by K J Taylor
Saeddryn looked up at him. “He’s magnificent.”
“He’s my best friend,” said Arenadd. He looked keenly at her. “You know griffins? You obviously know griffish.”
She nodded. “Some of us speak it a little.”
“How? Who taught you?”
Saeddryn was looking at Skade. “I trust ye, Arenadd. Ye’re a Taranisäii, one of us. But who are ye, Southerner?”
“Skade of Withypool,” said Skade. She clicked her teeth nervously. “I come in peace, without designs on your territory, your mates or your food.”
Saeddryn snickered. “What does that mean?”
Skade glared at her. “I come in peace,” she repeated. “I am no threat.”
“She can be trusted,” Arenadd put in hastily. “Skade is an outcast. We met while I was on my way here, and she helped me.”
“Outcast?” said Saeddryn. “Why? What was it ye did, Skade?”
“I killed a man,” said Skade. “More than one.”
Saeddryn hissed to herself. “A murderer, then, is it?”
“They had killed someone close to me,” Skade snapped. “He was a Northerner, like yourself. A slave. I was his friend, and I tried to set him free, but he was murdered. In revenge, I killed the ones who killed him. Now I have no home, but Arenadd brought me to hide with him here.”
“It’s the truth,” said Arenadd.
Saeddryn still looked suspicious, but apparently deciding that she was satisfied for the time being, she turned to Arenadd. “Tell me about yerself. Why have ye come here? Why did ye leave? Why are ye with a griffin?”
Arenadd chewed his lip. “How much do you know? About Eagleholm? About what happened there?”
“Rumours. It’s said something happened, some kind of disaster,” said Saeddryn. “Some said it was an attack from Canran.” She shook her head. “We go unnoticed, but that means we don’t know much of what’s happenin’ in the South. What d’ye know about it?”
Skade gave him a warning glance. “Arenadd, we should be cautious.”
“No, Skade. She’s a friend.” Arenadd looked at Saeddryn. “At least, I hope you are.”
“A Taranisäii is always a friend to another Taranisäii,” said Saeddryn. “Tell me yer story, Arenadd.”
She sat still, watching him intently, and Arenadd told her everything from the beginning. He told her about his life in Eagleholm, Rannagon’s plot, the death of Eluna, his persecution at Rannagon’s hands and the pact with Skandar, and finally gave an account of how he had come back for revenge. He left out the fall from the edge of the city and its consequences.
Saeddryn stayed silent the whole time, but an expression of shock quickly appeared on her face, and deepened every moment.
“. . . and I set fire to the room to help me escape,” continued Arenadd, “and Skandar and I flew away. Later on I found out the entire Eyrie burned down, and dozens of griffiners died, including the Mistress.”
Saeddryn rubbed her hands over her face. “Ye destroyed the Eyrie?”
“Yes. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”
“An’ ye killed Lord Rannagon.”
“Yes.”
Saeddryn looked up. “How do I know ye’re tellin’ the truth?”
“Here.” Arenadd took his sword from his back. “Here, look.”
Saeddryn took it and laid it across her lap, examining the blade and the bronze hilt with its pattern of flying griffins.
“Lord Rannagon’s sword,” said Arenadd. “I took it from his body.”
Saeddryn fingered the sword, apparently deep in thought. “So,” she said at length. “So, now ye’ve come here, then. Ye destroyed an Eyrie, ye and this griffin, an’ ye murdered Lord Rannagon.”
Arenadd shivered. “Yes. Afterward I knew I had to find somewhere to hide, and fast, and this was the only place I could think of to come.”
“An’ Caedmon?” said Saeddryn. “How did ye meet him?”
“It was at Herbstitt . . .” Arenadd, feeling decidedly uneasy now, briefly told the tale of his capture and the escape of the slaves, and how he had led them to Guard’s Post and overrun it with their help. “And afterward I knew they deserved a reward, and I couldn’t very well bring them with me, so I set them free and told them to go wherever they wanted.”
“Ye freed them?”
“Yes, including Caedmon. I found a way to break the collars off. Afterward Caedmon told me he was a Taranisäii, and he said that I should come here to be safe. That was the last time I saw him.”
