The Shadowed Throne (38 page)

“Oh. Yes. I should get something for you to eat first—”

“No,” said Senneck. “I will not eat until we arrive. I can fly further on an empty stomach. But you may eat.”

“All right then,” said Kullervo. “I'll try and be quick . . .”

Senneck sat placidly and watched him scurry around their chambers. He washed his face in the bowl of water provided and gave his hair a quick comb before putting on the new set of clothes that his half-sister had had made especially for him. They were thick and warm, well-made but not obviously expensive—for now, it was better that Kullervo didn't draw too much attention to himself.

The tunic had been specially tailored to give it extra room at the back for his wings. Once wearing it, he looked as if he had a hump.

The trousers had been made slightly baggy, to help hide the tail—that was easier to hide, at least.

Many humans would have given anything to have Kullervo's ability to change into a griffin at will, Senneck thought grimly. But none of them would have taken it if they knew the real cost of having that power. The cost of being a hideous deformity in either shape, the cost of living with both human emotions and griffish instincts—and the agony of the transformation itself. It was easy to underestimate Kullervo, as she had once done herself, but the truth was that it took someone exceptional to live the way he did—or even have reached adulthood at all. But he was weak in other ways, and that was why he needed her.

Kullervo ate some of the food that had been left for him, chewing with evident pain. “Ugh . . . my teeth,” he mumbled through a mouthful of bread. “Useless! They'll have to feed me mush like I was a baby!”

“They will heal,” said Senneck.

“My
gums
might heal, but I won't grow any new teeth.” Kullervo swallowed and grimaced.

“Humans cannot grow new teeth?” said Senneck, genuinely surprised. “I have seen that their claws grow back even when they are cut, and I thought . . .”

“Not teeth,” said Kullervo. “If your beak was broken off, it wouldn't grow back. Teeth are the same.”

Senneck's tail twitched. “But you have the power to grow a beak. Perhaps you can learn to grow teeth as well.”

“That'd be nice,” said Kullervo, looking wistfully at an apple.

“We will see,” said Senneck. “When you have learnt to use your magic fully, we will see.”

Kullervo began to get excited. “Yes, on the ship. You'll teach me, and it's going to be wonderful! We'll see Maijan, and Amoran, and the
sea
!”

“I have seen the sea,” said Senneck. “It is nothing special.”

“And we'll meet this Amorani Prince—a
real
Amorani Prince!” Kullervo went on, oblivious. “And we'll find a way to stop Saeddryn, I just know it. We'll stop her, then we'll be able to live together here, with Laela.” He glanced anxiously at Senneck, but his expression quickly hardened. “And then we can be happy at last.”

Silence followed this little declaration. Senneck's expression did not change—because a griffin's expression never does—and Kullervo began to look embarrassed.

“Come here,” Senneck said at last. When he did, she rubbed her head against his cheek and purred softly. “You truly are unbreakable, Kullervo. You, who seem so weak, are far stronger than you seem.”

“I'm not,” he mumbled. “I let them catch me. I let them lock me up and hurt me and break my teeth.”

“But you never gave in. You did not let them break you, or destroy your innocence, and that is what makes you who you are.” Senneck lifted her head. “Come,” she said softly. “You have eaten now, and it is time for us to go to meet Skarok and his human.”

“Time for us to go,” said Kullervo.

“Yes,” said Senneck, and the two of them left side by side, Kullervo holding on to her wing like a child holding its mother's hand.

U
p on top of the tower, they found Laela waiting alone. It was unusual to see a griffiner, especially one as highly ranked as herself, without her griffin beside her. But Oeka had more important things on her mind than her human, or her duties. Or at least things she thought were more important.

Laela wore one of her father's robes—this one very thick, with a fur-lined hood and sleeves. Like the rest of his wardrobe, it fitted her perfectly, but then she had always been very much like him.

Kullervo embraced his half-sister warmly. “Good morning!”

She returned the hug. “Nice to see
someone's
up. Did yeh sleep all right?”

