The Dark Griffin (10 page)

He stopped to eat an orange and think. What else should he take? A clean tunic would probably be a good idea, and some salve and bandages. And a cloak to wear in the air. Food was out of the question, apart from a few snacks to go in his pocket. He’d have to take some money and buy food along the way. People were generally happy to help a griffiner; he’d probably be given it for free. Best not to take too many chances, though. Arren knelt and lifted a loose board out of the floor beneath the table. There was a box underneath, and he filled a small leather pouch with oblong-shaped pieces of metal from it and tied the pouch to his belt. Fifty oblong should be enough to get by on. If the worst came to the worst, he could always ask Eluna to hunt. She wouldn’t like it, but it would be better than starving.

Once he’d packed everything into a small shoulder bag and fetched Eluna’s harness from the stable, he stacked them neatly in a corner and sat down to have some lunch. Eluna had spent the time dozing by his hammock, but she woke up at the smell of food and gave him an expectant look. Arren got up and took a large wrapped parcel from a cupboard by the window, saying, “All right, I haven’t forgotten about you—hope it’s still fresh.”

He pulled off the cloth wrapping. Inside was a gory lump of meat: a raw goat’s leg with half the haunch still attached. Eluna stood up when she saw it, tail swishing. “If you throw it—”

Arren smiled and placed it down in front of her. “No, no. It’s a bit heavy for that. Just try not to make too much of a mess.”

Eluna tore into it, digging her talons into the floor.

Arren tried to ignore the sound of splintering wood. “How is it?”

“Good,” Eluna mumbled.

Arren returned to the table and his own lunch. “It’s got to be better than this sausage. I can’t believe someone went to the trouble of smuggling it.” He ate it anyway. It wouldn’t keep while he was gone.

Once they’d finished eating, Arren stood up and brushed the crumbs off his tunic. “All right. We’d better go and see Flell, and my parents, and let them know what’s going on. Are you ready?”

Eluna yawned and stretched. “I will come.”

Arren picked up the roll of leather. “Mum and Dad will be glad to get this. There’s twelve pairs of boots in it, if I’m any judge. Well, let’s go.”

He stuffed the scroll in his pocket before he left. They’d probably want to see it.

T
hey visited Flell first. Never politically minded, and lacking an official position, she lived close to the Eyrie in a fine stone house that had once belonged to her mother. Its large windows must have been a help to her because she saw Arren coming and came out to meet him, her griffin following at her heels.

“Arren!”

Arren embraced her. “Hello, Flell!”

They kissed, while Eluna nipped playfully at the other griffin. Flell’s griffin was only a chick, as tall as Arren’s knee. It rubbed itself against Eluna’s foreleg, cheeping.

Arren stooped. “Hello, Thrain. Remember me?”

Thrain fluttered her wings and lifted her beak toward his hand. She sniffed it for a moment, and then bit him lightly on the finger. Arren flinched, but didn’t move, and the chick let him scratch her behind the ears. “Food!” she said.

Arren fished in his pocket and found a piece of dried beef. “Well, how are you?” he said to Flell, while Thrain ate it. “I meant to come and see you earlier, but something came up.”

Flell smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “I missed you. Come on, come in.” She ushered him inside.

They went to the main room and sat down together by the fireplace. Flell made tea for them, and they drank it together in companionable silence.

“What happened to your arm?” Flell asked.

Arren glanced at it. “We raided a smugglers’ den this morning.”

“Oh!” said Flell. “How did it go?”

“Quite well. We caught two of them, and . . . sort of caught a third. Eluna killed him.”

“Oh no,” said Flell. “Have you talked to my father about it yet?”

Arren nodded. “It’s all right; Eluna was only defending me. But there’s a problem . . .”

Flell listened while he explained. She was a little younger than him, delicately built, with a freckled face and light-blue eyes. She looked seriously at him while he told her about the bounty he was setting out to take, though he did not say that it had been her father’s idea.

“So, you’re going all the way to—where did you say it was?”

“Rivermeet. It’s right at the edge of the Coppertops.”

Flell looked unhappy. “Arren, you don’t have to do this. I can help.”

Arren shook his head. “I don’t need it, Flell. I can deal with it myself. Anyway, it shouldn’t be too hard. I can fight this thing.”

“But you’ve never done anything like this before.”

