The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (35 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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“Let us find a place to shelter, and we will gather food,” said Senneck. “We have had a long journey, and we shall need time to recover.”
Erian agreed, and they wandered among the huts until they found one that was sufficiently intact. The interior was full of sand and creeping vines, but Erain leant his sword against the wall and sat down gratefully. This was a far better shelter than he had had in a long time.
Senneck favoured it with a cursory glance. “It will suffice.”
“Will you stay here with me?” said Erian.
“Of course. It is cold here; you will need to share my warmth.”
“But what about when you lay your eggs?”
Senneck ruffled her feathers. “If I was a wild griffin, I would build a nest high on a mountain top or atop a cluster of the tallest trees. But I am not wild, and there cannot be any predators on this island large enough to threaten my young. I shall choose a place that is sheltered and comfortable, when the time comes.”
Despite the situation, Erian felt a little thrill of excitement. “So, I’ll get to see the eggs?”
To his shock, Senneck came close to him and rubbed her cheek against his. “Yes, Erian. You are my partner, and I trust you before all others. I would trust you with my life. To let you see my young would be nothing.”
Erian smiled and stroked the sleek feathers on her neck. “Thank you, Senneck.”
She chirped. “I am sorry that I have done this to you, Erian. But perhaps it was meant to be.”
“Gryphus controls everything,” Erian observed. “Maybe he wanted it to happen.”
Senneck made a dismissive rasping sound in her throat. “Come. If you have the strength, let us seek out our food.”
Erian followed her from the hut. “Shouldn’t we start looking for the weapon?”
“There will be time enough for that later. For now, we shall eat.”
 
