by K J Taylor
‘I’m leavin’, Ma,’ he said once. ‘There’s better things out there, ye know, an’ a better life. I got the wits, I’m gonna take it. Gonna …’
After that he slept.
When morning came again, Caedmon woke up and saw Heath was still asleep. Myfina was asleep beside him, keeping him warm. Caedmon rose silently and crept away to the river for some water.
He brought it back and refilled the clay bowl that held the cloth they’d been using to try and cool Heath’s forehead. There was some water left over, so he drank part of it and left the rest for Myfina.
As he was sitting down again, he saw Heath stir and moved closer to check on him.
Heath’s eyes opened a crack, and he peered upward. ‘Caedmon,’ he whispered. ‘C …’
Caedmon managed a smile. ‘Are you feeling better?’
‘A bit.’ Heath’s voice had become a faint rasp.
Caedmon touched his cheek — it was burning hot. ‘You’ll be all right.’
Heath didn’t seem to hear him. ‘Caedmon. Wanted to …’
‘What is it?’
Heath lay still for a while, breathing raggedly. ‘My name … name’s … Henwas Malverni. Real name.’
‘Henwas?’ Caedmon repeated. He paused. ‘“Malverni” … didn’t you know your father, then?’
Heath managed the ghost of a grin. ‘No. Your dad hanged him for burglary. Just a child of Malvern, me. Henwas …’
‘I’m glad you told me,’ said Caedmon. ‘I’d have wondered for the rest of my life if you hadn’t.’
‘Friends know friends’ names,’ said Henwas, his eyes closing again. ‘Listen. Mother’s still in Malvern. Adain. Lives alone. My brother’s about too. Little brother. Morgan. Tell them, Caedmon. Tell them what happened to me. Help them. They’re good people. Not bad like me.’
‘I will, Henwas. I promise. But you’re not bad, understand?’
Henwas coughed feebly. ‘You … good man. Good king one day. Be good to Myfina. I’m sorry I couldn’t stay …’
‘But you will,’ Caedmon told him. ‘I’ll never forget you. One day everyone will know your name. I’ll put up a statue to you in front of the Eyrie.’
Henwas laughed for the last time. ‘Handsome statue. Goodbye, Sire …’
After that he said nothing more. He slipped away back into sleep, and Caedmon knew with cold certainty that he had spoken his last words.
Myfina woke up a little while later, and she and Caedmon shared some food that Gwladus brought by. They both knew that they had things to do, but neither of them would leave.
The day dragged on, and Henwas did not wake up again. He lay utterly still, and his face was slowly drained of the last of its colour. The heat of the fever had gone away, but coldness came in its place.
Caedmon and Myfina sat beside him in silence, listening to his breathing grow steadily slower and slower until, almost imperceptibly, it stopped altogether.
Neither of them moved, but both of them saw it, and after a moment Myfina began to cry silently. Caedmon reached out to take her hand, and she clung on to his, but did not look away from what they both knew was a dead body.
‘Goodbye, Heath,’ she said at last.
Caedmon looked down at the still face too, and smiled sadly. ‘His name was Henwas.’
‘What?’ said Myfina.
Caedmon turned the smile on her. He felt light-headed. ‘His real name was Henwas Malverni.’
‘How do you know?’
‘He told me this morning. You were asleep.’
Myfina’s tears came faster. ‘Did he say anything else?’
‘Yes. He asked me …’ Caedmon touched her face. ‘He told me to be good to you, and he said he was sorry he couldn’t stay.’
Myfina stared at him for a moment. Then she threw herself into his arms and started to sob. Caedmon held her, and felt his own tears harden inside him.
‘He taught us both so much,’ he said, not so much to her as to the presence that still lingered there around them. ‘He was a true friend, and a true Northerner.’
‘He was a hero,’ said Myfina.
