The Shadowed Throne (39 page)

I can help.

Yorath and Laela both froze.

“What?” Laela said loudly.

I can help, Laela.

The voice seemed to come from everywhere. Felt, not heard. The two humans looked at each other, then at the library around them.

Yorath pointed. “What's that? Can ye see that?”

Laela looked, and there was . . . was . . .

“Oeka?”

The shape flickered in the air. It was Oeka—or looked like her. A vague, wavering image hung in the air. It looked like dust motes caught in sunlight, swirling together to make a coloured sketch of a small griffin. The eyes, big and slanted, were deep green, and they were the boldest part of her.

Laela rubbed her own eyes. “Great gods on a stick, what's this? Oeka? What have yeh done now?”

The image wavered.
I have transcended my body,
whispered Oeka's ethereal voice.
I am now too powerful to be contained by flesh.

“Oh good,” Laela mumbled.

Here.
The image of Oeka drifted closer.
Do not be afraid,
it said, when Laela and Yorath pulled back.
I am projecting this image. It cannot hurt you.

“What do yeh want?” Laela asked, trying to keep herself together.

To tell you that I am well and will be beside you once again.
Oeka drifted onto the table, transparent paws resting on the open book.
I wish to demonstrate my powers. Let me show you what I can do.

“With what?” said Laela, very cautious now.

With this book.
Oeka lowered her head toward the pages.
I have the power to reveal the past. This book is a piece of the past. Your father saved memories of himself inside it. Watch, and I will show them to you.

The image of Oeka faded away, motes drifting apart, and a new voice sounded in the air. But this one was not Oeka's. It was louder, deeper—and familiar.

“. . . feel like a father to her. I feel like she is my friend, and that's how I prefer it.”

The voice was coming from the book.

Yorath and Laela fled from the table so fast they fell over the chairs and landed in a heap. The voice spoke on without pausing, and as the two recovered themselves and stood up to look, they saw him.

Arenadd himself, apparently sitting at the table with the open book in front of him. There was a pen in his hand and a bottle of ink at his elbow, and he wrote, tracing each word perfectly while his voice read them out. “It's been a long, long time since I had a friend other than Skandar. A human friend. I want Laela to be my friend. She's the only person I know who doesn't fear me—or hate me. She represents everything I thought I had lost—the life of a real man, a mortal man. I don't know if I had friends when I was alive, but—”

Slowly, making every effort to stay silent, Laela walked around the table to see his face. It was the face she remembered. Angular, bearded, calm. The lips didn't move in time to his voice, but she could see them move occasionally as he muttered something to himself.

Laela found her own voice at last. “What . . .
is
that?”

A memory,
said Oeka, suddenly appearing by her side.
He cannot see you. This is a vision of him as he appeared when he wrote these words. Listen! He is writing a secret now.

“—my plan,” Arenadd's voice continued. “She is the key. I will make her my heir and adopt her as my daughter. Tara will be ruled by a half-breed, and not even the Night God will be able to stop it. Nothing can make me change my mind now. My master wants purity and segregation forever. No, not even that. She wants the Southerners destroyed, so that our pure race can rule forever and never mix with them again. But I won't have that. Time has changed me—I hope for the better. Once I saw a future where my people could be free to rule themselves. But now I see another future beyond that, a future I can't create. Making that future come will be up to better men than me, but I've taken the first step now. Laela is the key. Only she can see both sides. Whether she does will be up to her.”

The voice went silent, and the vision of Arenadd closed an ethereal version of the journal and carried it away from the table. For a moment, he was there, walking straight toward Laela with his unseeing eyes fixed on her face; and then he was gone.

My gift,
Oeka said smugly.
The past is open to me. If you wish to see it again, ask me, and I will show you.

“It, er, it might come in handy,” said Yorath unexpectedly. He glanced at Laela, then looked at the vision of Oeka. “If . . . if . . . I was wondering . . .”

Speak. Do not speak. I can scent your intention.
The vision blurred for a moment.
You are interested in history. You wish that I would show you more, so that you may write down what was said and done here long ago.

Yorath's eyes widened.

