The Griffin's Flight

by K J Taylor

  Kraal looked at Erian for the first time. “Rise.”

  Erian did so, saying nothing. He glanced around quickly for any sign of Lady Elkin, but failed to spot her. Returning his gaze to Kraal, he was careful to avoid making eye contact and stared instead at the griffin’s talons. They were huge and pitted, and did nothing to ease his nerves.

  He felt something enormous move just above him and closed his eyes tightly as Kraal brought his beak down and scented him, hot breath ruffling his hair. It lasted for a few heart-stopping moments, as visions of that great beak cracking his skull danced through Erian’s head. Then the white griffin abruptly withdrew and he dared to breathe again.

  “Southerners, are you?” said a voice.

  Erian looked up, surprised, and was in time to see a small figure appear from somewhere beside Kraal, as if she had been hiding in his feathers, which, he thought later, she quite possibly had.

  He looked at her, confused. She was a teenage girl, no older than fifteen or sixteen. Where her partner was huge, she was tiny: Erian could have encircled her waist with his hands. Her face was delicate and pointed, her shape elegant but almost alarmingly fragile. She wore a simple white gown, and her hair was so blonde it nearly matched it.

  She smiled at him. “Hello, Erian, and welcome to my city. I am Lady Elkin.”

  Erian blinked stupidly. “You’re . . . ?”

  The smile widened slightly. “Lady Elkin, yes. Do you want to sit down?”

  “We shall,” Senneck interrupted sharply. “Erian, sit.”

  Erian hastily selected a cushion and sat down on it, cross-legged. Senneck crouched beside him. Kraal, apparently satisfied, stepped up onto the dais and lay down on the rushes. Elkin sat in front of him, nestling between his front paws.

  “Welcome to the North,” she said sweetly. “I’m happy to see you.”

  Senneck glanced at Erian, giving him his cue to speak.

  “Th-thank you,” he stammered. “My lady, Senneck and I are honoured to be here in your lands.”

  “How do you like them?” she asked.

  Erian hesitated. “They’re . . . not what I expected.”

  “Things rarely are,” said Elkin, nodding solemnly. “But do you like them?”

  “I do, my lady,” said Erian. He pulled himself together. “My lady,” he said in his most measured, respectful voice, “Senneck and I have come here from Eagleholm with the inten—”

  She waved him into silence. “I’m glad you like my lands, Erian. I do. Many people don’t like them; they say they’re too cold and barren, and too full of Northerners.”

  She tittered. “I suppose some people would complain that the sea is full of fish. Do you know, some people thought we should destroy them? Kill them all, or make all of them slaves, which isn’t practical, and why should we? It isn’t the North without them, I think, and you get used to them. Anyway”—she fixed him with a suddenly intent look—“I expect you’ve come to work for me.”

  “Wh—yes,” said Erian. “We never swore ourselves to any other Eyrie, but we have chosen to swear ourselves to you, my lady, if you will have us.”

  She sighed. “Many griffiners have already come here to say the same thing. Well, except for the first part, because they were all older than you. Do you know, I think you’re the youngest griffiner we’ve had here apart from me? How old are you?”

  “Uh, sixteen, my lady.”

  Elkin smiled. “Oh! So am I! Isn’t that odd? So, Erian, won’t you tell me about yourself? Where are you from? What was your family like?”

  “Well, I was born in a village near Carrick,” said Erian, feeling unexpectedly flattered to have been asked. “My father was Lord Rannagon Raegonson of Eagleholm.”

  “And your mother?” Elkin interrupted.

  “Oh. She died giving birth to me,” Erian mumbled. “I was raised by my grandparents. And my father—”

  “Wait,” said Elkin. “You are the son of Lord Rannagon, but you weren’t born at Eagleholm?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah!” Her eyes lit up. “Of course! You’re Lord Rannagon’s bastard, aren’t you?”

  Erian winced. “Yes, I am, my lady.”

  “I knew Lord Rannagon,” said Elkin. “Or at least my mother and father did. Many of the griffiners here did. And his sister, too. They were both here once, during Arddryn’s Uprising. There was a rather terrible war. But your father fought very bravely. Lord Anech, who was Eyrie Master before me, wanted him to live here for good, but he said no. He wanted to go home. And then he fathered you.”

