by K J Taylor
‘What of them?’
‘Skandar was a wild griffin. If you can defeat them, you can defeat him. Practise.’
Shar huffed. ‘It could be useful, perhaps. If you must go there, then so must I. There is no hurry.’
‘We all have things to learn,’ Caedmon said firmly.
EIGHTEEN
LIRANWEE
Kullervo left Malvern in the same way he had first arrived long ago. Alone, in griffin shape, with both fear and hope twisting in his chest.
He carried a small bundle on his back: food and a set of clothes wrapped in a blanket. And, protected by a roll of oiled leather, several copies of a letter dictated by Laela and signed in her own clumsy hand. Kullervo had not brought the sword given to him in Maijan, or any other weapon. The letters were the only real defence he was taking with him.
There was no real way of knowing what the Eyries would do when Kullervo visited them, or even if he would ever reach them at all. But he was going to try. Suddenly a huge, almost savage sense of determination filled him, smothering his fears and doubts. This was his purpose in life now. This was what he wanted, what he had always wanted, and what, at last, he was going to dedicate his life to.
He had fled from Withypool and gone North in the hope of finding a family. But what he saw now was that he had wanted something even more primal than just the father he had never known. He had simply wanted to be loved, and that was what he still wanted.
Once again, Kullervo thought of his father and wished with all his heart that he could have found him in time. Would Arenadd have loved him, if they had met? Would he have been a father to him if he had had the chance?
The certainty that now he would never know made Kullervo’s heart ache.
But even if Arenadd had never given his son love, he had still given him life, and Kullervo had chosen a path for it. He would give other people the chance to put hatred aside, and so show them the way to make the world better for themselves. And if he had to die to do it, then so be it.
His new certainty was more than enough to keep him going, and he flew on doggedly toward the Northgate Mountains, or Y Castell as Northerners called them. They were the natural barrier between North and South, and only a griffin could get through them easily. But Kullervo didn’t take the easy option.
Once he reached the mountains he perched in a large tree and rested. When he felt stronger, he took to the air and struck out again, following the road through the pass that had once been used by traders who travelled between the two territories. Now, though, with the North utterly cut off from the South, the only traffic that the road saw was the supply wagons sent to the fort that guarded the pass.
Kullervo had seen it once before, from above, but had avoided going too close. Now it was his destination, and he watched out tensely for its towers to come into sight.
The fort was called Guard’s Post, and its two griffiner towers controlled a great gate that blocked the pass. Anyone trying to use the road would be stopped there. Once Guard’s Post had been a resting point for griffiners and ordinary travellers, and its garrison of men had been assigned to inspect goods and charge a fee to anyone wanting to go through. Later on, when war had broken out in the North, the fort had been reinforced with the addition of several griffiners and a cohort of soldiers.
They had not been enough. Kullervo’s own mother, Skade, had come to Guard’s Post after her return from the South. She had brought thousands of slaves with her. Trickery had opened the gates for her, and after that she and the slaves she commanded had utterly destroyed Guard’s Post.
Nobody had been left alive.
Nowadays, of course, Guard’s Post belonged to the North and its occupants were all Northerners, with ten griffiners constantly in residence. Their job was to see to it that nobody entered the North unless they were Northerners. Kullervo had heard Southerners were killed on sight.
Regardless, when he reached Guard’s Post, he flew straight to one of the towers and landed on its flat top. There he waited.
He didn’t have to wait long. The resident griffins must have seen him coming from a long way off, because he had barely folded his wings before three of them came bursting out of the tower, snorting angrily.
‘Who are you?’ one demanded. ‘A wild griffin?’ His manner was curt but not overly aggressive; Kullervo’s small size made overt signs of force unnecessary.
‘No, you fool,’ a second griffin interrupted. ‘He has something on his back.’
‘But not a human,’ the first griffin said, hissing at him. ‘Be silent; I am the master of this nest.’ He turned to Kullervo. ‘Speak now, youngster. Are you a messenger, sent by the Mighty Skandar?’