‘Yes.’ The tears trapped inside Caedmon burned at him, but he could not let them go. They stayed there as a torment. ‘The half-breed has taken everything from me. My home. My throne. My father and my sister. Even my mother. And now Hea — and now Henwas as well.’ He loosened his hold on Myfina, and looked down into her tear-streaked face. ‘You and Shar are all I have left. But I swear that I won’t let it end this way. I won’t let Henwas die for nothing. I’ll stay here and become a real Northerner and a real man, the way he wanted me to. And then I’ll go back. I’ll challenge her, and I’ll win. For Henwas. For the North. For the Night God. For you.’
‘You will,’ said Myfina. ‘Henwas believed in you, and so do I. Caedmon …’
‘Yes, Myfina?’ Caedmon’s voice sounded deeper to him now. More certain.
‘Before he came back here, Henwas told me you loved me,’ said Myfina. ‘I didn’t see it, but he did. Was he right, Caedmon?’
The tears were in Caedmon’s heart now. ‘Yes. I do love you, Myfina. I always have. And if I never said anything …’
‘Then don’t.’ Myfina took him in her arms, and held him close. Caedmon held her in return, his heart fluttering. Maybe it wasn’t love yet — maybe this wasn’t the time. But she was there, and that was all that mattered now. She was there.
TWENTY-THREE
EAGLEHOLM
The journey to Eagleholm was a long one, and it was made longer by several things. One was Red. Despite Senneck’s predictions, Kullervo did manage to carry him. But only with difficulty. He had to fly low, and had to stop to rest much more often than a full-sized griffin would have. Despite that, he utterly refused to abandon the boy, who had latched onto him as something of a father figure despite the obvious obstacles — such as the fact that Kullervo was now a griffin and stayed that way through the entire journey.
Resling was the only human in the group apart from Red, but he showed no interest in talking with the boy and in fact treated him more or less like a servant, expecting him to prepare the food and build a shelter for his superior whenever they stopped for the night. Red obeyed without complaint; it seemed he was too excited at having been allowed to come along to mind much. Naturally Resling wouldn’t let him share the shelters he built, so he would use Kullervo’s blanket and snuggle down under his wing for protection.
Both Senneck and Seerae were displeased by Red’s effect on their progress, but of course they both refused to carry him themselves, and so the state of affairs continued as they struck out into the very heart of the South, and the lands that had once belonged to the proud city of Eagleholm.
There had been war; they could all see the evidence even without Resling’s and Keera’s accounts. They saw farms and villages, and griffiner outposts. Some farms and villages were still occupied, but many lay in ruins, seemingly abandoned long ago. The outposts, however, had very clearly been deliberately destroyed. Most had been burned, or simply broken apart by massive forces — forces that had had talons. In some places the travellers even came across bones left abandoned. Human bones, generally, and in some cases one or two that were definitely griffin. Resling explained that any griffin remains would have been cannibalised by people — in both senses of the word. There had been a famine, and griffin feathers and bones were worth a fortune.
The few people still left in the territory were thin and nervous, and rarely seen except as they ran to hide from the band of griffins that flew overhead. Once upon a time, a griffin and its partner would be something to welcome and revere. Nowadays, it would mean danger and dark memories.
The more Kullervo travelled through this landscape, the more depressing he found it. It was sobering to think of what must have happened here, but it also gave him an unexpected and powerful sense of guilt. All this, all of it, had been begun by his father.
‘Terrible business it was,’ said Resling, looking more
resigned than unhappy. ‘Every Eyrie in the South sent in its armies. After the fighting over the city tore it to bits, they gave up and pillaged whatever was left. They fought each other all over this gods-forsaken territory, and then Withypool actually resorted to attacking Canran on their own land. Wylam joined in, and they sacked the city. For a while Withypool owned a huge chunk of Canran’s lands, but they couldn’t govern it from so far away, and then the plague started, so they pulled back.’
‘So who owns this place now?’ Kullervo asked.
‘Nobody does. Well … Withypool owns the eastern part. They’re building a new city down there, people say. A new capital of a new territory. Wylam took part of the West, but the central part, right here — it’s no-man’s land. And of course while that was going on the Wild Woman of Withypool came along and made off with all the slaves.’
Kullervo’s tail started to twitch. ‘How?’
