The Shadow's heir trs-1

by K J Taylor

  Wolf reached out to touch the creature, making strange, harsh sounds in his throat. The griffin dipped its head toward him, and he scratched it under the beak, still making the sounds and clicking his teeth every so often.

  The griffin rasped something back, and then raised its head to look at Laela again. It took a threatening step toward her, its beak open to hiss.

  Laela almost whimpered. “Keep it away from me. In Gryphus’ name, don’t let it-”

  Wolf put himself in the way and made more of those strange sounds.

  Griffish, Laela thought through her terror. He’s speaking griffish. He’s a griffiner. He’s-

  The griffin snorted angrily but made no move to come closer. It rasped again and butted Wolf with its beak before abruptly turning away. It went back through the archway, and Laela saw its muscular hindquarters-covered in glossy pitch-black fur.

  Wolf breathed a sigh of relief. “You were lucky there. He’s in a bad mood tonight.”

  Laela managed to get up. “What-that was-you-”

  He turned to her. “That was Skandar. My best friend. My only friend, I think.”

  “But you. . you. . in the Eyrie. . with him. .”

  “Yes.” Wolf sighed. “You’re right. I am King Arenadd Taranisaii, and this is my Eyrie.”

  5

  The Dark Lord

  Wolf-Arenadd Taranisaii, the Dark Lord, King of the North-watched Laela in silence, almost as if he were waiting for something.

  Laela gaped at him. No. It ain’t possible. It can’t be. .

  But it was. She knew it was him. The black robe, the home in the Eyrie. . the giant griffin living next door to him. .

  “But yer so young!” she exclaimed, finding her voice all of a sudden.

  Arenadd scratched his beard. “I’m forty next week. I know I don’t look it. Laela, let me explain. .”

  “Explain!” said Laela. “Yer the King! Yeh rule the North-what in Gryphus’ name were yeh doin’ runnin’ about the streets in the middle of the night? An’ what do yeh want with me? An’ why-”

  He waved her into silence. “I sneak out, all right? I go out into the city sometimes. To listen to my people. To have some time to myself. They don’t know I do it, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t tell anyone about it.”

  “Then why did yeh bring me here?” said Laela.

  “I already told you: because you need help. I can give you a place to live-I can protect you.”

  “But why?” said Laela. “Why d’yeh care?”

  Arenadd’s eyes were suddenly cold. “I didn’t have to save you, you know. I could have left you to die. I can take you back out into the city and leave you there if that’s what you’d prefer.”

  Laela backed away. “I’m sorry,” she blurted. “I’m just. . well, thanks. I don’t. .”

  It was too much. So much had already happened to her, so many terrors, and now this. Now she was seeing him. The Dark Lord. The most feared and hated man in Cymria, the most. .

  “Listen,” said Arenadd. “It’s been a long day, and you’re obviously tired. I’ll arrange a room for you, and you can get some rest.”

  “I-” Laela hesitated, not knowing what to say or do.

  Arenadd came toward her and touched her on the shoulder. “There’s no need to be afraid of me.” She recoiled from him, and he withdrew immediately. “I’m a powerful friend to have, Laela,” he said abruptly. “Think about that.”

  Laela managed to nod.

  “Then come with me.”

  The rest of the night passed in a kind of haze. Laela let herself be ushered out of the King’s bedroom and into the Eyrie proper, where a couple of servants were unceremoniously woken up and ordered to prepare a room for her. The room in question turned out to be a surprisingly large and well-furnished one-in fact, it looked more decorated than the King’s own. The servants efficiently dusted off the furniture and put fresh linen on the bed, and Laela was left on her own to stare at her new quarters in wonder.

  The King had somehow managed to vanish without her noticing, so she shut the door behind her and sat down on the bed to rest and try to think. But her mind refused to take in everything that had happened.

  I’m living with the Dark Lord.

  She thought of the deceptively young-looking but appallingly scarred man she had met, trying to reconcile that image with the spectre of the one Southerners called the Dark Lord. The man who had single-handedly started the civil war in the South. The man who had massacred hundreds of Southerners, who had personally killed the pregnant Eyrie Mistress of Malvern, who had sold his soul to the evil Night God and been given vile powers, who. .