Kullervo had flattened himself to the ground in the classic posture of submission. ‘I am,’ he said, not daring to straighten up. ‘The message is here.’ He uncurled his talons and deposited a small scroll in front of the second griffin.
The first griffin — who seemed to be in charge — scooped it toward himself. ‘I will take this to my human. You will stay here. Do not come into our nest.’
After that Kullervo was allowed to settle down and groom while the dominant griffin left with the message and his two companions stayed to keep an eye on the intruder. A human would have been both frightened and offended by this sort of treatment, but Kullervo knew griffins and knew this was how they always acted. Civilised behaviour was all very well, but territory was territory and instinct would always come first. He wasn’t worried, anyway: the message was from Laela and it instructed the griffiner in charge of Guard’s Post to give the bearer food and shelter, and to let him go on beyond the mountains when he was ready.
It also stated that if Kullervo returned with griffiners from the South, then they should be greeted politely, given whatever they needed and allowed to go on. But only if Kullervo was with them, of course. The griffiners in charge of Guard’s Post wouldn’t like it, but orders were orders.
Sure enough, after a short interval the dominant griffin returned with a human beside him. The griffiner had the letter in her hand, and she gave Kullervo a narrow-eyed look. ‘So you’re the ambassador?’
‘Yes,’ said Kullervo. ‘And you’d better follow the Queen’s orders. If not, then I’m authorised to relieve you of your post immediately.’
This wasn’t the sort of thing a griffin would normally say, and the griffiner looked more surprised than offended. But she quickly pulled herself together. ‘Very well. You can come into the tower and use one of our spare nest chambers. Food will be brought for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Kullervo. ‘But first I should warn you: I’m expecting another griffin to arrive here, probably today. She’ll come here to join up with me and she’ll be going South as well. Her name is Senneck and she has brown feathers and blue eyes. When she arrives, tell me straight away. You’re to treat her the same way you do me. Understand?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said the griffiner. ‘I’ll inform the others to be on the lookout.’
‘Thank you.’ Kullervo shook out his feathers and loped off through the opening into the tower, doing his best to look as haughty and dignified as a griffin should.
An empty nest chamber was quickly cleaned out and prepared for him, and he gladly ate the raw meat brought to him. As a human he would have been revolted, but his griffin self adored it. He washed it down with water, and curled up in his nest to sleep.
Travelling had worn him out. He slept through the night and into the next morning, and when he woke up he was content to laze around in his nest and idly pick through his feathers for ticks.
He had found one and was trying to pull it off when someone called to him.
Kullervo looked around and saw a man standing in the doorway. ‘Yes?’
The man was alone, but his clothes suggested that he was a griffiner. ‘Your friends have arrived,’ he said.
Kullervo tilted his head quizzically. ‘Friends?’
‘Yes, both of them. They’re up top waiting for yo
u.’
Kullervo stood up and gave himself a quick shake. ‘I’m coming, then.’
He flew to the tower-top, and sure enough, there was Senneck. With her was another griffin: a young female with a slightly gawky, long-legged look about her.
Kullervo went straight to Senneck and rubbed his face against hers. ‘I knew you’d come.’
She nibbled his neck feathers. ‘You are a fool, Kullervo Taranisäii.’
‘I know. Come on, let’s go to my nest. We can talk there. And you …’ Kullervo looked at the stranger. ‘Who are you?’
The female huffed at him. ‘I am Seerae. I am Senneck’s daughter. I have come with her to find you.’
‘Daughter?’ Kullervo looked at Senneck.
‘One of my two young that I lost in the war,’ she confirmed. ‘Seerae lived and has found me again.’
Kullervo chirped. ‘That’s wonderful! Seerae, you can come with us of course. There’s food.’
He took off and flew back to his nest, with the two females in tow.
It was cramped with three griffins. Kullervo sat in the doorway to give Senneck and Seerae room, and waited patiently while they helped themselves to his food.
