The Griffin's Flight

by K J Taylor

  Senneck stepped forward and bowed low to Elkin. She returned the bow and took a pair of enormous gold rings out of a pouch hanging from her shoulder. “Hold out your forelegs, and I shall bestow the signs of honour upon you,” she said.

  Senneck did, and Elkin knelt and snapped the rings into place around her forelegs, just below the knee. Once on they stayed firmly in place, locked shut like a pair of slave collars. But they had no spikes on the inside, and they shone as only gold could.

  “Rise now, Senneck,” said Kraal. “And return to your human.”

  Senneck did, her eyes glittering with pride.

  “Now you are lord and partnered to a lord,” said Kraal. He turned his head to look at the rest of the chamber: at the council and at the other griffiners and griffins all watching. “Now let us welcome them!” he screeched. “Griffin and human both, we are now joined by Senneck Earthwings and her human, Lord Erian Rannagonson! Now let us honour them!”

  The crowd roared its approval.

  Erian, down below them all, could hear them shouting his name and Senneck’s, and felt a fierce pride burning inside him. I am not Erian the Bastard any more, he thought. I am not a peasant. I am Lord Erian. I am a griffiner. I am Lord Erian.

  He felt a gentle touch on his arm and looked up to see Elkin smiling at him. “Welcome,” she said, under the noise of the crowd. “You’re one of us now, Lord Erian. Are you proud?”

  “More than I’ve ever been in my life,” he said.

  “I’m glad,” she said, moving a little closer so he could hear her. “Kerod tells me you’re doing very well. I knew I was right to choose you for that job.”

  Erian felt a strange tightness in his throat. “Elkin—”

  But Elkin had already moved away from him. She stepped back onto her platform with Kraal, and the griffin screeched once again.

  “Now!”

  Silence returned.

  “Now!” Kraal bellowed. “Now the ceremony is done, and we are done. Now let us leave here and return to the open air, so that we may celebrate together. We shall feast in the starlight and fly together and rejoice. Now go!”

  And with that the ceremony was over. The witnesses up on the stands began to leave and the councillors stood, bowed to their two masters, and filed out, too, leaving Erian and Senneck alone with Elkin and Kraal.

  “Thank you, Kraal,” said Erian.

  The white griffin inclined his head without saying anything, but at that moment Erian became deliciously aware that he and Elkin were alone in the same room for the first time since his arrival. She smiled down at him from her platform, and he found himself looking at her, really looking, in a way he had not done before. At the fine, delicate lines of her face and her green eyes, so bright against her pale skin and hair, and the white gown she wore. She was so slight, almost fragile, but her body had a woman’s curves beneath the cloth. And he could smell her, too; a faint flowery scent came from her, left by some perfume she must have anointed herself with back in her chambers, when she was naked . . .

  Erian felt his mouth go dry. “Elkin—”

  The moment ended the instant he spoke. “Lady Elkin,” she corrected. But she inclined her head toward him much as her partner had done, the smile still lingering around her mouth. “My lord Erian Rannagonson, welcome home.” She placed a hand on Kraal’s neck. “We will see you in the garden,” she said, and climbed onto his back. She looked almost lost, nestled among the griffin’s feathers, but there was a surety about the way she sat, and a grace.

  Kraal took off with a quick, powerful blow of his wings, and Erian and Senneck ducked instinctively as he flew upward, circled around the inside of the dome for a few moments, and then swooped down and flew through one of the entrances the assembly had used, folding his wings to fit through but not slowing down for an instant.

  “Well,” Erian said, his voice sounding small and lost in the huge chamber. “It’s done.”

  Senneck nudged him playfully. “Done indeed, my lord Erian. And now we must go to the gardens above and celebrate with your fellow lords and ladies.”

  “Yes. And Elkin.”

  “You should not have spoken to her that way,” Senneck added, more sharply. “She is your Mistress now.”

  Erian nodded vaguely. “She’s just so young—I keep thinking—never mind.”

