The Shadow's Heir

by K J Taylor

  “I don’t know.” Arenadd paused. “I never asked her.”

  She watched him for a while in silence. “Yeh really saw her, then? Like, face-to-face?”

  He looked her in the face. “Yes.”

  Laela said nothing.

  “You think I’m mad, don’t you?” said Arenadd.

  “No! I never—”

  “I wouldn’t blame you. Plenty of people don’t believe me. Sometimes I think even my own family likes to think I made it up.” Arenadd stretched. “But they can’t close their eyes to my power, and that makes them believe. Or keeps them from saying otherwise.”

  Slowly and carefully—almost fearfully—Laela reached out to touch his hand. Arenadd started, and looked at her in surprise.

  “What’s she like?” Laela asked softly. “What’s she look like?”

  “To me?” said Arenadd.

  “Uh . . . yeah. To you.”

  The Dark Lord closed his eyes. “To me she looks like a woman. Not old, not young. Ageless. She looks like one of us. Beautiful black hair, and one black eye.”

  “So she really does only have one eye,” said Laela.

  Arenadd’s own eyes opened. “I think she can look like whatever she wants. But when I see her, she has one eye. The other is . . . gone.”

  Laela tried to grin. “She sounds a bit like Saeddryn.”

  “Oh, no,” said Arenadd. “She’s not like . . .” He trailed off.

  “Arenadd?”

  He shook himself. “Saeddryn lost her eye to an arrow—she was lucky not to lose more than that. But the Night God . . . she doesn’t have a scar, or wear a patch. Her eye is just . . . gone. There’s nothing there, just a black hole in her face.”

  Laela grimaced. “That’s horrible.”

  “I suppose it sounds horrible,” said Arenadd. “But somehow . . . it doesn’t feel that way. Anyway, haven’t you heard the legends? About her eye?”

  “Gryphus took it,” said Laela.

  “Supposedly. I never asked her that, either. But the stories also say she puts the full moon into the empty place where her eye was. And it’s true.”

  “Oh.”

  “That’s why people love Saeddryn so much,” said Arenadd. “Because of her missing eye. A one-eyed woman is thought to be very close to the Night God. I’ve heard tell of more than a few priestesses who put out one of their own just so they’d have some extra credibility with the masses.”

  Laela sniggered. “That’s just stupid.”

  “You wouldn’t do something like that for your god?” said Arenadd, unexpectedly serious.

  “What? No!” Laela was taken aback. “Why would I?”

  Arenadd picked up a rock. “Because this life is fragile,” he said. “Temporary. I know that better than anybody ever has. But the gods are forever. What are we next to them? Nothing. Nothing.”

  Laela felt cold despair.

  “And everything,” Arenadd added softly, and hurled the stone into the sea.

  20

  Over the Sea

  Early the next morning, the King and his travelling companions went down onto the docks and boarded the ship that would take them to Amoran. The vessel, called Seabreath, was the first ship Laela had ever seen, and she stared with slight bewilderment at the masts.

  “What in the gods’ names are those for?”

  “To catch the wind,” one of the griffiners explained.

  “Yeh can’t ‘catch’ wind!” said Laela. “It ain’t solid.”

  The griffiner looked slightly uncertain at that. “Well . . . that’s how it’s meant t’work. Don’t ask me; I’m not a sailor.”

  The concept of “sailors” was another new one to Laela, but the helpful griffiner had already gone up the ramp ahead of his partner, and she decided to follow everyone else and try to work things out as she went.

  Oeka hesitated before stepping onto the thick planks connecting the ship to the dock. Laela gave her a puzzled look, which was met with one of the griffin’s impenetrable green stares. “It’s all right,” she told her. “I think.”

  Oeka hissed and stepped onto the ramp after her human.

