The Shadowed Throne

by K J Taylor

  Laela let Inva go and waited alone in the practice yard for Senneck. She marvelled that Oeka could sense her so far away.

  I can scent another mind further and further away every day.

  “Great. What’s next?”

  I cannot see the future.

  “That ain’t what I meant.”

  But soon, Oeka went on, ignoring her, I will learn to see the past.

  “What’s that mean, then?”

  I will see what has been here before us. Shadows of humans and griffins that were once here.

  Laela gave up and decided not to ask just what help that would be. Now-a-days, Oeka didn’t seem to care about anything except finding new ways to be deeply, deeply unsettling.

  Laela turned her attention to the sky instead. Sure enough, a few moments later, she saw Senneck coming. Alone. She had already begun to expect the worst before the blue-eyed griffin even landed, and when she saw her up close, that was enough to confirm it.

  Senneck looked exhausted. Her fur and feathers were dirty and bedraggled, darkened in a few places by blood.

  She wasted no time with pleasantries. “Kullervo has been captured. I do not know if he is alive.”

  Laela felt the news like a blow to her chest. “Saeddryn took him?”

  “Yes. They had me as well, but I escaped. I waited two days, but he never emerged from Warwick.”

  Laela swore. “Where did they take him? Did yeh see?”

  “Yes. We were escorted to the tower and taken prisoner. Kullervo told them why he had come, and Aenae agreed to take him to Saeddryn. Kullervo asked if I could come, but they refused. I waited a while on the tower top, under threat by other griffins, until I decided it would be better to leave.”

  “Why didn’t yeh stay there?” said Laela. “Waited until he came out?”

  “Because I realised that even if he did come, Saeddryn could come with him. I remembered that she had seen me and could recognise me. And I would have been no use surrounded by enemies who would not let me take off.”

  “Then yeh don’t know what they said to our message.”

  “If they have taken Kullervo, it can be for only two reasons,” said Senneck. “Either they will torture him to make him speak, or they will kill him. Perhaps both. With one or the other, it is clear that they have no intention to surrender. You have a war ahead of you, little half-breed, and I hope that you are ready for it.”

  Senneck is right, said Oeka. They have refused our offer. It is time to declare war. And first of all, you must kill Lord Torc.

  Laela’s face had gone blank. “But I can’t . . . he’s family. I thought Saeddryn would . . .”

  But she has not, said Oeka. She desires our throne so much that she has sacrificed her own mate for it. If you are to fight her, you must prove that you are as powerful as you claim. Powerful enough to do what you have promised to do.

  “A leader keeps her promises,” said Senneck. “This human called Torc must die.”

  Laela thought of her father. “I always swore I’d never be as cruel as Arenadd was.”

  “And you are not,” said Senneck. “Do you kill for pleasure?”

  “No, but—”

  “Then you are not him. Kill Torc. Begin the war. As for me, I will return to Warwick at once. I will find Kullervo. And I will kill Saeddryn. That is my own promise, and I shall keep it.”

  There are no lies in Senneck’s mind, said Oeka. She has told the truth. We have no choice now. Do not be a soft-hearted youngster now, Laela. Be a Queen.

  Laela set her jaw. “Fine. If it’s war Saeddryn wants, then it’s war she’ll get. Senneck, take some time to rest an’ we’ll meet again to talk. I’m off to see Iorwerth. We got plans to make. An’ then I’m gonna go see Lord Torc an’ tell him his wife just killed him.”

  Torc had been expecting Laela to come back. Since he had been imprisoned and she had come to see him that first time, he had waited for her to return.

  As a noble, he hadn’t been treated too badly. They had moved him to one of the finer cells, where there was good furniture and even a rug on the floor. The food was good, too, and he had clean clothes and access to books if he wanted them. The door was still thick and kept locked and guarded at all times, but nobody seemed to think he would try to escape.

