The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (10 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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“A weapon,” Erian said instantly. “Something that can kill him. I’m sure of it.”
She put her head on one side. “Why so certain, Erian?”
He could feel his blush deepening, but he pushed on regardless. “What else could it be? If I’m the one to find it—I’m not much, but I know I’m a warrior. I was trained in swordplay since I was seven years old. If I’m going to be given something to defeat him, it has to be a weapon.”
“I suppose so,” said Elkin.
The cider had already gone to Erian’s head. “And—and—I’ve been thinking. If
he’s
been sent to fight us, then maybe I’m meant to fight
him
. Maybe it’s destiny. Maybe—maybe it’s Gryphus’ will.”
Elkin watched him. “May—be,” she said, very slowly. “You could ask Kraal that, but now isn’t the time. He never talks when he’s eating.”
Erian’s look toward her didn’t waver. “I think it’s Gryphus. I think he sent me. Made me. To stop the darkness.”
“You sound very certain,” said Elkin, in the same cautious manner as before.
“I have a reason,” Erian told her hastily. “There’s a reason I think that.”
“Yes? What reason?”
He looked at the tabletop. “I’ve . . . I’ve never really told anyone this before, but . . .”
“Yes?”
Erian gathered his wits, and ploughed on. “I was born in a village called Carrick. They farmed cows there. And bees. It’s where Eagleholm got most of its honey. There were orchards there, too. I remember them . . . they smelled wonderful in the spring. I used to practise there, with my wooden sword.” He looked wistful. “My mother was a tavern maid. Belara. Bell, they called her. My father stayed at the tavern on his way back home from the war, and he and my mother—well, they spent the night together. He left after that and never came back to her. But when the tavern owner found out she was pregnant, he threw her out. She went to the temple instead. There was a small one there, with just one priest. No griffin, just a bell. The priest let her stay and help him gather flowers and bring new candles.” Erian took a deep breath. “I was born in that temple. My mother went into labour one day while she was working. There was no time to take her anywhere, so she lay on the altar. That’s where I was born. At the stroke of noon, just as the sun touched her. I came out into sunlight. That’s what my grandmother used to say. Came into life, into sunlight. A gift from Gryphus.”
Elkin’s eyes had widened. “Great sun. Is all that true?”
“That’s what my grandparents told me. My mother—she didn’t survive. She died as I was born. But when I found out where I was born, and how, I thought it meant something special. I started going to the temple more, to pray. I believed it was all a message—a sign. That’s why I never gave up, why I went all the way to Eagleholm to become a griffiner. I knew it was what Gryphus had always meant to happen. And now—now this. A Dark Lord. A special weapon. It’s destiny, Elkin, I know it is.” Erian smiled beatifically.
Elkin smiled back, uncertainly. “That’s . . . an amazing story. And maybe it will be better for all of us if you’re right. But you know that isn’t why I asked you to come here.”
Erian looked at her properly for the first time in a while. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have talked so much . . . I suppose I got carried away.”
Elkin coughed. Her hands, resting on the table in front of her, played compulsively with her spoon. “I asked you to come here mostly because I felt I owed you an apology.”
“An apology? For what?”
“Just a few days ago, you confessed something to me and I ignored it. I was cruel, and I haven’t stopped regretting it since.”
Erian’s heart paused its beating. “I don’t understand,” he lied.
For almost the first time since they had met, Lady Elkin, Eyrie Mistress, looked utterly lost—even afraid. “You said you loved me,” she said. “And I pretended not to hear. I made you think I didn’t care, but the truth is that I didn’t know what to say.” She gave him a weak smile. “I am very clever. I know three languages, I’ve memorised the names of every town and village in my territory, I can tell you who invented the woodcut—but
feelings
are something that have always been a puzzle to me. I can analyse your emotions like they were a book, but my own are confusing sometimes, a riddle I can’t solve.”
