The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)

by K J Taylor

  Silence followed. The others exchanged glances. Some looked uneasy, but Caedmon was looking at Arenadd with open pride.

  Saeddryn stirred. “Sir . . . I see what ye mean, an’ maybe it could work, but how are we going t’get these b—slaves? They’re all in the South, ain’t they? Are we gonna go there an’ free them all?”

  Arenadd shook his head. “Too impractical. There are hundreds of them, at the very least—taking that many slaves by force would be next to impossible. And it would bring the wrath of the other eyries down on us, which is the last thing we need. No. We’re going to do this legitimately.”

  “What d’ye mean by that, sir?” said Davyn.

  “We buy them, of course,” said Arenadd. He cracked his knuckles again. “Because if there’s one thing my years as Master of Trade taught me, it’s that some men are open to persuasion, some will cave in to blackmail or force, but everybody listens to the sound of a bag full of golden oblong.”

  Saeddryn stifled an incredulous laugh. “Buy them, sir? Are ye serious?”

  “Why not?” Arenadd asked mildly.

  “Sir, where in the gods’ names would we get the money? Buying every slave in the country would cost a fortune!”

  “More than a fortune,” said Arenadd. “But I’ve already thought of that, and I know where to get it.”

  “Where?” said Caedmon.

  “Malvern.”

  “What, rob the treasury?” said Hafwen.

  “Well, theft would be a part of it, yes. Now.” Arenadd leant forward to point at a spot on the map. “We’re here. And over here—a week or so’s travel at the most, by my estimate—is Crescent Lake. Next to that is Fruitsheart—a very large and wealthy city, thanks to the orchards and the vineyards all around it. Obviously we can’t capture it yet, but my plan is for us to move there next. We’ll take a few people with us—not too many—and go to ground there. We’ll take money from the treasury here and buy a house or two, and we can use those as hideouts. You, Saeddryn, will hide there with the others, including Skade. It’s a big city, so I’m sure you’ll be able to avoid detection as long as you’re careful.”

  “An’ what will ye be doin’, sir?” said Saeddryn.

  “I haven’t finished yet. You won’t be idle while you’re there. We’ll discuss this in more depth later, but I expect you to be active in Fruitsheart. Start recruiting, spread the word. Very cautiously, of course. We’ll start sending out people to other cities to do the same. I hope to have a cell in every major centre in Tara, including Malvern itself. I need eyes and ears everywhere.”

  “It sounds like a good plan t’me, sir,” said Saeddryn. “What’s t’other part?”

  “Yes, the other part . . . while you’re doing that, Skandar and I will be in Malvern.”

  Saeddryn started up. “What? On yer own, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  Annir, who had stayed silent so far, looked horrified. “No,” she said. “Arren, you can’t go back there. I won’t allow it.”

  Arenadd gave her a warning look. “I’m sorry, Mu—Mother, but this is my decision to make.”

  Annir realised she was embarrassing him. “I understand, but surely—”

  “She has a point, sir,” said Saeddryn. “We can’t risk losin’ ye, or Skandar.”

  “I agree,” said Skade. “You should not go back there, Arenadd. If you were captured again . . .”

  “Send someone else,” said Saeddryn. “I’m sure we can find someone.”

  “No,” Arenadd said flatly. “It has to be me who goes, and Skandar.”

  “Why? Sir, I know ye’ve only been leadin’ us for a short time, so I understand that ye might want t’look brave an’ so forth, but when ye’re a leader ye have t’be selfish sometimes. Ye have t’look after yer own safety. If we lost ye, we’d lose everythin’.”

  Arenadd smiled faintly. “I’m flattered you think so. But you don’t quite understand. I have to go because I’m the only one who can do what I have in mind. May I remind you, Saeddryn, that unlike you I have . . . certain talents. And the Night God didn’t give them to me so I could let them go to waste.”

  Saeddryn withdrew. “Aye, I understand, sir. But what d’ye plan t’use ’em for?”