  He never did. As the former Master of Law, he knew these dungeons very well—had even interrogated prisoners himself in this very cell. He knew it well enough to know that there was no way to escape. Once he had thought of appealing to those of the guards who knew him or who might be sympathetic, but these were new guards hired by the Queen and her new captain of the guard. Torc’s old friend Garnoc was gone—demoted or worse.

  There was no way out for Torc. Not any more. And even if there were, he knew there was no place for him to go.

  He sat in a chair by the brazier and warmed himself. The firelight moved shadows over the back of his hand, where an old scar still stood out. Once, it had been swollen and red, flaring pain whenever he touched it. Now it was faded, but nothing would ever make it disappear. Not it, or the ring of little marks around his neck. Nothing ever erased the scars of a slave.

  It was funny, really. He had been born in captivity, and most of his life had been spent in cages of one sort or another. And even now, when he was a free man—a Taranisäii, married to the rightful heir to Tara’s throne, one of the highest nobles in the land—here he was in the very same place he had begun.

  He had had far too much time to think about that.

  He thought about Saeddryn, too. Saeddryn, whom he still loved even though he knew he would never see her again. Saeddryn, who had given him his children. He knew he would never see them again, either.

  And he thought about death, and how all other things came to an end.

  All while he waited, for Laela.

  When she did come at last, he didn’t have to look up. He heard the door open and the thud of boots on the rug, and caught a faint whiff of underarms. He snorted to himself. What a Queen this was, who wore boots under her gown and never used scent or bathed properly. What a pathetic world this was, where a girl like her could rule the great Arenadd’s Kingdom.

  “I waited for you,” he said, without moving.

  The boots stopped. “I wouldn’t’ve thought there was much else to do in here.”

  Torc looked up and felt the hatred swell in him. “You’ve come to kill me.”

  Laela wore Arenadd’s crown, and her face was gaunt. “Not me. We just had a message from yer wife.”

  “You found her, then. Where is she?”

  “Warwick, but I bet yeh already knew that.” Laela breathed hard, through her nose. “I told her if she wanted to get yeh free an’ see her whole family protected, all she had to do was get back here an’ end this. No-one would’ve been hurt, not even her.”

  “You told her to surrender, or you’d kill me,” Torc said flatly.

  “I told her to choose,” said Laela. “She chose to let you die. Sorry, Torc. But this ain’t my fault. It’s hers.”

  “Kill me, then, half-breed. But you will never win the North. Soon, the true rulers of Tara will come back; and then you’ll pay.”

  “We’ll see about that.” Laela beckoned to the guards. “Get him outta here.”

  Torc allowed himself to be led out of his cell, the guards walking on either side. Going to his death at last.

  20

  No Turning Back

  In the city, just outside the gate that led to the Eyrie’s outer courtyard, the execution platform waited. It was the same one that had been there two decades ago, rebuilt after the war. Taranisäii bodies had hung from it before.

  Today, though, there was no noose set up. A block had been laid out, and an axe, with a burly man to wield it. Now-a-days, a Taranisäii could have a more dignified execution, as if that made any difference.<
br />
  A crowd had gathered to watch, and it was much louder than those Torc had seen at past executions. Louder . . . or angrier? It was hard to say.

  Standing up on the platform, he looked at them, then at the block that stood ready for his neck, and felt his soul fall away inside him. So many years, and so much life, all leading to nothing but this. An axe and a jeering crowd. All for nothing.

  He felt like vomiting. Looking away from them, he saw Laela there, watching him through those hard blue eyes. In that moment, no matter how much he tried to deny it to himself, she looked so much like her father. The wind stirred at her curly hair and tugged at the black gown she wore, and her face had something of that cold, set look that Torc remembered so well. It was a look that had no pity or hesitation.

  “I’m sorry, Torc,” she said, very softly. “It’ll be quick. I promise.”

  Torc only stared at her.

  Beside Laela was Oeka. She sat hunched, like a small brown gargoyle, and her eyes were whitened and vile. She didn’t move or react at all when Laela turned to address the crowd.

  “People of Malvern! My people! Listen to yer Queen!”

  They quietened.

