by K J Taylor
“Not have magic,” Skandar mumbled.
Arenadd bowed his head to the griffin and smiled. “If you say so, Skandar. Now, excuse me a moment—”
But as he turned back to look at Cardock’s body, all his serenity vanished as abruptly as it had come. His strength left him, too, without any warning, and he dropped to his knees.
“Dad—”
And then he was crying, crying harder than he had done in weeks, his whole body shaking with sobs—not the half-swallowed sobs that he had allowed himself those few nights when guilt had overcome him, but great, gulping, shuddering sounds that gave him physical pain. He managed to raise himself a little, but collapsed again beside his father’s resting place, grasping one of the cold hands and holding it close.
Skade did not try to interfere. She kept back and silently watched him cry, knowing there was nothing she could or should do.
Arenadd did not stop crying for a long time. Eventually, though, he found he could speak.
“Dad,” he sobbed. “Dad, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I know there were so many things . . . wanted me to be, but I was . . . let you down, said all those things I shouldn’t have ... on my birthday. When you brought me the robe, and I wouldn’t put it on, and I said those things—but I’m not ashamed, Dad, I’m not, I’m not. I’ll never feel that way again, I swear. I’ll lead them to the North; I’ll keep them safe, I swear. I’ll keep them all safe.” That seemed to calm him. The sobs died down and he rested his head on the edge of the bed, still clasping his father’s hand. “I’ll keep them safe, Dad,” he said again. “I swear it. I’ll find Mum and set her free, I’ll tell her what happened and I’ll make the North my home. Always. I swear.”
24
Dancing in the Dark
The ceremony that would mark Erian’s appointment to lordship took place about two weeks after his and Senneck’s arrival at Malvern. Erian had spent most of that time working under Lord Kerod, who had become even more open and friendly toward him since their first meeting. Erian had followed Senneck’s advice and said nothing about the wasted afternoon in the office, and that appeared to have done the trick; Kerod made no reference to it the next day and gave Erian the legitimate job of sorting through a stack of farmers’ letters full of complaints and suggestions. That was a little more interesting, at least.
Erian had hoped for another meeting with Elkin during that time, and once or twice he thought of applying for another audience with her, but he didn’t have to talk to Senneck to know it wouldn’t work. Even though he found himself thinking of her almost constantly, Elkin had duties and so did he, and she would be irritated if he wasted her time simply because he wanted to see her again.
When the message arrived to let him know that he would be officially anointed as a lord in three days’ time, he felt his heart soar.
“I thought she’d forgotten,” he told Senneck. “I really did.”
“Evidently, she did not,” said Senneck. She hooted. “Erian, my little human, our fortunes are improving all the time. Soon you shall be a lord, and when you are married—”
“What?” said Erian. “Married?”
“But of course,” Senneck said coolly. “That is what humans do, is it not? And I am sure that there is another griffiner here who will be willing to marry you, bastard born or not.”
“But that’s a long time away, isn’t it?” said Erian. “I mean, we don’t know when I’ll meet the girl who’s right for me.”
“Erian, we are here to look for more than what your race calls ‘true love,’ ” said Senneck, a hint of impatience showing in her voice. “We are here to find a place for ourselves, to secure our future together.”
“Well, we’re secure now, aren’t we?” said Erian. “We’ve got a home and a job—isn’t that enough?” He caught the whine in his voice, and winced to himself.
“I have already made it clear that I will not allow my partner to remain in as lowly a position as you are now,” Senneck said tartly. “You have made a good beginning, but more is needed. The correct marriage can win you wealth and property and greater standing here.”
Erian’s heart sank. “I just hadn’t really ... thought of it yet.”
“Do not trouble yourself overmuch,” Senneck said more kindly. “All I ask is that you be alert. At the celebrations talk to as many females as you can and learn as much about their backgrounds as they will allow.”
Erian nodded vaguely. I can see Elkin again there, he thought. Maybe she’ll dance with me. I should do some practice first.