  “Something that will get us the money we need and completely cripple the Eyrie at the same time,” said Arenadd.

  “An’ what would that be?”

  He told her.

  “Are ye sure ye could do it, sir?” Saeddryn said doubtfully.

  “Yes. With Skandar’s help.”

  There was silence for a while. Rhodri, Davyn and Hafwen began to grin.

  Saeddryn couldn’t stop herself from doing the same. “Ooh, they’re not gonna like that, sir. They’re not gonna like that at all.”

  Arenadd grinned wolfishly. “I doubt they will.”

  Saeddryn glanced at the others and then nodded. “I think it could work, sir, provided we do it right.”

  “Well, I’m not going to pretend I don’t need your input,” said Arenadd. “So if anyone has any suggestions . . .”

  They spent the next hour or so deep in conversation around the table, discussing, speculating, making plans. Everyone had suggestions, and they gradually refined the plan and added to it, building on Arenadd’s original ideas until they began to agree that they had come up with something workable.

  “So that’s it, then,” Arenadd said when they were done. “We’re ready to go ahead if I’m any judge. As long as Skandar agrees, we can do it.”

  “When shall we leave here, sir?” said Saeddryn.

  “In a few days,” said Arenadd. “Once we’re well rested. And for the love of gods, don’t tell everyone where we’re going. Not even our friends. Rhodri, you and Davyn will tell people we’re going to Wolf’s Town. Saeddryn, you tell them we’re going back to the Gorge. Hafwen, Cai, Nerth . . . just make something up. We won’t tell anyone where we’re going until we’re well away from the city. Got that?”

  Saeddryn nodded. “I was goin’ t’suggest the same thing myself, sir.”

  “Sensible as always, Saeddryn.” Arenadd nodded. “All right. I think that’s enough for now. Let’s get some rest and something to eat. I could probably do with some more sleep as well.”

  The council began to disperse, and Arenadd sat down with a sigh and drank some more water. The hangover hadn’t gone yet; it had probably made him a little more snappish than usual during the meeting. Still, he was pleased with how things had gone.

  “Arren?”

  He looked up. “Oh, hello, Mother. How are you?”

  “Fine. Arren, can I talk to you?”

  Arenadd turned around in his seat to look at her properly. “Of course you can. Please, sit down—d’you want something to drink?”

  She took some water and drank it. “Thank you.” She glanced over her shoulder. The other councillors were all leaving, including Skade.

  Arenadd stifled a yawn. “What is it, Mother? How’s your neck?”

  She touched the bandage. “It’s healing well, Hafwen says.”

  “That’s good. I was afraid it might get infected; it looked a bit red the last time I saw it.”

  “No, Hafwen’s ointment kept it clean. Arren . . .”

  “Please call me Arenadd. Arren is too”—he shook his head—“I don’t know. I don’t feel like it belongs to me any more.”

  She smiled very slightly. “You didn’t used to think that.”

  Arenadd sighed. “Let’s just say that I’ve changed a lot since then.”

  “Arren . . .” Annir surprised him by reaching out to touch his hand. “Arren, I know . . .”

  “What is it?”

  “I know you’re too old to . . . I mean, I know you’re old enough to make your own decisions now,” said Annir. She laughed sadly. “You stopped obeying your father and me when you were ten, if I remember.”

  “Mother, I know I—”

  “It’s all right. I don’t mind. Every boy grows up. But I wanted you to know that I
still love you.” Her grip on his hand tightened. “I love you so much, Arren. You’re my only child, and you always will be. My little warrior.” She gave a watery smile. “Aren’t you? My little Northern warrior. You always were. Even when you were tiny.”

  Arenadd looked at her, taken aback. “I understand. I know I was never very close to you and Dad after I became a griffiner. I’ve never forgiven myself for that. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you any more. I always came back to see you, didn’t I? And I never stopped caring about you, or looking out for you. In fact, I . . .” He paused. “You know how . . . when that other boot maker set up shop in the village, not too far away from you?”

