by K J Taylor
Arenadd woke up at dawn and crawled out of bed; Skade and Skandar were still asleep. He put on his robe and crept out of the barn, taking his sword with him just in case.
Outside, it was far colder than he had expected. An icy wind was blowing down off the mountains, carrying a few snow-flakes with it, and the sky was grey.
The villagers were already out and about, of course. Several figures were visible in the fields just beyond the village, and a pair of boys were herding a flock of black sheep out to graze. A woman was busy grinding flour with a small hand-mill, and two men were tanning a fresh hide.
They were quick to see Arenadd. As he wandered out into the village’s single street, heads turned to stare at him. Conversations were hushed into silence, and when Arenadd got too close to anyone they edged away, trying not to look him in the face. He thought of trying to speak with them, but the sight of all those pale, watchful faces made him feel depressed; he walked back toward Saeddryn’s home.
As he neared it, Saeddryn emerged from behind the house, warmly dressed and leading a small, shaggy pony. She started when she saw him. “Arenadd!”
Arenadd nodded to her. “Good morning.”
“Why are ye wearin’ that?” said Saeddryn.
Arenadd touched the sleeve of his robe. “I fixed it last night. Thanks for the thread.”
He’d stitched up or patched all the tears and had used the wolf skin to line as much of the inside as possible, for warmth.
Saeddryn, however, looked less than happy. “Why would ye want to wear it? I gave ye new clothes; didn’t they fit?”
“They did, but I prefer to wear this,” said Arenadd.
“Arenadd, ye’re wearin’ a slave’s robe,” said Saeddryn. “Ain’t ye ashamed? D’ye want to be called a blackrobe wherever ye go?”
“My father made this robe for me,” said Arenadd. “Our people used to wear them into battle. Why should I be ashamed?”
Saeddryn stared at him for a moment and then burst out laughing. “Into battle? Ye don’t believe that story, do ye?”
“That’s what my father told me,” said Arenadd, with a lot less certainty.
“Well, I don’t want to insult his memory, but yer father was wrong,” said Saeddryn. “The idea of it—wearin’ robes in a fight!” She laughed again. “Have ye tried it? The thing would snag on every bush ye passed an’ ye’d be dead in a heartbeat!”
Heartbeat. Arenadd shivered despite himself. “So, only slaves ever wore robes like this?”
“No.” Saeddryn became serious. “No, those were what our kings wore.”
Arenadd went rigid. “What?”
“Aye, kings.” Saeddryn nodded. “Did ye not know that? Has the whole world forgotten? We had kings once. That was who Taranis was. He was king of the North, an’ he wore a robe woven from black wolf fur. The circle up there, Taranis’ Throne, that’s where he was crowned. The Night God had chosen him, see, marked him out to lead us, but after he was killed an’ the North was taken by griffiners, they changed that. They made slaves wear robes like his, so it’d be shameful always an’ forever to wear one.”
Arenadd rubbed his neck. “So I’m wearing a king’s robe. I don’t see why I should be ashamed of that. Anyway, this is all I’ve got to remember my dad. He told me not to be ashamed, and so I won’t. Never again.”
Saeddryn was looking at him with something like admiration. “Well,” she said, trying to restrain the pony, which had begun to shy away from Arenadd, “I won’t tell ye what ye should an’ shouldn’t wear. Where’s Skandar?”
“Still in the barn,” said Arenadd. “I think we should let him sleep a while. He needs it.”
She nodded. “I want to be at the circle with ye, but ye’ll reach it ahead of me, so I’ll leave first. I know a quick way. I was just comin’ to wake ye now.”
“So, how do we get to this circle?” said Arenadd. “Do you know how to find it from the air?”
“It’s easy,” said Saeddryn. “The circle is just beyond the mountains, on a flat piece of ground. Ye’ll see it at once, but I warn ye, land outside it. Don’t go among the stones, not for any reason.”
Arenadd nodded. “I’ll remember.”
