by K J Taylor
“A spyin’ mission, eh?”
“More or less.”
“What’s it pay, then?”
“Nothing,” said Heath. “Only in virtue. Caedmon’s making me pay back all the money I stole. At this rate, I should be out of debt by . . . oh, in about two hundred years.”
“This is incredible, Hennie.” The old woman turned serious. “Ye’re playing a part in history. Ye’ll be in them books up at the Eyrie one day.”
“If I live long enough,” said Heath.
“Ye will.”
“I plan to.”
“I don’t believe it!” the old woman cackled. “My son, fightin’ the good fight against that half-breed bitch, standin’ up for the real Taranisäiis—yer father would be so proud!”
“I hope so,” said Heath. He stifled a yawn. “It was a long trip to get here. I’m exhausted, honestly. Anyway, tomorrow I’ll be going off to talk to some people and do some listening, but if you don’t mind, I could do with a place to sleep—”
“Of course,” she said. “Stay as long as ye need. But listen—”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been seein’ a bit of yer old friend—Mostyn. Remember him?”
“Short man?” said Heath. “Pimples on his chin?”
“Aye, that’s him. Pimples have got better, though.”
“What about him?” said Heath.
“Ye should go see him. I’ve talked to him a bit, an’ it sounds like he’s made some interestin’ new friends, if ye know what I mean. I think they might be able t’help ye.”
Heath nodded. “Thanks. I’ll go and look him up first thing in the morning.”
He was lying, of course. But she didn’t need to know that.
Elsewhere in Malvern, somewhere in a dark place, Saeddryn lay on her side and stared at nothing. She had been lying that way ever since she had come to be there, paralysed by shattered bones and crushed organs.
By now her body had long since repaired itself, but still she hadn’t moved. Her eye was glazed, her mouth open. Only her mind was active, but there was no coherent thought left in it.
Old memories played themselves out around her, as real to her as if they were still happening. But they came in bits and pieces, never settling into a whole. She didn’t know where she was, or when, and there was nothing for her to grasp hold of that might let her think or even realise what had happened to her.
Eventually, one memory in particular strengthened and grew bolder in her mind.
Saeddryn’s eye focused on something only she could see. Very slowly, her mouth twitched into a smile.
“Arenadd,” she whispered. “My Arenadd.”
Even in her madness, she was not alone. Somewhere near but far, in a place no living thing could reach, the Night God watched over her warrior.
Beside her, Arenadd watched, too. His face was as dispassionate as his master’s. “Won’t you help her?” he asked.
I cannot, said the Night God.
Arenadd glanced at her. “Well then,” he said. “It looks like you’ve lost, Master.”
The Night God showed no anger. She may be healed, she said. But without a partner, she will need help.
“From who?” Arenadd asked dryly. “You?”
I will find a way, said the Night God.
“You always do,” said Arenadd.
Incredibly, the Night God smiled at him. Your cynicism is amusing. Do you truly believe you understand me? That you can predict me?
“I’ve got a pretty good idea by now,” Arenadd said, with a sly glitter in his eyes.
No, said the Night God. She turned away from Saeddryn’s ravaged form and focused her attention on Arenadd. No, you do not know. You have much to learn, little shadow. And I must teach you now.
She descended on him, seeming to grow larger with every moment. As she reached out for him, Arenadd’s world-weary calm drained away, and his face grew pale with fear. “No . . . not again! Leave me alone!”
The Night God encircled him. You are mine forever, Arenadd Taranisäii.
Lost in the void, there was no-one to hear his cry.
About the Author
K. J. Taylor was born in Australia in 1986 and plans to stay alive for as long as possible. She went to Radford College and achieved a bachelor’s degree in communications at the University of Canberra before going on to complete a master’s in information studies. She currently hopes to pursue a second career as an archivist.
She published her first work, The Land of Bad Fantasy, through Scholastic when she was just eighteen, and went on to publish The Dark Griffin in Australia and New Zealand five years later. The Griffin’s Flight and The Griffin’s War followed in the same year and were released in America and Canada in 2011.
K. J. Taylor’s real first name is Katie, but not many people know what the J stands for. She collects movie sound tracks and keeps pet rats and isn’t quite as angst-ridden as her books might suggest.
Visit her website at kjtaylor.com.
