The Dark Griffin (6 page)

Arren closed his eyes and braced himself.

She nipped him on the nose and then abruptly pulled away and began to preen her wings. “No, I was wrong,” she said. “You taste like old cheese.”

Arren got up, dabbing at his nose. “I can’t help it. I had mushroom bake last night.”

Eluna rubbed her head against his chest. “Try some venison next time and I will reconsider.”

Arren scratched her under the beak. “When I can afford it, sure.”

She closed her eyes and crooned. “No. Rats are fine for me.”

“Well, they’re cheaper than mushrooms. Maybe I should be eating them, too.”

She chirped her amusement. “They taste best raw and wriggling. Now go and get ready. We have work to do today.”

“All right. I’ll try to be quick.”

Arren returned to his half of the house and opened the window to let some light in. It was only just past dawn, and the light was grey and watery. Arren rubbed the bruise on the back of his head and pulled on a tunic.

He adjusted the tunic and picked up a comb. His hair tended to tangle if he didn’t give it plenty of combing, and he hated it to look messy.

Once he had groomed it to his satisfaction and had a quick shave and washed his face, he made himself a bowl of porridge and dried fruit and ate it out on the balcony. His home was right on the edge of the city, and the balcony had excellent views over the countryside. He liked a nice view, but this one just reminded him of how high up he was. Arren stayed close to the wall of his house and ate quickly, watching the bone wind-chimes swing gently in the breeze to avoid looking at the view.

Nearly all griffiners had some sort of official role in the running of the city. Arren had held several assistant positions before being promoted to his current role, that of Master of Trade. It was his job to manage the city’s marketplace, and anyone who wanted to set up a stall had to apply to him for a licence. He also had to inspect the goods that arrived in the huge crates hauled up to the mountaintop every day, and there were various other administrative things to deal with. It wasn’t the most exciting job, but it meant having some power at least.

Once he’d eaten, Arren went back inside. He filled the empty bowl with water and left it to soak, and then opened a large chest that stood next to the wall by the fireplace. He pulled out a light leather breastplate and strapped it on. Today he had something more exciting than paperwork to deal with.

He found his boots under the hammock where he’d left them and put them on, and then went to the fireplace and lifted his sword down from the wall. He pulled it partway out of its sheath to check on the blade. It was bright and sharp, and he’d kept it well oiled. He slid it back in and strapped the sheath to his back. All ready.

He turned toward the stable door, but Eluna was already there and ready for him. She clicked her beak. “Shall we go?”

Arren nodded.

“Then I will meet you in the city,” said Eluna and withdrew her head. There was a door in the back of the stable that led to a platform which jutted out over the city’s edge. She pushed it open and stood on the platform for a few moments, then took off, with a graceful flick of her wings, flying out over the farmlands below. Arren watched her through the window, marvelling yet again at how powerful she was in the air. He had flown on her back a few times, but there had rarely been much need for it and griffins weren’t built to carry anything heavy a long distance; more than one griffiner had died after their griffin had faltered in midair and dropped them.

Arren shivered slightly at the idea and turned away. He left the house via the front door, locking it and pocketing the key, and walked out into the streets.

The city of Eagleholm was unimaginatively named, but aptly so. Centuries ago people had come across the massive, nearly cylindrical mountain jutting up out of the plains. Not wanting to disturb the gods that undoubtedly lived at the top, these early settlers built their homes around the lake at its base using the chunks of stone that littered the ground, but otherwise they left the mountain alone.

With the rise of the griffiners, the mountain had been selected as the perfect place for the new rulers of the land to build a fortress. Huge trees, selected for their special rot-resistant wood, had been felled hundreds of miles away and hauled to the mountain by teams of slaves. They had had the extremely difficult and dangerous task of carrying the cut and treated timber to the top of the mountain and there using it to build the original Eyrie. Other buildings had sprung up around it over time, and that was how the city of Eagleholm had begun. Later on, during more peaceful times, many more common people had come to live there, and the city slowly grew until huge platforms had to be built out over its sides to make more room. These were constantly being upgraded and expanded, and by now there were at least as many houses on the platforms as there were on the stone of the mountain. Food and other supplies had to be hauled up from the villages below using a massive winching device, and plenty of farmers would come up with their produce and sell it in the marketplace. Other, smaller winches had been built to keep up the supply, and Arren had a team of assistants to help him manage them all.