  “Yes.”

  “He was taking all your business,” said Arenadd. “Until I raided his shop and had him arrested for smuggling whiteleaf.”

  “Yes, I remember that,” said Annir.

  Arenadd looked slightly guilty. “I never told you this, but . . . he was innocent. I planted the whiteleaf myself.”

  Annir started. “What?”

  “I know. It was dishonest of me, and . . . but I had to do it. You and Dad were going to go out of business. If you’d lost your shop, what would you have done then? I saw how badly things were going for you, so I decided to get rid of him.”

  Annir made an odd sound, half-laughing, half-sobbing. “Oh. Oh, you little . . . I always thought it was strange that that happened just a few days after your visit. I don’t think your father ever suspected, though.” She became serious. “But Arenadd, if you love me, then listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  She took in a deep breath. “Don’t do this.”

  Arenadd looked slightly surprised. “I understand that you don’t want me to go to Malvern myself. I know it’s dangerous, but that’s the nature of this kind of thing. I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “I don’t mean that,” said Annir. “I mean everything.” She gripped his hand. “Don’t do it, Arren.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Any of it. Don’t go to Malvern. Don’t start a war. Don’t do it. Please.”

  Arenadd stared. “Mother, please. Try to understand—”

  “No. I understand perfectly well.” Annir looked him in the eye. “Arren, what’s happened to you? What did they do to you?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Arenadd said stiffly.

  “What’s happened to you?” said Annir. “I don’t understand. You’re not who you used to be. You’ve changed. I thought . . .” She looked at the ground. “I thought I knew you. I thought I knew all of you. But this is . . .”

  Arenadd leant toward her. “What is it? What are you talking about?”

  She looked up. “I don’t know you any more. I feel as if you’ve turned into a stranger. Arren . . .”

  Arenadd watched her, dismayed. “I haven’t changed that much. I’m still me, I—”

  “You’re not!” Annir exclaimed. “You’re not who you used to be. Listen to yourself! Can’t you hear what you sound like? I know my son, Arren. You weren’t like this before. The man I knew would never have talked about war and death this way. He would never have talked about killing people as if it was nothing. He would never have enjoyed the idea. You used to hate it when your father talked about Arddryn’s rebellion—now you’re talking about restarting it. You’re talking about destroying Malvern—don’t you care about all the people you’re going to kill?”

  “They’re my enemies,” Arenadd said flatly. “Enemies of us all.”

  “They’re human beings! How many people have you killed, Arren? After Rannagon—how many?”

  Arenadd shifted uneasily. “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it matters! They were people, Arren! People with lives, people with families. Have you thought of that? What about the men you killed yesterday? Don’t you feel any guilt at all?”

  The headache was coming back. Arenadd gritted his teeth. “This is war, Mother. People die in war. I don’t like it, but it’s necessary.”

  “If you don’t like it, then don’t fight!” said Annir. “Don’t start it. Don’t go to Malvern.”

  His head was pounding. “Well, what d’you suggest, then?” he said, more sharply than he had intended to. “What did you have in mind?”

  She clasped his hand in both of hers. “Leave!” she urged. “Get out of here, go as far away as you can.”

  “What, run away like a coward? Let them win?”

  “It’s common sense!” said Annir. “If you leave—if we leave—then nothing will happen. No war, no killing. For gods’ sakes, do you honestly think you can win this? Against Malvern? Against griffiners?”

  “I can, and I will.”

  “But . . . Arren . . .” Annir calmed down a little. “What if they catch you again? What then? You’ve already been caught once, and next time you might not be so lucky. What if you are killed?”

  “I won’t be.”

  “But how do you know?” Her face was pleading. “I’ve already lost you twice. If something happened to you again, if . . . if you were lost and didn’t come back, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  Arenadd felt a faint ache in his chest, where his heart had been. “I understand. I do. My powers will protect me, Mother. They have before.”