“Now, I should go,” said Saeddryn. She mounted the pony, tugging hastily on the reins when it gave another nervous jerk, “Damn ye, yer daft animal, what’s wrong with ye?”
Arenadd backed off. “Sorry; I probably smell like griffin.”
She managed to calm the animal down. “That’s better. I’ll take the shortest route; that should get me there by noon, an’ I’ll meet ye at the circle.”
“What about Skade?” said Arenadd. “Will she be all right here on her own?”
“She’ll be cared for, don’t worry,” said Saeddryn. “Tell her she’s welcome in my house while we’re gone; there’ll be food enough there for her.”
“I want her to feel safe,” said Arenadd. “She doesn’t like being too close to people or being asked a lot of questions; she’s happiest if she’s left alone.”
“Don’t worry,” said Saeddryn. “The people here know to stay away from friends of mine. The less ye know, the less ye can say if ye’re questioned. They’ll keep their distance. Now I have to go. See ye at noon, Arenadd.”
Arenadd stood and watched her as she rode away, half-wishing he was riding alongside her. He still had a dozen questions he wanted to ask her, but he sensed that she wanted to wait until they were away from the village.
At noon, he would know.
He walked back to the barn, thoughtfully fingering his beard, and pushed the door open. When he entered he found Skandar still asleep. Skade, however, was awake, perched on her ledge and glaring down at him.
Arenadd climbed the ladder. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Where were you?” Skade asked abruptly.
“I went outside to stretch my legs. I saw Saeddryn. She’s gone up to the circle; Skandar and I are going to meet her there at noon. She says that while we’re gone, you can stay in her house. There’s food there for you, and you won’t be bothered.”
“I will tell them,” said Skade.
“What?” said Arenadd. “Tell them what?”
She turned her head to look savagely at him. “If you abandon me, I will tell them your secret. I swear it.”
“Wh—Skade, what are you talking about? You can’t possibly—”
“I will tell them,” she insisted. She prodded him with her forefinger, her claw digging into him. “Do not pretend that you do not understand, Arenadd. You are not going to come back. You will go into those mountains and never return to me.”
“Skade, you know I want to come back.”
“And you will,” said Skade. “If you do not, I will tell every human in this village the truth about you. That you are dead. That you have no heart.”
“Skade.” Arenadd grabbed her hand. “Skade, don’t do that. Stop it. What’s wrong with you?”
“Do not touch me!” she snarled, pulling herself free. “I hate you! I should never have come here with you, human, you heartless murderer, you blackrobe, you filth of the void!”
Arenadd jerked backward, as if she had slapped him. “Skade!”
But Skade’s anger vanished almost as abruptly as it had appeared. She shied away from him further and began to sob. “Leave me,” she moaned when he tried to touch her. “Leave me. Go away, Arenadd. Fly to your mountains and never return. I do not want to see your face again.”
Arenadd managed to put his arm around her shoulder, and pulled her toward him. She made another quick effort to break away, but finally gave in and pressed herself against him, crying into his chest.
Arenadd held her and did his best to comfort her, murmuring and stroking her hair until she finally calmed down. But she made no further attempts to push him away. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, and the sensation made his throat ache as if he was going to cry as well.
“What is it, Skade?” he said. “What’s wrong?
Why are you acting like this? Can you tell me?”
“I do not understand,” she said, her voice muffled. “Arenadd, I do not feel well. I think there is something wrong with me.”
“What do you mean? Are you sick?”
“I do not know. I have never felt like this before. Last night, when I knew that you were leaving, I was angry with you. But after that, when I thought of how it would be if you were gone, I did not know how I felt. I hated you for going, I hated Skandar for taking you from me, but I wanted you to go so that I would not feel this way—this confusion, this fear, this ... sickness.”
Arenadd sighed. “Oh, Skade.”
She didn’t seem to hear him. She spoke on for a long time, trying to explain thoughts and emotions that were completely unfamiliar to her, things that were alien to a griffin’s mind but which Arenadd recognised and understood almost immediately.