The next few days dragged. Erian fidgeted at his desk and often caught himself daydreaming, which Kerod noticed and teased him for. But the old man had congratulated him sincerely enough when Erian had passed on the news. At least he didn’t seem to resent the fact that an acknowledged bastard was about to be given the title of lord.
As for Senneck, she maintained her usual reserve most of the time, but Erian knew her well enough by now to see how proud she was. After that first day, she had “flown” with Eekrae twice more, after which the two griffins abruptly ceased to show any further interest in each other. If Senneck was going to lay eggs she hadn’t said anything about it, and Erian hadn’t asked. Either way, the entire affair had served to make her even more self-assured than before. But she was happy here, and Erian knew it.
And then, at last, the day came. Erian rose at dawn, as usual, and brought Senneck some food. He had used some of the modest amount of money he had been granted by the Eyrie to have a new outfit made, and it had arrived the day before. He looked at it while he ate breakfast, and longed to try it on again. The ceremony wouldn’t be until sunset, but his heart was already thumping.
That day felt like one of the longest of his life. He spent most of the morning at work in Kerod’s office, but after lunch the old man said, “That’s it for today. I’m thinking you and Senneck probably want to spend some time alone before the ceremony. Big step for you, eh?”
Erian nodded gladly. “More than I can say, my lord.”
“Kerod, please. Well, there’s no need to trouble yourself with trying. See you tonight!”
Senneck had been dozing by the door but roused herself when Erian got up from the desk. The two of them returned to their quarters, where Erian put on the simple harness that would help him stay secure on Senneck’s back. He did up the straps around her head and neck. She submitted patiently, though her wings kept quivering in anticipation, and a few moments later the two of them were in the air.
Talking during flight had never been practical, but Erian knew that this wasn’t a time for it anyway. Senneck soared upward into the sky, and he hung on, heart fluttering, but at the same time filled with a wonderful sense of lightness and power.
And after that, they flew.
Senneck circled over the Eyrie, weaving her way between the towers wherever the mood suited her, while other griffins soared and dived around her, flying not with a purpose but simply for the pleasure of it, as all griffins loved to do.
“The air was meant for griffins,” Senneck had once told him. “It is we who are masters of the sky, and like all griffiners, you are privileged to share it with us.”
Erian held on to the harness, the wind whipping through his hair, and watched the towers rush past. The sky was bright blue and looked endless, streaked with a few clouds the colour of Elkin’s hair. It goes to the end of the world, he thought deliriously.
Senneck flew among the towers for a time, looping and diving occasionally, just for the sake of it, and then abruptly wheeled and flew out over the city instead. Fewer griffins flew there, and she had the sky more or less to herself. She flew lower, and Erian could see the streets below, alive with the shapes of people, all tiny and seemingly oblivious to their presence. And though they were so far away, Erian had the strange feeling that he could reach out and pick them up with his bare hands. He felt like a god.
Senneck’s wings beat steadily behind him, and he looked back and watched the way they move
d: held out rigidly from her sides, twisting slightly to steady her in the air. Further back her tail made a straight line, the feathery rudder at its tip tilting to one side as she began a gentle turn.
Not for the first time, Erian marvelled at her strength. But she was graceful, too, he thought. She could tear down a tree with a few blows, and yet she could ride the wind like a leaf. The most perfect creature there ever was, he thought. And she chose to share all that strength with me.
The thought made him feel peaceful, but awed as well.
Senneck flew on, and Erian began to lose track of time, lost in thoughts of her, and of other things: his father, his mother, his old home and his new one, and Elkin, too.
He roused himself when he felt Senneck begin a sharp turn, and saw that she was flying back toward the Eyrie. He looked at the sun and suddenly realised that more time had passed than he had thought. The sun had sunk close to the horizon, which had begun to take on the faintest of yellow tinges. It would be time very soon.
Senneck had obviously realised that, too. She flew directly back to their quarters and landed on the balcony. “Quickly,” she said as soon as her talons had touched down. “Remove the harness and go and prepare. I shall groom myself here.”