Of course, more than just food came up with them.

Arren stopped at a crossroads and settled down there to wait for Eluna. Eagleholm had plenty of immigrants and descendants of immigrants living in it, but even so Arren stood out. He was tall and slender, and still had a touch of teenage gangliness about him. He had thick, curly black hair, and the top of one ear was ragged from when Eluna had bitten it a little too hard as a chick. His face was pale and angular, a little stern and unsmiling of expression, and he had black eyes.

He bought an apple from a nearby stall and ate it while he waited. Eluna liked to circle around for a while first thing in the morning, to let her muscles limber up and to enjoy the wind in her feathers.

The streets of the market district were already busy, while the traders set up their stalls. Arren watched idly.

“Morning, sir!”

Arren looked around. “Oh! Hello, Gern. What happened to you?”

Gern fingered the painful-looking cut on his forehead. “I went to the Arena last night and there was a bit of a row. But you should see the other man, sir.”

“Gern, I’m only two years older than you. And we’re friends. You could just call me Arren.”

“Yes, sir. Where’s Eluna?”

Arren pointed skyward. “She’ll be along in a moment.”

“It’s a shame you weren’t at the Arena last night, sir. You missed a brilliant fight!”

“Why, did you break another nose?” Arren asked sarcastically.

“I mean in the pit, sir,” said Gern a little reproachfully. “They’ve got three wild griffins in at the moment, and they all went in the pit at once. Once they’d killed the criminals they started fighting each other. One of ’em died, sir, it was amazing. And I won a bet.”

Arren sighed. “I don’t know why people go to those things. It’s so pointless. And griffins deserve more respect.”

“Not these ones, sir. They’re man-eaters.”

“So they give them more people to eat,” said Arren. “Oh, the logic.”

“They’re just criminals, sir.” Gern eyed him. “Why do you have your sword with you?”

“It’s a secret.”

Gern’s face lit up. “Are you doing another raid today, sir?”

“Maybe.” Arren gave up when he saw Gern’s expression. “All right, yes. I’ll tell you about it later if you keep it quiet. I’m going to go and meet up with Bran once Eluna gets here.” He glanced skyward. There were plenty of griffins circling up there, but he thought he could spot Eluna’s white wings among them. “Hold on a moment; I’ll just call her.”

Gern stood back, and Arren cupped his hands around his mouth. He lifted his head and let out a loud, harsh scream. It was an approximation of a griffin’s call, and he repeated it several times, completely ignoring all the people staring at him.
“Arren! Arren!”

After a few moments, Eluna’s reply echoed back.
“Eluna!”

Arren lowered his hands. “Watch out,” he said, rather hoarsely.

Bystanders had already picked up on what was going on. They hurried to get out of the way as Eluna came down to land. She hit the wooden planks lightly and came to Arren’s side, claws clicking. The people stayed well away from her, openly frightened and awestruck, as if they were looking at a queen. Eluna ignored them. She sat down on her haunches beside Arren, and he stroked her shoulder. “There you are.”

Gern came back, moving very slowly and carefully. He kept his eyes on Eluna, who had turned sharply to watch him, and bowed low. She stared at him, sizing him up, and then looked haughtily away.

Gern relaxed. “I’ll see you later, then, sir,” he said to Arren.

Arren smiled. “I’ll be down at the Red Rat tonight, probably. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll see you then, sir,” said Gern. He bowed to Eluna again and left.

Eluna rustled her wings and got up. “Time to go and meet Bran,” she said, and set out along the street with Arren by her side.

The two of them moved sedately, keeping pace with each other. People hurried to get out of their way, bowing and greeting Arren with murmured “sir”s. Arren acknowledged them with nods and a cheerful smile. Eluna barely looked at them. Once, when someone ventured too close to her, she lashed out at them, her beak snapping shut inches away from their leg. The unfortunate darted out of the way, to the laughter of the onlookers.

The sun was well up by the time they reached their destination. Another fine day.