  The decks were bustling; Laela, discomfited by the rocking motion of the ship, leant against a mast and watched the group of men whom she assumed were the “sailors” run here and there, trying to avoid the agitated griffins while doing various strange and mysterious things with ropes. Most of the griffiners looked slightly bewildered—Laela guessed they’d never been on a ship, either. Arenadd, calm as always, was talking to the man who looked as if he were in charge. Skandar, less collected than his human, crouched in the middle of the deck, ignoring the sailors who were less than happy about it and hissing to himself.

  Eventually, some kind of order returned after Arenadd called Skandar over and a couple of men opened the large trapdoor he’d been sitting on. Underneath was a ramp leading down into what looked almost like the inside of a barn. Laela couldn’t believe that there could be a space inside the ship—when she’d first seen it, she’d assumed the whole thing was a solid lump of wood. She wanted to go and have a look, but stayed by the mast—everyone around her was speaking either griffish or Northern, and she felt more than a little lost.

  Arenadd seemed to be trying to persuade Skandar to go down inside the ship. After a while, the giant griffin huffed irritably and loped down the ramp—the space was large enough for a couple of oxen walking side by side, but Skandar only just fitted. The other griffins followed him with obvious reluctance—one or two refused outright and instead took off to circle over the ship, safely out of reach.

  Laela glanced uncertainly at Oeka. “Are you supposed to go with ’em?”

  The griffiners were leaving too, now—using another, smaller trapdoor set closer to the pointed end of the ship.

  “Am I supposed t’go with them?” Laela mumbled, as if hoping someone would answer.

  “My lady?”

  “Huh?” Laela turned distractedly. “You talkin’ to me?”

  The speaker was one of the junior griffiners—Laela thought his name was Penllyn. He bowed to her. “My lady.”

  “Yeah, what?”

  Penllyn looked slightly bewildered for a moment, but pulled himself together. “The captain says yer quarters are ready for ye.”

  “Oh, good. Where are they?”

  “Toward the . . . back of the ship. The captain’s standing next to the door—see?”

  The back of the ship had a raised section on it, as if a small building had been put on top of it. Steps led onto the “roof,” but there was indeed a door. Laela made for it without another thought, already excited to see what would be on the other side.

  The captain, a heavyset Northerner, bowed low, and said something in Northern.

  Laela tried not to grimace. “Is it through there?”

  He gave her a slightly affronted look. “Yes, my lady. There should be room enough for all of ye.”

  “‘All’?” said Laela. “Why, am I sharin’ with someone?”

  “There’s only one cabin other than the captain’s and Lord Vander’s, my Lady, an’ the King insisted ye be allowed t’share it with him.”

  Laela went red. “I ain’t—” She stopped herself. “Right.” She waited until the captain had opened the door for her and went in, with Oeka skittering after her.

  The cabin was surprisingly roomy, and even more surprisingly well decorated. There were even tapestries hanging on the walls.

  Laela noted that there was only one bed. What was Arenadd playing at?

  The King was sitting at a small table by the fireplace with his feet up. “Ah, hello. Nice quarters we’ve got, eh?”

  Laela folded her arms. “What’s this about?”

  “What’s what about?”

  “We’re sharin’ a room all of a sudden. What are yeh thinkin’?”

  Arenadd looked surprised. “There’s only one cabin. I thought you’d prefer this to sleeping belowdecks with everyone else. They’re all packed into bunk-be
ds with the sailors. They won’t like it much, but we didn’t have any other options.”

  Laela caught herself mid-anger. “I—oh.”

  Arenadd glanced at the bed. “I’ll put up a hammock. I don’t mind. It’s not as if I sleep much any more anyway.”

  “Well. What about Oeka, then?” said Laela, embarrassed. “Where’d all the other griffins go, anyway?”

  Arenadd took his feet off the table. “This ship was meant to carry livestock to Maijan. We’ve had the stalls modified for griffins. But Oeka’s small enough to stay here with us if she’d prefer. It’ll be easier for when we start our lessons again.”

  “Suits me fine,” said Laela.

  Oeka flicked her tail and rasped briefly.

  “She said—”

  “‘I am happy,’” Laela interrupted.

  Arenadd grinned. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you?”