Resling scratched his shoulder. ‘Bought them at first. Everyone wanted to get rid of their slaves; they’d realised they were outnumbered in most places, and if the slaves got ideas from that lot up in the North we’d have another uprising here as well. Then once she had enough of them she started using them like an army. Fought off anyone who got in her way, and started stealing any slaves she couldn’t buy. Before long other slaves turned on their owners and ran off to join her. It was anarchy, I tell you. Complete chaos. If the Dark Lord had come through those mountains back then …’ Resling shuddered.
‘And Liranwee?’ asked Senneck. ‘Who owns it?’
‘We do, of course,’ said Resling. ‘Liranwee is a city of refugees, but don’t let Lady Isleen hear you say that. Most of our people came from here originally, commoners and griffiners. Some of our griffiners even came from Eagleholm itself, in its last days. Not me, though; I was born after that, during the war. Others came from Canran. Our land used to belong to Canran, you see, but since it was unclaimed after the Withypool and Wylam fight we took it. Nobody else wants it that badly; we’re right on the North’s doorstep. But it doesn’t look like the Dark Lord’s going to come through the mountains any more, so that’s our greatest fear gone.’
‘Lady Isleen must be glad to make a treaty with the North now,’ said Kullervo. ‘So close by; Liranwee is in the perfect place for trading.’
‘Yes, I suppose we are,’ said Resling.
It was an interesting story, and a chilling one too. Kullervo took it as a reminder of what people could do under the right circumstances. So much for Gryphus’ claim that only Northerners squabbled over power — Kullervo felt disgusted at the mere thought of it. No, Gryphus was as mad as the Night God, and Kullervo had no regrets over rejecting him.
And so, with tale telling and hard flying, the journey toward Eagleholm moved on over two slow months. And, as the third month advanced, it became more and more obvious that there was now another reason for them to advance slowly.
Senneck, as she had claimed, was pregnant. Kullervo saw her slim shape form a bulge that grew steadily despite the poor food and heavy exercise along the way. She became tense and lethargic, and toward the end of the third month she was flying as slowly as he was. It was clear that if she was going to lay her eggs at Eagleholm as planned, they would have to reach it soon.
For a while it looked as if they might not reach it soon enough, but with hard flying, they just managed it. At the heart of what had become nearly a wasteland, Eagleholm waited.
Senneck had predicted they were close when they came across a much larger ruined village than they had seen so far. Part of it had fallen down, but some buildings were still standing and there were people still living there, though once again they had no welcome for the travellers and hid away at the sight of them. Kullervo and his companions stopped there anyway, and, finding a wild and overgrown orchard bordering the village, they rested there and gathered some apples.
Senneck wandered among the trees, her former graceful lope now distinctly heavier and clumsier. Rotten apples littered the ground under her paws and she awkwardly batted one away.
‘I know this place,’ she said, as she lay down at the base of a dead tree. ‘I have been here once before. This village is Carrick.’
‘When were you here?’ asked Kullervo.
‘On the day following Eagleholm’s destruction,’ said Senneck. ‘When Erian and I left, we stopped here so that he could say farewell to his grandparents who raised him and show his friends that he had become a griffiner.’
Resling had been listening. ‘You mean this is where he was born?’
‘It is,’ said Senneck. ‘And in those days it was a strong home. Many people lived here. They sold their honey and apples to Eagleholm, and they revered us as humans should.’ She looked unexpectedly sad. ‘And now it is all destroyed, like so many other places.’
Kullervo heaved a griffish sigh. ‘I wish I could have met Erian.’
‘I do not,’ said Senneck. ‘He would have hated you, and possibly feared you as well, as he hated and feared your father.’
Resling looked slightly puzzled at this remark, but he said nothing. Like everyone else in Liranwee he seemed unable to understand or accept Kullervo’s parentage, and so ignored it whenever it was brought up.
‘Are we close to Eagleholm, then?’ said Kullervo.
‘We are,’ said Senneck. ‘If we were not burdened we would be able to reach it before nightfall. As it is, we should stay here until morning and move on then. It would be better to arrive in daylight.’
