The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (66 page)

Read The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) Online

Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
10.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Erian had not won. He had
lost
. He had fought the Dark Lord, and the Dark Lord had killed him. It was over. Everything they had fought and struggled for was over. Malvern was lost, like the war. The night, the dark and the shadows had won.
 
 
B
ut the battle for Malvern was not over.
In the streets not too far away from where Senneck mourned, Skade and Arenadd ran, hand in hand.
Arenadd could feel a hot and wonderful triumph burning inside him, a feeling of euphoria a hundred times more powerful than he had ever had from wine or whiteleaf. It was over. He had won. Won the war, won the struggle with
Aeai ran kai
, won everything. The North was his; the Night God had been served. All would be well, and he had nothing more to fear.
By the time they reached the Eyrie, it had already been partly overrun. The unpartnered had broken down the walls on Kaanee’s orders, and their human counterparts had swarmed over them and into the towers themselves, smashing through the doors with axes.
Arenadd glanced at Skade and grinned. “I know where to go,” he said. “Shall we?”
She grinned back. “I have dreamt of this day, Arenadd. I have dreamt of it for many long months.”
Arenadd paused to kiss her cheek. “Some dreams come true. Let’s finish this, beloved.”
They entered the largest tower together, and the final fight of the war began.
Inside the tower, there was chaos. People ran everywhere, mostly Northerners, and a few fleeing Southerners. Arenadd saw some of them, cornered, try to surrender. They were killed instantly.
He walked past it all, sickle in hand. They didn’t need his help.
Skade had brought a light sword of her own, and she gripped it with a new certainty. “Who are we seeking?” she asked.
“The last two people I have to kill,” said Arenadd.
“The Eyrie Mistress?” said Skade.
Arenadd hesitated briefly; he had completely forgotten about Elkin. “Yes,” he said. “We should find her. She’ll be in this tower somewhere if she hasn’t fled. I doubt she could have gone far.”
They climbed the Council’s Tower, meeting little resistance along the way. Most of the defenders left in it had already gone, either running to escape or to attack the enemy coming in from below. Here and there, the unpartnered had broken in, some of them wounded and looking for shelter. More than once Arenadd and Skade had to climb over a dead griffin lying huddled in a corridor.
When they were halfway up, Arenadd stopped by a shattered window. “Look,” he said, and pointed.
Skade came to join him. She was in time to see Kraal fall. “My gods,” she breathed, unconsciously using the human exclamation. “Skandar . . .”
“Skandar has won,” Arenadd said proudly. “He’s killed the Mighty Kraal, as he promised he would. I knew he could do it.”
“Now the unpartnered shall never follow another griffin,” said Skade. “Unless Skandar himself is defeated some day.”
“I doubt it,” said Arenadd. “There’s no griffin left in Cymria who could beat Skandar. Not now.”
Skade laughed as they walked on. “And you once tried to drive him away.”
Arenadd smiled. “He’s not easy to get on with, is Skandar. Neither are you, come to that.”
She pushed him. “And you think
you
are more charming?”
Arenadd flexed his right arm. “I’m not as evil as I look.”
“You are not evil at all,” she said softly. “Not to me.”
They had climbed higher while they talked, and now Arenadd stopped. “I haven’t told you this . . . I should have.”
“What?” said Skade.
He smiled into her eyes. “When this is done and the Southerners are gone, I’ll rule the North. My people will demand it.”
“Of course,” said Skade. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because.” Arenadd touched her awkwardly with his good hand. “Because no-one can rule alone. If I become king, I’ll need a queen. You, Skade. You.”
She stared at him. “Me?”
“Of course! Who else could possibly do it?” said Arenadd. “Stay with me, Skade, after the war is over. Be my queen; rule by my side. Please.”
She looked uncertain for a moment longer, but then she smiled. “Oh, Arenadd. Of course I shall. I would not leave you.”
“Then it’s settled,” said Arenadd, with his old mischievous grin. “Now.” He turned to look at the wall, where there was a huge pair of doors. “This is the way.”
“Where do they lead?” asked Skade, while Arenadd kicked the doors open.
“The councillors’ chamber,” said Arenadd. “I’ve been here before.”
They went in.
The councillors’ chamber looked far less glorious than Arenadd remembered. The colourful banners and other decorations were gone. Even the mural on the ceiling looked faded, but it was clear that no fighting had taken place here yet. The openings in the roof where the councillors had once flown out were sealed, and all the other doors were shut.
The room was utterly deserted . . . or looked as though it was, for a moment.