Once they had eaten they both lay down comfortably in the straw, flank to flank as only close family would.
Kullervo, watching them, felt unexpectedly sad. ‘Are you coming South with me?’
‘No,’ said Senneck. ‘We are here to bring you back to Malvern.’
‘I told you,’ said Kullervo, ‘you’re not stopping me. You can come with me or stay, but those are your only choices.’
Senneck hissed. ‘How dare you speak to me that way? I am a griffin! I am the one with the power in our partnership, and if I command then you must obey!’
Kullervo hissed back. ‘I’m a griffin too, Senneck. I’m also a prince. I’m Laela’s heir, not you. Without me you’d be nothing. You’d still be living in Gwernyfed, with no human and no status. Think about that.’
Incredibly, Senneck did not flare up. ‘Why are you so determined to do this? What benefit is there for you?’
‘The benefit of knowing that I made Cymria a better place,’ said Kullervo. ‘The benefit of knowing that I repaired the damage my father did. The benefit of knowing that when I had a chance to change the world, I took it.’
Senneck looked blank. ‘I do not understand.’
‘I could stay in Malvern,’ Kullervo conceded. ‘I could look after my own interests. I could spend my whole life worrying about my career. But why? Why bother? It’s only one life, and one day it’ll end. But the world will go on, and I want it to go toward something better than what it is now.’
‘And what does the world need?’ Senneck asked. ‘What makes you think that you can change it like this, alone and without power?’
‘I’m not going to argue about this, Senneck,’ said Kullervo. ‘I’m going to make peace. A treaty to end all treaties. And I don’t need power or status to do that. All I need is to speak, and find a way to make people listen. That will be my legacy.’
Silence followed.
‘Your human is mad, Mother,’ Seerae said at last.
Kullervo gave her a look. ‘As mad as my father was. It seems to run in the family.’
Senneck heaved a sigh, and rubbed her face with her front paws. ‘Then so be it,’ she said in a tired kind of way. ‘I cannot dissuade you, and I will not resort to force. Go South then, if you must. I will go with you. I do not believe that this plan of yours will succeed, but I must protect you. Seerae will come as well.’
‘I shall,’ said Seerae. ‘But to find a human. Your treaty means nothing to me.’
‘Then we’re agreed,’ said Kullervo, feeling light-headed. He went to the trough and drank, then lay down beside it. ‘We’ll leave tomorrow, once you’ve rested.’
‘We shall,’ said Senneck.
When Kullervo left Guard’s Post he had expected to have to travel a long way. The nearest griffiner cities he knew of, Canran and Withypool, were weeks away.
But the three griffins were scarcely three days out of the mountains when they saw something that took them completely by surprise.
A city. A new city.
Or at least, the beginnings of one. When Kullervo led them closer to investigate, he saw a half-completed wall protecting a surprisingly neat cluster of tents and wooden shacks, and the clear signs of an Eyrie tower under construction. He could see tiny human figures at work among the newly cut stone blocks, and griffins circling overhead.
Sensibly, Kullervo retreated before he got too close: three strange, unpartnered griffins entering the new city like this would be attacked on sight and probably killed.
Landing among some trees, he waited for the others to join him.
‘Do you wish to enter this territory we have found?’ Senneck asked at once.
‘Yes,’ said Kullervo. ‘So I’ll have to change.’ He unhooked the bundle from his back and put it down neatly on a root.
‘Then I will keep watch,’ Senneck said briefly. Nearby, Seerae looked on curiously.
Kullervo sat on his haunches and began to concentrate. Making the change as a griffin was much easier, since his griffin shape was adapted to using magic in a way his human one wasn’t. In his throat — in his crop where it hid — his magic gland pulsated, expanded then contracted sharply. Magic escaped from it and spread through his body.
Within moments, his skin began to tingle sharply. Fur and feathers drifted onto the leaf litter. Then the magic reached his bones, and the real changes began.
