The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)

by K J Taylor

“I shall not fail,” said Senneck.

  Kraal drew himself up to look at them all. “It is time,” he said. “Come.”

  They followed him through an archway and out onto an oversized balcony, where a cold wind ruffled hair and feathers. Erian looked out over the city and the lands beyond. They looked enormous. To the east were farmlands and, beyond that, the darkness of wild forests. Somewhere on the other side of them was the sea.

  Senneck nudged him. “Come. We do not have time for dreaming. Say your farewells.”

  Erian gave Flell a quick hug, knowing it was expected of him, and forced himself to kiss the infant on the forehead. “Goodbye, Flell. Look after yourself, and my niece.”

  Flell smiled at him. “Don’t worry. Bran can protect us, and Kraeya can protect all three of us.”

  “I can, and I shall,” Kraeya rasped, her tail lashing.

  Erian embraced Elkin far more warmly. “Stay safe,” he murmured in her ear. “I want you here waiting for me when we get back, understand?”

  Elkin turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. “Of course I’ll be here, silly. Where else would I go? And of course I’ll be safe. I have Kraal to protect me, you know.”

  Erian kissed her on the mouth. “I just want to know you’ll be all right,” he mumbled.

  “And I will be,” said Elkin, letting go of him. “If anything, it’s you who should be careful.” She gave him a playful nudge. “So stay close to Senneck and follow her advice, and don’t rush into things without thinking, the way you’re prone to do. We need you alive, too, you know.”

  Erian clasped her hands. “I’ll be back,” he promised. “I swear I’ll be back, and I’ll bring the weapon. I won’t fail you, or the North. I won’t.”

  “I trust you,” Elkin said softly. “Now go and be blessed, Erian Rannagonson.”

  Erian let go of her hands, though the action made his heart hurt, and climbed onto Senneck’s back. She dipped her head to Kraal one last time, glanced briefly at Thrain and Kraeya, and loped away toward the edge of the balcony. She sped up as she went, wings opening, and as Erian braced himself she launched herself into the sky.

  Erian could feel his heart thudding as Senneck flew higher, and not just from the instinctive fear he had every time they flew together. He wished he could turn and look back at the others, but didn’t dare: if he didn’t keep still he could make Senneck lose her balance or be torn off her back. But he could still feel Elkin’s presence behind him, as if she were standing there, and when Senneck finally steadied and he could risk a glance back, his stomach lurched when he saw how far away she was already.

  That feeling of sickness built and then settled into a dull ache inside him as the Eyrie began to fall away behind them and Malvern passed below. For one wild moment he wanted to wrench at Senneck’s halter to try to make her turn around, or to yell out to her and plead with her to turn back.

  Erian’s face remained calm, and his body still. But the ache in his chest did not fade away.

  Bran and Flell flew back to Erian’s home without having exchanged a word, and when they landed and Bran slid off Kraeya’s back, Flell was too afraid to say anything. He helped her down and hung up Kraeya’s harness without a word.

  Flell cradled Laela against her chest to soothe her, and watched her husband as he paced back and forth, shoulders hunched.

  “What are we going to do?” she said at last, a little nervously.

  Bran stopped abruptly. “This is bilge,” he said. “That’s what it is. It’s a load of steaming shit.”

  “Bran, you know I don’t like it when you talk like that,” said Flell.

  Bran ignored her. “I ain’t gonna believe it. I ain’t gonna believe a word of it. What’s wrong with that lot? They’re out of their godsdamned minds! Arren, usin’ evil magic? It’s shit. All of it. An’ they reckon he’s mad?” He spat.

  “But why would they be making that sort of thing up?” said Flell.

  “I dunno,” said Bran. “But—”

  Kraeya started up. “I do not believe this story either, Bran. Nor do I trust Senneck.”

  “What about Kraal, though?” said Flell. “He seemed awfully certain.”

  “The Mighty Kraal,” said Kraeya, and hissed to herself. “He is very old, and by all accounts too caught up in his own mysticism for his own good. And in either case we have nothing but the Bastard’s word that your friend has these supposed dark powers.”

  “So yeh don’t believe this ‘kray kran ee’ nonsense?” said Bran.

