The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (32 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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There was no way of sharing that fear with her while they were flying. He breathed deeply, forcing himself to calm down.
Trust Senneck,
he reminded himself.
But as they flew on and the sun climbed slowly higher in the sky, he had to repeat it to himself again and again. He kept his eyes on the horizon, but he couldn’t see any sign of an island. There was nothing but that same grey line he had been watching ever since they had first started out.
The sun moved closer to its zenith. Noon was approaching. Erian’s backside ached unbearably. His fingers were numb from gripping Senneck’s harness. He had left his boots behind, and his feet were freezing. The sun had scorched his face; he could feel it burning, as if in embarrassment. His stomach hurt with hunger. It was maddening.
But still Senneck flew on, and she was showing no sign of stopping. Her wings beat more slowly, and every so often her head drooped, and Erian knew she was as tired as he was.
The sun was directly overhead. Noon had come. And still there was no island in sight.
Why isn’t she turning back?
Erian thought desperately.
It’s noon. We’ll barely make it back even if she turns around now! Why is she still going?
Finally, as the sun ever so slowly started to sink toward the land they had left behind, Erian lost his head. He tugged at Senneck’s harness, yelling over the wind. “Turn back! Senneck,
turn back
! We’ll be killed!”
Senneck bucked sharply in midair, nearly throwing him off her back. Then she recovered herself and gave a violent jerk of her head, tearing the harness out of Erian’s grip. He threw himself forward in terror, this time nearly falling straight over her head to his death, but she lifted her head, shoving him back in place, and he managed to take hold of the harness again.
For a long moment after that, all he could do was sit very still. His heart pounded sickeningly; he felt as if he was going to faint. As he began to calm down, he suddenly realised just how close he had come to falling into the sea, and his stomach lurched.
But Senneck had not turned back.
Erian looked ahead, toward the horizon, and saw nothing. Not a sign.
“Oh Gryphus,” he groaned aloud, partly in shock at his brush with death, and partly in horror. “What is she doing? She’s mad!”
He was not stupid enough to try to get her attention by pulling on the harness again, and he kept quiet for a long while, terrified. But he couldn’t keep his silence forever. Eventually, he started to shout at her again, pleading with her to turn back.
For a long time, Senneck completely ignored him. And then, abruptly, she sent a reply. She put her head down and screeched—a long, deafening screech that slammed into Erian’s ears and made his head ring with it. In the same moment, she struck a great blow with her wings and shot forward. Erian, with great presence of mind, threw himself flat, and then they were flying—
really
flying, rushing through the air at an incredible speed. As Senneck beat her wings harder and harder, no longer soaring with the currents in the air but fighting them, she sped up. The wind tore at Erian, making his hair stream out behind him in a tangle of yellow. He shut his eyes and held on. It was all he could do.
It felt like a long time before Senneck finally slowed down again, and it was a little longer before Erian was finally able to sit up and open his eyes.
He took a moment to recover himself, and then looked ahead once more. Still nothing.
Erian blinked. Or . . . no. There was nothing there.
And still the terrible flight dragged on. When the grey smudge finally appeared on the horizon, Erian thought he was hallucinating.
But he wasn’t.
Senneck was beginning to falter. She had never carried him for a full day. Even half a day without any breaks was a stretch. But it was far too late to turn back now.
Erian, clinging on, saw the smudge slowly begin to resolve itself into a definite shape, and felt cold despair plummet into his stomach. They had found the Island of the Sun, he had no doubt about that. And it was undoubtedly going to be the last thing they saw before they both died. Senneck could not possibly fly that far.
There was no way of knowing if Senneck was aware of this, but even if she was, she did not give in. She kept on going steadily, riding the wind whenever she could. But the air over the sea was cold, and there were no thermals to help her.
Erian kept his eyes on the island, hoping against hope.
Gryphus help us,
he thought.
But deep down, he knew that Gryphus could not help them.
Slowly—painfully slowly—the island grew more defined. Eventually, Erian could see the mountain that rose out of its centre. It looked jagged and unfriendly.
Senneck’s wings were beating less and less frequently. She was beginning to struggle.
Erian knew it was going to happen, but when it did, it tore his stomach away from his gut and straight into his throat.
The island was straight ahead now. He could see the mountain, and the hills and the shore gathered around it, dark with trees beyond the sand. They were nearly there.
And then they were falling.
There was nothing Erian could do. He threw himself backward, clinging on for dear life, and shut his eyes.
Senneck’s wings had collapsed, the feathers fluttering uselessly as she plunged headfirst toward the water. Erian dared to look, and saw the sea rushing toward him, sickeningly fast. He shut his eyes again, and braced himself for the impact.
But it never came. An instant before they hit, Senneck suddenly opened her wings and caught herself, gliding straight over the water. Erian, realising what had happened, opened his eyes and felt hot relief rush through him, mingled with joy.
Senneck, wings held out stiffly from her sides, opened her beak wide . . . and blew.
Green light came from her throat in a torrent, spreading out ahead of them. Where it touched the waves, they froze in place. Their colour changed from blue to grey, and Erian, thunderstruck, saw the greyness spread away toward the horizon. Senneck continued to send her magic forth, until a huge expanse of ocean had turned to stone.
The green light faded. Senneck flew on a few moments longer, and then she landed. Her paws and talons hit the stone waves, and cracks instantly spread over them.
“Off!” she screamed at Erian. “Get off!”
When he was too slow to obey, she threw him off. He landed hard, on his back, but pulled himself upright, staggering on his numb legs. “What?”
Behind them was open ocean, but ahead and to both sides there was the stone Senneck had made, shaped exactly as it had been before, when it was still water.
“Senneck!” Erian exclaimed. “You’ve saved us!”
Senneck did not reply; he turned to look at her, and saw her lying on her side.
His elation quickly turned to sick fear.
“Senneck! Are you all right?”
She did not reply. He could see her flanks heaving in and out like bellows.
Erian sat down beside her. “You’ve exhausted yourself,” he said sympathetically. “But you can rest now.”
“No.” Senneck’s voice was low and rasping, and she raised her head. “No . . . rest.”
“Senneck, you—”
The brown griffin heaved herself to her feet. “We . . . walk,” she said. “Come. The stone will not hold us forever. Do not stop moving.”
Erian walked beside her, suddenly frightened again. “How long will it hold us?”
“Do not know,” she said shortly. “Long enough. Stay alert. If I say, get back on, and I will fly.”
Erian touched her on the shoulder. “I understand. There’s no need to talk.”
They made slow progress, hampered partly by the frozen waves but also by their own exhaustion, Senneck’s in particular. Erian quickly found himself marvelling that she was still standing upright. Using magic took a lot out of a griffin, and she had already been flying for half a day when she had used hers.
Even so, he knew she was right. The stone couldn’t hold them forever.
They had gone some way before it inevitably began to crack. Erian felt his blood freeze when he first heard a low, grinding, snapping sound, just below his feet. He looked down and saw hairline cracks unfurl from beneath his heel. They widened, and he saw water begin to seep through.
Panic bit into him. “Senneck—”
“I know,” she said tersely. “Tread lightly.”
Erian did his best, trying to imitate the soft padding of her hind paws. But the cracks continued to appear wherever he put his feet down, and he knew the stone was weakening by the moment. Water began to pool around his feet, deepening gradually. Soon it was up to his ankles. Ahead, the island loomed large. It was so close, but if the stone broke now . . .
An almighty crack made the false ground beneath them shudder.
“Run!”
Senneck screeched, and charged. Erian broke into a run, trying to keep up with her, but even in her weakened state she was faster than him. She quickly outstripped him, leaving him floundering in water that was now up to his shins, while all around him the stone broke and fell apart, sinking into the depths. Erian struggled on desperately, mouthing a prayer to Gryphus to save him. But still the water continued to rise. Soon, there would be nothing left to stand on—and with the sword strapped to his back, he would sink like a stone.
Ahead, Senneck continued to slosh through the water. She raced forward and then launched herself into the sky. Moments later, a massive crack opened in front of Erian, and water came surging through. He stopped, looking frantically for an escape route, but the crack was directly in front and widening. He couldn’t jump across. The water rose higher and higher, faster and faster. It reached his knees, then his waist and then his chest. He fumbled at the straps holding his sword in place, meaning to abandon the weapon, but he was far too slow. The water swirled around him, dragging him down. And then, at last, Senneck swooped down and grabbed him, wrapping her talons around his shoulders. She struggled to lift him, her wings beating hard, but as the stone finally crumbled away completely she plucked him out of the water and flew straight for the island, water dripping from her feathers.
Erian felt a greyness close over his eyes as Senneck flew that last, agonising distance. She landed inelegantly, in the shallow water just before the shore, dropping Erian as she did so. He landed face-down in a wash of water, and just barely managed to summon the strength to drag himself out and up onto the wet sand of the beach, where he flopped onto his stomach and promptly fainted.
When he woke up, some unknown length of time later, every bone and muscle in his body felt as if they were burning. He felt chilled and sick, and his mouth was full of sand.
Only the thought of Senneck made him try to get up. He managed to raise himself high enough to look back for her, and the cold, sick feeling in his stomach increased. She was lying in the surf, the water dragging at her wings and tail. Her head lay outstretched in front of her, beak open. She was unconscious . . . or dead.
20
 
