by K J Taylor
The weeks that had followed Elkin’s kidnapping had been little but pure misery for her partner.
Kraal flew slowly and wearily, hampered slightly by the pair of heavy bags slung over his shoulders but much more by the sheer and utter humiliation he had endured since Elkin had vanished—right in front of him, in their own home!
Arenadd’s predictions had been absolutely correct.
At first, while he had made a frantic search for her, Kraal had pretended that nothing was wrong, believing he would find her soon enough. But he found nothing, not even a lingering scent. Before long the other griffins and their humans had realised that something was badly wrong and had finally found out the truth. After that the real search had begun. Kraal had circled endlessly over the Eyrie, calling for his human, while the city was scoured for any sign of her or her kidnapper.
Nothing. The Shadow that Walks had escaped.
After that . . . after that, Kraal had been lost. Without Elkin beside him, he felt as if his heart had been torn out. He had no ambassador to speak for him, no-one to confide in, no-one to protect. Without Elkin, he was more than alone; he was helpless. Diminished. A griffin without a human had no status, no command. He could not lead without her. And worse than that was the knowledge that he had lost her. He had been there when she had been taken, and he had failed to protect her. In the face of that, all his strength and his magic meant nothing. Other griffins, while they hid it, lost their respect for him.
He knew, bitterly, that they were mocking him behind his back. The Mighty Kraal, brought to his knees by a mere human—outwitted, stripped of his power in a heartbeat.
After two long, gruelling days, the message had finally come. A griffiner had flown to the Eyrie from a small outlying city to the east, saying that she had been visited one night in her private chamber by a man in a black robe who handed her a piece of paper and said it was for Kraal alone. Then the man vanished into thin air.
The city had been searched, of course; the griffiner had given the order within moments of the incident.
But nothing had been found.
As for the message, its contents had been stark and simple.
To the Mighty Kraal,
We have your human, the Lady Elkin. She has not been injured and we are treating her well. She will not be hurt, provided our demands are met.
Lady Elkin will be set free if Malvern pays us a ransom of nine hundred thousand gold oblong. If you accept, send a messenger to Wolf’s Town and have them hang a black banner from the roof of the griffiners’ tower. We will see it. At noon two days following, Lady Elkin will be brought to a clearing at the place where the River Snow splits into two, southward of Malvern. Come alone, and bring the ransom. If you attempt any sort of treachery, the prisoner will die instantly. We will come alone.
You cannot find us. You cannot trace us. We are shadows.
Lord Arenadd Taranisäii
The few surviving councillors had argued, they had tried to concoct plans to rescue Elkin without paying the ransom, they had tried to justify refusing or negotiating further—but in the end, they saw that they were beaten. They could not appoint a new Eyrie Master or Mistress while the current one still lived, and they could not afford to waste time. The longer they waited, the more likely it was that Elkin would die in captivity. Even if her kidnappers did not mistreat her, she was too weak to survive under stress. They had no choice but to buy back her freedom, even if it brought Malvern to the edge of bankruptcy.
Kraal knew the river perfectly, and he followed it now. Up ahead was the place where it split into two; the land around it had nearly all been farmed, but the fork itself was still forested. Supposedly, the Northerners believed that the place where two rivers met was sacred, but more likely the land was simply too rocky to bother with.
Whatever his current circumstances, Kraal had lost none of his strength, and he had always been a powerful flier. He flew slowly toward the fork, his great golden eyes watching out for any sign of another griffin.
The sky was empty except for a few circling crows.
We will come alone.
Kraal did not believe that was anything other than a lie, and he hoped that he was right. More than anything, he wanted an excuse to fight. He had not fought anyone for a long time; other griffins were far too frightened of him to do anything other than cower when he showed aggression. But now his pent-up anger was so great it made him long for combat—any combat, even if he was hopelessly outnumbered. He might have lived a peaceful life in Malvern for many years, but he was still a predator, and it was his nature to fight. And just now, he wanted to kill.
He found the clearing easily enough; close to the river, a large tree had fallen, taking several others with it. Kraal circled over it several times, moving lower each time, searching for any sign of danger. He saw nothing.
Hissing to himself, he landed on the trunk of the fallen tree and scanned the clearing. It looked deserted.
The white griffin lifted his head and screamed. The noise echoed over the treetops, making birds take off in fright. “Come!”
“You’re late,” said a quiet voice from out of the air.
Kraal turned sharply. “You!” he snarled. “Where are you? Show yourself! Coward!”
“Look to your left,” said the voice, and Kraal turned in time to see a great dark griffin step into the open, from behind a tree far too small to hide him. Walking beside him with a hand on his shoulder was his human. Lord Arenadd.
Kraal leapt down from the fallen tree and stepped forward to confront them. “Do not try any of your wiles on me,” he hissed. “I am more powerful than you can imagine.”
Arenadd smiled confidently. “Are you sure, o Mighty Kraal? I have a very good imagination.”
“Enough,” said Kraal. “Give me back my human.”
Arenadd lifted her down from his partner’s back and held her upright, supporting her with an arm around her waist. For a moment Kraal thought she was dead, but then he saw her stir and put her own arm around her captor’s shoulders, clinging on to him as if for comfort.