“It sounds pretty straightforward to me,” Arren said confidently. “I’ll plan it out—set an ambush. Just like catching a smuggler. Find the wild griffin’s den, flush it out—”

“But you won’t have Bran with you,” said Flell. “You’ll have a lot of farmers.”

“Farmers, guards, what’s the difference? They can throw rocks and obey orders. And they want this griffin dead or caught. Its crime is against them, after all.” He hadn’t added that the thing was a man-eater. He didn’t want to upset Flell.

Flell looked wistful. “I wish I could go with you.” Thrain, sensing her worry, hopped up onto her lap and snuggled down. She petted the griffin, her eyes still on Arren.

He started to feel slightly uncomfortable. “I’ll be fine. Eluna will protect me.”

“Do your parents know?” Flell asked.

Arren shook his head. “I was going to go and visit them this afternoon. In fact”—he looked out the window and sighed—“I should probably go soon. I have a lot to do today—got to get my affairs in order before I go. Rannagon said he’d choose someone to look after the marketplace for me, but I have to talk to Gern and the rest, make sure they know what’s going on.”

“You mean I won’t see you again before you go?” said Flell.

“I have to leave at dawn,” said Arren. He paused. “Look, tell you what, I promised Bran I’d meet him down at the Red Rat this evening for a few drinks. D’you want to come?”

Flell finished off her tea. “Not if he gets drunk and starts making lewd remarks again.”

Arren grinned. “I’ll keep an eye on him. Gern should be there.”

“All right, I’ll come,” said Flell. She stood up, lifting Thrain onto her shoulder. “Here, let me help you with that,” she added, lifting the roll of leather. “Your arm must hurt.”

“It’s not too bad,” said Arren, but he let her take it to the door for him anyway. There, he gave her a quick hug. “I’ll see you in a while, all right?”

She kissed him again as she handed over the roll of leather. “Make sure you’re there, Arren.”

“I will be.” Arren tucked the leather under his arm. “You know . . .”

“Yes?”

Arren paused, and then shook his head. “No, never mind.”

“No, what is it?” said Flell.

“I’ll tell you when I get back,” said Arren. “See you later.”

Flell stood at her doorway and watched him go, and he frowned once he was out of earshot. He hated to leave her like this.

Once they were in the street, in a clear patch, he took Eluna’s harness from inside the roll of leather where he’d stowed it. “Do you want to fly to my parents’ place?” he asked her.

Eluna eyed the harness, saying nothing.

“We can ride the crates down, if you’d prefer,” Arren added. “But I thought since we’re going to be flying to Rivermeet maybe we should get in practice. What d’you think?”

Eluna cocked her head. “We’ll fly,” she said at last.

“All right. Hold still.”

Arren attached the harness to Eluna’s chest and neck. There were straps to hold it in place that crossed over her chest and went around her forelegs. Arren tightened them carefully, not wanting to cause her any discomfort. She shifted irritably a couple of times, but made no complaint. Once he was done, Arren climbed onto her back, settling down between her neck and wings, just over her shoulder blades. The harness had a pair of simple leather stirrups hanging off it, and Arren slipped his feet into them and took hold of the harness in front of him. People had gathered to watch, but he ignored them. He looked down at the roll of leather, lying on the street where he’d left it. “Can you carry it for me, Eluna?”

The white griffin snatched it up in her talons. “Are you ready?”

Arren tightened his grip on the harness. “Yes.”

“Then hold on.” Eluna tensed and then made a short, hobbling run down the street, wings opening as she went. Arren bounced up and down on her back, cushioned by her feathers, holding on grimly. Her head jerked up and down, threatening to dislodge him, and then, without warning, she leapt. Her wings beat furiously, lifting the pair of them into the air. She was rising, wings lashing, bucking wildly in the sky. Arren lay flat against her neck, eyes closed. He started to panic. Had she done this the last time they’d flown? What if she was about to fall?

The thought terrified him. Even though he forced himself to keep his eyes shut, his brain showed him an image of the ground rushing up to meet him. His stomach lurched horribly. For a moment he thought he was falling, down and down, the wind ripping at him. He bit back a yell, and then Eluna’s voice broke through the spell. “Let go!” she shouted.

Arren realised he was nearly strangling her. He loosed his grip as the griffin steadied and flew in a wide circle over the city. When he looked down he realised the buildings were tiny and distant. Vertigo seized hold of him, and he retched. “Oh gods.”