Outwitted
 
I
n her prison, cut off from all light except that which came from a candle on the table, Elkin lay on the straw pallet her captors had given her, and shivered.
Down here, unable to see the sun, she had no way of telling how much time had passed—but she knew it must have been weeks.
Her bonds had been taken off, and she had been given fresh clothes and bedding. They had given her plenty to eat and drink, too, and water to wash herself with. She was well looked after, and they had not hurt or molested her. Every day her meals were brought in, but she never saw the faces of her gaolers. All of them wore masks; she had seen three different ones by now. Usually it was the crow face that came, but sometimes it was the deer or the bear. She hadn’t seen the wolf again since the first day, and though she had not seen his face, she knew Arenadd hadn’t visited her again. At least, not where she could see him.
She had tried to escape, of course. But it took her less than a day to see that it would be impossible. The door was thick wood, and they kept it locked even when they were inside with her. Even if she had had the means to dig her way out, she couldn’t, as the room was lined with stone. A philosopher had once written that any room’s weakest point was the door, but as far as Elkin could see, there was no way she could use this one. The people who brought her food and drink never came alone; there was always someone else waiting on the other side of the door, and whoever came inside didn’t have an obvious weapon she could wrestle away from them. And she wouldn’t be able to fight them, anyway, even if she was armed. She was thin and frail, utterly unsuited for combat, and she had no illusions about that.
The only weapon left to her was her mind. But even that was failing her.
Her captors never spoke in her presence. If she spoke to them, they acted as if they hadn’t heard her at all. And they were Northerners; she could tell by their build and the black hair that hung down their necks, behind the masks. She was a Southerner—and not just one of the race they despised but one of their greatest leaders. There was nothing she could offer them that they would accept. Most likely they had been warned to expect her to try to bargain or plead her way to freedom—and who would dare to disobey
Kraeai kran ae
?

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