Saeddryn stood up abruptly. “Ye an’ Caedmon . . .”
Arenadd stood, too. “I did what I thought was—oof!”
Without any warning, Saeddryn had dropped the sword and taken him in a fierce embrace. He tried to break free, but she held on, squeezing all the breath out of him, and then she kissed him on both cheeks, again and again.
There was an offended screech from Skandar and a shout from Skade. “What are you doing?”
Saeddryn let go and backed off hastily. “Forgive me,” she said, bright-eyed. “Forgive me for not trusting ye, Arenadd, an’ forgive me for not givin’ ye the welcome ye deserved.”
Arenadd dabbed at his face. “It’s all right. I wouldn’t have expected anything else.”
“But ye’re welcome,” said Saeddryn, still completely ignoring Skade and Skandar. “Ye’re more’n welcome. After what ye’ve done . . .” She shook her head. “Come. Come with me. Ye’ve come so far—my home is yer own. Come with me. I’ll give ye new clothes an’ we can burn that foul rag yer wearin’, an’ ye’ll have food an’ a bed an’ anythin’ else ye need. An’ tomorrow I’ll take ye to the circle myself, so ye can see it.”
“What about my friends?” said Arenadd.
Saeddryn favoured both Skade and Skandar with a brief smile. “Friends of yers are friends of mine. Skandar,” she said, speaking griffish now and bowing, “Skandar, this place is yours, an’ I will be honoured to have you here. You’ll be brought meat an’ clean straw an’ anythin’ else you need.”
Skandar clicked his beak. “Human speak.”
“Yes, Skandar, she’s a friend,” said Arenadd. “She’ll bring you food.”
“Not stay,” the griffin hissed. “Not live here. We go. Mountain.”
“Yes, tomorrow, as we agreed,” said Arenadd. “Just for tonight we can sleep here, all right? And Saeddryn will bring food, lots of food, just for you.”
“A whole deer,” Saeddryn put in. “Killed just today. All for you, Skandar.”
Skandar leapt down from his perch, making the floorboards shudder violently. “Food?”
“Food and straw,” said Arenadd. “And then tomorrow we’ll go to the mountains.”
Saeddryn nodded. “Good. Now, Arenadd, ye come with me into the house, an’ ye, Skade—”
Skandar screeched. “Not go!”
Arenadd moved closer to him. “Look, I’m sorry, but I really should stay here with him. He’s not used to being indoors, and he tends to get worked up if I’m not there. He’s come a long way, carrying two people—he’s at the end of his strength.”
Saeddryn nodded stiffly. “As ye wish. Stay here, then, and I’ll bring food and clothes.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s a small thing to ask,” said Saeddryn. She bowed to them all and left.
Once she’d gone, Arenadd heaved a deep sigh. “Well, that was . . . unexpected.”
Skade gave the door a narrow-eyed look. “I do not trust her.”
“What’s she going to do?” said Arenadd. “Call the guards? Don’t be ridiculous. There can’t be more than fifty people living in this village, and they wouldn’t dare attack us with Skandar here. Anyway, if she wanted to kill me she could have done it twice by now.”
“Not like,” said Skandar.
“Skandar, you don’t like anybody,” said Arenadd. “And I think you’ll like Saeddryn a lot more after she brings you food.” He noticed the look Skade was giving him. “Oh, don’t do that, Skade. This is a go
od thing! We found Eitheinn without being caught or seen, and what’s more we’ve found exactly the right person. We’ve got an ally now—probably more than one—and we’ve got shelter and food. There’s no griffiners about. This is the perfect place for us to hide.”
“But this stone circle,” said Skade. “Why is she so intent on taking you there?”
“It’s an important place,” said Arenadd. “To us. I want to see it. And I have a feeling that those rebels Caedmon mentioned might be hiding up there; Saeddryn obviously thinks we’ve come to join them.”
“Which we have not,” said Skade.
“They could help us,” said Arenadd. “Think about it, Skade; if griffiners ever come here looking for us, we’ll need help if we’re going to hide from them. Have you thought of that? And besides, I can’t stay here. Can I, Skandar?”