  Senneck looked down at the rings on her forelegs, tapping them with her beak and admiring their lustre. “Beautiful,” she cooed. “Do you not think so, Erian? They are beautiful.”

  “Oh, yes,” said Erian, not really thinking about it. “Senneck?”

  She raised her head. “Yes?”

  “Why do griffins choose humans?” said Erian. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time, and I don’t think I understand.”

  “Why should we not choose humans?” said Senneck.

  “Well, you’re griffins,” said Erian. “You’re strong, you’re intelligent, you have magic. You’re so much more powerful than we are. Why would you care about us? Why carry us around and live with us? What does a human even have to offer a griffin?”

  Senneck clicked her beak. “Erian. My poor silly little human. Do you not know?”

  “No, I don’t. I just don’t understand why you put up with us. You’re always telling me how stupid and weak I am, and sometimes I wonder why you even need me.” It came out in a rush. “I feel useless, Senneck. Weak. I don’t know anything, but you know everything. So why? Why me?”

  “Come,” said Senneck. “Let us walk. We should follow the others to the rooftop.”

  “Are you going to tell me why?” Erian persisted as they walked away from the platform.

  Senneck walked in silence for a time, her head bobbing slightly with each step. “Erian Rannagonson,” she said at last, “you have known griffins for a long time. What have you seen in us?”

  “That you’re magnificent creatures,” said Erian. “Better than humans.”

  She chirped. “Flatter me, if you wish. No. We are vain, Erian. Think carefully. You and I live side by side. I give you my help, my favour, and in return you feed me, clean my nest, bring me water, compliment me, do everything you can simply to please me. We are not like your kind, Erian. We are not interested in riches or possessions or friendship. Our wants are simple, and by living with humans we are given all we could wish for. We have warm homes that we do not have to build ourselves, food we do not have to hunt, treatment for our wounds and illnesses. And by choosing a human, we may have power and respect as well. These rings”—she tapped them again—“are the symbols of all I want, and without you I could never have them.”

  “Yes, but why humans?” said Erian. “Couldn’t you just take everything you want and ignore us, or kill us?”

  Senneck stopped in the doorway leading out of the chamber. “I have never understood human beings,” she said abruptly. “And why you despise yourselves so much. Turn and look back.”

  Erian did. “What should I be looking at?”

  “At everything,” said Senneck. “Do you see it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Be silent and look.”

  Erian obeyed. The silence drew out, and he took in the painted dome, the shields and spears that hung from the walls below the seats. It must have taken years to build.

  “It was not griffins that made this chamber,” Senneck said softly.

  The top of the tower, where Senneck had first landed, had been transformed for the celebratory feast. Long tables had been set up and covered in dishes of fine foods, interspersed with elaborate flower decorations. Braziers were burning brightly at the top of long poles placed into recesses cut into the stone, illuminating hundreds of men, women and griffins mingling freely. The humans helped themselves to food from the tables, while a line of freshly slaughtered sheep had been laid out for the griffins.

  Erian pointed them out to Senneck. “It looks like the others are going to eat them all before too long. You should hurry if you want some.”

  “I w
ould like to, but I shall stay with you,” said Senneck. “No doubt more will be brought out later, and for now I should be with you. If I appeared to be more interested in food than in staying by you, it would look . . . unimpressive.”

  Erian hid a smile. “Of course.”

  They went in among the crowd, and Erian started to look for Elkin. He found her easily enough, with Kraal beside her, talking to some of her councillors. He wanted to go over to her, but the chances of that were next to nonexistent and became even more so when Kerod appeared.

  “There you are!” he said cheerily. “Eekrae and I were wondering where you’d got to.”

  Erian tried to look past him toward Elkin. “Hello. Yes, Senneck and I were just—”

  Kerod moved to the left, unwittingly blocking his assistant’s view. “Well,” he said, holding out a hand, “congratulations, Erian. Or Lord Erian, I should say. You did well at the ceremony. You’ve done well at everything since you got here, I’d say.”