Kullervo shrugged. “Senneck and me are all ready to go.”

Laela smiled slightly. “I can see that. I bin up here waitin' by myself for Inva to show up. Guess she slept in, but she'd better not keep me waitin' much longer. My arse is about to drop off, it's that bloody cold.”

Kullervo chuckled. “That's not how Queens are supposed to talk!”

Laela smirked. “I ain't been Queen long, but I been it long enough to know how I can talk: however I bloody well want to.”

“I see your partner has not shown her face,” Senneck interrupted. “Has she returned?”

Laela's smirk disappeared. “No, she ain't. No sign of her since she went off. Just more ugly stories about things turnin' weird in the Eyrie. I know where she is, at least.”

“In the underground, where the dead are taken,” said Senneck. “Be wary, Laela. Do not go too close. Oeka cannot control the power she is trying to use and will not recognise you. Nor will she be able to protect you.”

Laela's mouth tightened. “I know. I just wish I could've stopped her. I wish I understood what she was doin' . . .”

“She does not understand it herself,” said Senneck. “Your only hope is to wait until she emerges—there is nothing anyone can do, whether human or griffin.”

“I know.”

“But I'm sure she'll be all right,” Kullervo said uneasily.

They stood together in awkward silence until Inva and her partner, Skarok, finally arrived. Once his human had dismounted, Skarok shook himself and sat on his haunches, staring insolently at Senneck. She stared back stonily.

Inva bowed stiffly to Laela. “I am sorry for my lateness, my Queen.”

You didn't stand on ceremony with Laela, but you
always
stood on it for Inva. “Take it easy,” Laela said awkwardly. “Yer entourage has gone on ahead—don't want a big flock of griffins all flyin' together in times like these. Now, are yeh ready?”

“We are,” said Skarok.

“Good.” Laela took a scroll out of her sleeve and handed it to Inva. “This is my message to the Prince. Keep it safe. While yer on the boat, keep an eye out—I got no doubt there'll be a message sent to yeh.”

“How do you know?” Kullervo butted in.

“'Cause I already sent one of my own,” said Laela. “It'll have got there a while ago.”

“Who did you send?” asked Senneck.

“Nobody.” Laela grinned and rubbed her hands together. “There was an Amorani diplomat, Lord Vander. He used a little messenger dragon a while back t'bring us a note. Funny little thing; never saw one like it before or after. Well, we never sent it back. I remembered we had it hangin' around, so I gave it a new note an' let it fly off. Inva says them things always get back where they came from; they're better'n pigeons. Anyway, I'm thinkin' yeh'll see the little bugger again sometime, so keep yer eye on the horizon.”

Kullervo's eyes shone. “Wow! A real dragon! I thought there was no such thing! Did it breathe fire?”

“Don't be daft,” said Laela. “It's just a kind of lizard what has wings for front legs. We had to keep it in a room with a big fire so it wouldn't go torpid. Anyway, that's everythin' I had to tell yeh, so yeh'd better get goin'.”

Inva nodded. “I will see your orders carried out. I know Prince Akhane well, and he will not be able to resist the chance to see this woman . . . this heartless one. He will help us.”

“He'd better,” said Laela. She nodded curtly. “Go on, then. Get goin' an' fly fast!”

Kullervo gave her another quick hug before he got onto Senneck's back. “We won't fail you. I promise. And in the meantime, keep yourself safe! I want you to still be here when I get back.”

“You got it.” Laela smiled. “Good luck, Kullervo, Inva—Senneck. An' you, Skarok. I'm trustin' you to keep my best diplomat safe!”

“I will not fail you,” Skarok said, with all the arrogant certainty of youth. He took off moments later, and Senneck followed. The two griffins flew in tandem, Senneck riding on Skarok's slipstream without embarrassment.

Kullervo turned his head to look back and saw Laela grow smaller and disappear into the distance. She looked very alone, and vulnerable, and he shivered with fear for her.