You are right to be afraid,
Oeka said, imperiously.
No mind can hide a secret from me. But you are safe. You are not a traitor. But I will not give you your wish now. I must go.

“Go where?” said Laela.

The image of Oeka began to fade away.
To explore! There is so much to know, and I must know it! I will send my mind far away, and see all there is to see . . .

“Saeddryn!” said Laela, pouncing on the opportunity at once. “If yeh can see that far, find out what she's doin'! Kill her the way yeh killed Torc—the war'd be over, an'—”

Oeka was now barely visible.
Wars. Humans. Irrelevant and dull. The world has so much more to offer, and I must take it . . .

With that, she disappeared altogether.

Laela slumped into a chair. “I hate this place,” she muttered.

K
ullervo's pains started within days of leaving Malvern.

He and Senneck flew together, but kept their distance from the younger Skarok and spent their nights away from him as well. He was close enough to be seen sometimes during the day when they were in the air, but he and Senneck kept away from each other, and away from civilisation as well. Laela had ordered them to travel this way since it would make them much less likely to be spotted. It meant that Kullervo and Senneck were essentially travelling alone. In the evenings, they would camp in whatever shelter they could find—usually under a tree. They didn't light a fire and lived off whatever they both caught. Even in human shape, Kullervo could digest raw meat easily. He even liked the taste.

He and Senneck travelled well together, used to each other by now, and Kullervo had never been so completely happy. He loved being with Senneck, loved it more than he could say. He loved the spicy smell of her feathers, loved her dry, rasping voice, loved lying against her warm flank to sleep. He loved it when she talked to him while they rested, teaching him what he needed to know about magic. But it was the times when they didn't talk that he loved best—the times when nothing needed to be said, and he could sit there with her in silence and know that she was there and wouldn't leave him again.

So he was happy, at least until the pains began.

They first appeared in the mornings, in his back and legs. At first they were only a mild annoyance—just an ache in the joints. They weren't much different than the cramps he sometimes got while recovering from a change. It had been some time since his last transformation, but he had changed back and forth several times in a short period, so he supposed it must have taken a toll. And his wounds were still healing as well. So he said nothing and thought that they would go away soon enough.

But they didn't go away. And in just a few short days, they became unbearable. What had been an ache in the joints spread through every bone in his spine, legs, and shoulders, then to the muscles. He began to have headaches as well and could barely sleep at night.

Not one to complain, Kullervo kept quiet about it. But before long, he had developed a limp that got worse as the pains did. His eyes became hollow with exhaustion, and he went off his food. Senneck must have noticed, but she said nothing, and only began to watch him more closely whenever they were on the ground.

Travelling inconspicuously meant they took an indirect route to the coast, and the journey took longer than it might have done. Kullervo suffered wordlessly through it, until finally Senneck reached the harbour town called Abertawe. There was a small griffiner tower there, but she ignored it and went straight to the docks, where Skarok and Inva had already boarded the ship that would take them to Maijan.

Inva came to meet them alone, arriving just as Kullervo dismounted.

He slid clumsily off Senneck's back and toppled sideways onto the ground.

Inva, forgetting protocol, ran to help him up. “My lord!”

Grey-faced and sweating, Kullervo clasped her hand and let himself be pulled upright. “Thanks . . .”

He looked so ghastly that even Inva finally forgot her reserve. “What happened to you? You are ill . . .” She glanced quickly at the impassive Senneck.

“I'm all right,” Kullervo croaked.

“You are
not
well,” Inva said immediately. “You are very ill. How long have you been like this?”

“A while,” said Kullervo. “I'll get better . . .” He tried to stand up properly but failed, reaching out pathetically for Senneck to support him. She was there at once, putting her head under his arm.

Inva hesitated. “You must go home,” she said at last.

“He will not,” Senneck interrupted. “Take us to the ship now.”

Inva bowed low to her. “Sacred one, your human will not survive the journey.”

“He is not ill,” said Senneck. “He will recover.”

“I
will
,” said Kullervo, before Inva could protest. “Please take us to the ship. I need to lie down for a bit. I'll be fine.”

“But—” Inva began.

