by K J Taylor
Well, he invited me to sit here, so he doesn’t mind, she told herself.
She still felt embarrassed.
They were in the air for a long time, and making conversation was more or less impossible. Laela occupied herself with looking at the view and watching the other griffins when they came into view, but holding on took more effort than she’d expected. It was tiring, too.
They had been flying long enough for her to start worrying that she was going to fall off, when Skandar abruptly came down to land. He touched down in a large open field, and did it with enough of a thump that Laela fell off him, hitting the ground in a painful and humiliating heap.
A moment later, Arenadd had appeared and was hauling her to her feet. “Are you all right?”
Laela rubbed her numb legs. “Legs’ve gone t’sleep.”
“Yes, that happens on long flights. Walk around a bit; that should wake them up again.”
She looked around at the field, where the other griffins were landing, too. “Where is this?”
Arenadd stretched. “Somewhere in Lady Hafwyn’s lands, if I’m any judge.”
“The Governor of Warwick,” Laela recalled. “Why have we landed here? This just looks like farmland t’me.”
“So the griffins can rest, of course,” said Arenadd. Behind him, Skandar had lain down and was idly grooming his wings. “They’re not built to fly long distances, especially with a load on their back. We’ll set out again when they’re ready.”
At that moment, Oeka landed lightly on the grass beside her human. She nudged Laela’s hand roughly, and chirped. Laela rubbed the griffin’s head with her knuckles. Oeka pushed back briefly and then looked away, observing the other griffins.
“How long’ll it take us to get to the coast?” Laela asked.
“Hm? Oh, not long. A day or so at most. We’ll stop at Warwick tonight. So, are you excited about seeing the sea?”
Laela nodded and grinned. “It’s the part I’m lookin’ forward to the most.”
“There’s Amoran still to come,” Arenadd pointed out.
“Yeah, I’ve decided to get excited about that once I’m done with the sea,” said Laela. “If that’s all right.”
Arenadd chuckled. “Planning your own levels of excitement ahead of time—now that’s good organisation.”
• • •
They spent most of the rest of the day like that—flying, resting, and then flying again, following the River Snow. That evening, they reached Warwick, a big, walled city built by the river and surrounded by thick, fortified walls—a relic of wars older than the one that had made him King, Arenadd said. At Warwick they were greeted by Lady Hafwyn—an old, silver-haired griffiner who Arenadd said was a veteran of the Dark Wars and one of the first to join his cause.
“Technically, I joined her cause,” he added over dinner. “Hafwyn was one of the rebels who survived the uprising led by Saeddryn’s mother, Arddryn senior, and hid in the mountains with her. They’d been there for years, waiting for their opportunity to fight again.”
“An’ then you came along,” Laela supplemented.
Arenadd nodded. “Skandar and I, and Skade. Fugitives from Southern justice. We were hoping to hide in the mountains, and we found someone had already done it.”
Laela looked up, immediately interested. “What had yeh done, that you were runnin’ away from?”
Arenadd picked up his cup. “I committed murder,” he said, quite calmly.
She faltered at that. “Why . . . ? I mean, who was it?”
“Man called Lord Rannagon Raegonson,” said Arenadd, still casual. “He was one of the leaders who put down Arddryn’s rebellion.” He paused. “He was the first man I ever killed. I slit his throat with a broken sword.”
Laela withdrew from him very slightly while he spoke. It’s too easy, she thought grimly. She watched him as he ate, pausing briefly to exchange a few words with the man on his other side. So normal. Too easy, to forget what he is. What he’s done. He acts . . . he doesn’t act like a murderer.
Laela paused at that. How’s a murderer supposed to act, anyway? her inner voice wondered.
“So, yeh found Arddryn in the mountains,” she prompted.
Arenadd turned his attention back to her. “Yes, and she told me she’d been waiting for me. Another Taranisäii—her younger brother’s grandson, come back out of the South to find her. Or so she thought.”
Laela had heard of the famous Arddryn Taranisäii by now, from various people back in Malvern. “What was she like?”
“Very old,” said Arenadd. “But she was as tough as her daughter. She had a missing eye, and a horrible scar across her face. Courtesy of Lord Rannagon’s sword,” he added. “Of course, the fact that I had killed him made the rebels like me very, very much. Isn’t that right, Hafwyn?”
“Eh?” the elderly Northerner looked up from her food.
“I was just telling my young apprentice here how pleased you and your friends were when you found out what I did to Lord Rannagon,” said Arenadd, raising his voice.
Hafwyn grinned, showing numerous missing teeth. “So we were!” she said. “None of us’d forgotten that old bastard. How could we, seein’ what he did to Arddryn’s face every day?”
Several others there had been listening, and now one of them raised his cup. “To Lord Rannagon!” he said. “May he stay dead forever!”
The other diners cheered raucously, many yelling what sounded like curses in Northern.
