said Saeddryn, who had obviously been expecting him to say this. “How were any of us t’know Malvern knew we were here?”

  “But I shouldn’t have left,” said Arenadd. “I should have stayed long enough to make sure you were ready. I thought I could come back quickly. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that bastard catch me unawares at Skenfrith . . .”

  “But they shouldn’t have come here that fast!” said Saeddryn. “None of the griffiners escaped when we took this place, an’ we didn’t spare any of the ones who came here later. So none could’ve got back to Malvern t’inform on us. An’ that lot who came—all those griffiners—they came far too soon after the last lot. Too soon for Malvern t’have realised the first lot had gone missin’. How could they have known?”

  Arenadd stared into his cup. “I don’t know. Unless one of them did escape, and we didn’t know about it. Or maybe . . .”

  “What about the Eyrie Mistress?” said Saeddryn. “Could she have figured it out? If she knew we were holdin’ her at Fruitsheart, she could’ve told ’em. But she was blindfolded the whole time, wasn’t she, sir? No-one said more than two words t’her, if that.”

  “I don’t know,” said Arenadd. “But she’s a clever woman. I saw as much when I met her. Maybe she did realise. Either that or it was something else we haven’t thought of yet.”

  “Well, we still won, sir,” said Saeddryn. “We fought ’em off. The Night God protected us.”

  “Her and Kaanee,” Arenadd muttered. “Maybe. But the cost . . .”

  “No cost is too high for us to pay, sir!” Saeddryn exclaimed. “Don’t ye see? I’m sad about what happened t’Rhodri an’ Davyn, but they were willin’ to die for Tara. An’ so am I.”

  Arenadd though of the two Northerners. Honest men, and loyal. Losing them was a blow. “At least Skenfrith was a success. According to Skandar, none of the griffiners survived there, either. And we’ve destroyed the towers. It’ll be nearly impossible for them to use it as a base. That’s an important stronghold of theirs gone.”

  “Aye, sir,” said Saeddryn. “Ye did us proud.”

  “Skandar did us proud.” Arenadd stood up. “I have to go and visit Caedmon. If I don’t do it now, I may not get another chance.”

  Saeddryn nodded. “Go t’him, sir. I’ll take care of things while ye’re gone.”

  Caedmon had been put in one of the griffiner bedchambers in the tower, away from the other injured people. Arenadd was surprised to find someone on guard by the door.

  “My lord!” said the man, looking shocked.

  Arenadd inclined his head. “Sorry to catch you unawares like this. Did Saeddryn tell you to stay here?”

  “No, my lord. Iorwerth asked me. He said Caedmon deserved t’be left in peace, my lord.”

  Arenadd smiled internally. “Good. Just what should be done. Do you know if he’s awake?”

  “I think so, my lord. Torc’s with him.”

  Arenadd saw the fear almost glowing in the man’s face and suddenly felt depressed. “I’ll go in, then. You stay out here and make sure we’re not disturbed.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Arenadd entered silently. Caedmon was lying in the bed, almost lost amid the blankets. He wasn’t moving, but he was obviously awake because Torc was sitting beside him with his back to the door, and the two were talking in low voices.

  Arenadd closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and paused to listen.

  “. . . can’t do it,” Torc said. “I just can’t, Father.”

  “Ye’re a Taranisäii now, Torc.” Caedmon’s gravelly voice was weak but as resolute as always. “Not a slave. The . . . time’s gone when . . . yer look t’others for what to do. If ye’re certain, then do it.”

  “But what if she ain’t . . . what if she says . . . I couldn’t bear it, Father.” Torc sounded almost tearful.

  “Weaklings say ‘what if,’ Torc,” Caedmon growled. “Warriors say ‘I will.’ Do it. I want t’know yer did it, before I go.”

  “I’ll . . . I’ll try,” said Torc.

  “That’s my lad.”

  Arenadd hated to interrupt but realised at this point that it would be rude not to, so he coughed politely.

  Torc turned, wide-eyed. “Sir!”

  Arenadd walked toward him. “Hello, Torc. I’m sorry to interrupt. If you’d like me to leave . . .”

  Torc stood up hastily. “No. No, sir, it’s fine. I just didn’t . . . Sir, Saeddryn said . . .”

  “I’m fine.” Arenadd smiled fondly at the boy. “Saeddryn told me you acted like a hero yesterday.”

  Torc blushed. “I didn’t. I only . . . well, I couldn’t leave Caedmon, sir. I had t’keep him safe, sir.”

  “Of course you did,” said Arenadd. “But you were very brave. Saeddryn’s very impressed with you. And so am I,” he added.