  • • •

  The Seabreath set sail not long after its passengers had settled in. Laela went up on deck with Arenadd, and the two of them watched his Kingdom slowly fade into the horizon.

  “I’ll be back, Tara,” Arenadd murmured. “Don’t lose faith in me.”

  Most of the griffins had come up out of their stalls, but there was nowhere near enough room for them all on deck, so they took to the sky instead, lazily following the ship as a healthy wind drove it eastward over the waves.

  Arenadd pointed northward. “Hey, look at that.”

  Laela squinted. “Looks like a . . . blob.”

  “It’s land,” said Arenadd. He frowned. “I didn’t know there was an island there. Oh well, it’s probably nothing important. Now, where were we?”

  “I dunno,” said Laela. “I don’t think we’d started whatever it was yet.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Arenadd. “I remember now.” He flicked his sickle out of his belt and flourished it. The blade flashed in the sun, and he grinned.

  “Whoa, hey, wait a moment—” Laela backed off, holding up her hands. “What’re yeh doin’?”

  Arenadd raised the sickle. “Catch.”

  It flashed through the air, straight toward her. Instinctively, Laela lashed out at it to protect herself. The handle bounced off her wrist, and she grabbed for it and managed to catch it.

  “Good reflexes,” said Arenadd. “Don’t lose it.”

  Laela turned the weapon over, admiring it. The handle was made from some dark reddish wood, reinforced with gold bands. The blade, notched in places and slightly tarnished, was etched with a triple spiral surrounded by five small stars.

  Laela gingerly touched the edge, wanting to test its sharpness. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe—gah!”

  “I should have warned you about that,” said Arenadd. “Are you all right?”

  Laela rubbed her bleeding finger on her dress. “Fine. What’m I meant t’do with it?”

  “What I tell you to,” said Arenadd. “It’s time you started learning how to fight.”

  • • •

  Laela spent most of that day with the sickle in her hand, practising the different blows and blocks Arenadd showed her.

  “Do it over and over again,” he said. “And then do it some more. Do it until it’s second nature—until your body remembers how to do it. Muscles have memory.”

  Laela set to work.

  By evening, she was exhausted and irritable—something that wasn’t helped by the constant, sickly rocking of the ship. She and Arenadd retired to their cabin, where food had been laid out for them. Before she ate, Laela had to feed Oeka—taking the bloody haunch provided and cutting strips off it. The finicky griffin had refused to take it any other way and wouldn’t take food from anybody else. At first, Laela had found this cute and flattering, but by now she’d realised what it really was: the griffin’s way of showing her exactly where she stood.

  Still, it was a small enough price to pay. For now, at least.

  Afterward, Laela washed the gore off her hands and sat down with Arenadd—who had politely waited for her before beginning to eat.

  “Yeh didn’t have t’do that. It’s probably gone cold by now.”

  Arenadd shrugged and reached for the cheese. “Eat up. We’re ready to move on to something a little less tiring now.”

  Over dinner, he resumed teaching her griffish. Laela, who had never been formally educated until her adoption into Malvern, was beginning to find it boring, but she said nothing and persevered—knowing the eventual reward would make it worthwhile. And she was far too proud to even think of how humiliating it would be if she were the only griffiner who couldn’t speak griffish. Not knowing Northern was bad enough.

  • • •

  Oeka gulped down the last of her food and listened with interest. Now she’d been taught some respect, the human was working hard at being a worthy griffiner. Oeka was pleased. She’d already done well by claiming the human before one of the larger griffins did; Oeka knew that being a youngster meant it was harder to take the best humans without being challenged. But the others in the Hatchery knew better than to interfere with her—she’d discovered her power early on, and once they knew what it could do, the others left her alone.

  I have come far in little time, Oeka thought. As my power means I should. This human will serve me well.

  The small griffin’s eyes narrowed on Laela, awkwardly stumbling her way through a griffish phrase. At first she’d disliked the idea of leaving Malvern for so long, but by now Oeka had decided it was for the best. Better to have time to break her human in, unmolested. By the time they returned, she would have her well trained and ready to take all the Kingdom had to offer.