 
A
renadd and Skandar returned from their meeting with
Kraal a mere day after they had left. Now that he had finally uncovered his power, Skandar could travel astonishingly fast, and the black griffin glided silently through the shadows with so little effort it was as if he had been doing it all his life.
It was close to midnight when he landed in the little yard between the house and the stable, but the others were still awake to receive him.
As Arenadd dismounted, they came running.
“My lord!” Saeddryn was pale with excitement. “My lord, did ye get it?”
Arenadd grinned at her. “Yes, Saeddryn. I got it.” He lifted the bags down from Skandar’s back, grunting under the weight. “Help me get it inside.”
The others were more than willing. Davyn and Rhodri lifted them and took them into the house. Arenadd saw Skandar into the stable. The griffin wasn’t in the mood for talk; he stumped over to his makeshift nest and slumped into it without a word.
“Sleep well, Skandar,” said Arenadd. “You did magnificently.”
Skandar opened a sleepy eye. “Always do magnificently,” he intoned, and closed it again.
“I can’t argue with that,” Arenadd murmured, and left, grinning.
The others were waiting for him inside the house, and to his surprise he found that they’d prepared a special meal, which Caedmon and Torc were helping to lay out on the table as he entered.
Skade and Saeddryn, meanwhile, were deep in the bags of money. Saeddryn buried her hand in one and pulled it out, clutching a fistful of oblong. They gleamed brightly in the candlelight as they clinked softly back into the bag. But there was danger about their shine as well as beauty, Arenadd thought. People had killed for far less gold than this.
Rhodri pulled a chair out for him. “Sit down, sir, everythin’s been taken care of.”
Arenadd sat down with a grateful sigh. “Thank you.”
Skade came over and touched him on the shoulder. “My love,” she said softly and kissed him on the cheek. “You look tired. Were there any problems?”
Arenadd reached up to touch her hand. “None,” he said, for everyone’s benefit. “The plan worked to the last detail. The Mistress is winging her way back home as we speak, and meanwhile . . . we’re rich as lords.”
“Ye mean
ye
are rich as a lord, sir,” said Saeddryn, rising from her crouch and shaking out her hair. “After all, it was ye who kidnapped the Mistress an’ ye who made the deal. This was all yer own plan, sir. So.” She came closer, her eyes aglow. She almost looked lustful. “Tell us how it happened, sir. I want t’hear everything.”
Arenadd smiled at her. “Sit down, everyone, and let’s eat this food before it gets cold. But”—he grinned to himself—“I’ve started to like the idea of making deals. I’ll tell you what happened, but only after someone’s paid me the ransom of a good cup of wine.”
Caedmon, chuckling, poured one and obligingly gave it to him. “Now that’s enough of yer teasin’, my lad,” he said. “Tell us the story before we go mad.”
Arenadd sniffed at the wine and tasted it. “Not bad,” he said and tossed it back. Once he’d emptied the cup, he shuddered a little and dabbed at his mouth. “Fill this up again, would you?” he said and then began his tale. It didn’t take long, and the others listened with interest, asking eager questions.
“. . . and when we got there, we found him waiting for us, all alone, as agreed.”
Saeddryn grinned. “Was he angry?”
“Unbelievably.” Arenadd took another gulp of wine. “I swear I’ve never been more frightened of a griffin in my life. I had to put my hands behind my back so he wouldn’t see them shaking.”
“He could never have beaten you,” Skade scoffed.
“He could never have
caught
us,” said Arenadd. “As far as fighting is concerned, I’m not sure. But Skandar didn’t seem frightened by him.
He
was more cocky than I was. It’s an interesting thing, though . . .”
“What, sir?” said Rhodri.
“Pass me that jug would you, Caedmon? Well, Skandar and Kraal spoke a little; Kraal seemed very interested in him, in fact. He said something that surprised me.”
“Why?” said Skade.
Arenadd kept his eyes on the jug as he refilled his cup for the second time. “He claimed to be Skandar’s father.”
The others murmured.
“Odd,” said Caedmon. “But sir, didn’t ye say Skandar was born in the Coppertops? That’s on the other side of the world!”
“I know, but Kraal claimed to have travelled there. It’s not impossible. I’ll admit it makes a kind of sense, actually. There’s some resemblance between them; Skandar’s only a little smaller than he is. But I don’t know why Kraal thought it was so important. Griffins don’t care much about family ties.”
“Little,” Skade said quietly.
Arenadd glanced quickly at her. “It didn’t make much of an impression on Skandar. He’s vowed to kill that white griffin himself. I asked him why, and he said a strange griffin came to him in a dream and told him to do it.”
Saeddryn raised her eyebrows. “The Night God?”
“That’s what I thought.” Arenadd nodded. “It’s said she has a different shape sometimes. When she wants to. How could it possibly be outside her powers to make herself look like a griffin, considering everything else she’s done?”
“Then Skandar must be chosen by her, too,” Saeddryn said firmly. “It makes sense. The Night God sent him to help ye, sir.”
Skade muttered sourly under her breath.
“She did,” said Arenadd. “Anyway, let’s eat, shall we?”
The food was good, and there was even an apple pie for dessert. Arenadd ate a little of everything and drank steadily. It had become a habit of his lately, but none of the others had commented on it, and if they had, he wouldn’t have cared. Drink was the only thing that calmed him down nowadays, and the only thing that could stave off his dreams. Dreams of battlefields strewn with the dead, where he walked alone with his bloodied sickle in his hand, bones crunching under his boots, slick with gore. What he saw was bad enough, but not the worst part.
The worst part was how he looked on all this and laughed.
But tonight he was in a good mood and drank less than he might have done. Afterward, once the food was gone, Caedmon fell asleep in his chair while Torc, slightly drunk, made shy conversation with Saeddryn. Arenadd and Skade excused themselves and retreated to their own room.
Arenadd sat down on the bed and hiccupped. “Ooh, pardon me. So, how were things here while we were gone?”
Skade sat beside him. “Uneventful. I did not worry for you as much this time as before.”
“That’s good.” Arenadd took her hand in both of his, his maimed fingers clumsy as they tried to grasp hers. He pulled away. “Gods. These fingers, these useless fingers . . . I should have this one cut off. It doesn’t do anything except get in the way.”
“If only the Night God had healed them for you,” said Skade, with just a hint of sarcasm.
“Yes. Well.” Arenadd sighed. “It’s punishment. A reminder of my mistakes. Letting them get their hands on me cost me one of mine. If I’d only listened to her when she first came to me, if I hadn’t tried to run away from my duty, I would have known how to use my magic—
Skandar’s
magic—and I would have been able to rescue you without being captured.”
“You were brave,” Skade said softly.
“I was a damned fool,” said Arenadd, without much emphasis. “Let’s not talk about it any more. There’s no point in torturing ourselves.”
Skade nodded. “We have other things to talk of.”
“Yes, that we do.” He yawned again. “The first part of the plan is complete. Now we can begin the next part, and this is where you come in.”
“Me?” said Skade.
“Yes, you.” Arenadd took her hand again, this time ignoring his useless fingers. “The money I took from Malvern was for you, Skade. I’m going to entrust it to you.”
“Why?” Skade asked sharply. “You said you would use it to—”
“Yes, exactly. Skade, I’m sending you south. Some of my best warriors will go with you, to protect you and the money. You’ll take it with you and make the deal with the slavers.”
Skade stood up. “No. I will not.”
Arenadd stood, too. “Yes, you will. I’m not going to argue with you about this.”
“I do not want to be away from you!”
“And neither do I!” Arenadd exclaimed. “D’you think I possibly could? No. Listen, Skade—I’m sending you because I have to. You’re not a Northerner. You carry yourself like a noblewoman. With your help, my deal with the slavers would look far more legitimate. And more than that, I
trust
you. I trust you more than Saeddryn. I even trust you more than Skandar. I know you’d never give in or let yourself be cheated, and that you’d never surrender to greed and run away with the money. You don’t trust anybody, and that’s how you have to be with money. This deal can’t go wrong. Everything hinges on it. That’s why I’m sending you.”
She softened, and stroked his face. “For a master of deception, you are utterly transparent to me, Arenadd. You are sending me because you do not want me to be here when the war truly begins.”
He spread his hands in a gesture of defeat. “No, Skade. I don’t.”
“But you are selfish,” she added, without accusation. “You do not realise that your death would be as terrible for me as mine would be for you. What would I do if I returned to the North to find you dead? I would lose you, and know that I had not even been with you in your last moments.”
Arenadd laughed. “Dead! Skade, you saw what happened to me. I
can’t
die. I can never die.”
She looked into his eyes. “Can’t you?” She asked it so softly he only just heard it.
Arenadd shook his head, as if hoping to dislodge that one nagging doubt. “Only
Aeai ran kai
can kill me,” he admitted. “But he’s not here. By the time he comes back from this made quest of his, I’ll have conquered the North. You’ll be back by then. And . . .”
“And?” she pressed.
He took her by the wrists, holding her hands to his face. “And I don’t believe that
Aeai ran kai
—the Bastard—could kill me.”
“Why not?”
“The Bastard is mortal,” Arenadd said, smiling. “And I’m not. And I have the Night God to help me. That’s why.”
Skade looked away. “I fear you have too much faith in your god,” she muttered. “In my life, I have seen faith do little but lead to betrayal and death.”
“So have I,” said Arenadd. “But I wonder: would that be
our
death, or
theirs
?”
22
 
Raising the Banner
 
S
enneck laid her eggs in a hut close to Erian’s, three days after they had arrived on the Island of the Sun. She had built a nest inside the abandoned building, dragging dead branches and clumps of grass inside and arranging them in a crude circle. She did this alone, ignoring Erian’s offers of help. As her time drew near she had become less communicative, preferring to spend most of her time alone, generally sleeping in her nest.

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