The guard tower was right on the edge of the city, not too far from Arren’s home. There weren’t any direct routes to it from his place, though; the city planners had wanted to discourage too many people from travelling around the edge. The city’s platform was extremely strong and was constantly being reinforced, but there was no sense in risking it collapsing. This meant most of the buildings on the platform were built to be lightweight, and those who lived on the very edge, like Arren, were forbidden to own more than two or three pieces of heavy furniture.

The guard towers, however, were too essential to Eagleholm’s security to be built anywhere other than on the edge. There were at least twelve of them, spaced around the boundary of the city, and they were constantly manned by lookouts. Cymria was not a united country, not by any yardstick, and neighbouring powers were quite capable of attacking if they wanted to.

Arren’s arrival was promptly spotted by the guards on the lookout post at the top of the tower, one of whom immediately went inside to alert the others. By the time Arren reached the tower a group of guards had already come out to meet him.

“Mornin’, sir!” said one of them, bowing to Eluna. “Yeh got here early.”

“Hello, Bran,” said Arren. “Yes, Eluna woke me up. Everything ready?”

“Just about, sir,” said Bran. He was a little older than Arren, and three times as heavy. He had broad shoulders and powerful muscles and a square jaw which was only slightly softened by a short beard. Like his colleagues, he wore a red leather breastplate decorated with a black eagle. A short sword hung at his side, and there was a steel helmet under his arm. “How’re yeh doin’, sir? Nervous?”

Arren laughed. “Me? When I’ve got Eluna to look after me?”

Bran glanced cautiously at the griffin. “Yeah, of course, I didn’t mean—”

“Of course I’m nervous,” said Arren. “But if I were that lot I’d be even more nervous. Shall we go?”

Bran put his helmet on. “I hate this thing,” he muttered. “Yeah, ready as I’ll ever be, sir.” He looked at the other guards. “All right, you lot, let’s get goin’. Just follow Arren.”

Arren nodded to them and left. Eluna walked beside him, and Bran followed on the other side, keeping well away from the griffin, though he wasn’t as afraid of her as other people were. The rest of the guards followed in a neat rank behind them.

“How many d’you think there’ll be?” said Arren.

“Oh, probably not too many, sir,” said Bran. “There’d be more’n enough of us to take care of ’em even if we didn’t have yeh with us. Anyway, they won’t be interested in fightin’. They’ll try to run off before they try anything like that. I mean, they’d have to be bloody stupid to try and fight a griffiner. An’ afterwards”—he grinned, showing a couple of missing teeth—“it’ll be rich pickings, I’ll bet. Always is with this sort.”

Arren nodded. “I hope so. I could do with a few luxuries. I haven’t had an orange in months.”

“Oooh, a few oranges would be nice,” Bran said. “Last time I had one of them was at my sister’s wedding.”

“We’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose,” said Arren.

They knew where they were going. The place had already been scouted out, and Arren had seen it several times in the past. It was in the large residential area that backed onto the market district. Thousands of people lived there: traders, craftspeople, guardsmen, anyone and everyone the city needed. Since the house was on the solid part of the city rather than on the platform, it was built out of stone and was significantly older than most of the buildings on the edge, which had to be replaced or repaired much more frequently. This one looked as if it belonged to someone fairly wealthy. The windows were glass, and the doors and frame were freshly painted. There was even a little bit of a garden out the front.

“Huh,” said Bran, seeing it. “Bloody bastard thinks he’s a lord, does he? Must’ve had this racket goin’ pretty long.”

“Yes, and he’d be able to keep it going a lot longer if he hadn’t decided to spend some of the profits on his house,” said Arren. “Let’s go in.”

Some of the guards had already detached themselves from the group and moved around to the back of the house, to block any other doors. Arren and Bran made for the front door, not troubling to avoid trampling the flowerbeds. Eluna took up position next to the door, and Bran glanced at Arren. “Yeh goin’ in first, sir?”

Arren drew his sword and tried the handle. It turned and he went in. There was no-one in the entrance hall, and he silently beckoned to Bran. The big guard joined him, moving surprisingly quietly, and several other guards came, too. “Spread out through the rooms,” Bran told them in an undertone. They nodded and separated, drawing their weapons. Once they had gone, Eluna stepped into the entrance hall. Arren stroked her head. “Will you come with me?” he asked in griffish.