“Skade,” he said when she finally fell silent again. “Skade, you’re not sick. You’re just—you don’t want me to go, you want me to stay with you, and it’s upset you, that’s all.”
Skade lifted her face away from his chest; it was reddened and tear stained. “But why? You are not my mate now, or my chick, or my sibling. I should have no attachment to you, so why do I feel that losing you would kill me?”
“Because . . .” Arenadd took her hand in his and held it. “Because . . .”
“Why?” said Skade. “You must tell me.”
“Because you love me,” said Arenadd.
She stared at him.
“Listen,” said Arenadd. “You remember the cave, don’t you? You remember what I said to you then? You said you had to go, and I begged you not to. I said I wanted you to stay with me forever.”
Skade’s eyes widened. “You were afraid that you would not see me again.”
“Yes.” Arenadd put his other hand over hers. “What you’re feeling now is what I was feeling then. Do you understand, Skade?”
“I . . . think so. But what does it mean?”
“You’re human now,” said Arenadd. “Completely human. You’re feeling human emotions, and you understand what love feels like. Human love.”
“Arenadd, what shall I do?” said Skade. “What shall we do? If you are leaving . . .”
Arenadd chuckled. “You’re feeling human emotions, but you don’t understand all of them yet, do you? Listen to me.” He gripped her hand. “I still love you, Skade. That’s why I let you come with me and looked after you when you needed me to. And that means that I would never abandon you—not for anything. I don’t care what Skandar wants; I am never going to stop loving you or wanting to be with you. And you don’t have to threaten me to make me feel that way.”
“So you will come back?” said Skade.
“Yes, Skade, I will. I’ll find a way to be with you, I swear. And I know we’ll be together.”
“How?” said Skade.
Arenadd touched his chest. “This told me. My heart. When you kissed me and it beat—I’m certain it was trying to tell me something. If you can make my heart come back, then you and I were meant to be. Maybe that’s not true, but I believe it, and that’s all that matters.”
Skade smiled and placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “It will come back. One day it will beat again. We will find a way.”
Arenadd kissed her lightly on the lips. “We will. D’you know why?”
She touched his cheek. “No, why?”
“Because together you and I can do anything,” said Arenadd.
They kissed again after that. This time, it lasted much longer.
31
Taranis’ Throne
Arenadd left Skade in Saeddryn’s house, with plenty of food and promises. The two of them shared a long embrace before he got onto Skandar’s back, and the black griffin flew away.
Arenadd watched Skade become smaller and smaller the further Skandar flew, until she was nothing but a tiny spot among a cluster of larger spots that was the village. Then Skandar cleared the mountain, and she was gone altogether.
But I’ll see her again, Arenadd promised himself.
Skandar reached soaring altitude and beat his wings hard so that he shot forward and went swooping out over the mountains in a great rush of wind. The mountains sped past below them: huge craggy peaks capped with snow, dark rock showing beneath. They were taller than the Northgates, taller than the Coppertops where the griffin had hatched, and far more hostile. They were huge and wild and stretched out into the distance, mighty peaks below and endless skies above, just as Arenadd had described.
Skandar opened his beak and began to screech as he had not done in months. “Skandar! Skandar! Skandar! Darkheart! Skandar! Darkheart!”
Caught up in the moment, he flew so fast that he reached the plateau and the circle in barely any time. But instead of coming in to land he began to fly around the mountains that surrounded it, going from peak to peak and continuing to call.
Arenadd, clinging on and sensing the exhilaration his friend must be feeling, knew that Skandar was doing what every wild griffin did. He was staking out a territory, choosing its borders and announcing himself to any other griffin who might be in the area. This place was his now, and gods have mercy on anyone who dared to invade it.
When he was done he finally began his descent, down toward the stone circle, choosing to land outside it among some trees.
Arenadd got off his back, landing ankle-deep in snow. “Damn!” He looked around at the trees. “This is your new home. What do you think, Skandar?”
Skandar clicked his beak. “Home, human, good home,” he said warmly.
“Is it what you were hoping for?” said Arenadd.
