by K J Taylor
Laela’s shoulders were aching horribly. She wanted to lie down and sleep for a year, but she gritted her teeth and forced herself on over the last stretch.
There were guards posted at the gate. “Oi!” one of them shouted when she was close enough. “What’re ye doing back here? Who’s that?”
Laela raised her head. “I’ve got the King!” she shouted back. “I found him!”
After that, it was as if the entire world went mad. The guards came running, saw the King’s face, and went white. One of them sprinted back through the gate to alert the rest of the Eyrie, while the other stayed with Laela and asked a rapid succession of angry questions.
“Where did ye find him? What happened to him? Why is he all wet? Is he hurt?”
Laela did her best to keep up. “Found him in the canal. Someone tied him up an’ threw him in. That’s why he’s all wet. Yeah, he’s hurt, but I dunno how bad.”
“What d’ye mean, someone threw him in the canal?” the guard growled. “Who? How did ye find—”
Laela didn’t have to answer that because people were already running out of the gates toward her. She braced herself and opened her mouth to begin her explanation, but nobody was interested in hearing it. The King was torn out of her grasp so fast and eagerly it almost knocked her over, and before she knew what was happening, someone had taken her by the arm and pulled her through the gate and back to the Eyrie.
There was no point in trying to argue. She did her best to keep up and stood as tall as she could, trying to see where the King had gone. She caught a brief glimpse of him being lifted onto a stretcher and rushed inside, and then he was gone, and she had her own predicament to deal with.
The guard who had seized her seemed at a loss as to what to do with her, but an authoritative-looking middle-aged burly man Laela didn’t recognise stepped in and said, “I’ll take her. Come with me, girl.”
She followed him, grateful that at least he didn’t decide to drag her after him. He took her into what looked like a storeroom, which was at least out of the way of the crowd.
“Right,” he said. “Who are yer?”
“Laela Redguard,” said Laela. “I’m the King’s companion.”
“The half-breed who was thrown out of the Eyrie on suspicion of havin’ somethin’ t’do with the King’s disappearance,” he summarised.
“Yeah,” Laela gritted out. “That’d be me.”
“An’ now yer come back with him, badly hurt.”
“Yeah.” Laela paused. “Who are yeh, an’ why should I tell yeh anything anyway?”
“I’d be Garnoc, Commander of the City Guard,” he said. “An’ you’ll tell me the truth, or I’ll make the world a painful place for yer.”
“Then listen,” said Laela. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with the King vanishin’, got that? He was a good friend to me. Saved my life, gave me a home—he was kinder to me than I deserved. Then he vanishes an’ everyone’s sayin’ I did it. Well, I ain’t done nothin’ wrong. They threw me out, so I went lookin’ for him myself, an’ found him. Then I brought him back here where he’d be safe.”
“Right,” said Garnoc. “So how did yer find him, when my men’ve been lookin’ for two gods-damned days and found nothin’?”
Laela thought quickly. “’Cause I knew where he’d have gone, that’s why.”
“How did yer know?”
Laela explained.
Garnoc’s eyes were narrow. “I see.”
“Look,” Laela added in desperation, “if I did that to him, why in the gods’ names would I have brought him back here where there’s all these guards what hate my guts an’ think I did it? I ain’t as stupid as I look.”
He looked at her for another long moment. “We’ll get to the bottom of this later. Go back up to yer room an’ stay there. I’ll send someone up with yer t’make sure yer don’t go anywhere.”
She nodded resignedly. “Fine.”
Garnoc summoned a guard, who took her back up to her old quarters. They hadn’t changed in her absence. The guard ushered her inside and locked the door behind her.
Laela didn’t particularly care about being locked in. It was still better than being in the dungeons, and she needed her bed, and badly.
She stripped off her wet clothes and hung them in front of the fire, dried herself off with a handy towel, and climbed under the blankets very gratefully indeed. In virtually no time at all, she had slid away into peaceful, dreamless sleep.
• • •
She slept for a long time, and when she woke up she found a tray of food waiting for her. She put on a clean set of clothes, and then ate everything on the tray. It tasted delicious.
Outside, the sun was beginning to sink. She’d slept most of the day. Everything that had happened that morning felt hazy and unreal.
She found a comb and sat down to try and do something about her hair, which was full of dried mud and other bits and pieces it’d picked up in the canal.
As she was untangling a particularly stubborn knot, she heard the door open and looked up to see a young woman peering in at her.
“Laela?”
She stood up hastily. “What’s goin’ on?”
The woman coughed. “The King is awake and asking for you.”
Laela threw the comb aside. “I’m comin’.”
The guard was still outside, but he let them pass without comment. Laela walked beside her new companion. “How is he?”
“Better,” the woman said shortly.
She was walking too fast. Laela sped up. “Don’t think I’ve seen yeh before—what’s yer name?”
The woman glanced at her. “Arddryn Taranisäii.”
“Taranisäii?” Laela repeated, unable to hide her surprise. “Related to the King, are yeh?”
“His cousin Lady Saeddryn is my mother,” said Arddryn.
Laela scratched her head. “Didn’t know she had children. Are yeh the heir to the throne, then?”