Kullervo pulled himself up. “I'll get better if Senneck says I will,” he said, with so much certainty that it was obvious nothing could change his mind.

Inva's lifelong training in obedience won through, and she nodded politely and led the pair of them down the pier to where a ship was moored. Three griffins waited on the deck—two females and Skarok, who came to his human at once.

“So the two weaklings have arrived at last,” he sneered at Senneck and Kullervo. “And I see the human has finally sickened. Watch carefully, human, before the old one decides to be rid of you. But only if she thinks she can do better than you.”

Kullervo didn't seem to notice the insults. Senneck only fixed Skarok with a long, slow stare. Skarok faced it for a few moments, but when Senneck moved closer, he hastily backed away.

Senneck huffed in a satisfied kind of way and let Inva show her belowdecks to the cargo-hold, which had been partly converted into a block of stalls where she and her fellow griffins could nest. Senneck chose one, and Kullervo went in with her. Inva began to tell him how there was a cabin higher up for him, but he curled up in the straw by Senneck's side and promptly went to sleep.

Inva quietly retreated, leaving Senneck to rearrange the nesting material before settling down close to her human. She was nearly as tired as he was and soon went to sleep as well, with her head resting on her talons close to his face.

She woke up refreshed. Looking around contentedly, she saw that Kullervo was awake. His eyes were on her face. Griffin-coloured, but human. Now they were red-rimmed and staring.

“Senneck?” he whispered.

She moved her head closer to him. “Yes?”

“Am I dying?”

Senneck's breath ruffled his hair. “No. You are growing.”

“But it hurts,” Kullervo's face was full of fear. “Even changing doesn't hurt this much. Not for so long. What am I going to do?”

“I told you,” said Senneck. “You are growing. You will not die. You are becoming stronger.”

Kullervo relaxed a little. “I don't feel stronger . . .” He stilled. “How do you know? Do you know what this is?”

“Yes.” Senneck clicked her beak. “This is my fault.”

“No it isn't,” Kullervo said at once. “You'd never hurt me.”

“I am not,” said Senneck. “The pain is necessary. I did not think this would happen, but it should not hurt you.”

“What?” Kullervo lifted himself onto his elbows. “What did you do?”

“You use magic like a griffin, but you are not one,” said Senneck. “As I taught you how to control your power, I soon realised from what you told me that your gland is not properly developed. It is undersized and weak, and this explains the crude way you have been using magic and why it comes so erratically. Therefore, I decided that I would feed you magic from my own gland and so encourage yours to grow.”

Kullervo looked blank. “But when did you do that? And wouldn't that hurt you?”

“I absorbed some of the power the fool Oeka was using,” said Senneck. “Extra energy, stored in my gland. During our journey, when you were asleep, I passed it into you.” She opened her beak wide to demonstrate.

Kullervo rubbed his head. “Why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have minded.”

“It had to be done when you were asleep, without your knowledge,” said Senneck. “If not, you would have resisted despite yourself. I can tell you now because the process is complete.”

“Then will I get better now?”

“In time,” said Senneck. “I did not know it would cause you this much pain.”

“Why has it, then?” said Kullervo. “Why does my
back
hurt? My legs? You said the gland is in my throat, and that doesn't hurt at all!”

“Your gland is growing,” said Senneck, in a clipped, efficient kind of way. “As I expected. But it has not contained all the energy I gave it. Your body is growing as well, to match it. It will continue to grow for a time—I do not know how long it will do this, but the hardest part is over. You will have the journey to Maijan to grow, then recover.”

“You mean I'm going to get
bigger
?”

“It is all benefit,” Senneck said blandly. “You will become larger and stronger, and will not need so much protection. When the pains begin to decrease, I suggest you exercise and encourage your muscles to thicken. There will never be a better time.”

Kullervo gave a hesitant, broken-toothed smile. “I hope I don't get too big. I don't want to scare people.”

Senneck chirped. “You have so much of a griffin about you, but you have the heart of a human.”

“Sorry.”

“If you did not have that, you would not be
my
human,” said Senneck. She nibbled gently at his hair. “Rest now. Better times are coming for you.”

S
aeddryn was also on a journey. But hers was a journey alone.

