by K J Taylor
After that, the hatching was more or less done. The egg rolled over and the top half split away, spilling the chick out onto the ground.
It lay there, half in and half out of its shell, shivering and gasping for breath.
‘Ew, it’s all slimy!’ Red exclaimed.
Kullervo nudged him playfully. ‘So were you when you were born! Damn me, look at the size of it. That’s the biggest chick I ever saw!’
The chick was as massive as its egg had been — longer than one of Kullervo’s arms. Its eyes were big bulges on either side of its head, still sealed shut under dark, slick down. The skin, easily visible, was dark as well, and stayed dark under the paler fur on the chick’s hindquarters. Kullervo caught a glimpse of a little black pad on one of its hind paws.
An inner chill made him shiver. ‘A dark chick from a dark egg,’ he said. ‘A giant one.’
Senneck licked the chick’s head and guided it back toward the shelter of her belly fur. ‘The Mighty Skandar has given me a fine hatchling,’ she said. ‘As big and dark as he himself must have been. One day, it will rival him in size.’
‘For sure,’ said Kullervo. He thought back to the griffins he had seen at Malvern, and among the Unpartnered. There were plenty of big griffins there, all offspring of Skandar, but not one of them had been like this chick. None of them had inherited their father’s full colouring, and Kullervo had a feeling that none of them had hatched from black eggs like this one had.
‘This is Skandar’s true heir,’ he said aloud. ‘If griffins have heirs. I wonder if it’s male or female?’
Senneck was still grooming the chick, despite its squeaks of protest. ‘It is male,’ she said, without looking up from her work. ‘I smell it.’
Red leaned in closer to look. ‘Are you gonna give him a name?’
Senneck snapped at him, causing him to reel backward in fright. But she sounded quite calm when she said, ‘We do not name our young. They name themselves. A name is not something to be given, even if some chosen humans give their partners new names. When my son is old enough, he will decide for himself.’
‘Well, then,’ said Kullervo, trying to lighten the mood, ‘for now we’ll just have to call him Skandarson.’
‘If you wish,’ said Senneck indifferently. ‘Now we should all rest. There will be important news tomorrow.’
‘She’s right,’ said Kullervo. ‘Let’s go, Red.’
They left, one human and one half-human, and let Senneck and her son sleep.
The next day came, and so did word from Wylam’s council. They had decided to accept Laela’s offer. Kaine, the city’s Master of Diplomacy, would accompany Kullervo on his travels and his return North, along with no fewer than six apprentice griffiners who all claimed they wanted to follow Kullervo of their own free will — apparently thinking, like Resling, that he was holy. This time Kullervo didn’t bother to try and dissuade them, and simply accepted their requests.
It was a much larger band of griffins that left Wylam a few days later. Senneck carried her son — or rather she carried Red, who was under strict instructions to keep the little chick restrained. Senneck had not wanted to risk having him ride in the bag that had carried his egg lest he climb out of it, and Red was eager to hold a griffin chick.
Together, Kullervo and his followers — which was what the band of griffiners had already come to resemble — flew on to Canran. It was a shorter journey this time, and ended in a valley that sheltered a rather run-down capital. The ravages of war were still visible in and around it, and parts of the city had been left in ruins. It seemed Canran’s Eyrie was too low on money and good leadership to rebuild everything that had been lost.
As it happened, the new and inexperienced Eyrie Mistress of Canran was more than happy to welcome friendly griffiners, and she and her depleted council listened to Kullervo with far more interest than Lord Kyron had shown.
Maybe the presence of Wylam’s Master of Diplomacy helped, but Canran’s council was much faster to accept the treaty, and didn’t even ask for time to discuss it. Even Kullervo guessed that since Canran’s lands had shrunk to a fraction of their old size, it stood to gain a lot from being so close to a potential ally and trading partner.
There was no Master of Diplomacy in Canran, but the Eyrie Mistress instead offered her sister, Lady Burnet, who joined the party with a group of four other griffiners whom she called her escort, though they were obviously just some friends of hers.
After that it was time to move on. Most of the group seemed to think they would be going straight back to Malvern, but Kullervo surprised them.
‘There’s one last city we haven’t visited,’ he said. ‘Withypool. I want to go there before we head North. But you don’t all have to come with me. Kaine, Burnet — you can both go straight on to Malvern if you’d prefer, and anyone who wants to can go with you.’
‘I have no business in Withypool,’ Burnet said stiffly.
‘Neither do I, and I want to return to Wylam as soon as I can,’ said Kaine. ‘I will go to Malvern with my colleague here.’