“Not stay,” the griffin agreed. “You, me, go mountains.”
“And me?” said Skade. “What about me? Where shall I go?”
Arenadd stared at her, caught off guard. “Uh, well, where do you want to go?”
Skade hissed. “Do not mock me.”
“I wasn’t mocking you; I wanted to know,” said Arenadd.
“Not come,” said Skandar.
They both looked at him.
“What, Skandar?” said Arenadd.
The griffin moved forward, thrusting his beak at Skade. “Female not come. Not want her. She stay, not come. I go to mountains, take human with me. Take Arren. Not take her.”
“What?” said Arenadd. “Skandar, why?”
“Not like silver human,” said Skandar. “Arren friend, magic human. Show me where go. You say if I fly here, bring female, I have mountain. Have mountain now.”
Skade had gone pale. “You told him to bring me?” she said to Arenadd.
“Arren tell,” Skandar confirmed. “Arren say, ‘You bring female, I show you the way, we go mountain. You, me, live together.’ You say fly, I fly. You say fight, I fight. Now you give me what I want, you do what I say, human.”
Arenadd’s heart sank.
“Have mountains now,” Skandar said arrogantly. “Now they mine. My territory. You come. Tomorrow.”
“And the female stays behind,” Skade finished. She gave Skandar a deathly look. “So now the mystery is solved. I wondered, for a long time.”
“So did I,” said Arenadd.
“Yes. That a griffin of his size and power—a wild griffin—would do what a mere human told him, and refrain from eating other humans—” Skade spat. “So, that was your great power. The mutterings of some spirits, and a promise you intended to break. And tomorrow our time together comes to an end.”
Arenadd reached out to her. “Skade—”
Skade turned her back on him and went to sit on a heap of straw in the corner, well away from him. Arenadd watched her unhappily but couldn’t think of anything to say.
Skandar didn’t appear to care either way. “Come now,” he said, and shepherded his human to a spot in one of the horses’ stalls, where he dragged some straw together into a crude nest and then lay down in it. Arenadd sat down beside him, hugging his knees.
Skandar took a drink from the horse trough and then settled down with a contented sigh. Arenadd, watching him, wondered yet again why he didn’t hate the griffin. He was so selfish, so brutishly strong—and yet so innocent, even vulnerable.
He really is like a big child, Arenadd thought.
He tried to imagine what it would be like spending the rest of his life up in the mountains with Skandar. Would he ever speak to another human being again? Would Skandar force him to stay in the wild, away from civilisation forever? No, almost certainly not. They would return from time to time, he knew, to steal cattle for food. And possibly more than that. If Skandar no longer believed that he had to please his human, then nothing could stop him from eating other humans.
And he would never see Skade again.
His thoughts were interrupted a short time later by Saeddryn, who came in dragging the whole carcass of a deer. “I’m sorry for the wait,” she said. “Just a moment an’ I’ll bring food for ye, Arenadd, and yer friend.”
Skandar roused himself and tore into the deer before Saeddryn had even let go of it. She grinned nervously and darted out the door, emerging a moment later with two bowls of food. After that she left again.
Arenadd’s bowl was full of stew and topped with two slices of bread and cheese. He tucked in gratefully; this was his first proper meal in several days. While the three of them ate, Saeddryn returned several times, bringing a tub of water, soap, blankets and clothes for Skade and Arenadd.
Once Arenadd had eaten, he washed himself and put on the clothes. They fitted quite well, but he felt strange to be wearing an ordinary tunic for the first time in months. He washed his hair as well and sat back in the straw to comb it into shape.
“You are always grooming your hair,” said Skade, breaking her silence.
Arenadd glanced at her. “Hair like mine tangles easily, you know, especially when it’s this long. I might be a fugitive, but that doesn’t mean I have to look like a beggar. You could try it yourself.”
Skade dragged her fingers through her hair and muttered something under her breath.
Saeddryn returned with more blankets. “Here, ye can bed down in the straw with these. I know it’ll be rough next to what ye must’ve had back at Eagleholm.”
Arenadd got up to help her. “Oh no, not at all. Straw will be fine.” He smiled at her as he helped her to pile some straw in the stall next to Skandar’s. “Back home, I slept in a hammock.”