  “This man is Lord Torc Taranisäii,” Laela said. “Husband to the traitor, Saeddryn Taranisäii. He helped her to escape from Malvern before she could be arrested for her treason against my father, King Arenadd Taranisäii. That makes him a traitor against me, against Tara, an’ against its people. Today I formally announce that Saeddryn Taranisäii, along with her son Caedmon an’ her daughter Arddryn, an’ the griffins Aenae, Rakek, an’ Shar, are outlaws. All of them will die, an’ anyone who helps them shares their sentence. Saeddryn, Caedmon, an’ Arddryn are banished from my father’s family, an’ can no longer call themselves Taranisäii. Any of their children are illegitimate an’ will have no inheritance from me or my father. As for Torc, his own sentence will be carried out immediately.”

  The crowd howled in response, shouting who knew what. Torc had no idea. Were they condemning Laela or himself? Or both?

  Madness gripped him. “You’ll never win, half-breed!” he screamed at Laela. “They’ll tear you to pieces! The Night God will strike you down, you hear me?”

  Laela bared her teeth. “When yeh see the one-eyed bitch, tell her I sent yeh.”

  Torc’s guards pulled him toward the block, and now he fought back, struggling with all his might, trying to get at the half-breed and kill her. “Curse you! Curse you!”

  But it was no use. They took him to the block and made him kneel. The crowd below surged forward, a mass of open, yelling mouths and staring eyes. The guards around the platform lowered their spears, ready to hold them off—

  —and silence fell.

  It rippled out over the crowd like wind passing through the branches of a wood, stirring the leaves in layers. One by one, all those there, from the guards to the crowd to Torc himself, lost all their will-power and their voices.

  Every single one of them felt the power take hold of his or her mind. Everyone heard the voice.

  Be still.

  Oeka had uncurled herself. Her wings opened, spreading like a canopy. The head turned, blind eyes staring at everything.

  My human rules this land now, and my human alone. No living creature, human or griffin, shall stand in her way and live. I am the Mighty Oeka, most powerful of all griffins, the greatest wielder of magic there has ever been. I rule this land, beside my human, and it is my power that you should fear.

  People in the crowd began to groan, as the presence in their heads closed in tighter and tighter until it hurt. Nobody there seemed able to do anything, not even Laela, though she didn’t look as if she were in pain like the others.

  Then Oeka let go. You are no traitors, she said. You shall not be hurt. But see, now, what I shall make of liars and betrayers.

  Torc screamed.

  Oeka’s power released the crowd and the guards, and closed around him instead. As they recovered, wincing and clutching their heads, they saw what happened to Torc.

  He put his hands over his face, pressing down on it as if trying to squeeze the agony out of his head. A moment later, he screamed again, a scream that rose higher and thinner, until pain roughened it into a howl.

  To Torc, it was as if every moment of suffering in his entire life had come back, all at once, all together. His vision went, fading into bloody darkness, and he felt the suffering squeeze his entire body harder and harder, paralysing him. As he screamed on, it doubled, then doubled again, burning away every nerve in every part of him.

  At last, mercifully, his mind broke. He laughed, then cried, and began to tear at himself, ripping his own skin until his fingernails broke.

  Oeka had finished with him. Without having moved a muscle, she silently reached into the ruins of his mind and gave it one last push.

  Torc went rigid. For a moment, he almost smiled. Blood dripped from his nose, and his eyes wept red.

  Then he toppled forward onto the platform, and did not move again.

  In the awful silence that followed, Laela managed to find her voice. “Take him away,” she croaked. “Now!”

  Oeka had already stood up. Obey, her mental voice warned. Or suffer the same fate.

  “Has he talked yet?”

  “Not that I’ve heard, my lady.”

  Despite herself, Saeddryn was impressed. “Not at all?”

  “No. I asked everyone down there, and they said all he does is whimper and say the half-breed’s name over and over. He won’t say anything. Not where he’s from, what he is, or anything about what the usurper’s planning.”

