The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (26 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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The chains held fast. He struggled against them a little longer and then slumped back, shuddering.
Got to keep my strength up,
he thought once he had calmed down.
Got to think. Try an’ escape later, when they’re not ready for it. Pretend to be asleep, an’ take the bastards unaware
.
Deep down, he knew any escape attempt would be a failure. But he preferred to die fighting. It would be easier that way, and faster. Yes. Maybe he could take one of them with him, too. He’d make them sorry they’d taken Captain Branton Redguard prisoner.
Yes . . .
Eventually, worn out by fear and exhaustion, he fell asleep.
 
 
S
omeone thumped him hard in the arm. Bran groaned but didn’t move.
The hand thumped him again. “Bran,” a voice hissed. “
Bran!
Wake up!”
Bran’s eyes flicked open. “What?”
There was a sigh, and someone tugged at his arm. “Come on, get up.
Move!
”
Bran stirred and tried to look up. “Arren?”
“Shut up!” the voice hissed. “I’m taking the chains off you now. Attack me and you die, understood?”
Heart pounding, Bran sat up and waited while the manacles were removed from his wrists. Arenadd, only half-visible in the darkness, dragged him to his feet.
“Can you walk?”
“Yeah,” said Bran. “Arren, what’s goin’ on? What are yeh doin’?”
“Come on,” Arenadd said briefly. “Follow me, keep silent, do what I tell you. Is that clear?”
Bran rubbed his wrists. “Why should I do what yeh tell me?” he asked sullenly.
“Because you’ll die if you don’t. Now move.”
Every sense on the alert, Bran followed him out of the cell. The corridor outside was poorly lit and apparently deserted. Arenadd paused to look both ways and then beckoned him along it, away from the interrogation room.
Bran followed, searching the walls and floor for a weapon he could use. He found nothing, and caught up with Arenadd at the end of the corridor. “Arren, what’s goin’ on? What are yeh doin’?”
Arenadd gave him an impatient look. “I’ve forgotten—were you always this stupid?”
Bran itched to hit him. “I just wanted t’know what’s happenin’. What are yeh doin’, Arren?”
Arenadd took a key from his pocket. “What does it
look
like I’m doing? I’m getting you out of here.”
Bran’s eyes widened. “What? Yeh mean, lettin’ me go?”
“Yes. Now shut up before I change my mind.” Arenadd fitted the key into the barred door ahead of them and shoved it open.
Bran grinned disbelievingly. “I knew it,” he said. “I knew yeh hadn’t forgotten.”
“Not quite. Now, are you going to do what I tell you?” Bran nodded. “Just follow an’ keep quiet?”
“Yes. If we run into anyone, make a break for it.”
“Got it.”
Arenadd nodded curtly and led the way out of the prison corridor and up a flight of stairs. The upper levels were dark and quiet, and Bran realised it must still be night. He followed Arenadd through several more rooms and down a corridor, which led them out into a little courtyard and through a gate into the city.
Once they were there, Bran allowed himself to let out a deep sigh of relief. “Thank gods.”
Arenadd turned to him. He was wearing a black robe and leggings underneath, and there was a dagger in his belt. He looked tired and worn. “You can’t stay in the city,” he said briefly. “You’re the only Southerner left; you’d be spotted instantly.”
“How do I get out of the city?” said Bran.
Arenadd walked on, beckoning to him. “I’ll show you.”
They began to make their way through the streets by moonlight. It was quiet here, and Arenadd seemed to relax slightly. Once someone passed close by them, and he tensed and pulled Bran into an alley to hide until they had gone. Other than that brief encounter, they saw no-one. They reached a small gate in the outer wall. It was locked, but Arenadd picked the lock and ushered Bran out and into the sheep paddocks that surrounded the city.
Once they were well away from the walls, and the guards there who might see them, Bran fell in beside his old friend and dared to break the silence. “Why are yeh doin’ this, Arren? I thought you was gonna kill me. I thought yeh’d . . . gone mad.”