  Erian tugged briefly at Kerod’s fingers. “Thank you,” he said, forcing himself to smile and look directly at the old man. “Senneck and I are very proud. This is everything we’ve always wanted.”

  “Except for the part where you had to read eighty-nine letters sent in from Nowhere Village, eh?” Kerod cackled. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that, actually.”

  “You have?” said Erian. He was already desperate to get away but knew he should stay where he was lest he insult his master.

  “We both have,” said Kerod. “Eekrae and I, that is. You may remember the first time we met, and I said you and I should go hunting some day. Eekrae and I—he’s over there, with the sheep, by the way—think it’s time we made good on that. What do you say, Erian? Shall we go tomorrow? It would be a good way to celebrate your lordship, and we know a good place. What do you think?”

  “Oh.” Erian’s mind raced as he tried to recall what had just been said to him. “Oh, well, I suppose so. Yes, of course. I mean, I’d love to.”

  “We both would,” Senneck added smoothly.

  Kerod grinned. “That’s wonderful. I’ll expect you to be up here at dawn tomorrow, so try not to drink too much, eh?”

  “Of course not,” said Erian.

  “Good, good. I for one wouldn’t mind having a look at the eats over there, so if you’ll excuse me.”

  Kerod wandered off.

  “Good gods he’s annoying,” Erian muttered once he’d gone. “I really wish he’d stop trying to be my friend like that.”

  “I question Lady Elkin’s ability to choose the finest officials,” said Senneck, “if that is the best she could find to be Master of Farms. He cares more for hunting than for his duties.”

  “I’m sure she had her reasons,” said Erian. “Maybe he was more interested before, and she thought he’d be like that forever.” He realised he was being unduly defensive and shrugged to cover it. “I’m sure we can make certain the work gets done properly, anyway.”

  “No doubt,” said Senneck. “Now, we should—”

  But another lord had already wandered over to them. “Welcome to Malvern, my lord Erian. I hope you do well here.”

  Erian didn’t recognise him. “Oh. Thank you, I don’t believe we’ve—”

  “Lord Dahl, Master of Taxation,” said the griffiner. “My partner, Raekri, isn’t far away; she was hungry. Now, Lord Kerod tells me you’ve been made his assistant?”

  “Uh, yes, uh—”

  “Excellent. You really should meet a few people. Here, come with me.”

  After that, Erian found himself swept up in an endless parade of greetings and platitudes poured on him by a series of benign but uninterested faces, each one attached to a name he forgot almost instantly. Lords and ladies and griffins, some with official positions and some without. He did his best, smiling and nodding and answering their questions about himself and his background, and trying to take in everything they told him.

  In the end, though, he slid into a kind of trance from which he did not awaken until Dahl said, “And this is Lady Arden, the Master of Trade.”

  Erian froze. “What?”

  The red-haired lady in front of him smiled. “Pleased to meet you, Lord Erian. Tell me, is it true that you are Lord Rannagon’s son?”

  Erian pulled himself together. “I have that honour, my lady. So, tell me,” he added, once they had tugged fingers. “Did I just hear you say you were the Master of Trade?”

  She laughed. “That was Lord Dahl, actually. I suppose Mistress of Trade wouldn’t sound proper. Now, Erian, I’m interested to hear about your parentage. I wasn’t aware that Lord Rannagon had any sons. Where were you born?”

  Erian’s heart sank, but the instant he opened his mouth to reply a deafening screech cut across the conversations going on around him.

  The guests fell silent at once, and he saw them backing away from the point where the screech had come from. For an instant he thought a fight had broken out, but then he saw Kraal standing at the centre of a rapidly expanding ring of empty ground.

  “My lords and ladies!” said Elkin, once again appearing beside him as if by magic. “It is time!” She raised a hand, and the little group of musicians that had been playing by the tables moved to the edge of the ring and settled down.

  Elkin scanned the crowd. “Lord Erian,” she called. “Come forward!”