  “Hm.” Saeddryn rubbed her forehead. “Maybe he really doesn’t have anythin’ to say. No sense in letting him go, though.”

  Lady Morvudd, who had brought her the news, gave her a cautious look. “What else can we do with him, then?”

  “If Penllyn’s convinced that they’ve tried everything, then . . .”

  “Yes?” Morvudd perked up.

  “Then go ahead. Ye have permission from me. Do whatever ye like with him.”

  “Anything, my lady?”

  “Try not to kill him. If ye can.”

  “Oh no,” said Morvudd. “I’d never do that.” Her forehead creased. “We should never have let him be tortured like that. He’s one of a kind, Saeddryn. There’s never been anything like him before, and maybe there never will be again.”

  Saeddryn frowned at her. “We didn’t ask him to side with the usurper. Now get going. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  Morvudd left with a bow, leaving Saeddryn to walk over to the window and look out. The window was open, and a cold breeze touched her face and made her missing eye tingle.

  She hadn’t meant to be so snappish with Morvudd, but the truth was that she didn’t feel well today. A sense of unease had been with her ever since Kullervo’s coming.

  By now, the half-breed must have missed him. The old griffin who had come with him must have returned to Malvern after her escape, and no doubt the half-breed would have guessed what Kullervo’s capture meant. Saeddryn had sent no reply, but she didn’t have to. Nor did she want to. She had never intended to go along with Aenae’s decision to send the shape-shifter’s head back to Malvern. Let the half-breed be the aggressor. That had been her plan before, and it still was now.

  By now, though, the half-breed would know her offer had been rejected, and Saeddryn knew her well enough to be certain that she would do as she had promised.

  By now, Torc must be dead.

  Saeddryn couldn’t put it out of her mind. Nobody had said anything, but they must all know, too. Poor Torc. His only crime had been his marriage to her—a marriage she had never wanted. Since her teenage years, Saeddryn had been resigned to the fact that she would never marry for love. But Torc had loved her. And, for a time, she had been able to lo
ve him back.

  She shuddered and closed her single eye. “Forgive me.”

  “Saeddryn!”

  She turned sharply, tensing until she saw the massive shape blocking the doorway. “Aenae. What is it?”

  The big griffin’s feathers were fluffed out, ragged-looking. “Rakek has come, and your daughter.”

  “What? What’s Arddryn doing—? Where are they?”

  “Up on the tower-top. I would not let them enter our territory until you had come.”

  Swearing, Saeddryn ran out. Her missing eye made it much harder to move about in confined spaces, especially at speed, and she banged into several things along the way. She emerged into the open air bruised and even angrier than before, and when she saw her daughter quietly waiting, her temper boiled over.

  “What are ye doing here?” she roared, ignoring the cringing Rakek altogether.

  Arddryn ran toward her mother and threw herself into her arms.

  Astonished, Saeddryn tried to pull away. “What is this?”

  Arddryn only held on more tightly. She was sobbing. “He’s dead. He’s dead! They killed him!”

  Saeddryn held her daughter back. “Who—?”

  “Mother, it’s Dad. The half-breed killed him. She executed him, in public! Right in f-front of everyone . . . !” Arddryn sobbed harder.

  Saeddryn felt the coldness eat away at her heart. “Oh Night God help us . . .”

  Arddryn let go. “They didn’t even give him a trial!” she screamed, red-eyed. “They just dragged him out and killed him, like some common criminal! And I heard—I heard—”

  “Calm down. Heard what?”

  Arddryn rubbed her face hard. “They’re saying he was killed with magic. By the usurper’s griffin.”

  “Ye mean that little brown thing—Oeka? I didn’t think . . . how could she be that powerful?”

  “My human speaks the truth,” Rakek interrupted. “We have heard the story, from a griffin who flew to us from Malvern. The small one has done something to increase her power. Her magic has grown by a hundred times. It is said that no-one, human or griffin, can hide a secret from her, that she can control others and crush the mind of a human like a bone in her beak. It is said that this is what she has done to your mate, Saeddryn.”