The day after Caedmon and his followers arrived at Skenfrith, she had set out in secret. Nobody except she, Caedmon, and Shar knew where she was going. The half-breed couldn't know she was coming.

The move to Skenfrith had been easy enough. On their arrival, the rebels went straight to the governor's tower and crowded into the building. The governor, knowing she and her guards were outnumbered, immediately surrendered control of the city to Caedmon. With some persuasion from him and Saeddryn, she had even agreed to join their cause. Loyalty to the half-breed, it seemed, didn't take much to break.

Saeddryn had set out for Malvern on foot. She had no griffin to carry her, and horses panicked at the sight of her. Besides, she preferred it this way.

The odd thing was that she could still feel tiredness, and pain, and even hunger. She even felt the urge to sleep at night. During the tedious walking that took up the first day, she wondered about that. She was immortal now, so why did she still have mortal concerns like that?

She thought of Arenadd. When she had first known him, he had slept and eaten like an ordinary human. But over time that had changed. When she lived in the Eyrie close by him, she had seen it happen—had watched him drift further and further away from the mortal world. It was common knowledge that he ate almost nothing, and she had heard the servants whisper that his bed was never slept in. But he never seemed to weaken from it.

Was it progressive, she wondered? Had he grown that way naturally the longer he spent as an immortal?

Saeddryn tried to remember the last time she had eaten. Two days ago? Three? She wasn't sure. She felt vaguely hungry now but nowhere near as much as she should have if it had been that long.

I shouldn't need to eat,
she thought.
The dark power keeps me moving now, not food.

As an experiment, she didn't eat any of the food she had brought that day, and when she stopped at nightfall, she went without dinner.

The hunger hadn't grown any stronger.

Odd.

She didn't feel like sleeping now and decided to pray instead. It made her sad to think of the Temple she had loved and where she would have gone to pray if she could. If the half-breed hadn't destroyed it. If she were still alive and living in Malvern, and all these terrible things had never happened.

Grim-faced, Saeddryn wandered around the gully where she had stopped, picking up the largest rocks she could find. She brought them back to where she had left her bag, and when she had thirteen of them, she picked up her sickle and cleared a spot on the ground, scraping away grass and debris to expose a rough circle of earth.

She put the sickle aside and brought the stones, arranging them around the edges of the circle until she had made a ring just big enough for her to fit inside.

Picking up the sickle again, she stood at the centre of the ring and blessed each stone, touching them with the tip of the blade and murmuring the sacred words.

She imagined she could feel the Night God's grace fill the circle. An attentive silence filled the air.

Saeddryn held out a hand and pressed the sickle blade into the palm. “With this Northern blood, I nourish an' call to ye.”

Red drops splashed onto the earth between the stones. Saeddryn put the sickle down and knelt, looking straight up at the moon and mouthing a prayer.

Nothing happened, and she suddenly started feeling stupid. Why was she doing this, following rituals as if she were still High Priestess, as if she hadn't spoken to the Night God face-to-face? As if she hadn't become the new sacred warrior?

She stood up, brushing her hands on her clothes without noticing the blood. “Master, I am yer servant an' will not hesitate. I'm on my way now t'start it. Just tell me if I'm doing it right. Please.”

You are.
The reply came at once, whispering in her ear.

Saeddryn turned quickly, but there was no sign of anyone. “Master?”

I am here. Speak.

Awe gripped her. “I did it! I didn't think—could Arenadd do this? Talk to ye any time?”

Yes. But he never did.

“Why not? Didn't he trust ye?”

No. He had no faith. He made one true prayer in his life, and that was all. He raged, he screamed, he threatened, but he did not reach out with love as you have. And so I never replied.

“One true prayer,” Saeddryn repeated to herself. “I wonder when that was?”

It was on the night before his death,
said the Night God.
He prayed for me to save him.

“But ye didn't,” said Saeddryn, unable to stop herself.

His time had come. Do not be afraid, Saeddryn. You are on the right path. Do you have another question to ask?

“Not really,” said Saeddryn. “Just wanted reassurance, I s'pose. Why do I still get hungry?” She added the question without really thinking.