  21

  Kissing the Snake

  Three months passed.

  The ship reached Maijan and docked there to take on fresh supplies. The Amorani-controlled island was big enough to support two small cities and even a few griffiners. Lord Vander went ashore with Ymazu to speak to them, and Arenadd went, too. Laela went with him, more than happy to have solid ground under her feet again.

  They spent two days in Maijan, and Laela took the opportunity to explore the port-town where they’d docked, with Oeka by her side. The locals were a friendly enough lot—obviously used to visits from their pale neighbours. Most of them spoke some Cymrian, and they received Laela with great interest, many of them pointing out her blue eyes and chattering animatedly among themselves. At first, Laela was offended, but she quickly realised that their interest was nothing but friendly curiosity, and after that she began to find it vaguely enjoyable.

  Once the supplies were on board and Arenadd and Vander had completed their business on the island (and Skandar had taken the opportunity to acquaint himself with the handful of female griffins who lived on it), the Seabreath departed.

  For the next few weeks, they followed the chain of small islands that Maijan belonged to, anchoring beside one or two of them so the griffins could go ashore. Most of the human passengers went, too, Laela among them, though she spent most of her time on dry land training with Arenadd in the art of the sickle. She could feel herself getting better at it all the time.

  She was almost sad when the time came to leave the islands behind and strike out over the Armourfish Sea.

  The weather had been growing steadily warmer and warmer as they sailed further east, and by the time they were a month out of Maijan, it was sweltering.

  The Northerners, used to cold, looked as if all their energy had been drained out of them. They stayed belowdecks, moaning and grumbling among themselves and trying to cool down by soaking their clothes in sea-water. Laela, too, suffered in the heat, which grew unbearably as the weeks dragged by. She couldn’t believe that any place could possibly be this hot, and almost dreaded what it would be like when they were actually in Amoran.

  But as unhappy as they were, nobody looked as miserable as Arenadd did.

  The King scarcely moved during the day, and was pale and tight-lipped whenever he was awake. He became snappish and irritable during L
aela’s lessons, and only sheer exhaustion stopped them from outright arguing.

  Eventually, after what looked like a very unpleasant struggle, Arenadd gave up and took his robe off—going bare-chested like the other men on board. His scars looked even more hideous under the harsh sun and attracted plenty of morbid conversation, which he obviously didn’t appreciate.

  Skandar wasn’t much happier than his human. Laela started visiting him with Arenadd as an excuse to get out of the sun, and she was shocked when she saw how thin the huge griffin had become. Whoever had made the stall he was living in had done his best, but it just wasn’t big enough for him. His fur and feathers had become dull and matted from too little grooming. His stall hadn’t been cleaned out properly and stank, but though he’d been lying in it so long that he was developing pressure sores on his paws, he refused to go out into the blazing sun.

  By the time Arenadd intervened, the dark griffin’s temper had snapped, and he had begun lashing out at anyone who came close.

  Laela, too sensible to try and go too close, hung back and watched while Arenadd did his best to calm his friend down. Eventually, Skandar groaned and laid his head on his talons, and Arenadd could go in and clear away as much of the mess as he could.

  Laela realised he was swearing. “We’ve got t’get him out of here,” she said. “He needs—”

  “I know what he needs,” Arenadd growled without turning around. “That doesn’t mean he’ll look for it. Go back up on deck and see if you can find someone who knows where to find some ointment for these sores.”

  Laela nodded brusquely and left.

  As she and Oeka climbed the ramp back to the deck, Laela heard shouting. “What’s goin’ on up there?” she mumbled.

  Outside, there was furious activity. The captain was yelling orders at his men, most of whom were already dashing off to follow them. There were some griffiners about, most of them looking anxious and uncertain.

  Laela squinted irritably in the sun and stumped over to the nearest person. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s everyone shoutin’? I already got enough of a bloody headache.”