“I’m a Northerner,” Arenadd said calmly. “We’re all a little mad, you know. Especially when we’re angry.”
They reached the edge of the paddocks and entered a grove of trees, and Arenadd remained silent all the while. Finally, when they were under cover, he stopped and stood with his back to Bran, and sighed.
Bran approached him cautiously. “Arren? Can yeh at least tell me why yeh helped me?”
Arenadd didn’t turn around. “I’m losing my memory, Bran,” he said.
Bran froze. “What?”
“I don’t know why,” said Arenadd. “I don’t even know what I’m forgetting. There’s just . . . big blanks in my head. I don’t remember anything about my childhood any more. I can’t even remember how you and I met, or why we were friends, or whether I ever trusted you.”
“Arren—”
Arenadd kept his back to his former friend. “I am . . . I’ve changed, Bran. I’m not what I used to be, or who. That fall, back at Eagleholm . . . killed me. I don’t have any life left. I don’t even have a heartbeat. And soon I’ll have no past, either. It’s leaving me, all of it.”
“Then why did yeh help me?” said Bran. “If yeh don’t remember—”
“I still remember some things.” Arenadd turned around. “I owe you, Bran. You saved my life.”
“But I didn’t!” said Bran. “I tried to save yeh, but—”
“Not then,” said Arenadd. “Before then. After Eluna died. What happened to her destroyed me. I didn’t want to live any more. If you and Gern and Flell hadn’t helped me, I probably would have drunk myself to death. I didn’t tell you this, but”—he looked away—“that night when you came to see me, when you came to see if I was all right, I . . . there was . . . I had a rope. In Eluna’s old nest. When you came, I was about to use it. If you hadn’t come then, I would have been dead.”
“You was gonna . . .” Bran went cold as he remembered that night and the drunken, dishevelled wreck that had greeted them, with that dead look to the eyes. “You were gonna kill yerself.”
“Yes. But after you came, I changed my mind. I decided I still had something to live for, because I had friends.”
Bran moved closer to him. “Yeh still do, mate. An’ if yeh remember that, then . . . well, yeh ain’t changed. Arren Cardockson ain’t dead; he’s you.”
Arenadd shook his head. “Not for long, Bran. I remember it now, but I won’t forever. I don’t know how long it’ll be gone, too, sooner or later. Arren—who I used to be—he’s still alive, but only just. He’s dying. Soon he’ll be gone. I think, one day, I won’t even remember who Arren Cardockson was at all. But I’m helping you for the sake of his memory. No other reason.”
“What are yeh gonna do?” said Bran.
“I’m already doing it,” said Arenadd. “Now go. Get out of here, and don’t come back. Don’t let me find you again, because if I do I’ll probably kill you.”
Bran looked pleadingly at him, but Arenadd’s voice had become distant again. He was retreating. “How do I get away?” he asked. “If . . . if Kraeya’s . . .” He tensed. “Kraeya. My griffin. Where is she? What happened to her? Is she . . .”
Arenadd shook his head. “Skandar is the biggest griffin I’ve ever seen, and the strongest. But he’s not very fast or agile in the sky. Your—Kraeya, did you say her name was?—found her wings after she fell. Skandar says he chased her a very long way before he gave up and came back.”
Bran’s eyes lit up. “She’s alive?”
“As far as I know. I don’t know where she is, but I doubt she’ll go far. A griffin always comes back for her human.”
Bran hesitated for an instant and then took his old friend in a fierce embrace. Arenadd let out a quick “Hey!” but gave in. He was thin and light in Bran’s arms; it seemed as if there was nothing left of him inside the robe.
Bran let go of him. “Thank you,” he said solemnly. “I don’t care what yeh say, Arren, you ain’t changed as much as yeh think.”
Arenadd gave a lopsided smile. “Get going, you big lump. I’ve got to get back to the tower before Skade wakes up and finds I’m missing.”
“Who’s Skade?” said Bran.
“Oh. Well . . .” Arenadd rubbed his twisted fingers. “She’s someone rather special.”