  “I do not.” Kraeya’s tail lashed. “Kraeai kran ae is a myth—pure legend, a story old hens tell to frighten chicks. Humans do not possess magic—they cannot—and the gods are nothing but human arrogance made into imaginary friends. They cannot control us.”

  “But there’s still somethin’ goin’ on here I don’t like the smell of,” said Bran. “How did Arren survive back at Eagle-holm if it wasn’t by magic? He fell off the edge of the damned city—no-one could live after that!”

  “How do you know Darkheart didn’t catch him?” said Flell.

  Bran paused. “It was dark. Griffins don’t fly in the dark, Flell.”

  “That is not true for all of us,” said Kraeya. “Some griffins can see in the dark; perhaps this Darkheart is one of them.”

  “Well, what are we going to do?” said Flell. “We can’t just stay here and do nothing.”

  “I know what I’m gonna do,” said Bran. “I’m gonna go out there an’ look for him, an’ I ain’t givin’ up until I find him.”

  “But why?” said Flell. “And how are you going to find him? After all the things he’s supposed to have done . . .”

  “I don’t care about that,” said Bran. “I’m gonna find him, an’ damn the difficulty. I owe him, Flell. He trusted me, an’ I let him down. He was my best mate, an’ I let all those things happen to him—an’ I can’t let it happen again. I’ve gotta find him an’ help him get away, or at least warn him about what’s goin’ on.”

  Flell looked at Kraeya. The red griffin had sat on her haunches and was grooming her chest feathers, apparently uninterested in the conversation. Now, though, she looked up and said, “I agree.”

  Bran paused. “Yeh do?”

  “Yes,” said Kraeya. “You and I should look for your friend.”

  “But why do yeh care, Kraeya?” said Bran. “Yeh never knew him.”

  “I know Senneck,” said Kraeya. “And I do not trust her. I believe I see more than lies and foolish superstition at work here. Senneck is ambitious and arrogant. Of all the griffins living in the hatchery, she was the most self-centred and had the loftiest goals. Nothing would be enough for her; no human was good enough, no station high enough. She would have nothing but the best, and I believe that she would go to any lengths to take it. She has chosen this human—this fool of a boy—and already she has manipulated them both into an official position. Her human is still a bastard, and that will always stand in his way—but if they were both to convince Kraal that your friend was Kraeai kran ae and that the Bastard was Aeai ran kai, they could do much more. All the Bastard must do is murder your friend, and he will be a hero.”

  Bran gaped at her. “Wh—y’think . . .”

  Flell was more composed. “Kraeya, do you honestly think they could do something like that? I mean . . . it sounds very outlandish to me.”

  “More outlandish than the idea that your bastard half-brother is Aeai ran kai?” Kraeya shot back. “No. To me this sounds like the work of a cunning liar and schemer—Senneck’s work from beginning to end. I doubt the Bastard could have imagined it himself.”

  “Yeah . . .” Bran said slowly. “Yer right, Kraeya. It’s gotta be a lie—a stupid one.” He straightened up. “Well, I ain’t lettin’ my best mate be murdered just so the Bastard an’ his bird can get a fat reward. I’m gonna put a stop to it.”

  “We shall both put a stop to it,” said Kraeya. She stood up.

  “You and I shall find your friend and do what we c
an to help him, and I shall enjoy seeing Senneck’s plot fail. If there is any griffin who needs to be humbled, it is her.”

  “Yeah,” Bran growled. “An’ if there’s any human who needs t’be brought down a peg, it’s the Bastard. Chosen One,” he added contemptuously.

  7

  Night Travels

  The journey back to the mountains began slowly. All of them were exhausted and underfed; even Arenadd felt weaker than he would admit. He gave nothing away, determined to keep up a facade of invulnerability. Now that he had confessed to being the Night God’s avatar, he had burdened himself with a role to play. Saeddryn believed he was infallible and unstoppable, and he couldn’t let her know that he could still get tired and hungry, and feel pain. The others couldn’t know it, either. Everything hinged on his new persona and their belief in it. He hoped he could go on believing it himself.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t just tiredness that made the travelling slow. Food was scarce, and made scarcer by the fact that they had to find it in complete secrecy. They could allow nobody to see them; the risk was too great. The moment anyone knew where they were, half the country would come running. Arenadd and Skade had to draw on everything they had learnt during the time they had come this way before. The trouble was that back then, there had been only two of them and Skandar, and they had been able to fly most of the way. Hiding seven people and one enormous griffin was next to impossible.