  Gryphus help her, she was living with him. She had met him face-to-face, had touched him in sympathy, had. .

  It was all too much to take in. But at least, she thought, she was safe now.

  Maybe.

  In his own room, Arenadd was hardly less agitated than his unwilling guest.

  He paced back and forth in front of the fire, his brow furrowed. His heavy leather boots made no sound on the rug.

  For a long time now he’d suspected. . no, had known. . well, everyone knew, didn’t they? Saeddryn certainly did. He knew what she’d been whispering behind his back. Everyone was, after all, and who could blame them? Time was turning him eccentric.

  “Night God help me, what am I doing?” he mumbled aloud. “She’s terrified of me. Why would she want to be here?”

  But something about her, something, had compelled him to help her. Perhaps it had been just her dire situation. Or perhaps it was her courage.

  He smiled to himself. Not many people would have dared to speak to him the way she had. At least, not when they knew who he was. Laela was fearless. He liked that.

  He paused and winced, putting a hand to his chest. Gods, it still hurt. After so long, it still hurt. But, then, so many things did.

  Arenadd slumped into a chair by the fire. He knew he should probably sleep at least briefly. . not that he needed to sleep much any more.

  Instead, he picked up the jug of wine he’d left on the table and poured some of its contents into a mug, which he drained in a few long swallows. He refilled the mug and drank more slowly, while the familiar, dizzy warmth embraced him like an old friend.

  Well, she could stay for a while. She had obviously had a hard life, and it wouldn’t hurt her to have some respite. He could give her some work in the Eyrie to justify her presence to everyone else. Yes. That would work.

  The wine did its work as he got closer to the bottom of the jug. Yes. She could be a servant, and would have a good enough life-certainly better than she could have expected elsewhere, and he could forget about her and worry about more important matters. Yes.

  He emptied the jug and made a good dent in a second one before he fell asleep in the chair. In his dreams, the Night God’s voice whispered to him, trying to make him listen. He ignored her.

  Laela did sleep that night, and far more deeply than she would have expected. She was too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to resist the lure of her new bed, and though she was still deeply frightened, she pushed her doubts aside and got into it.

  It was wonderfully soft and comfortable, and she drifted off very quickly.

  Next morning, she was woken up by a servant.

  “Get up an’ get dressed; the King wants t’see yer.”

  Laela sat up sharply, her drowsiness vanishing almost instantly as sick recollection came back. “The King?” she said stupidly.

  “Aye, so get a move on, girl-he doesn’t like t’be kept waitin’.”

  Laela dragged herself out of bed and struggled back into her travel-stained wool dress. She also put her sword-belt on, including the sword.

  The servant made no move to stop her and stood by impassively while she laced up her boots and dragged a comb through her hair. “Good, now come with me,” she said, the instant that was done.

  Laela thought briefly of arguing or trying to leave, but only briefly. She
was in the Eyrie-probably right at the top, judging by all the stairs she’d had to climb. There would be guards everywhere. The chances of escaping were next to none. She was as good as imprisoned.

  Frightened, but a little angry, she followed the servant out of the room.

  Now she got a proper chance to see the inside of the Eyrie, she couldn’t help but be impressed. It was a stone building, of course, but the walls were lined with wood, and there were thick carpets on the floor. Tapestries hung on the walls here and there, too, between ornate silver lamps, and she realised she must be in the richest part of the Eyrie.

  Another thing she noticed was how big the place was. This corridor was easily wide enough for an ox-probably wider, she thought.

  She wondered about that as the servant hustled her on. They passed several doors along the way, and those were abnormally huge as well. When Laela noticed that, she finally realised why-they had to be that size so that griffins could use them.

  The thought only helped to increase her sense of dread.

  Eventually, her guide took her up a ramp and to a door that had a pair of armed guards standing on either side of it. They both glanced curiously at Laela but said nothing and stayed at their posts as the servant nudged her through the door. “In ye go.”