To Erian, nothing that had happened that day could be as terrifying or as magical as this. For once, he didn’t try to say anything.
“I have had more marriage proposals than years on this earth,” Elkin went on matter-of-factly. “But I turned them down, every last one. Some people think it’s because I don’t want to risk sharing my power with a husband, but the truth is simpler. All those men who wanted me didn’t want me at all—they wanted other things. My money, my power, my beautiful Eyrie. Even access to my magnificent partner. But you’re different. I know you well enough now. You don’t want power or money or status. You only want my love. Don’t you?” she added, suddenly forceful. “Isn’t that the truth, Lord Erian Rannagonson?”
A great weight seemed to press down on him at that moment, heavy as the hand of Gryphus himself. When he opened his mouth to reply, the words nearly stuck in his throat; he all but choked them out. “Yes. I don’t want you because you’re an Eyrie Mistress; I want you because you’re you. I always have.”
“Why?” she demanded. “
Why?
Why me?” Her face was almost angry.
“Because—because—because you’re beautiful and clever and kind and graceful and everything I’m not, and when I’m with you I—” Erian’s babble spluttered to a halt as suddenly as it had begun. “I feel . . .
alive
. When you’re there. But”—he bowed his head—“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m just a stupid bastard peasant, and I’ll never be good enough for you. I should have left it alone.”
“We both should,” Elkin said softly. She glanced toward Kraal. “Chaos is coming. War, most likely. I can feel it. Who knows what could happen? When a man can come back from the dead, nothing is certain any more. In times like these, perhaps an Eyrie Mistress can love a bastard.”
Erian felt close to tears. “Maybe. But it’s happened already, hasn’t it? I love you, Elkin, and not even Gryphus himself could change that. And if you love me, too, then . . . then so be it.”
Her eyes shone. “Then so be it. Kiss me.”
He did.
Over by the wall, Senneck nervously allowed Kraal to groom her. But she soon relaxed and began to purr. Neither griffin seemed to have noticed Erian and Elkin.
That day at Malvern, everything changed. A man came back from the dead, and an Eyrie Mistress loved a bastard.
It made no difference to Erian. He leant over the table, feeling Elkin’s lips pressed against his, and his heart, his living heart, pounded as it had never done before. He already knew that this was the happiest moment of his life, and he grasped it with both hands, determined to remember it forever. He knew, too, really knew, that what his grandmother had always told him was the truth: that love was the greatest power in the world, and nothing—not magic, not even death itself—could ever destroy it. Love was life.
To him, Elkin was life. His Elkin.
 
 
A
renadd and Saeddryn returned to the camp together, and were greeted by some slightly suspicious looks.
Arenadd, however, was businesslike. “All right, everyone, get yourselves together. We’re leaving.”
They seemed happy enough with that. Rhodri complained, though. “Why should we be takin’ orders from ye?”
In response, Arenadd unfastened the front of his robe and freed his right arm from its sleeve. Spiralling blue patterns stood out all over the grimy skin as he held the limb out for them all to see.
Rhodri and his friends all went very still. “Are those—” Cai began.
Arenadd stuffed his arm back into its sleeve. “Yes. Arddryn Taranisäii has retired. I am the chief now, and I have the tattoos to prove it.”
Rhodri and his fellows sprang into action at once, with muttered apologies. Only Annir still looked confused as they put out the fire and set about hiding it.
“Arren, what’s going on?”
“It’s Arenadd now,” he told her gently. “I’ll never be Arren again. Come here.”
She obeyed. “Where are we going?”
“To the mountains,” said Arenadd. “We have friends there.” He reached out to touch her neck, where the collar of a slave gleamed dully. “Does it hurt?”
Annir nodded. “They’re made to hurt.”
“I know,” he said grimly. “But don’t worry, I know how to take it off. I should do it now, before we leave.”
“You know how to remove them?” she said. “How?”
Arenadd looked around the campsite. “I wish I had a hammer . . . a rock should do the job, though. Help me find a big one.”