“Don't worry, Laela,” he murmured to himself. “We'll be back. We'll do this for you. I swear we will.”

O
eka, Tara's dominant griffin, ruler of Malvern's Eyrie, master of the unpartnered, owner of the human who was Queen, Oeka the all-powerful—Oeka who had once been green-eyed and beautiful—Oeka was lost.

She had forgotten how to judge the passing of time. Had she slept? She knew she had not eaten. Nor had she felt hungry. To begin with, when she had put herself into the trance needed to work the magic she was building into herself, it had been a struggle to shut out the physical senses that remained and would be a distraction. But as she worked on it, she became more and more effortless, until now . . . now she realised that she couldn't feel her own body any more. She didn't know if she had moved once, or whether she was even still breathing. Locked into the cloud of pure energy that surrounded her, she couldn't panic or even feel fear. Instead, the knowledge came coldly and simply, as a fact and nothing more.

She had already become blind, deaf, and mute. Now she was paralysed as well.

But none of that mattered. She had expected to pay a price, and that price had been paid. The price of her own body and the mundane senses and abilities that went with it. She had been prepared for that, and beside it, the rewards made it almost irrelevant.

What did it matter that she would never fly again, when she could project her mind anywhere she wanted and be invisible and invulnerable? What did it matter that she would never lay eggs, when she could reach into any mind and take whatever she wanted? What did it matter that she couldn't walk, when she had the ability to crush any enemy in an instant using nothing but pure will-power? And what did it matter that she was blind? Her mind reached out, and it could see so much further, and take in so much more . . .

She reached out now, effortlessly, to touch the mind of her human. Emotions wavered there. Laela felt lonely, but she felt resolute. She was doing well. Holding on. And that arrogant, withered old hen Senneck was gone, which was good. Along with the twisted freak called Kullervo, which was even better. If Oeka had had her way, she would have crushed the pair of them. As it was, she would have to hold herself back. They could still be useful, after all.

No! What use were they, next to her? With this power she had now, she could do anything. Even
Kraeaina kran ae
would be nothing but an insect beside her sheer might. Others might not see the cursed human, but Oeka would sense her mind the moment she came close, and she would squash it in an eye-blink. It would be easy.

Oeka left Laela alone and turned her attention back to her task. She had already decided that she would not stop until she had used all the power she had taken from the Spirit Cave. It was hers—why not use it all? And when she was finished, she would be even more powerful than she was now.

Down in the crypts beneath the Eyrie, the atmosphere distorted. The air became hot and cold by turns, and disturbing noises howled around the walls. Vague images flickered here and there before disappearing. At the very centre of all this, Oeka's body lay on a stone slab, silent and unmoving. It looked dead. Worse than dead. The eyes were white and unseeing, disintegrating outright from lack of use. Feathers and fur had come loose and begun to shed onto the floor. The beak was open, tongue dry and cracking.

With her body useless now, all she had left was her mind.

But even that was starting to fall away.

She kept on going, unable to feel exhaustion, possibly even unable to stop. Piece by piece, the last of the energy was used up. Piece by piece, she felt herself disappear into the void of magic. She forgot how to sense temperature. She forgot what meat tasted like. She forgot the feeling of the wind in her wings. She forgot her mother's face and the first soft stumblings of infancy.

She even began to forget where she was and why she had begun to do this to herself.

But, just as the void gaped ahead of her, the last of the magic finally ran out.

Oeka relaxed out of her trance, and that was it. She found herself in her new form at last.

Pure thought, anchored to nothing. A mind without a body, free to go wherever it chose. A mind so powerful it had almost gone beyond mere thought altogether.

Oeka—or what she had become—drifted up through the levels of the Eyrie to find Laela.

L
aela was lonely. Kullervo was gone, and Inva. Oeka was as good as gone. Even Iorwerth was away.