  She favoured him with another smile. “And you grew up to be a griffiner, just like him. I expect he was very proud.”

  “He was,” said Erian. “I saw him only once after Senneck chose me. His wife didn’t like me, so she kept away, but my father saw me. He hugged me and told me how happy he was and how he always knew I would become a griffiner, and Senneck said . . .” He trailed off, suddenly aware that he was rambling.

  Elkin was watching him keenly. “Why didn’t you swear yourself to Lady Riona, then? Didn’t she want you?”

  “I never spoke to her myself,” said Erian. “She was very ill. But my father said he was arranging for Senneck and me to swear loyalty to her in her absence. That was the last time I ever spoke to him.”

  “Why?” said Elkin. “Did he change his mind?”

  “No.” Erian felt his throat squeeze in upon itself. “It was the last day of his life. He was murdered that same night.”

  “Oh.” Elkin ran her fingers through her hair, and sighed. “Yes, I see. I did know about that. I never heard the story from anyone who was there, though. Is it true he was killed by another griffiner?”

  “No.” Erian couldn’t stop himself from spitting the word. “A Northerner did it.”

  “But a Northern griffiner,” said Elkin. “There was one at Eagleholm, wasn’t there? My councillors were very unhappy when we heard about it. In fact, we sent a message to Eagleholm about it. We told Lady Riona that letting a Northerner be a griffin’s partner was a very dangerous thing and she should know it better than most, and that if she wanted to protect her lands she should put a stop to it straight away.”

  Erian shook his head. “Everyone at Eagleholm knew it was wrong. Especially my father. But there were a few griffiners there—a few of them took his side, helped protect him. One of them owned the hatchery, and some of the others he worked with liked him. My father says that Lady Riona believed he could be useful and that trying to get rid of him would cause too much trouble. And he was useful, my father said. Did well at every job they gave him, until they made him Master of Trade. There was even talk of putting him on the council. But after his griffin died because he disobeyed orders, he went mad. He blamed my father for what happened, and he killed him.”

  Elkin nodded gravely. “Lady Riona was a good Mistress. I always thought so. But she brought what happened on herself. Northerners weren’t meant to be griffiners, and that isn’t just what I think. It’s against the gods for it to happen.” She frowned. “Don’t get me wrong. I like the Northerners, you know. Some of them are very clever, and they’re good craftsmen. I like their music, too. And those little spirits and things they believe in—it’s interesting to study them. It teaches you so much about what our own people were like before they discovered true religion. But they can’t be griffiners. They’re just not right for it. They’re too simple-minded, they don’t have any understanding of things like law and governance, and they’re too undisciplined. They can’t help it; it’s just in their nature to be that way. But I’ve seen it so many times. Let Northerners govern themselves and they end up killing one another. It’s our duty as griffiners to protect them and look after them, but we can’t ever let them try and join us. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you see.”

  “It isn’t?” said Erian.

  “Oh no,” said Elkin. She fixed him with a pale-green gaze. “It’s happened. Not very often, but it’s happened. Do you know how Ar
ddryn’s Uprising started?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Erian. “A peasant woman called Arddryn incited a rebellion, and her followers took over a couple of cities before they were put down.”

  “That’s the story they all tell,” said Elkin. “But didn’t you ever wonder why so many people wanted to follow her? And why the fighting went on so long?”

  Erian blanched. “She wasn’t a—?”

  “Yes. It was kept quiet, you know,” said Elkin. “Out of shame. Because we here at Malvern let it happen. She lived here once, you know. But one day—well, a griffin chick escaped from the hatchery, you see, and somehow she got her hands on it. She kept it hidden in her house, and it grew up knowing just her. By the time people found out about it, it was attached to her, and it was big enough to escape again when they took it back to the hatchery. Every time they tried, it flew back to her.

  “A pair of griffiners decided to help Arddryn, out of charity, you know, and they gave her the training. Nobody thought anything would come of it. The griffin was obviously mad, and she was only some Northern woman who couldn’t read or write. We thought they would live together as just friends and nothing else would happen. After all, there wasn’t any chance they’d be given status or anything.