He moved closer. “Elkin. Are you hurt?”
Elkin blinked and stared at him. “Kraal,” she said dully. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” he said. “I would never let them keep you from me. Have they hurt you?”
She coughed. “No. He . . . he looked after me himself.”
Arenadd nodded. “That I did. I brought her food and medicine with my own hands. Now. There’s only one step left, and it’s the simplest. I see you’ve brought the money. Skandar will come and take it from you, and I’ll check to make sure it’s all there. After that, I’ll let you take Elkin back. Understood?”
Kraal blinked resignedly. “Yes. It is understood. Come, dark griffin, relieve me of these.”
Skandar stepped forward, tail lashing. He showed no sign of respect for the other griffin, but stood arrogantly tall. “You give now,” he said harshly.
Kraal hissed to himself and unhooked the bags from his shoulders, placing them in front of him for Skandar to take. “It is all here,” he said. “I watched the treasurer count it out myself.”
Skandar did not take the bags immediately. He moved a little closer, scenting at him, his eyes narrow. “You are Kraal,” he said. “Mighty Kraal.”
“I am,” Kraal rasped back. “And you . . .”
Skandar held his head high, wings slightly open. “Am Skandar. Am Darkheart.”
Kraal suddenly felt very tired. “Skandar, do you remember your mother?”
Skandar stared at him. “Not remember,” he said resentfully. “Mother die.”
“Then no wonder you cannot speak griffish,” said Kraal. “Skandar, I do not know what lies this human has told you to make you follow him this way, but there is something he cannot have told you.”
Skandar bristled. “Human mine!” he said. “My human greatest, strongest, cleverest. I help him, and soon we take this territory, make it ours. None stop us. None!”
“I cannot allow you to do that,” said Kraal.
Skandar flicked his tail. “You not stop!” he sneered.
Kraal did not know why he wanted to speak to the other griffin. He drew himself up, noting that Skandar’s head reached to just below his own. He had never met a griffin so close to him in size. When he saw that, he lost the last of his doubts. “Skandar, I am your father.”
Skandar started at him. “Father?”
“Yes. I was in the mountains where you were born, and I mated with your mother. That is why you are so large and why your magic is so powerful.”
Skandar was silent for a moment. He seemed to be thinking. “Not need father,” he said at last. “Wait in your nest. One day soon I come kill you.”
“Then I will wait for you,” Kraal said calmly.
Skandar ignored him. He picked up the bags in his beak and returned to his partner’s side. Arenadd gently laid Elkin down and opened them, quickly checking to make sure both were full of gold oblong. “Good,” he said, once he was satisfied. “You’ve kept your part of the bargain. Take your partner.” He slung the bags over Skandar’s back, and the two of them retreated, leaving Elkin alone. The moment she was out of danger, Kraal darted forward and lifted her in his talons, hissing angrily. “You have your gold, Kraeai kran ae,” he said. “Now begone.”
Arenadd bowed ironically. “It was a pleasure doing business with you.”
In that moment, Kraal wanted to kill him. He wanted to charge at him and hit him in the chest so hard it would tear him in half. The hatred burned so powerfully inside him that it made him seem to double in size. “Go,” he snarled. “Go, and do not let me see you again. And beware. Gryphus is not idle. You and your foul master can never defeat us, and you will never take the power you desire. I will see you dead, along with your followers. Know that.”
Arenadd folded his arms behind his back. “I love threats. They’re so . . . invigorating. The self-righteousness is quite tedious, though. You may want to work on that. Good luck.” He climbed onto Skandar’s shoulders, and the dark griffin began to walk away. He broke into a run and launched himself into the sky . . . and vanished into thin air.
Kraal stared for a long time at the spot where they had been, not quite able to believe what he had just seen, but then he turned his attention back to Elkin. “Dark magic—Elkin, can you get onto my back?”
Elkin stirred but didn’t reply. She was burning hot. Kraal clicked his beak sharply several times in a griffish curse and took off, cradling her in his talons as gently as he could. He had to get her back to Malvern as soon as possible.
21
On the Island of the Sun
The day after their arrival on the island, Erian and Senneck were strong enough to begin exploring it. They walked off the beach and entered the surprisingly thick forest beyond. It was cool and silent under the trees; the only sounds were the chirping of birds and the soft whirring of insects. They pressed on, making for the mountain, until the trees thinned out again and they found an open field. A few wild goats skipped away from them as they walked over thick, fragrant grass dotted with flowers. Erian went ahead, climbing the gentle slope until he reached the top. And beyond that . . . was a village.
Erian froze, open-mouthed in bewilderment. “What?”
Senneck joined him. “Humans?” she said. “Here?”
Erian paused a moment. “No. It’s a ruin. Look.”
They ventured in among the cluster of buildings. They were simple wooden huts, most of them falling down but a few surprisingly intact. Sand had blown up, half-burying some of them. Erian saw other things the former occupants had left behind: earthenware pots, most of them in pieces, and a couple of broken tools. There was even a boat, mostly buried with part of its hull still visible through the sand. He could see where there had been vegetable gardens: the descendants of the original plants grew wild all over the place.