  Erian needed no prompting from Senneck this time. He all but shoved his way past the people standing between him and Elkin, until he had reached the edge of the ring, and then he stepped into it. “Here I am, my lady.”

  Elkin favoured him with her smile. “My lord,” she said, holding her hand out toward him, palm uppermost. “Would you honour me with a dance?”

  Erian took her hand. “The honour would be mine, my lady,” he said, aware of all the onlookers.

  “Then let us begin,” said Elkin, and before he knew it the musicians launched into “The Lordly Peasant,” and she linked her arm with his and began the dance.

  Erian felt giddy, but he knew the dance, and after a moment’s stumbling he slipped into the proper rhythm of the steps, and he and Elkin danced alone at the centre of the circle.

  But only for a brief time. The onlookers, having allowed the Mistress to begin, moved into the circle and joined the dance. Soon nearly every human there had found a partner, while a few stayed by the tables and watched, and the griffins moved back and settled down to eat or groom.

  The ceremonial outfit made dancing awkward. Erian could feel the long feathers hanging from his back and shoulders weighing him down, and a constant fear nagged at him that they would catch on something and break, but he ignored the thought and put all his efforts into dancing as well as he could. “The Lordly Peasant” was a fast tune, and keeping up with it was no easy task; he mentally thanked the gods that he had practised the steps in private.

  But Elkin made a good partner. Even though she was a head shorter than him, she was stronger than she looked and quick on her feet. And even though Erian had never liked dancing, his heart was singing. All the secret fantasies he had had about this night were coming true.

  The first dance ended, and they launched into “Dance of the Griffins.” Most of the other dancers chose new partners, but Elkin made no move to let go of Erian’s arm. Nor did she part with him during the third dance. By the fourth, however, she moved on to a different partner, leaving Erian with a feeling of mingled elation and disappointment.

  He danced with several different women after that, some better than others, but all the while he found himself looking for Elkin. She had disappeared among the mass of twirling figures, and he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her pale hair anywhere.

  Night drew in and the stars came out. Eventually the moon rose. By then Erian had danced several dances, and he was sweating and exhausted when he finally excused himself and went over to the tables to eat something.

  He helped himself to some bread and cheese and a roasted chicken leg, and picked some strayberries out of
a bowl. Jugs of drink had been laid out as well, so he poured himself a cupful and unwisely downed it in a few mouthfuls without tasting it first.

  It turned out to be strong iced wine, and he put the cup down and started coughing. Moments later his stomach lurched, and he grabbed hold of the table to support himself. His head was spinning.

  Idiot! he berated himself. But he had a second cup anyway, to steady his nerves. That made him feel a little better, and he had some more to eat before tackling a third cupful.

  He wondered where Senneck was, and then dismissed the thought with a shrug. Doubtless she was enjoying herself with the other griffins. She didn’t need him for now.

  He finished the third cup and stifled a yawn. The wine had made him feel pleasantly warm and contented, and he eyed the nearest jug and wondered if he should risk having some more.

  “My lord?”

  Erian turned. “Hm? What? Oh!”

  Elkin had appeared behind him, smiling. “There you are,” she said. “I was looking for you.”

  “Oh,” Erian said again. “I—uh—hello, my lady.”

  She held out her arm. “Will you honour me with the next dance, my lord?”

  Erian smiled and accepted the arm. “Of course.”

  Elkin led him onto the dance floor as the musicians struck up a slow tune that he recognised as “The Flowers of the Field.” This was a dance he didn’t know.

  Elkin took his hands in hers. “Come,” she said.

  Erian was nervous for an instant, but the wine boosted his confidence. He let her lead him into the dance, and watched the others around him to try and pick up the steps. He stumbled a few times, but Elkin helped him keep up.

  “This is my favourite dance,” she confided as she moved in close to him.

  “I like it, too,” Erian said and grinned back.

  And even though he hated dancing, it was the truth.

  The dance seemed to go on for a long time, and when it was over Erian said, “Do you want to go and have something to eat?”

  Elkin paused. “Of course. Why not?”