  Arenadd and Skandar took to flying ahead to scout out the path and gather food, Skandar by stealing livestock and Arenadd by using his newfound power to sneak into homes and help himself to whatever he could find. For some odd reason, the first things he stole were a hairbrush, a razor and a bottle of hair lotion. Nobody had the spine to make any remarks about this, but Cai tittered when he went off by himself one evening and came back so well groomed he might have been on his way to a dance.

  Arenadd studiously ignored the woman’s giggle. “I’ve found some water. Skade, could you come with me and help carry some back?”

  She stood up at once and silently walked with him back the way he had come. He led her to a small stream, where a scatter of black stubble had been left on the banks. Arenadd glanced at his reflection in the water. “Much better. I tell you, Skade, I’ll take another hanging before I let myself get so grubby again.”

  She rolled her eyes—a new trick she had learnt from watching humans. “I see that nothing you have suffered in all this time has managed to change you, Arenadd Taranisäii.”

  He gave her a mischievous sideways look. “And you’re very glad, aren’t you?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. Tentatively, she reached out to touch him. “I had given up any hope of seeing you again. When you went into those mountains and did not return, I thought you had broken your promise. I thought . . .”

  Arenadd’s expression darkened. “I knew what you must be thinking, but believe me, it wasn’t my fault. I honestly thought I’d be back in a day or so, but I should have suspected . . . The way Saeddryn was acting, it was obvious she wasn’t telling me something.”

  “Then what was there?”

  “Her mother,” said Arenadd. “Arddryn. And her partner, Hyrenna. They’re both supposed to be dead, although not in the same way as me. Saeddryn took us to them, and after that they wouldn’t let us leave. Skandar went off with Hyrenna, and I had to stay with Arddryn.”

  “A prisoner?” said Skade.

  “Not really. More like an apprentice.” Arenadd gave a short laugh. “Finally, an apprenticeship I got to finish.”

  “I do not understand,” she said, in the stiff voice she used in moments of uncertainty.

  Arenadd shrugged. “She wanted me to be her successor, and she trained me for it—whether I wanted her to or not. When we were finished, she gave me the tattoos of manhood. See?” He rolled up his sleeve to show her. “I’m a proper Northerner now.”

  Skade clicked her teeth. “You told me you did not want to be a Northerner. You were ashamed of it.”

  “Yes. I was. But now I know why.” Arenadd’s eyes narrowed. “It was because of them. The Southerners. I gave myself to them when I was only ten; I let them raise me. They tried to turn me into one of them; they taught me to hate what I was. I turned on my own people—my own parents. But now I know the truth. Caedmon helped to teach me that, and Arddryn and the Night God finished it.”

  “But there is no such thing—” Skade began.

  Arenadd wasn’t listening. “I didn’t know who I was,” he muttered. “Now I do, and I’ve made peace with it at last.” He smiled very slightly. “A darkman, and a griffiner. A Dark Lord.”

  Silence, and stillness, just for a moment.

  Then Skade smiled. “And do Dark Lords have time for poor ugly creatures like me?”

  Arenadd hesitated. “You’re not ugly.”

  She moved closer, resting her head against his. “You have found your pride at last, and I am glad. I do not care that it kept you away for so long, not now that I see what it has done to make you stronger. I am proud of you, and . . . I love you, Arenadd.”

  “Still?”

  “Yes. I had already forgiven you for leaving me alone. When you gave yourself up to save me, I knew that you still cared. It was enough, many times enough. I only asked to be certain.”

  Arenadd took her hands, clumsily with his bandaged fingers. “You remember the last thing I said to you, when they caught me.”

  “Yes . . . I did not understand it. You have no heart.”

  “But I do. I do, Skade. I have a heart. Yours.” Arenadd gripped her hands more tightly. “I realised it just in that moment. You’re all I have left; you’re the only thing that keeps the last human part of me alive. Without you, there’d be nothing left inside me but darkness.”