  Laela hesitated, but the servant had already departed, and the guards shut the door behind her.

  She found herself in a fair-sized room furnished with a fireplace and a large table and chairs. And seated at the far end of it was. .

  Her heartbeat quickened.

  King Arenadd was already coming to meet her. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

  Laela swallowed. “I. . yeah.”

  “Good. Now, come and sit with me.”

  It didn’t sound like a request. Laela thought he probably wasn’t used to having people say no. She walked numbly over to the chair he indicated and sat in it. There was food laid out on the table in front of it.

  The King returned to his original seat-directly opposite her. “Help yourself. You must be hungry.”

  Laela looked uncertainly at the bread, milk, and fruit. For a moment, she wondered if it could be poisoned. But what sense did that make? If he wanted her dead, he would have seen to it already.

  “Go on,” he interrupted. “It’s perfectly fine.”

  Just do what he tells yeh, she told herself. Just play along.

  Arenadd nodded in apparent satisfaction as she helped herself to an apple. “Settling in all right?”

  Laela swallowed. “It’s nice here, Sire.”

  “Good. Don’t let me interrupt.”

  He sat in silence and watched her eat, apparently in no hurry to do anything or eat anything himself. He was still wearing the robe he’d put on the previous night, and if anything, he looked even paler and gaunter than he had then.

  It was one of the most uncomfortable meals of Laela’s life, but she was too hungry to stop. She ate her fill, and then looked uncertainly at her host.

  “Finished?”

  Laela nodded mutely.

  Instantly, Arenadd summoned a servant to clear away the leftovers. “You look a little happier now,” he said once they were alone again. “Now then. I was hoping that, while you’re here, we could have a little chat.”

  Laela kept her eyes on his face. “All right. . Sire. Uh. . yeah. Sure. Sire.”

  “Calm down. Now, I was just wondering. .”

  Laela watched him. Where was this going?

  Arenadd paused. For a moment, he looked very slightly confused, but the moment passed, and he was impassive again. “You told me last night you’d come from the South. Obviously, going by your accent, you’ve lived there all your life.”

  “Yes, Sire.”

  He sat back. “Do tell me about it.”

  Laela blinked. “What, the South? Sire?”

  “Yes, the South. I haven’t been there in a very long time.”

  Now, hearing his voice and free of the distraction and tiredness of the previous night, Laela finally noticed what was odd about the way he spoke. “Yeh sound like a Southerner,” she said, without thinking. “Yeh don’t talk like a b- a Northerner. Sire.” She felt herself going red. Gryphus, girl, keep yer damned mouth shut!

  Arenadd’s expression did not waver. “I was born in the South,” he said evenly. “I didn’t come here until after the Night God had chosen me.”

  Laela shivered internally. The Night God’s creature. “Well, I. . uh. . I was brought up in Sturrick,” she stammered. “Sire. Uh. .”

  “Yes? So where is this place, exactly? I don’t believe I’ve heard of it.”

  “Er. . well, it’s a village, Sire,” said Laela. “Bigger than most, but not really a town. Farmers, mostly, but it’s on the trade route, so there are some merchants. I’d say it’s due t’get bigger some day, Sire.”

  “I see. How far away is it from the Northgates?”

  “Not sure, Sire. Not that far. I didn’t take too long t’get there-reckon I could’ve walked it in a month or two.”

  Arenadd nodded slowly. “Hm. What did you see along the way?”

  “Not much, Sire,” said Laela. “Villages, countryside. . not much else. No big cities ’round there. Didn’t see my first one till I got here, Sire. City, I mean. That was Malvern.”

  “Good, good. No griffiners?”

  “No, Sire. Never even saw a griffin till I came here.” She thought briefly of the one she had seen by the grave-but why mention it?

  “What about the people, then?” said Arenadd. “The ones you talked to. What did they say?”

  “About what, Sire?” said Laela.

  “The griffiners,” said Arenadd. “And what they’re doing.”

  “Oh. Well, I. . they. .” Laela trailed off, as realisation finally dawned on her.