  “But it turned out differently than that, didn’t it? Arddryn found out that now she was a sort of griffiner, people wanted to do what she told them to. When she started using that to get things she wanted, Master Anech found out about it and sent the city guard to put a stop to it. But her griffin attacked them, and Arddryn and her griffin flew away before they could be arrested. After that they started moving around the countryside, gathering followers, and that was how the uprising started. And all because Master Anech let a griffin choose a Northerner.” She shook her head sadly. “And now it’s happened again.”

  Erian rubbed his head, unable to hide his shock. “By Gryphus’ talons—so, Riona knew about that?”

  “Of course. We sent to the other cities asking for help, you know, and she was one of those who came, along with her brother Rannagon. They were only young then. Lord Rannagon was the one who tracked Arddryn down and fought her and her griffin—Hyrenna, her name was. That’s why everyone here remembers him so well.” She smiled solemnly at Erian. “And now his son has come.”

  Erian smiled back. He felt warm and happy inside. “The more I learn about my father the prouder I am to be his son,” he said.

  “And so you should be,” said Elkin.

  Kraal had been idly grooming his feathers, apparently uninterested in the conversation. Now he raised his head and looked at Erian. “Lord Rannagon was the catalyst that ended the uprising,” he rumbled. “We in the North owe him a great deal, and I was sorrowful to learn of his death.”

  Erian bowed his head. “Did you know him, Kraal?”

  “I did,” said the white griffin. Close to, Erian saw that his hindquarters were not white but pale gold. Those burnished eyes focused on him. “You look very much like him, Erian.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. It wasn’t the first time he’d been told that, but it made him happy even now.

  Kraal watched him for a moment and then turned to Senneck. “Tell me, young griffin,” he said, “there is something I wish to know.”

  Senneck raised her head, instantly alert. “Ask and I shall tell,” she said promptly. “I am at your command, mighty Kraal.”

  If Kraal had noticed her overeager tone, he gave no sign of it. “The Northerner who murdered Lord Rannagon,” he said. “Rumour has it that he has been caught and killed. Is this true?”

  Senneck flicked her tail. “It is not true, though it pains me to admit it. He has not been seen since the night of the murders, but my human and I believe that he is going north.”

  “North?” Kraal repeated. “What is it that makes you believe this?”

  “We apprehended his parents,” said Senneck. “At Norton, close to the edge of Eagleholm’s lands. They had gone there to meet with him, but he had not come. We interrogated them, and his father finally confessed that his son was going north. I was inclined to believe him. Your lands are the only place he could hope to find sanctuary.”

  Kraal inclined his head. “I believe your judgment was correct, Senneck. Further north there are uncharted lands. The murderer could hide there easily enough, assuming he could pass through our dominions without being apprehended.” He looked at Erian and Senneck. “I thank you both for your warnings. Elkin and I shall warn our officials and the guard in the outlying cities to be watchful.”

  “What’ll happen if he’s caught?” Erian interrupted, unable to stop himself.

  Kraal cast a slow blank look at him—not menacing but somehow far more frightening than anger could ever have been. Erian withered before it.

  “He’ll be brought here,” said Elkin, coming to his rescue. “A criminal as dangerous as that has to be, you know. And then the council shall help us decide what to do with him. It would be a formality, though, of course.”

  “Execution, then?” said Erian, leaning closer without realising he was doing it.

  “Of course,” said Elkin, slightly surprised. “What else? The traitor’s death, most likely.”

  “Could . . .” Erian realised he was sweating. “Could we—?”

  Senneck silenced him with a glare. “We trust in the competence of your underlings, my lady,” she said. “And in your justice. The Cursed One cannot survive long here, and he is a fool if he believes he can find safety in your dominions. After all, your leadership and your power are legend.”

  Elkin straightened up, her demeanour suddenly cool and reserved. But she smiled very slightly at Senneck’s words. “Maybe I’m young,” she said, “but I know how to lead, and Kraal knows more than you can imagine. And you can stay.”

  Erian started. “I’m sorry, my lady?”

  “I said you can stay,” said Elkin. “I like you, Erian, and you, too, Senneck. I think you both have potential, and it makes me happy to know that even though you could have gone anywhere, you chose to come to me. You’ll have to work, of course.”