They wandered around for a short while until Annir picked up one about the size of an orange. “Is this big enough?”
Arenadd took it and weighed it in his hand. “It should do. Now listen. I’ve done this before plenty of times. All you have to do is lift your chin and hold very still, and I’ll give it a good hard whack in the right spot. If I do it properly, it’ll break the locking mechanism and the collar will spring open.”
“Is that all?”
“Yes. But I should warn you: it
will
hurt, and if I don’t do it right the first time, I’ll have to try again.”
Annir smiled wanly. “It’s a small price to pay for freedom.” She lifted her head to expose the collar. “Do it.”
“Saeddryn!” Arenadd waved to her. “I need your help. Hold on to her, or she’ll fall over.”
Saeddryn took Annir by the shoulders. “Don’t worry. I’ve got yer. Go on, Arenadd.”
The others had noticed what was going on and came over to watch.
“Look closely,” Arenadd advised. “One day you might have to do this, too.” He pulled the rock back and bashed it against the collar with all his strength.
The impact threw Annir back against Saeddryn with a cry of shock and pain, but she had barely recovered herself before she began scrabbling at the collar, wrenching it open. It swung apart on its hinge, the ruined lock mechanism protruding. She hurled it away into a tree, where it got hooked on a branch and stayed there, swinging back and forth.
Rhodri had already torn a strip of cloth into a bandage. “Here, use this.”
The collar had left dozens of small bleeding puncture marks on Annir’s neck. She dabbed at them, breathing hard. “It’s not so bad.”
“Bandage it up anyway.” Arenadd rubbed his face. “Gods, how did it come to this? If I’d known what I was sending you into . . . and Dad as well . . .”
Annir finished wrapping the makeshift bandage in place, and she looked up sadly. “I know what happened to him. Skade told me.”
“He died bravely,” Saeddryn said stoically.
“He was always brave,” said Arenadd. “I can’t bring him back or undo what happened to you. But I promise you, the Bastard will pay. They’ll all pay.”
“All of them,” said Skade.
“Aye, they’ll pay in blood,” said Saeddryn. “Rhodri—c’mon, hurry up an’ finish buryin’ them ashes.”
Arenadd was looking at the sky. “We’ll head north, obviously. That way.” He pointed. “Don’t bring anything you don’t need. Skandar?”
The dark griffin listened. “I fly,” he said. “Watch from sky.”
“Good idea,” said Arenadd. “I’ll stay down here and keep everyone together. Skade, you and Saeddryn stay close by me. Rhodri, you and Davyn bring up the rear. Everyone has to stay alert.” He squared his shoulders and smiled to himself. “Time to go home.”
 
 
E
rian’s departure from Malvern was a quiet affair. On the morning after Flell’s arrival he and Senneck went to meet Elkin and Kraal in the audience chamber, and found them both waiting there. To Erian’s dismay, Bran and Flell were there, too, the former watching him with barely concealed contempt.
Erian ignored the former guard captain and embraced Elkin.
She returned the gesture, a little awkwardly. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”
“Not really,” Erian confessed.
“I know that,” said Senneck. “You did not stop pacing until the Day Eye was near to opening. The noise kept me awake.”
“Sorry,” said Erian.
“Are you prepared?” Kraal interrupted.
“I think so,” said Erian. He already knew Senneck wouldn’t be able to carry anything beyond himself and his sword, and had chosen the single warmest and toughest set of clothes he owned. A bag of oblong hung from his hip, and he had filled his pockets with travel rations.
“But are you
ready
?” said Kraal.
The question caught Erian off guard. “Uh, I . . .” He caught a glimpse of Flell and straightened up. “Yes.”
“Well then, that’s good,” Elkin said brightly. She held out a hand. “Here. A gift for you.”
It was a golden sunwheel: three curling lines connected at the centre like the petals of a flower. The place where the lines intersected was set with a large blue stone.

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