Arenadd stalked forward, like a cat, straight toward the platform in the middle of the councillors’ seats.
Lady Elkin, Eyrie Mistress, rose to meet him. “Lord Arenadd,” she intoned.
Arenadd stopped, and Skade did likewise, a few paces behind him. “Hello, my lady.”
Elkin looked even paler than usual but completely unafraid. “I only want to know one thing,” she said.
“Ask me, my lady,” said Arenadd.
She looked him in the eye. “Where is my husband? Where is Erian?”
Arenadd paused for a moment and then reached up and opened his robe, exposing the awful wound in his chest. It was blackened, grey around the edges, so deep and wide it had cut through his breastbone.
“He did this to me,” he said softly. “He had more courage than any man I’ve ever met. He believed in what he was fighting for. Just as much as I did.”
Elkin looked steadily at him, and the wound. “What happened to him?”
Arenadd pulled his robe closed and silently held up the bloodied sickle. “I gave him a clean death,” he said. “Painless. I swear.”
Her expression did not change, but something died in her eyes. “And Kraal? My partner?”
“Skandar killed him,” Skade interrupted. “Moments ago. We saw it.”
Elkin looked at her, then at Arenadd. “You love this woman?”
“With all my heart, yes,” said Arenadd.
Incredibly, Elkin smiled. “I knew I was right about you. You’re not a monster. You still know how to love, and that makes you a human being.” She reached into the pocket of her dress. “I’m finished, my lord,” she said. “There’s nothing left for me. Not without Erian and Kraal.” Her hand emerged, holding a small bottle. “So I’m leaving it up to you now,” she said. “If your people came this far to be free, then who am I to say they don’t deserve it? They followed you here, Arenadd. Don’t betray them.”
“Never,” said Arenadd.
Elkin smiled again, with infinite sadness. “Care for this land, my lord,” she said. “And remember me.” She took the cork out of the bottle and swallowed the contents in one mouthful.
Arenadd reached out to touch Skade on the shoulder as Elkin, still smiling sadly and with her eyes looking into his, crumpled onto the platform where she and Kraal had once faced the council and told the North and its people how to live.
The bottle rolled out of her hand and came to rest by Arenadd’s boot.
He nudged it. “Viper’s Tears. A quick death. Come.” He tugged at Skade’s hand. “Let’s go. There’s nothing more for us here.”
Skade followed him out of the chamber. “Why did she do that?”
“Lady Elkin was a brave woman,” Arenadd said solemnly. “And an intelligent one. She knew what she was doing. Right up until the end. And if she loved Erian . . . well.”
Skade shook her head. “I am glad we did not have to kill her.”
“I wouldn’t have killed her anyway,” said Arenadd. “I’m a murderer, not a coward.”
They went downward again, following an odd and seemingly random pathway down stairs and ramps and along corridors, occasionally pausing before Arenadd decided on a new direction.
“Where are we going?” Skade said eventually. “Are we lost?”
“No,” Arenadd muttered. “No . . . not lost . . . I know where we’re going.”
The word “how?” formed in Skade’s mouth, but died away. Her beloved had a strange, intent look about him, one that looked vaguely familiar. He walked in a deliberate way, sometimes slowing to a half-crouching stalk, sometimes darting ahead, pausing every so often with his head on one side, as if he was listening for something.
Skade, following him, eventually realised why it looked familiar. He was imitating how a hunting animal moved—a wolf, perhaps—probably without even realising it.
Finally, Arenadd stopped by a door. He ran his fingers over it, sniffing, his eyes narrow.
Then he stilled. “This is it,” he said. “It’s on the other side of this door.”
Skade drew her sword. “Is it dangerous?”
“What? No. No. The Night God told me it wouldn’t be.” Arenadd tried the handle of the door. It was locked. He muttered irritably to himself and wandered away, returning a few moments later with a brick taken from a spot where an ill-timed magical attack had made a hole in the wall.
He squared himself in front of the door and then hit it with the brick as hard as he could. The door shuddered, and Arenadd hit it again and again, harder and harder, apparently feeling no pain in his hand. The door was thick wood, and another man would have given in before he made much impact on it, but Arenadd still had his unnatural strength. He continued to bash at it, until it made a splintering sound and caved inward a little. Arenadd tossed the brick aside and kicked the door square in the centre.
It gave way to his boot and swung open.
Arenadd gave a little hiss of triumph and drew his sickle before he stepped through.
As he entered the room, he glanced quickly at its walls and corners, checking for any sign of hidden enemies.
Nothing.
He looked again at what lay directly in front of him. A young woman, her fine brown hair hanging loose around her face and her blue eyes fixed on him, wide in terror.
Arenadd looked at her and stopped. “Oh
no
,” he said.
 