Arenadd raised his cup, too. “To Lord Rannagon,” he repeated, and drank. “And to his son, and to his daughter,” he added in an undertone.
Laela had heard him. “So Arddryn wanted—”
“She expected me to take her place and start a new rebellion, with Saeddryn at my side. I was reluctant at first, but . . . well, those mountains—at Taranis’ Throne—that was where I first saw the Night God, and she told me what my purpose was. That was when I knew what I had to do.”
“And Arddryn?”
“She died,” said Arenadd. “Not long after I came. She thought . . . well, that’s a story for another time. Her partner is still alive, though. She lives in the Hatchery and teaches the youngsters griffish lore. Remind me to introduce you to her when we get back.”
They ate in silence for a while.
“Arenadd?”
“Yes?”
“Yeh said somethin’ about Lord Rannagon havin’ a son an’ a daughter,” said Laela.
“Yes, what of it?”
“You killed their father,” said Laela. “Didn’t they . . . wait a moment, wasn’t . . . ?”
“Yes, one of them came after me,” said Arenadd. “His bastard son, Erian. He wanted revenge, and he came all the way to Malvern, looking for it.”
“An’ you killed him.”
“Yes. His sister, too.”
“His entire family,” Laela muttered. “Sweet gods.”
Arenadd sighed. “Not his entire family, actually. Not quite. The Night God wanted it, but . . .”
Laela finally recalled the rest of what he had said that awful night. “Flell had a child. Yeh didn’t kill it.”
“No, and the Night God never forgave me for it,” said Arenadd. He looked her in the face, his expression serious. “He’ll be back one day, you know.”
“Who?”
“The child. He’s out there, somewhere. He’ll be a man by now. Sometimes, I wonder what he looks like and whether he has his uncle’s bright blue eyes.” Arenadd’s own eyes narrowed. “He must know what I did to his family. What I am. And one day, he’ll come looking for me. Just like his uncle; some young fool with a sword, looking for glory.”
“An’ what will yeh do if that happens?” said Laela.
“Kill him, of course,” said Arenadd.
> She grimaced. “That’s not very—”
“As long as he stays away from me, I’m happy to leave him alone,” said Arenadd. “I won’t look for him. But if he comes to me . . .”
“He won’t,” said Laela, hoping like mad that she was right.
• • •
The King and his escort left Warwick at dawn the next day, and after the second day of travelling, Laela had settled into the routine of it.
One thing she grew to enjoy was watching Oeka. The green-eyed griffin was the smallest in their party, but she had enough self-confidence for two adults, and Laela loved the way she strutted around the other griffins, sometimes provoking one with a nip to the tail and then easily dodging the angry response. The only griffin she never dared annoy was Skandar—but that was more than understandable. Arenadd had told her that the giant griffin had killed more than one of his fellows for annoying him one time too many.
Most of the time, though, Oeka preferred to stay with Laela. During the journey, Arenadd continued teaching her griffish whenever they landed to rest, and it was in this time that Laela began her first, clumsy conversations with her new partner.
Oeka listened to her human’s attempts at griffish with amusement bordering on disinterest, and was kind enough to offer some feedback.
“‘Your griffish is terrible,’” Arenadd translated.
“Tell her I said I’m workin’ on it,” said Laela.
Oeka only ruffled her feathers and huffed by way of an answer.
Finally, after another day of travelling, the sea came in sight.
By that afternoon, they were standing on the shore. They had landed at a small Eyrie built by the sea, where a port housed the ship that would take them eastward.
That evening, Arenadd and Laela went down onto the rocky beach together and watched the moon rise over the water.
Laela thought she’d never seen anything so magical in her life.
Arenadd said nothing, and seemed content to let her take it in while he kept his eyes on the moon, apparently busy with his own thoughts.
The griffins had stayed at the Eyrie to rest after a long day’s flight, and the King and his companion were alone.
Eventually, when the moon was high and yellow in the sky, Laela sat down on a rock. Arenadd sat beside her, hugging his knees. “So,” he said. “Is it how you imagined it would be?”
It was almost an effort to reply. “No,” said Laela. “It ain’t.” She held a hand out, gesturing at the sea with her long fingers. “Who’s got the imagination to come up with somethin’ like that?”
“Someone, somewhere,” said Arenadd. “The gods, presumably.”
“Well, of course,” said Laela.
Arenadd reached upward, tracing the outline of the moon with his finger-tip. “The Night God is the mistress of the sea. They say sometimes she lives deep inside it, where the sun can never reach, and the night lasts forever.”
“It goes that deep?” said Laela, shivering.
“So they say. She controls the sea, my master does. When her eye is fully open and her power is strongest, the sea comes higher up the land, trying to reach her. They say that’s why the sea moves that way, when lakes and rivers don’t—its spirit can see the moon in the sky and reaches toward it, wanting to have its beauty and its light.”
Laela looked at him. “Is that true?”
“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 w
ith 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?”