  “Yes?” Arenadd prompted.

  “They, er. . they. . dunno much, Sire.” She was babbling now, trying to think. “I’m just a peasant girl, Sire,” she said at last. “I wouldn’t know that much.”

  “But you might know something,” said Arenadd. “What are the people saying?”

  Laela thought quickly. “Well, after Eagleholm fell, Canran sent griffiners an’ soldiers t’grab some of its lands, an’ I heard tell they got a good chunk, but the Withypool gang came from the other way, an’ they ended up in a scrap. Canran did well but Withypool got the upper hand somehow, an’ in the end Canran’s Eyrie burned, an’ most of their griffins went over t’Withypool. That was a while ago, though, Sire. By the time Dad an’ me came t’live in Sturrick, Withypool owned that land, but it was all disorganised, Dad said. They couldn’t rule so much land from all the way over on the coast, so they was buildin’ a new Eyrie further West.”

  Arenadd leant forward over the table. “Where?”

  “Dunno, Sire, but I’d say somewhere where Eagleholm lands used t’be. Probably halfway between Withypool an’ where Canran was. Best place to control the lands all around. Sire.”

  He blinked. “Did you work that out all on your own?”

  “Yes, Sire.” Laela looked away. “I thought it made sense. . It was only a guess, like.”

  “It was a bloody good one,” said Arenadd, and the offhand Southern accent and phrasing caught Laela off guard.

  “Thanks, Sire. Is that. . is that everythin’?”

  “You tell me,” said Arenadd. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “I ain’t heard nothin’ about no plans to attack yeh, Sire,” Laela said with sudden boldness. “If that’s what yer wonderin’. They ain’t strong enough; they’re spread all over the place. Too much buildin’, too much reorganisin’, an’ they got no slaves now t’do the work for ’em. An’ besides, no-one’d attack you, Sire. They ain’t mad. They know what yeh can do-they know about yer powers. They’re too scared, Sire. I would be,” she added.

  Arenadd stared at her, apparently nonplussed. Then he burst out laughing. His laugh was a harsh, humourless thing-one that sounded like it hadn’t been used in a long t
ime. “Ye gods!” he exclaimed. “What a find I picked up off the street last night! Traveller, fighter, master negotiator, political strategist, and now a tactician!” He laughed again. “Next I suppose you’ll tell me you’re a griffiner as well.”

  Laela gaped at him. “I ain’t. . well, it was just. . I shouldn’t’ve. .” Suddenly, his mocking laughter made anger flare in her. “I’ve given yeh all the information yeh wanted, Sire, so now yeh’ve been repaid for yer trouble. Can I go now?”

  He stopped laughing. “I wasn’t making fun of you, Laela-I was laughing at myself. I wasn’t expecting payment, but it was kind of you to provide the information, and I appreciate the free advice. And of course I’ll let you go. But there’s just one last question I wanted to ask you.”

  “Yes? Sire.”

  Arenadd rubbed his broken fingers. “I just wanted to ask. . does the name Aeaei ran kae mean anything to you?”

  Laela stared. “What, Sire?”

  “Aeaei ran kae,” he repeated. “It’s griffish, in case you’re curious.”

  “I, uh. . no, Sire,” said Laela. “I don’t know any griffish.”

  “Obviously. Well, then, have you ever heard tell of someone called the Sun’s Champion? Gryphus’ Warrior? The Chosen One?”

  “Oh. Yeah,” said Laela. “Of course. Everyone knows about that, Sire.”

  “What do they know?”

  Laela hesitated. “Well. .”

  “Go on. I’m listening.”

  “Well, uh. .” she plunged on. “They say yer. . that the Night God chose yeh, Sire. T’fight for her.”

  Arenadd’s eyes were as cold as ice. “I was her assassin and her warlord, yes,” he intoned.

  Laela drew back. “Yeah. . yeah, that. Chosen. So they say Gryphus. . the Day God. . chose someone, too. A Southerner, t’fight for him against. . well. .”

  “Against me,” Arenadd supplied. “Continue.”