Kullervo flopped over onto his side, rasping in pain as horrible crackings and breakings came from inside his body.
Under his skin, his bones came apart and joined together again, forming new shapes. Joints shifted, muscles bulged or shrank. His beak was pulled back into his mouth, splitting apart to become teeth.
The whole process took less time than it had before, but it was every bit as painful as it had always been. Still, it ended, and Kullervo lay in a heap of shed feathers, trembling involuntarily with the shock. Once the pain had receded he slept briefly and woke up feeling better.
He reached for his bundle and unwrapped it to get out his clothes. He pulled them on, glancing over at Senneck. She had seen him transform enough times to have lost interest, and was idly grooming her wings. Seerae, on the other hand, had moved back a few paces, her tail twitching in alarm.
‘I have never seen such a thing before,’ she exclaimed. ‘Is your magic always like this?’
‘Yes, unfortunately,’ said Kullervo. He reached back awkwardly to touch his bald wings. ‘I’ll have to try and regrow those feathers; they won’t be so impressive like this!’
‘Grow them on the way,’ said Senneck. ‘We should enter the city before dark.’
‘Good idea.’ Kullervo wrapped the blanket around the rest of his possessions, tied it up and slung it onto his back. Senneck offered him her shoulders and he climbed on.
The two griffins took flight again, heading for the city. Kullervo hung on to Senneck’s harness, feeling weak and shaky from the change. But there was enough magic left in his system to channel into his wings and tail. He did that now, focusing as Senneck had taught him, and felt his skin prickle as new fur and feathers grew.
By the time the city was back in sight, his wings were dragging in the wind, catching it as they would have if he had had the ability to beat them in this shape. His tail flew back behind him, the feathery rudder on the end making it flap about at random. As a human he did not have the right spinal shape to control the tail, and once he was on the ground again it would hang uselessly down over his backside and legs.
But it would look impressive. Along with the wings, it would signify to everyone who saw it that he was something other than human — something other than a stray Northerner to kill on sight.
Senneck landed on the outskirts of the new city without attracting too much attention from the people below, who probably thought she was one of t
heir own griffins returning from somewhere. Kullervo dismounted and adjusted his clothes. His heart was pattering.
Senneck’s own fear was an odour in the air. ‘Go,’ she said. ‘Walk ahead of me.’
Kullervo nodded by way of reply. He squared his shoulders and set out toward the Eyrie.
‘Seerae, be ready in case of danger, but do not attack unless we are attacked first,’ Senneck told her daughter.
As Kullervo went in among the shacks by the wall, a noise ahead caught his attention. His neck prickled instinctively. It sounded like voices up ahead and, even though he couldn’t catch the words, the tone of them immediately made him wary.
Despite that, he impulsively went to investigate. A sound like this was trouble, and maybe someone needed help.
In an open space among the huts a gang of boys had gathered. A fight had broken out between two others, and those not fighting were standing back and yelling encouragement, jeering the one who they wanted to lose. Now, standing close by but not yet seen, Kullervo could hear what they were saying.
‘Traitor’s bastard!’
‘Darkman lover!’
‘Get him, Hess! Punch his teeth in!’
In the middle of the circle, the victim fought back. He was a sturdy-looking boy of about fourteen with thick red hair, and though he was putting up a good fight it was obvious that he was in trouble. His lip was split and swelling, and blood had begun to congeal around his nose. His larger opponent clearly didn’t have much interest in fighting fair; he gave the red-haired boy a shove, sending him stumbling backward toward a couple of his friends, who kicked his legs out from beneath him.
The first boy closed in, fist raised.
‘Stop that right now!’ Kullervo roared.
The gang faltered, turning quickly to see, and almost immediately they began to break up as Kullervo strode in among them, shoving them out of his way.
‘That’s a Northerner!’ one boy shouted.
‘No it ain’t; he’s got wings!’
Kullervo, his yellow eyes narrow with rage, turned to look at the one who had spoken. He bared his broken teeth, and hissed at them like a griffin.