She had never really told anyone just how alone she often felt in the Eyrie. And now it had become even worse. Everyone around her was a potential traitor. Every corner might have an assassin lurking behind it. Once she had been Queen by popular demand. Now, only fear kept her in power. She wasn't going to lie to herself about that. She often felt afraid, and paranoid as well. The rest of the time, she just felt lonely. She had never imagined that ruling would be like this, and now she wondered if she would have taken it if she had. Either way, she knew what she was now. Laela the half-breed, the half-Southerner Queen, the bastard daughter, disliked just as much as the Southern occupiers Arenadd had driven out.

By now, only one thing was really keeping her on the throne, and that was the knowledge that, if any other ruler took over, that ruler would do what her father Arenadd had resisted doing for so long.

Declare war on the South.

Laela didn't feel any particular attachment to the place any more, but what she
did
feel attached to were common people. She wasn't much better than a commoner herself at heart—she definitely talked like one—and she knew who would pay the real price if the Northerners ever went through the mountains and into the warm Southern lands beyond.

Everybody, for a start.

So that was what Laela Taranisäii had become. She came from two different races, and she would protect them from each other come what may. Saeddryn running around with the Night God's gifts was the last thing either side needed.

Still, even Laela needed company, and now that all the people she counted as friends were gone, she resorted to summoning the only other person she remembered having been a friend in the past.

Yorath.

Her former tutor arrived in the Eyrie library, carrying his books, inks, and pens and looking nervous. To her surprise, Laela found he looked younger than she remembered. Smaller, maybe. Less impressive.

Yorath hastily put his things down and bowed to her. “Milady.”

Laela looked down at him, not quite able to accept the fact that she had lost her virginity to him not that long ago. “No need for that. How are yeh gettin' on?”

Yorath looked up. “Uh . . . uh, I'm doing well, milady.”

“I told yeh; there's no need for that,” said Laela. “Sit down. This is our old spot, remember?”

He took a seat at a table, and she sat opposite him. “I'm sorry; I just wasn't expecting this, milady—”

Laela leant over the table. “Call me that one more time an' I'll have yer ears cut off.”

Yorath gave up and grinned. “Right ye are, Laela.”

“Better.” Laela sat back. “Still teachin' kids, then?”

“Yes. Actually, I've been promoted. I'm a full teacher now.”

“Not an assistant any more, eh?” said Laela. “Funny. I kinda got promoted too, actually. Yeh mighta heard about it.”

“I did,” said Yorath. “So—what's this all about?”

Laela wasn't going to admit that she'd had him brought up just so she'd have someone to talk to. “Been busy lately, but I just remembered I never finished learnin' how to read an' whatnot. So I thought it was about time we did some catchin' up.”

“Oh!” Yorath looked surprised. “Well, there are better teachers than me, with a bit more experience—”

Laela waved him into silence. “Yeh were a good teacher for me, an' that's all I care about. Don't worry; I'll see yeh get paid properly.”

“All right, then.” Yorath started to lay out his materials. “Was there anything ye wanted to focus on right now?”

“Yeah, readin',” said Laela. “Can't risk signing somethin' when I don't know what it says. Actually, there was somethin' I wanted to show yeh.”

She dumped a large book on the table between them.

Yorath inspected it without touching it. “What is it?”

“Found it,” said Laela. “Hidden in my dad's old wardrobe.” She couldn't resist a smirk. “Under a box of combs.”

“Heh.” Yorath smiled briefly. “He always did take good care of his hair. Ye could tell just by looking.” He reached for the book. “Let's have a look at it, then . . .”

Laela got up and moved around the table to sit next to him, where they could both see the pages.

Yorath shifted uncomfortably and opened the book to the front page. “Er . . .” He cleared his throat, looked properly at the page, and jerked away as if it had bitten him. “Dear gods!”

Laela started. “What? What is it? What's it say?”

Yorath pulled himself together. “It's his journal. The King's journal.”