 
F
lell saw him. At last, after so long, she saw him.
And, most terribly of all, she recognised him. Just barely, but she recognised him.
The solemn boy she had once known was a man now, and she could see how awful his journey to manhood had been. He was tall and thin. Too thin. The face that had once been lean was now hollow and red-eyed with pain and fatigue, marred by the scar under his eye. He had a neat, pointed chin beard, and his hair was long and thick, but matted with blood, like the ragged black robe that all but hung from his body.
She could see the broken, twisted fingers on his left hand, hanging by his side. Could see the maze of scars just visible through the tears in his robe.
Her heart swelled, partly with fear but partly with love.
Oh gods, I still love him,
she thought.
I still love him
.
She wanted to step toward him, but she didn’t. “Arren,” she said.
“Arren
.
”
Arenadd wiped his forehead with his free arm. “Oh holy Night God,” he said.
“Arren,” Flell called again. “Arren, it’s me! It’s Flell! Don’t you remember me?”
Skade appeared by her beloved’s side. “Is this her?” she asked. “Is this the one you were told to kill? The Bastard’s sister?”
Arenadd didn’t look away from Flell. “Yes. Can’t you see it? Look at her eyes.
His
eyes. Their father’s eyes.”
Flell’s hand shook as she lifted her sword, not quite pointing it at him. “Please, Arren.
Please
. You have to remember me. It’s Flell. Don’t you remember? Remember Eagleholm? Remember Bran, and Gern, and Eluna?”
Arenadd’s expression did not change. “I’m not Arren,” he said. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“Remember!” Flell cried. “Please, remember! Remember your father; remember your mother.
Remember!
”
Arenadd’s eyes turned cold. “My mother is the Night God,” he said. “And my father is death.” But a hint of uncertainty showed in him. Just a hint.
Flell saw it. “What happened to Erian?” she asked.
Skade had begun to grow impatient. “Your brother is dead,” she said. “He died in the Sun Temple. Arenadd, why are you waiting? Why have you not killed her?”
Flell finally lifted her sword all the way, ready to defend herself. Behind her, she could hear Laela whimpering. “Please,” she said. “You don’t have to do this, Arren. You have a choice. Please, don’t kill me. I don’t want to die. I have to keep my child safe, please . . .”

Other books

Dorothy Eden by American Heiress
Casting Norma Jeane by James Glaeg
The Stolen Girl by Renita D'Silva
Inverted World by Christopher Priest
Inhuman Remains by Quintin Jardine
The Dawn Country by W. Michael Gear
Hush Money by Peter Israel