  She managed a smile. “A great responsibility for one human to carry.”

  Arenadd let go. “You know you only have to take it if you want to.”

  “Do not speak nonsense,” Skade rasped. “You know this is a question that found an answer long ago. You need me, and I need you; and if we both know it, then there is no more to say.”

  Arenadd smiled—a sweet young smile, the kind of smile he would never give to anyone else but her. “You’re right, Skade, as always.”

  “I have seen how your cousin looks at you,” she said abruptly.

  “Oh, that. Don’t worry about it, Skade. I’m not interested in her. She expected to marry me the way her mother wanted, but I won’t. She’s a good woman, but she’ll never be anything more than my second-in-command. Try to be nice to her; she doesn’t deserve your jealousy.”

  Skade kissed him. “I will leave her be. You are the only human that matters to me.”

  They kissed again, harder this time. Arenadd began to pull closer to her, his excitement mounting as their breath mingled and her warmth soaked into his cool skin. He’d been away from her far too long, and what did it matter if—

  “Human!”

  The voice lashed out like a whip. Arenadd and Skade pulled apart instantly, shock on both their faces.

  Skandar stood over them, his tail swinging from side to side. “Am thirsty. Humans move now.” Without waiting for an answer, he stepped over the pair of them and thrust his beak into the water.

  Arenadd cringed and got out from under the griffin’s belly. “Good gods, Skandar, you’re welcome to a drink, but you didn’t have to go and shove your balls in my face.”

  Skade hissed. “You have no respect at all, dark griffin.”

  Skandar finished his drink. “Not need respect; am very big,” he said arrogantly. He turned to face Arenadd. “Come to find you. Want talk.”

  Arenadd got up, dusting himself down. “Of course. What is it?”

  Skandar lifted a forepaw, displaying knife-sized black talons. “Moving too slow. Need to reach mountain faster.”

  “We all want to get there quickly,” said Arenadd. “I’m afraid it just can’t be helped.”

  Skandar put his head on one side
. “ ‘Be help’? What mean?”

  “I mean we can’t really do anything about it. If we want to all get there—”

  “Can do!” said Skandar. “I help.”

  “How? Do you have an idea?”

  “Know what to do,” said Skandar. He spread his wings. “I carry human there, like before.”

  “We can’t just leave the others behind,” said Arenadd.

  “Carry all human,” Skandar snapped. “Carry you, mate, mother, daughter of Hyrenna’s human, other humans who follow you. I carry all to mountain.”

  “You can’t carry seven humans at once,” Arenadd said. “I know you’re strong, but no griffin can do something like that.”

  “Can!” said Skandar. “And will.”

  “How?” said Skade.

  Skandar huffed at her. “Use magic. Like before.”

  Arenadd stared. “You mean—with the—through the shadows? Like you did before, with us?”

  “Yes,” said Skandar. “Am strong now, but even stronger in shadow. Come. I show you.”

  A short time later, the dark griffin stood in the remains of the campsite and shuffled about irritably while Rhodri tried to find a seat on his back. Arenadd, Skade and Annir were already sitting squashed up on his shoulders; Saeddryn was perched precariously between his wings along with Cai; and Davyn was just managing to balance on his rump. Unfortunately this left no room for Rhodri, and Skandar was getting impatient.

  “This is mad anyway,” Rhodin growled, sliding off onto the ground for the third time. “No way he’s carryin’ us anywhere. What are we even doin’?”

  Skandar’s feathery tail smacked him in the face. “If not fit, then hold tail,” he hissed. “Or stay!”

  “Hold on to his tail,” Arenadd translated. “He says to.”

  Rhodri grabbed it obligingly. “This is even stupideeeeeer—”

  The last word stretched out into a yell as Skandar leapt forward and into utter blackness.

  Arenadd could hear the others screaming, but he couldn’t see them. He couldn’t see Skandar, either, but he felt him—felt the dark griffin’s massive body go hurtling through the void, incredibly fast. It was just like their last strange journey together, but this time it went on much longer. Skandar showed no sign of slowing down, but it was impossible to judge how far they had travelled. Arenadd turned his head, trying to see, but still found nothing. He could feel Skade clinging to him, her claws digging into his skin.