Arddryn’s lips pursed. “My brother Caedmon should be the next in line.”
Should be, Laela noted. She thought of asking more, but Arddryn’s manner was distinctly unfriendly, and she decided not to push her luck.
Arenadd was in a different tower, in a part of the Eyrie Yorath had shown her and said was the infirmary. There were several different rooms in it, and Arddryn led her into the largest. There were guards stationed outside, both grim-faced.
As Arddryn opened the door, Laela caught a snatch of conversation from within.
“—getting too damned over-confident by half.” The King’s voice.
“I had a duty t’do somethin’—what would ye have preferred me t’do?”
“Not throwing an innocent girl into prison would have been an excellent place to start!”
“All the evidence—”
Arddryn coughed politely, and the voices stopped. A moment later, Laela heard a muffled curse, and she and Arddryn had to stand aside as a very-angry-looking Saeddryn strode out of the room. Laela watched her leave the infirmary and felt very slightly smug.
“Laela?” Arddryn was beckoning to her. “Go on, go in.”
Laela walked past her and into the room, and heard the King’s voice call her name.
He was tucked up in bed, looking pale and tired, but alert. “Laela,” he said again.
She went to his side and tried to smile. “Hullo, Sire.”
He frowned. “Call me Arenadd. I think you’ve earned the right by now. Please, sit down.”
There was a chair by the bed. She took it. “How are yeh feelin’, Arenadd?”
“Better. And you?”
“Pretty tired,” Laela admitted. “It’s been a long day.”
“You can say that again.” He smiled at her with his eyes.
&
nbsp; “I thought yeh were dead,” said Laela.
“A common mistake. I’ve survived worse, trust me.”
She thought of the scars. “I believe yeh. Arenadd . . .”
“Yes?”
“It’s all right about Amoran. I mean, I’ll go with yeh. If yeh want me to.”
He groped for her hand, and clasped it weakly. “Laela . . .”
She couldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “What I said to yeh before. I shouldn’t’ve said it, it was cruel. You were just tryin’ t’be open with me an’ that.”
“You saved me,” he said matter-of-factly. “If you hadn’t pulled me out of that canal, no-one would ever have found me.”
She said nothing.
“Why?” said Arenadd. “Why did you come looking for me? I didn’t . . . well, I didn’t think you cared about me.”
Laela paused. “I . . . well . . .”
“What is it?”
“I had a dream,” she said. “I dreamt about Gryphus. He said I prayed to him once—a true prayer, an’ he said that prayer was answered.”
He was looking keenly at her. “Oh?”
“I thought about it the next day,” said Laela. “It’s true. I prayed once. In that alley, with them two bastards. I prayed t’be saved from them. An’ I was saved. By you.”
“I heard you,” said Arenadd.
“Don’t yeh see, though?” said Laela. “It wasn’t Gryphus what answered my prayer, it was you! Gryphus never answered any of my prayers. I prayed for him t’save Dad, an’ Dad died. Yorath told me that means the Night God took his pain away, by makin’ him die.”
“Laela—”
“They say you’re the Night God’s avatar,” Laela went on. “Her Chosen One. She sent yeh to fight her enemies. Now I’ve made four prayers in my life. I prayed for Dad, an’ the Night God answered. I prayed t’be rescued, an’ she sent you. I prayed t’her t’get me out of prison, an’ I got out.”
“And the fourth prayer?”
“I asked her t’help yeh,” said Laela. “When I thought you was dead. An’ then you woke up.”
Arenadd watched her closely. “So what have you decided?”
“That I belong to the Night God,” said Laela. “An’ I think she wants me t’stay with yeh, Arenadd. But I don’t care. I want t’stay with yeh anyway. So I’m going to.”
His face crinkled into a smile—the first true smile she had seen him wear. “Thank you, Laela.”
She smiled back. “It’s no trouble. Someone’s got t’keep an eye on yeh.”
“Yes.” He sighed. “It certainly looks that way.”
• • •
Over the next few days, she kept close to him, visiting him as often as she could. He slept a lot and looked tired and weak most of the time, but she could see he was recovering . . . far too fast.
That frightened her more than she was willing to admit, and that fear only increased when he calmly said, “The feeling’s coming back in my legs. I think they’re getting better.”
Laela breathed deeply. “That’s . . . good.”
He looked at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I still don’t understand why yeh ain’t dead,” she confessed. “I mean, yeh must’ve been in that canal for . . . what, two nights an’ half a day? An’ with a dagger in yeh . . . I mean . . . I pulled yeh out of there, an’ yeh weren’t breathin’, yeh heart wasn’t beatin’ . . . How can yeh have survived? I mean, it ain’t possible!”
His expression saddened. “You don’t think I’m an ordinary man, do you?”
“Well, no, but . . .”
“Touch my neck,” he said softly. “Do it.”
Laela obeyed. “Yeh feel a bit cold . . . What’m I meant t’be lookin’ for?”
“Keep your hand there,” he advised. “You’ll realise it soon enough . . .”
She frowned. “That’s weird . . . I can’t find a pulse.”
“I know,” said Arenadd.