“Oh, right.” Bran grinned. “Well . . . that’s good. I’ll tell Flell—”
Arenadd froze. “Flell? She’s here?”
“Yeah, at Malvern.”
Arenadd lurched forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Malvern?” he almost shouted. “She can’t be at Malvern! What’s she doing there?”
“She came with me,” said Bran, taken aback. “We’re . . . we got married.”
Arenadd’s face was full of horror. “She can’t be in the North!” he said. “For gods’ sakes, Bran . . .”
“What?” said Bran. “What’s wrong with that?”
Arenadd gripped him more tightly. “Get—her—out of here,” he said. “Go back to Malvern, take her and leave. Immediately.”
“But why?”
“Because—it doesn’t matter why. Just do it!” said Arenadd. “You’ve got to keep her away from me! I don’t care where you take her; just don’t let me find her.”
“Why?”
said Bran.
“Because if I find her, I’ll kill her,” said Arenadd. “Understand? If I see her, if I know where she is, she’s dead, along with anyone who tries to stop me.”
“But why?” said Bran. “What did she do to yeh? I know she left yeh, but that’s no reason—”
“I can’t tell you, you wouldn’t understand,” said Arenadd.
“But as long as she’s at Malvern, she’s in danger. Promise me you’ll take her away, Bran.”
“I—”
“Promise me,” Arenadd repeated. “I saved your life, remember? You owe me. Promise you’ll take her away.”
“I . . . I will,” Bran stammered. “I promise.”
“See you keep it,” said Arenadd. “Oh, and one other thing.”
“What?”
“I was never here. I had nothing to do with this. You escaped on your own. If you tell anybody, I swear I’ll hunt you down. My followers can’t know, and neither can my enemies. Don’t even tell Kraeya. Just say you escaped by yourself. Understand?”
Bran nodded. “Lips are sealed, mate.”
“Good.” Arenadd pressed a sword into his hand. “Yours. Now go, and good luck.”
Bran put the sword into his belt. “Thanks. Arren?”
“Yes?”
“Are yeh . . . are yeh really gonna lead those people? Are yeh gonna attack Malvern?”
Arenadd’s face was shrouded in the gloom. “I have to go.”
“But—”
Arenadd only shook his head and slipped away into the darkness, vanishing like a whisper in the wind.
17
 
The War Begins
 
A
renadd slept soundly that night, after he had returned to his room, unseen and unheard. The next morning he breakfasted with Skade in the hall, having given orders for the prisoner to be taken to the interrogation chamber again for further questioning. That done, he enjoyed a plate of hot bread, cheese and fruit and waited for the inevitable uproar. Sure enough, just as he was picking the last of the strayberry seeds out of his teeth, Cai came running in with the news.
Arenadd listened calmly and then sent for Saeddryn.
“I take it you’ve heard the news?” he said, once she had arrived.
Saeddryn looked politely confused. “Sir?”
“Don’t play stupid,” said Arenadd. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m not sure I do, sir,” said Saeddryn.
“Our guest has vanished from his cell,” said Arenadd.
“What? When did they find out?”
“Not too long ago,” said Arenadd, privately thinking that Saeddryn’s feigned shock was very impressive. If he had been a little less intelligent he could have been fooled, but he knew perfectly well that the news had been slow coming to him for a reason. “Cai and Rhodri checked his cell and found it empty.”
“Do they know how he got out?” said Saeddryn.
“They found a lockpick on the floor just outside the door to the prison,” said Arenadd. Beside him, Skade rolled her eyes.
“A—” Saeddryn massaged her forehead and cursed under her breath. “How did he get that in there?”
“I don’t know, but I
am
moved to ask why nobody searched him well enough to find it. I’m also wondering why you didn’t station any guards at the entrance after I specifically ordered you to keep watch over him.”
“I did have someone there, sir,” Saeddryn said stiffly. “The bastard must’ve escaped late at night, after they’d gone t’bed.”

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