Erian, his heart pounding once again, took off the harness as quickly as he could. “Do you think you can remember the way to the councillors’ chamber?” he asked.
“Of course. Now go!”
Erian nodded and hung the harness on a nail before running into his own chamber. The new outfit was still laid out on the bed where he’d left it. He stripped off his clothes and gave himself a quick wash with a sponge and some cold water. That done, he dried himself off, dabbed some scented oil on his chest and under his arms, and brushed his hair until it was as neat as he could make it.
Then he put on the new outfit. It was an elaborate affair, richer and grander than the velvets he had filched from Norton. This was a true ceremonial outfit, of the kind worn only by griffiners, and then only on very important occasions. The tunic was made of velvet dyed a rich gold-brown to match Senneck’s feathers, and the leggings were wool of the same colour. The front of the tunic had been covered by a large patch of fox fur dyed blue, which hung down beyond the garment and reached to the level of his knees. Higher up, hundreds of tawny griffin feathers donated by Senneck had been stitched onto the fabric, and the shoulders and sleeves were weighed down by longer feathers taken from her wings, which hung down his back like a cloak.
Erian put the tunic on very carefully and smoothed it down. He felt magnificent.
Only one thing remained. He took a small jar from the desk and used some of the red paste it contained to draw a series of lines on his forehead just above his eyes, ancient signs of nobility that had survived since the oldest times of his tribal ancestors.
Senneck, her fur and feathers smooth and well ordered, entered just as he finished.
Erian turned to look at her. “How do I look?”
She looked him up and down. “Like a true griffiner.”
He smiled. “And you look as magnificent as you always do.” Senneck purred. “Well, then,” she said, “I suppose it is time we left.”
“Yes, you’re right,” said Erian. “Time for us to take our place.”
“Yes,” said Senneck. “Our honoured place.”
The corridors seemed very quiet when they set out. Erian wondered if every griffiner in the tower had gone to the council chamber. Would they all be there waiting for him?
They had both had the sense to make sure they knew the way to the chamber beforehand, and now they followed the route Kerod had first shown them at Senneck’s suggestion. Up a flight of stairs, around a corner, over the bridge linking their tower to the central and largest of Malvern’s towers, which they now knew as the Council’s Tower, and downward until they were on the middle floor, where the tower was much broader. A single corridor girdled the circular tower, with large double doors spaced along the inner wall. Normally these were kept closed. Today, they were open.
Erian and Senneck stopped at the first one they reached, and Erian leant forward slightly to peer through. The space inside looked massive. He could already hear the faint murmur of voices beyond, hundreds of voices.
“Senneck, what do I do?” he hissed.
He expected her to be impatient with him for asking such a foolish-sounding question, but she sat down on her haunches beside him and lowered her head, pressing it against his head and shoulder. Her feathers were warm and soft on his skin, and her voice was the same. “Do not be afraid, my human,” she breathed. “You have the blood of great warriors, and their courage is in you. I am by your side, and I shall not leave you. Now come. Let us face our destiny, side by side, as it was meant to be.”
Erian wanted to bury his face in her feathers, but he forced himself to stand up straight and square his shoulders. “Yes. I’m ready. Let’s go, Senneck. Together.”
And he stepped through the door and into the council chamber.
The chamber was round, like the tower that housed it, and cavernous. It had a great domed roof, hundreds of feet high, covered in wood panelling that had been painted with clouds, stars and suns. Great griffins wove in among them, elegant and elongated, their wings painted in every colour of the rainbow, beaks open to breathe columns of bright magic.
The walls of the chamber were lined with benches placed in sloping rows, as if the chamber was an arena where an audience could come to watch the slaughter below them. But this audience looked down at a wide area of flat ground, where the councillors sat on a ring of benches. At the centre of that was a large wooden platform, cut into the shape of a great sun and painted gold, on which the Mistress and her partner stood.