Laela's eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes.” Yorath touched the page very carefully, indicating each word. “‘The Days of the Shadow That Walks'—that's crossed out, and he's replaced it with just ‘Arenadd's Journal.'” He smiled hesitantly. “I suppose he thought the first one didn't sound right.”

“He was right,” said Laela. She rubbed her hands together excitedly. “Turn the page! Let's see what's inside!”

Yorath had already taken his hand away from it. “Laela, I'm really not sure we should read this. Not with me here, anyway. There could be anything inside; I don't have the right . . .” He trailed off, not having to add, “. . . and neither do you.”

Laela hesitated briefly, then shook her head. “I can't read it without yer help. Can't see there bein' anything that amazin' in there anyway, if his life was anythin' like mine is now. Read it.” When Yorath didn't obey right away, she said sharply, “Read it! That's an order.”

Yorath turned the page, coughed, and began to read aloud—touching each word as he said it so she could follow along. “‘I have decided to write down what I do every day, or at least the most important parts. One day this book could be useful to historians, or future rulers, or just the curious. I have no illusions about living forever, despite what I am. Nothing can last forever, not even me, and I swear right now that if I last too long, and it gets too much for me, I will leave the North and go in search of a way to die. Not that I think I'll have to. I've changed too many things and committed too many crimes to ever be left in peace. One day, my people will turn against me, or the Night God will decide I've outlived my usefulness, or that one loose end will come back for me. That last possibility haunts me more every day.

“‘I have succeeded in building a new nation, and I have made my people as free as they will ever be, but in some ways I feel like a failure. I failed to save Skade. I failed Saeddryn. And I failed the Night God. I did not kill Flell's child the way I was supposed to. Even though my master had told me to do it, even though I knew full well that child could have the power to destroy me.

“‘Once I thought that I hesitated because Skade's death had made me stop caring, or because even I was too appalled by the idea of killing an infant in the cradle. But now I know the real reason.

“‘I did not kill the child because I knew that one day it might come back and kill me. I let it live because I wanted that to happen. With the child dead, I would be safe. With it still alive, I know there is still a chance for me.

“‘So I wait. Here in Malvern, with only my dear friend Skandar and this journal to confide in, I wait. The child will be a man in just a few years. I can wait for him to come and find me, and I know that he will come one day. He'll know what I did and what I am. He'll want revenge, just like I did. But I hope for his sake that he doesn't become what I became. I hope that, unlike me, he can keep his soul. I hope that he can give me rest. I'll still fight back, of course. It'll never be in my nature to bow down and accept the death-blow peacefully. If he wants to set me free, he'll have to fight for it. I can hardly wait.'”

Laela listened, utterly captivated. “He wanted to die . . .”

“No surprise to me,” Yorath murmured. “But the child never did come. I wonder where he is now?”

Laela smiled inwardly. “Probably got no idea about any of it. This ain't no story, an' we ain't made that way really.
I
should know.”

Yorath looked rather sad.

“Read more,” said Laela. “Flip through toward the back. I wanna see if he wrote about me.”

Reluctantly, Yorath closed the book and turned it over before opening it again. The last pages were blank, but he leafed back through them until he found more of Arenadd's neat handwriting.

“What's it say?” asked Laela.

Yorath took a deep breath, and began again. “‘Today, I vowed never to drink again. I realised that I've spent far too much time trying to hide away. I didn't care before, but when I saw the way she looked at me, I felt truly ashamed for the first time. And there I was thinking I'd lost my conscience for good! This girl is astonishing. She's changing me in ways I thought were impossible, and she doesn't even seem to realise it. But there's something about her that gets to me. The way she treats everyone she meets with the same rough and earthy good sense. She even talks to me like an equal—me! She acts as if my status and power don't matter. She treats me like a human being when no-one else does, and that makes me feel free to speak to her in the same way. I've told her things I would never tell anyone, without a moment's thought. I hope for all our sakes that she never misuses what she knows. I'm not afraid for myself, but I don't want her to be hurt.

“‘People say she looks like my daughter, but I don't feel like a father to her. I—'”