Laela took her hand away sharply. “What? Why can’t I feel one?”
“Because there isn’t one. They don’t call me the Man Without a Heart for no reason.”
She bit off an incredulous laugh. “Don’t be—that’s ridiculous! Everyone’s got a heartbeat!”
“I don’t.”
“But that’s . . . that ain’t . . .” She trailed off.
“My heart has only beaten twice in twenty years,” Arenadd said quietly. “The first time was when I kissed Skade. The second was when I first set foot on Northern soil. It hasn’t made a sound since.”
Laela’s eyes had gone wide. “But . . .”
“I am the Dark Lord,” he intoned. “No mortal weapon can kill me. The Night God’s power is in me, protecting me.”
Laela stood up. “I should—”
His hand shot out, catching her by the wrist. “Laela, I can’t die. I can’t. I can’t age, I don’t need food or sleep. I can be injured, but I can never be killed. Not by weapons, or poison, or suffocation, hanging, drowning . . . nothing. Not even the Bastard’s sword could kill me. You can’t kill someone who’s already dead.”
In an instant, all her old terror of him returned. “Stop it!”
He let go of her and lay back as if the effort had exhausted him. “The Night God needed a warrior to fight for her and defend her people,” he muttered. “She can’t fight for herself . . . She’s weaker than anyone knows. In the South, a Northern boy was betrayed and murdered. The Night God sent Skandar to him, and he filled the dead boy with his magic . . . her power. Only a griffin could channel it. That was how she made her champion. But when I died, I lost my heart. Lost my soul. For a while I thought I could get them back, but now I know I can’t. I don’t even remember what it was like to be alive. All I do is what the Night God wants me to, and when she finds out I’ve defied her . . .”
The fear in his voice was so palpable that Laela’s own began to fade. “Arenadd . . .”
He glanced toward the door. “Laela, I want to tell you something. No-one else in Tara knows it. Not even Skandar knows, but I think plenty of people suspect. I trust you to keep it a secret.”
“I will,” said Laela. “I swear on my heart.”
“Lean in close,” said Arenadd. When she had, he spoke again, in an undertone. “I have no heir because I can’t father children. I’ve had lovers over the years, but the only thing I ever planted in them was a curse. It killed them all. None of them ever had so much as a miscarriage.”
Her heart ached with sadness. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’d be a terrible father anyway. But keep it to yourself, all right?”
“I will.” She paused. “Why tell me, though?”
He smiled. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, we are,” said Laela. “An’ yeh can trust me.”
Arenadd stifled a yawn. “I’m tired, so I think I’ll rest a bit. But I’ll see you again soon. I should be able to walk again before long.”
“I hope so.” Laela left the room, her mind in a whirl.
• • •
Another person she saw a lot of during that time was Yorath. Her tutor kept visiting her—to continue their lessons, he claimed, but she knew better. They shared meals together, and talked, and Laela enjoyed his company more and more.
They spent nights together, too. She had no more fears about that, and neither did he.
“I really do care for ye,” he told her one night.
Laela pulled him closer. “I must just be a bitter girl,” she said. “I always thought I’d spend my life alone after Dad died. I never did think anyone’d ever love me.”
“Well.” He chuckled. “Ye aren’t the easiest person t’get close to, I’ll say that.”
“When
I was tiny, Dad taught me to trust no-one,” said Laela. “He said, ‘Laela, girl, yer a half-breed. Yeh can’t just pretend otherwise. Never think I love yeh less for it, but the world won’t be kind to yeh. It’s tough enough for the rest of us, an’ it’ll be doubly tough for you. Remember that, an’ rely on yerself an’ no-one else. Sometimes, that’s the only way t’live.’”
“Mm,” Yorath grunted. “I don’t think I’d be able to. I’ve always had my family t’look out for me . . . I can’t imagine what it’d be like without them.”
She paused. “Yorath?”
“Yeah?”
“What tribe are you from?”
Yorath yawned. “Deer tribe.”
“I dunno what my tribe’d be,” said Laela. “The priestess what teaches me about the Night God said I’d belong to my father’s tribe, but I don’t know what it was, so she said we’d have t’just sort’ve . . . find out.”
“Ah, ye’d be Crow,” said Yorath. “For sure.”
She looked curiously at him. “Why?”
“The Crow has no moon, only darkness an’ the stars,” said Yorath. “He’s secret and mysterious; he lives in darkness an’ his black feathers hide him from anyone who tries to know him. He goes where he pleases an’ follows his own star, an’ nobody knows where he comes from or where he goes. That’s ye, Laela. All over.”
She turned it over in her mind, and then smiled. “I s’pose it is. Crow. Huh. I like that.”
“How’s the King?”
“Better,” said Laela.
“Are ye sure?” He sounded worried. “They were saying things . . . Everyone’s sayin’ he’s been crippled.”
Laela stirred. “He said he’ll walk again, an’ I believe him.”
15
Griffins
Arenadd’s prediction had been correct. Within two days, he was able to move his legs again, and on the day after that, when Laela came to visit him, she found him out of bed and walking slowly around the room with the help of a stick.