  She looked away. “I don’t understand this. None of it. How could the Night God have given you this—this magic? How could you be this . . . chosen one?”

  “She’s a god.” Arenadd’s voice was full of bitterness. “Gods can do whatever they like.”

  “But how could she have spoken to you? How do you know it wasn’t just Skandar who gave it to you?”

  He gave her a terrible look. “So, you think I’m mad, do you?”

  “No!” said Annir. “I don’t. That’s not what I meant. I only . . .” She looked up. “So, that’s it, is it?” she said abruptly. “You’re doing this because you believe a god told you to do it.”

  “I’m doing it because I have to,” said Arenadd. “These people need me; I can’t turn my back on them.”

  “You’re willing to kill people?” said Annir. “You’re willing to become this . . . this Shadow that Walks, this Dark Lord?”

  Arenadd pulled his hand out of hers. “I’m those things already, Mother. Whether I want it or not. And I don’t care how many people I kill. They don’t mean anything to me. They’re enemies, and my enemies die—including the Bastard and anyone else who stands in my way.”

  Annir stared at him in silence for a few moments, and Arenadd stared back. The words had come out without any warning, without his even thinking, as if someone else was speaking for him. He watched Annir, wanting and not wanting to say something else, to try to explain himself, but nothing came to him.

  Annir stood up. “You are not my son,” she said quietly and left the room.

  14

  Treasures

  Skandar circled high over the city, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his wings. His joints felt stiff and sore, which made him clumsy in the air, but he ignored the urge to return to the ground and rest. He wanted to feel the ache in his wing joints, wanted to exert himself as much as he could. It was an escape, one he didn’t want to lose.

  He had been furious when Arenadd had told him he shouldn’t fight in Warwick, and it had taken a lot of persuasion to make him agree. This fight had to be a small fight, a quiet one. And besides, there would be no other griffins for him to fight. There had only been one in the city, and she hadn’t put up a fight. Arenadd hadn’t even dared to mention the real reason for Skandar’s exclusion: that after using so much magic he was simply too weak to risk a fight. Those lingering feelings of exhaustion had been the only thing that had made him give in, and once he had taken cover in Retha’s nest he had slept through most of the fighting.

  In his dreams, the white griffin had come once again. She was light and slim, but though she was smaller than him there was something about her that made her look bigger. Her feathers and fur were extraordinary,
so white they seemed to glow in the blackness. But she had only one eye; one was silver, and the other a black hole.

  You . . . griffin, Skandar rasped. His voice sounded like an echo inside a cave.

  She dipped her head to nibble at the feathers on his neck. I am whatever I want to be.

  What you? said Skandar, not understanding.

  The white griffin raised her wings, opening them toward him. They glowed silvery white, from within. I am the night, she said. I am the moon, I am the stars, I am the shadows.

  Not griffin? said Skandar.

  Griffin, human, spirit, magic, she said enigmatically. I am Kraeae ee ra ae o.

  Skandar knew that when a griffin died, something would come to take away his magic and return it to nature. I die? he asked, almost nervously.

  Not now. I protect you.

  You protect?

  She flicked her tail. You are the Night Griffin, and I rule the night. I rule you. It is from me that your magic came.

  You give magic?

  Yes. I chose you while you were in the egg, Skandar. If I had not touched you then, you would have been brown like your siblings, and small. You would not have the wonderful powers you have used. You have done well so far, Skandar. You found the human chosen for you and guided him to his death. You used his body to create Kraeai kran ae, my avatar, and brought him to my land where I could reach him and you.

  You speak with human? said Skandar.

  I have spoken to him, and told him the truth. He has now accepted his role to do my bidding, with your help.

  Why help? Skandar’s tail began to twitch. Why do what you say do?

  She chirped and batted at his head with her forepaw. You are a griffin, Skandar, and you and I have more in common than you think. You do nothing unless there is benefit in it for yourself, and I know this, for I am the same.