“I didn’t know people lived here,” he said eventually.
“Neither did I,” said Senneck. “It seems that your ancestors must have settled here for a time before they discovered Cymria itself. But it is astonishing that their homes have been preserved so well.”
“Who knows how long they stayed here?” said Erian. “Maybe some stayed behind when the others left. People too old or young to cross the sea. They can’t have known what they’d find on the other side, after all.”
“True,” said Senneck. “This is a lucky accident for us. Some of these huts look large enough for you to live in, and there is food.”
“We won’t be staying here long,” said Erian. “It shouldn’t take more than a day or so to find this weapon.”
Senneck sighed. “Perhaps, but . . .”
“What?”
“I am sorry,” she said at last. “But I should have told you earlier. I have managed to bring you to the island, but I cannot take you back.”
Erian’s blood ran cold. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“I cannot travel again,” said Senneck. “I scarcely made it here to begin with. It will be a long time before I am able to carry you back . . . unless you could make a boat and paddle it back.”
“I won’t leave without you,” Erian said firmly. “I don’t understand. Why can’t you carry me? I know you’re tired, but if you just take a few days to rest . . .”
She made a hacking griffish laugh. “Erian, you are still so naïve. Do not tell me you cannot see it.”
“See what?”
“Look at me,” said Senneck. “Have you never wondered why I have managed to grow so fat on so little food? Why I have been tired and irritable for the last few weeks?”
Erian gaped. “You’re not—”
She inclined her head. “I will lay my eggs in a few days at most. When that happens, I will not be able to leave the island until my chicks are old enough to fly.”
“But how long will that take?”
“Months,” she sighed. “Assuming they all survive.”
Erian groaned. “But . . . didn’t you know?”
“No,” she said sharply. “I did not know I was bearing eggs until long after we had left Malvern, and in any case there would have been nothing I could have done. We have reached the island, and we will be safe here.”
“But while we’re away—!”
“Yes. I am sorry.”
To his surprise, he realised she was avoiding his eye. “It’s all right, Senneck,” he said more kindly. “You weren’t to know. Anyway, you deserve a family of your own. I would love to have children myself,” he added, half to himself.
“And with your new mate, I am certain you will,” said Senneck.
Erian thought of Elkin, wondering once again if she was safe and well. Did she miss him as much as he missed her? He smiled sadly to himself. They would meet again; he knew it. And maybe one day, after the war was done, they could settle down and raise their children. A real family. He smiled. “I’d like that.”
“Let us find a place to shelter, and we will gather food,” said Senneck. “We have had a long journey, and we shall need time to recover.”
Erian agreed, and they wandered among the huts until they found one that was sufficiently intact. The interior was full of sand and creeping vines, but Erain leant his sword against the wall and sat down gratefully. This was a far better shelter than he had had in a long time.
Senneck favoured it with a cursory glance. “It will suffice.”
“Will you stay here with me?” said Erian.
“Of course. It is cold here; you will need to share my warmth.”
“But what about when you lay your eggs?”
Senneck ruffled her feathers. “If I was a wild griffin, I would build a nest high on a mountain top or atop a cluster of the tallest trees. But I am not wild, and there cannot be any predators on this island large enough to threaten my young. I shall choose a place that is sheltered and comfortable, when the time comes.”
Despite the situation, Erian felt a little th
rill of excitement. “So, I’ll get to see the eggs?”
To his shock, Senneck came close to him and rubbed her cheek against his. “Yes, Erian. You are my partner, and I trust you before all others. I would trust you with my life. To let you see my young would be nothing.”
Erian smiled and stroked the sleek feathers on her neck. “Thank you, Senneck.”
She chirped. “I am sorry that I have done this to you, Erian. But perhaps it was meant to be.”
“Gryphus controls everything,” Erian observed. “Maybe he wanted it to happen.”
Senneck made a dismissive rasping sound in her throat. “Come. If you have the strength, let us seek out our food.”
Erian followed her from the hut. “Shouldn’t we start looking for the weapon?”
“There will be time enough for that later. For now, we shall eat.”
Arenadd and Skandar returned from their meeting with
Kraal a mere day after they had left. Now that he had finally uncovered his power, Skandar could travel astonishingly fast, and the black griffin glided silently through the shadows with so little effort it was as if he had been doing it all his life.
It was close to midnight when he landed in the little yard between the house and the stable, but the others were still awake to receive him.
As Arenadd dismounted, they came running.
“My lord!” Saeddryn was pale with excitement. “My lord, did ye get it?”
Arenadd grinned at her. “Yes, Saeddryn. I got it.” He lifted the bags down from Skandar’s back, grunting under the weight. “Help me get it inside.”
The others were more than willing. Davyn and Rhodri lifted them and took them into the house. Arenadd saw Skandar into the stable. The griffin wasn’t in the mood for talk; he stumped over to his makeshift nest and slumped into it without a word.
“Sleep well, Skandar,” said Arenadd. “You did magnificently.”