  “Oh!” said Erian. “Yes, of course, we understand that, and I’d be happy to—”

  “One of my officials needs a new assistant,” Elkin interrupted. “And I think you would be perfect, Lord Erian. You’ll be a lord now, by the way; all my officials are. We’ll have a ceremony for that later.”

  Everything seemed to have slowed down. Erian could feel his heart beating, and hear it, too, so loud it sounded like a massive drum. “My lady,” he breathed. “I—I would be honoured.”

  She smiled that sweet smile again. “You haven’t asked what your work will be.”

  “Oh. What will it be, my lady?”

  “Lord Kerod, the Master of Farms, is the official who needs an assistant. He’ll be your master,” Elkin told him. “He’s a good man, but he really doesn’t know much about farming, you see. Since you grew up on a farm, I think you could be perfect.”

  Erian’s heart sank. “Oh. What would I have to do?”

  “It should be simple enough for you. The villages all have to meet a certain yield every year, and if they’re well below it then you have to go out there and find out why. The Master of Farms has to monitor the villages and come up with new farming methods and send out people to train the peasants in how to use them. It makes it much more efficient. Malvern is the only city to have a Master of Farms, you know. The others prefer to leave the farmers to work it out for themselves, but I think that if you help them it can only help you. Don’t you think so, Erian?”

  “Oh yes!” said Erian, too quickly and much too eagerly. “After all, everyone has to eat, and if you help the farmers then there’ll be more food,” he added, hoping this would sound perceptive.

  It seemed to work. Elkin smiled and nodded. “I’m glad you think so. Many other griffiners don’t take me very seriously, because I’m young. I know you were surprised—you didn’t hide it very well.”

  “I’m
sorry—” Erian began.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Elkin. “Everybody is surprised. I tried to stop people from talking about my age. But, you see, it doesn’t matter. I’m young, but I’m very clever. And Kraal is the strongest griffin in Cymria, you know. He has the strength, and I have the cleverness. We go very well together, I think.” She sounded perfectly matter-of-fact.

  “I am sure you do,” Senneck said smoothly. “After all, a fool or a weakling could not have done what you both have done.”

  Kraal clicked his beak. “You had best be careful, Senneck. My human is vulnerable to flattery.”

  Elkin laughed. “We all are, you know. Even if we hide it. Well, then.” She stood up. “I think we’ve talked long enough. I shall give orders for you two to be given quarters. You’ll take up your duties in two days, once you’ve rested, and we’ll have the lordship ceremony for you later. A feast would be good. I do like a feast, you know. And maybe a dance as well. Would you like that?”

  “Very much,” said Erian. He glanced at Senneck. “Very much, my lady.”

  “I thought you would,” said Elkin.

  20

  One Beat

  Prydwen’s estimate had been an accurate one, and they reached the edge of the mountains within three days of his having made it. Cardock, still at the head of the column of black-robed figures, looked up at the peaks of Y Castell and felt nothing but a kind of dull relief. The last day or so had been thoroughly wearing for everyone, and he kept noticing how the column behind him was straggling. They would need some time to rest before they struck out into the mountains. Cardock had already said as much to Arenadd, and the others had backed him up.

  Cardock had hoped that their talk on the hilltop, brief though it was, had been a sign that Arenadd was getting better and would begin to open up to him again, but he had been wrong. His son remained silent and shut in, unreadable, wrestling with some inner pain that he wouldn’t allow to show through in front of anyone. Cardock suspected that he still cried from time to time when he was alone with Skandar. Perhaps he confided in the griffin, and that thought hurt Cardock more than he would admit. He felt as if he didn’t know Arenadd any more, or at least not the grim, haggard man he had become. The old Arenadd, or Arren as Cardock now thought of him, had never been particularly sociable, but despite what Cardock now knew he had done, he had always been cheerful enough. Lord Arenadd Taranisäii, though, spent his time alone with his new partner, silent and brooding, all cold authority and distance. He had found a spare slave collar in the shed back at Herbstitt and spent a lot of his leisure time with it in his hands, endlessly toying with it, turning it over, examining the hinge and the spikes and the locking mechanism, and occasionally closing it partway but then pulling it apart again before it could lock shut.