  Torc grinned shyly. “Did she say that, sir?”

  “She certainly did,” said Arenadd, watching closely for the response.

  Torc looked even more embarrassed, but pleased. He put a hand in his pocket and glanced quickly at Caedmon, as if for approval.

  Caedmon said nothing, but Arenadd saw him wink, and in that instant his suspicions were confirmed. “Well then,” he said. “Maybe you should go and talk to her. I think she’ll need some help while she organises everyone.”

  Torc nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll go, sir.” He looked at Caedmon again and hurried out of the room.

  Arenadd sat down by the bed, chuckling. “He’s a good lad, isn’t he?”

  Caedmon’s face crinkled in a smile. “Aye. I’ve known him a long time, I have. He was like a son t’me long before I took him into our family.”

  “You made a good decision,” said Arenadd. “He’s a brave boy, and good-hearted, too. And we Taranisäiis are all too rare nowadays, aren’t we?” he added more quietly.

  Caedmon sighed. “Ah, but we’re comin’ back. Bit by bit.”

  “Yes.” Arenadd looked at him. The old man appeared frighteningly pale and almost shrunken. There were several painful cuts on his face, but it was obvious his injuries went far beyond that, even if they weren’t visible.

  Caedmon looked back resignedly. “There’s not much t’see on the outside,” he said. “It’s all inside. I can feel it.”

  Arenadd touched his hand. “Are you in pain?”

  “Not so much now,” said Caedmon, wincing. “I can’t feel anythin’ much now. Can’t move me legs. Can’t move one arm. Half me gut’s crushed, but it don’t hurt. I ain’t got long, though. I know that. I’ll be with the Night God soon.”

  Arenadd rubbed a hand over his face. “Gods. Caedmon, I’m sorry. I should have been here.”

  “Stuff an’ nonsense,” Caedmon snapped. “Ye’ve our leader, sir, an’ ye’ve got better things t’d than look after old men like me. But I’m glad to see yer back,” he added more gently. “I wanted t’see yer again before I went.”

  “I came as soon as I knew,” said Arenadd. “Caedmon, you’re the oldest member of my family now. And more than that, you’re a friend. You have been ever since we met in the slave-house at Herbstitt.”

  Caedmon smiled. “Same for me, sir. Same for me.”

  “Please don’t call me that,” said Arenadd.

  “Of course, if that’s what yer want. I wanted t’ask yer somethin’ . . . Arenadd.”

  “Ask me, then,” said Arenadd.

  “No, no.” Caedm
on looked away. “No, it’s not important, not now.”

  “Yes it is,” Arenadd said firmly. “So tell me.”

  Caedmon coughed again, and shuddered. “It’s nothing.”

  Arenadd had to smile. “Go on, tell me.”

  Caedmon was silent for a long moment. “They say . . . I mean, it’s . . . everyone knows . . .”

  “What?”

  “Ye’ve met the Night God,” Caedmon said at last. “We all know it.”

  Arenadd hadn’t been expecting this. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose I have.”

  “What is she like?” Caedmon asked. “What . . . I know I’ll meet her soon. What is she like? Is she kind? Will she welcome me?”

  Arenadd smiled sadly. “I could tell you what she’s like.”

  “Please, do,” said Caedmon. “I just want t’know. So I can . . . be ready.”

  Arenadd wondered where he should begin. “She’s beautiful, in a way. Black hair.” He smiled briefly. “Like Arddryn, a little, with one eye. The other eye is the moon, just like the stories say.”

  “Is she kind?” Caedmon persisted. “Is she?”

  Arenadd thought of her pitiless eye. “She can be,” he said. “She’s . . . so powerful. She can be angry . . . terrible anger. But when she’s happy, she makes you feel like . . .” He tried again: “She has the same emotions we do, but more powerful. A hundred times more powerful. When she’s pleased, she can make you feel so happy and peaceful you think you’re going to burst with it. When she’s angry . . . but she wouldn’t be angry with you, Caedmon.”

  Caedmon looked at him, his expression almost childlike. “Are yer sure, Arenadd? How d’yer know?”

  Arenadd touched Caedmon’s forehead. “Because you’re a Taranisäii, Caedmon. You’re from the greatest family the North ever bred. You kept faith in her even after all the suffering you went through while you were a slave. She won’t forget that. She loves the people who stay by her. She loves us. We’re her people, Caedmon. Her chosen people. She loves us when we’re brave most of all. She sent me to help you. She guided me to you, so I could set you free. Because she cares about you.”