Somehow, Erian had expected there to be a lot of noise when he and Senneck entered, but that was the very opposite of what happened. The chamber had been full of sound—people talking, griffins stirring and rasping at each other—but the instant the two of them appeared, absolute silence fell.
A thousand eyes turned toward them.
Erian faltered when he saw them, but only briefly. Senneck half-raised her wings and let out a great screech. “Senneck! Senneck! Senneck!”
Beside her, Erian raised his own face to the ceiling. “Erian!” he bellowed. “Erian! Erian!” The chamber erupted. Every single griffin and griffiner there responded, crying out their own names, every voice melding with its fellows’ until even that great space vibrated with it.
The noise was so intense that it hurt Erian’s ears; he nearly covered them with his hands, and only a strong effort of will held him back. But the cacophony did not last forever, because at that moment, the massive white griffin standing on the sun-shaped platform opened his own beak wide and screamed.
“Kraal!” As if by magic, every voice was silenced. Kraal cried his name again, and beside him Elkin did the same, her own voice thin and pathetic compared to his, but Erian heard it all the same.
Then they fell silent, and Kraal turned his great golden eyes on Senneck and Erian. “Come,” he rumbled. “Senneck of Eagleholm, come to me.”
“Come,” Elkin echoed. “Erian Rannagonson, come to me.”
At the sound of her voice, all of Erian’s fear left him. He forgot the hundreds of griffiners staring at him, forgot the stern eyes of the council, and walked toward Elkin, feeling light-headed but exhilarated. Kraal stood by her, of course, as huge as always, but Erian didn’t notice him much, either. At that moment, only Elkin existed for him.
Elkin wore a gown decorated in the same manner as his own outfit, but pure white adorned with blue sapphires. Her hair had been neatly brushed and set with pearls, but she wore it loose in the manner of a virgin, and her smile toward him was sweet. “Welcome, Erian,” she said, for the whole chamber to hear. “Welcome.”
Erian’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to reach out to her, but he remembered what was required of him and knelt before her, while beside him Senneck folded her forelegs and
touched her beak to the ground.
Kraal spoke first. “Senneck of Eagleholm,” he intoned, “whose power is of stone and earth. I, Kraal, Master of the Eyrie of Malvern, ask you your purpose and your desire.”
“Mighty Kraal,” Senneck replied, not raising her head. “Kraal whose power is of purity and majesty, I come to your nest with the purpose and desire to serve and to honour. I come without design upon your mates, your food or your territory, and do swear loyalty all my days to you, who shall be my Master always.”
Now Elkin spoke. “Erian Rannagonson of Eagleholm,” she said, “whose birth is noble and whose nature is likewise. I, Elkin, Mistress of the Eyrie of Malvern, ask you your purpose and your desire.”
Erian took a deep breath. “My lady Elkin,” he said. “Elkin who is Mistress of Malvern, I come to your home with the purpose and desire to serve and to honour. I come without design on your wealth or your power, or with the desire to harm you or your realm, and do swear loyalty all my days to you, who shall be my Mistress always.”
Elkin gave a small smile and laid a hand on Kraal’s shoulder. Human and griffin stood tall and spoke in unison.
“Do you both swear this, in the name of Gryphus of the Day Eye, who is the god of all life?”
“This we swear in his holy name,” Erian and Senneck said as one.
“Then you have sworn yourselves to us and to Malvern, and shall be friend and follower to us both, and to the council we lead,” Elkin and Kraal replied.
The two of them separated and stepped down from the platform. Elkin came to Erian and laid her hand on his head. Her touch was soft and delicate, and sent a hot thrill through his body. “Rise now as the sun with the dawn, my lord Erian of Malvern,” she said.
Kraal touched his beak to Senneck’s head. “Rise as the Day Eye opens, Senneck of Malvern, and be blessed.”
Erian and Senneck rose as one.
“Senneck,” said Kraal. “You have chosen a Master as you chose a human, and in both things you have chosen well. Come forward now, and my human shall honour you.”