“A hammock?” Saeddryn repeated. She scratched her head. “Ye gods, I always thought griffiners slept in feather beds an’ suchlike.”
“A feather bed?” said Arenadd. “Don’t be ridiculous. Those things cost a thousand oblong each. I couldn’t afford something like that. Anyway, I lived on the edge of the city. There were rules about how much furniture you could have.”
“Really? Ye must tell me about it,” said Saeddryn. “I’d love to know more. I’ve never been in a city or inside an Eyrie.” She reached out to smooth the corner of the blanket, accidentally touching Arenadd’s hand in the process. “Sorry.”
Arenadd backed away slightly. “Thank you so much, Saeddryn. You’ve been a great help to us.”
“It’s nothing,” said Saeddryn. “Ye’re a friend to us, like I said. There’s not a man or woman in this village wouldn’t do everythin’ in their power to help ye, once they know ye killed Lord Rannagon.”
“He was here?”
Saeddryn nodded. “Not in Eitheinn, but in the villages further south. He led a group of griffiners, chased Lady Arddryn’s friends northward, an’ massacred ’em, along with anyone who’d helped ’em. The people what live here now, most of’em are survivors or descended from ’em. There’s not many left in the North doesn’t remember his name an’ hate it, an’ they’ll love the man what killed him.” The bed was finished, and she straightened up. “Now, is there anythin’ more ye need?”
“Just one thing,” said Arenadd. “Could I have a needle and some thread? And if you’ve got any cloth, I need that, too.”
“I’ll go an’ see,” said Saeddryn, and left.
She returned with a spool of thread with a needle stuck in it, and a large fur slung over her shoulder. “No cloth I could find, but ye can cut up a blanket if ye want. I brought ye this wolf skin, though, in case ye could use it.”
Arenadd fingered it. “Yes, this should work. Thank you.”
“Anythin’ else ye need?” said Saeddryn. “More food?”
Arenadd looked at Skade, but she was still sitting on her straw stool and looked disinclined to move. Skandar was busy pecking at the remains of his deer.
“No, I think that’s all we need.”
Saeddryn bowed and smiled. “If ye think of anythin’, I’ll be in the house. Goodnight, Arenadd, and the moon’s light bless ye.”
Arenadd returned the bow. “And the m
oon’s light bless you, too, Saeddryn,” he said, speaking the Northern tongue.
Saeddryn looked shocked for a moment, but she recovered herself and left.
Skade stood up, “I am going to sleep,” she said.
Arenadd was busy threading the needle. “I’m going to stay up for a while. I’ve got some work to do.”
Skade ignored him and climbed a ladder up to the ledge where Skandar had perched; she curled up with her back to Arenadd.
“You can have the bed—” Arenadd called, and then thought better of it and decided to leave her alone. Skade showed no sign of having heard him, anyway.
Skandar finished gnawing on a bone and wandered back to his nest. “Sleep now, human.”
“I’ll be here, Skandar,” said Arenadd. “Sleep well.”
He finished threading the needle and put it down next to his seat before he went and fetched his robe from the nail it was hanging on. He took one of the blankets off the bed and brought it back as well, and used his dagger to cut a piece out of it. Once he’d shaped it, he turned the robe inside out and began to stitch the patch into place.
The night wore on, but Arenadd didn’t feel tired. He rarely did any more. He sat on the overturned bucket, patching or darning every hole in the robe, pausing occasionally to re-thread the needle.
The oil in the lamp began to burn down, and he roused himself from his work and rubbed his neck. Skandar was fast asleep in his nest. Up on the ledge, Skade had rolled onto her other side, one arm hanging partway over the edge. Arenadd could see her face, its sharp features softened by sleep.
He sighed and took a blanket up the ladder for her. She stirred when he laid it over her, but didn’t wake up, and he climbed back down the ladder and returned to his work. The lamp had nearly burned itself out by the time he was finished, and he snuffed it out and trudged over to his straw bed, yawning and carrying the robe in one hand.
The bed was prickly but comfortable enough, and he curled up under his robe and went to sleep.
For the first time in weeks, no nightmares visited him.