‘I agree,’ said Resling.
So they spent the night in the village, undisturbed by the locals, and Kullervo and the other griffins ate a dead cow they found abandoned in a field near what Senneck said had once been Erian’s home. By now it too was abandoned; no doubt Erian’s grandparents had died long ago, along with anyone who might have claimed their old home. But the adjoining barn was big enough to provide shelter for Kullervo and the other griffins, and Red managed to light a fire.
None of them had much energy for talking that night. They slept huddled together for protection, all preparing for what might happen the next day.
But Kullervo, even warmed by Senneck’s beloved flank, found himself too nervous to sleep, and stayed awake there until well after moonrise, feeling his oversized griffish heart pattering away as if it had forgotten how to slow down.
Morning came at last, and the travellers prepared for the final push toward the city. Kullervo waited patiently while Red climbed onto his shoulders, and when he and Resling were both ready they all looked toward Senneck.
‘Show us the way, Mother,’ Seerae urged.
Senneck stretched her wings. She looked nervous. ‘Yes … follow me now. But do not expect to like what you will find.’
She went out through the gaping hole in the barn wall and took off heavily. Kullervo followed with equal difficulty, envying Seerae’s and Keera’s ease as they rose alongside him.
Flying as a flock once again, the four griffins moved away Southward one last time.
Both Kullervo and Senneck needed to rest before long, but both of them seemed equally determined, and pushed themselves on harder than they had before. And when Eagleholm came in sight at last, even Senneck sped up.
When Kullervo saw the ruined city for the first time, even as a griffin he felt sick to his stomach.
Ahead, a massive stump of stone rose out of the earth. It was more of a plateau than a mountain, and its sides were sheer and rocky, nearly unclimbable. On its flat top, the city stood silhouetted against the sky. Kullervo could see the outlines of the buildings, black in front of blue, but the closer he came the more he saw that they weren’t buildings any more, but ruins.
At the centre the jagged spire of a fallen tower spiked upward, and he knew that it must have been an Eyrie once upon a time.
At the edges of the mountaintop, huge wooden supports jutted outward to expand the city. But now they were rotting and falling apart, and in one place had broken away and caused a devastating rock slid
e down the mountainside.
On his back, Kullervo heard Red exclaim in horror as they came close enough for human eyes to see the devastation.
If Senneck felt the same way, she didn’t show it. She beat her wings harder and rose high enough to fly over the city, where she circled for a time before choosing a landing place and spiralling toward it. Kullervo followed, taking in much more of the city. Everywhere he could see houses and other buildings broken apart, or looking as if they were halfway there. A huge patch had been burned in what must have been a devastating fire, leaving only blackened foundations to tell the tale. At the centre, the Eyrie was little more than a heap of rubble, with only one crumbling section of wall somehow still standing.
There was no sign of life anywhere, and Kullervo couldn’t fathom how anyone could survive here.
The area where Senneck chose to land was toward the edge of the city, and didn’t seem to have had much on it even before the disaster. There were no signs of buildings or their remains, only a large open space scattered with garbage. In the midst of it, though, a building was still standing, and it looked to be in better shape than most.
Senneck landed near its entrance, and immediately began to huff aggressively and look about for any sign of danger. Kullervo touched down beside her, feeling both tired and apprehensive. ‘Senneck, what is this place?’
Senneck was looking at the building now. ‘This is my old home,’ she said, and if there had been only a hint of sadness in her before, now it was open and obvious. ‘This was once the Hatchery. I was hatched and raised here.’
Red dismounted. ‘What was this big space here for?’ he asked.
‘Yes, what was it for?’ Kullervo echoed.
Senneck watched Seerae and Keera land. ‘They penned the goats here for our food. Every day some were slaughtered for us. Now they are all gone, like the griffins I grew up with.’
‘Not all,’ said Keera. ‘I was hatched here as well. But I was too young to remember it.’
Red seemed to be listening, even though there was no way he could understand them, since they were speaking griffish. ‘I wish I coulda seen it when it wasn’t wrecked.’