Skandar took a moment to digest this. “Yes. Big mountain, big sky. You say right.”
“Of course I did,” said Arenadd. “Would I lie to you? I told you I’d show you the way to mountains, and I did. They’re all yours. You can make a nest and fly wherever you want, and no-one will ever bother you.”
“Yes, nest,” said Skandar. “Look for nest now, good nest.”
“We should find Saeddryn first, though,” said Arenadd.
Skandar started up at that. “Human here?”
“Yes, she’s here to meet us,” said Arenadd. “Don’t worry; she won’t stay. She just wants to tell us about this place.”
“Not want,” said Skandar, instantly resentful.
“Well,” said Arenadd, “do you want to go and look at the stones now?”
Skandar dipped his head. “Yes. Go look.”
“It’s this way,” said Arenadd, and he began to walk in that direction, inwardly congratulating himself on his strategy.
Skandar walked beside him. “I see stones before,” he said. “Strange.”
“They are strange, aren’t they?” said Arenadd. “Humans put them there. They’re holy places for my people.”
“You worship Night Eye,” said Skandar.
“That’s right. They—we go to the stones to worship. But I’ve never seen a circle like this one before.”
They crested the hill, and the stones came into sight beyond the edge of the trees. Arenadd felt his excitement grow as he saw them, and sped up, heedless of the snow sloshing around his boots. He passed out of the trees and reached the edge of the circle, and there he stopped. Skandar caught up with him but showed no inclination to go inside the circle, instead approaching the nearest stone and tapping it with his beak.
Arenadd joined him. The stone was taller than him, much bigger than he had expected, and flatter than it had looked from above, too. The side facing him was covered in intricate spiral patterns, and he traced them with his fingers, fascinated.
“It must have been here for hundreds of years,” he said. “See how weathered the carvings are? And just think, people must have cut and dragged them all the way up here without using wagons or oxen—you’d never get them up here, it’s just too rugged. Isn’t that amazing?”
Skandar yawned. “Rocks.”
“Well, yes, but—” Arenadd gave up and turned to examine the circle as a whole, marvelling at its size. In the centre there was a raised mound, partly buried in snow, but it looked like a large stone block, probably an altar of some kind. He thought of going to have a closer look, but decided against it. If someone saw him in there, he would be in trouble.
Beside him, Skandar tensed abruptly and his tail began to swish from side to side.
“What is it?”
“Human,” the griffin hissed. “Human, see, there.”
Arenadd followed his gaze, and saw someone emerging from the trees. The figure was wrapped in furs, but he recognised the walk.
“Don’t worry, it’s just Saeddryn,” he said. “Calm down, Skandar, she won’t stay for long.”
His words did very little to placate Skandar; he walked stiffly with his wings half-raised, and made a sudden rush at Saeddryn as soon as she was close enough. Most people would have run, but she stood her ground and drew her sword, and Skandar turned away at the last moment.
“Be calm!” Saeddryn snapped, in griffish. “I am a friend.”
Skandar placed himself between her and Arenadd. “Mine! You, go! Mine!”
“I’m sorry,” said Arenadd, stepping to the side in order to look past him. “Skandar has decided this is his territory now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Saeddryn said stiffly. “I’ve done all I needed to. They know ye’re here; I’ve sent word. They’re comin’ now.”
Arenadd tensed at once. “Who are?”
“The ones who own this place,” said Saeddryn. “Don’t try an’ run, either of ye; ye’ll get nowhere. While ye’re here, ye’ll do as they tell ye an’ nothin’ else, understand? If ye attack or run, or do anythin’ ye ain’t supposed to, ye’ll be killed.”
Arenadd drew his sword. “Who is coming?” he said. “Answer me now.”
Saeddryn pointed at the sky, and in that instant a screech came echoing down from off the mountains. Skandar and Arenadd both turned, and Skandar began to screech and hiss, his wings opening wide and his feathers fluffing themselves up so that he appeared to double in size. “Mine!” he screamed yet again.