“Calm down,” Eluna snapped. “Hold still; I cannot balance.”

She was listing forward slightly in the air, he realised. He pulled himself together and, to avoid looking down, watched the feathers on her neck moving in the wind. His nausea receded gradually.

Eluna flew away over the city. “You are heavier than I remember,” she remarked. Arren didn’t reply, and she must have felt how tense he was. “Are you still afraid of falling ?” she asked.

“No,” Arren lied.

“Arren, it was years ago,” said Eluna. “Can you forget it?”

“I have,” said Arren.

“But you dream about it,” said Eluna. “I have heard you in your sleep. Crying out. Does your back still hurt you?”

“Sometimes.”

“I saved you then,” said Eluna. “I will not let you fall now. I promise.”

Arren calmed down. “I trust you.”

But he didn’t completely relax for the rest of the journey. They flew out over the edge of the city until they were above Eagle’s Lake and the large village built among the hills on its shore. Technically it was part of Eagleholm, but the village went by the name of Idun.

Eluna landed not far from the lake, among some houses built on a hill. Arren slid down off her back, very grateful to feel solid ground beneath him again.

The white griffin dropped the roll of leather and shook herself. Once Arren’s head had stopped spinning, he noticed the squashed feathers on her neck and shoulders. “Sorry.”

Eluna preened herself wordlessly.

People were already coming to meet them, bowing to Eluna.

“Sir!”

“Sir, can I do anything to help you?”

“Sir, please, can you spare a coin? I have no money for—”

Arren rummaged in his pocket and flipped an oblong toward the speaker. He picked up the roll of leather and tucked it under his arm. “I’m just here to visit someone. No need to be concerned.”

Several people followed him as he walked off down the hill, but they gave up and left him alone soon enough. He sensed that some of them just wanted to look at Eluna. Griffiners and griffins didn’t come into the village very often. To many of Idun’s inhabitants, griffiners were just as unreachably distant as the griffins that circled over their city. Out in the countryside, he could expect even more excitement. In places where griffiners almost never went, they were regarded almost as demigods.

Arren’s parents lived at the bottom of the hill, in a modest wooden house. They had seen him coming and hurried out to meet him. His mother threw her arms around him. “Arren!”

Arren hugged her. “Hello, Mum, how are you?”

She let go, bright eyed. “Oh, we’re fine. Hello, Eluna.”

Eluna sat on her haunches and regarded them with an almost benevolent expression.

Arren held out the roll of leather toward his father. “Here, Dad, I brought you this.”

His father felt it and whistled. “This is top-quality stuff. Where did you get it from?”

“Seized it from some smugglers. I thought you’d probably be able to use it.”

Arren’s mother smiled and waved a hand at him. “Come on, come in, don’t stand around out here.”

They entered the house, leaving Eluna outside to wait.

Arren sat down at the table in the main room with his parents.

Arren’s father, Cardock, stowed the leather away in a corner. “Thanks. There’s at least twelve pairs of boots in this if I’m any judge.”

“No problem,” said Arren. “I’d have brought some other things but I couldn’t carry anything else. I’ll send them down with one of my assistants. So, how’re you doing?”

“We’re fine,” said his mother, Annir. “Your father’s thinking of taking on another apprentice.”

“And what about you?” said Cardock. “How are things up in the city, Arenadd?”

“Arren will do fine, Dad,” said Arren.

Cardock, who had the same angular features as his son, frowned. “I don’t see any reason for you to be ashamed, Arenadd. It’s a fine, strong name. A Northern name.”

“A stupid name,” Arren said flatly. “Things are fine in the city. There was a bit of bother this morning, though. Seems I’ve—”

“You
are
ashamed, though,” Cardock interrupted.

“Cardock, please,” said Annir.

“You are,” said Cardock, ignoring her. “You don’t want to remind people you’re a Northerner. Arenadd isn’t Southern enough for you, is it? Well?”

“Dad, I’ve told you before. I changed my name because I didn’t like it. That’s all.”

Cardock shook his head. “I am proud of you, you know. When you first became a griffiner I wasn’t happy. After what the griffiners did to us—but there are worthy griffiners, and you’re one of them. But you can be a griffiner and a Northerner as well.”