‘Then it’s agreed,’ said Kullervo. ‘Queen Laela will be expecting you — but be careful.’
‘My Lord Kullervo, I know very well how to enter a city in a peaceable fashion,’ said Kaine. ‘There’s no need to be afraid of that!’
Two of Burnet’s friends and two of the apprentices from Wylam chose to go with the diplomats. Resling and the remaining six diplomats stayed with Kullervo.
They parted ways within sight of Liranwee, and Kullervo and his remaining band even stopped there briefly to visit Lady Isleen. She hadn’t changed her mind about how and when she would go to Malvern, but she gave them a place to stay overnight and offered some provisions.
Here, Kullervo offered Red the chance to leave the group. ‘You’ve been flying with us for a long time now, lad. All this travelling can’t be good for you. And this is your home.’
‘I know, but I don’t wanna stay here,’ said Red. ‘I ain’t seen Withypool yet, an’ Skandarson still needs me anyway.’
The baby griffin had continued to fly in Red’s arms, and seemed to like him, happily accepting food from his hands. He had grown alarmingly: his down was already giving way to black feathers, and his kittenish fluff to pale brown fur with attractive silver ticking. His eyes were open now, and had revealed themselves to be the same icy blue as his mother’s. He had a lot of energy, and since he had no siblings he liked to play with Red instead — the boy’s arms were, of course, covered in scratches to prove it.
‘You’ve certainly been a big help looking after him,’ Kullervo admitted. ‘Anyway, we’ll be stopping here again once we’ve been to Withypool, so you can decide then.’
‘I will!’ Red said, almost fiercely.
So when the group moved on toward their final destination, the boy from Liranwee went with them once again. It took them just under two months — less time than it might have done once upon a time, since by now they were all very well practised in travelling.
Along the way, Skandarson continued to grow and develop. The last of his fluff disappeared, and his wings lengthened as his flight feathers developed. The grey scale on his forelegs thickened and hardened, and his talons grew long and sharp. He was now far too large to be carried by Red, but more than strong enough to hold on to his mother’s back by himself. He had even begun opening his wings in the air and flapping them in time with hers.
Finally, when they were within sight of Withypool, he jumped off.
Kullervo, flying just ahead, heard Red’s cry of panic. Kullervo wheeled around and saw the boy waving his arms desperately from Senneck’s back. Skandarson was gone, but Kullervo soon spotted him. He was below Senneck, not quite falling, but not quite flying either. His wings were flapping erratically, too uncoordinated to keep him steady, while his tail twisted from side to side rather than locking into a straight line to act as a rudder.
Kullervo flew frantically toward him, but amazingly, Senneck seemed complete
ly unconcerned. She flew on as if nothing had happened, not looking down or changing her course at all.
As for Kullervo, he did his best, dodging about to try and catch Skandarson in the air. But the small griffin’s flight was so erratic, and precise movements in the air were so difficult for any griffin, that actually catching him was next to impossible.
Ultimately, Kullervo didn’t have to do anything. Skandarson, apparently acting on instinct, held his wings out straight from his sides and went into a glide. The bones in his tail locked together as they should and he stopped rolling.
After gliding a short distance he began to flap again, steadily, gaining height. Kullervo stopped panicking and returned to a more stable flight, and Skandarson came toward him and rode on his slipstream, as easily as if he had been doing it his entire life.
He was too young to have much stamina in flight yet, but he didn’t need it. Withypool was soon beneath them, and he came in to land with the other griffins, running over to prance around his mother and cheep proudly at her. She chirped back and shoved him with her beak, nearly knocking him over, and he got up and bounded in a circle.
‘Thank Gryphus!’ Red laughed. ‘I thought he was a goner!’
‘He has made his first flight,’ said Senneck. ‘Soon he will be ready to choose a name, and after that it will be time for him to leave me.’
‘Food!’ said Skandarson. ‘Food food food!’ It was the first word he’d learned, and still his favourite.
Red knew it too, of course, and obligingly tossed over a strip of dried meat.
Skandarson ate it, then pattered along beside his mother as she went with Kullervo to meet the Withypool griffiners who were already coming to confront the group of strangers that had arrived on their Eyrie roof.
Withypool’s council was a harder challenge than the others. Kullervo spoke to them and their Eyrie Master, Lord Penrin, and showed them the treaty as before. He mentioned the fact that the other Eyries were about to sign it and that so far Withypool was the only one not to be taking part. He even, in a fit of desperation, displayed his wings. But even though he was as astonished as everyone else had been, Lord Penrin stayed as unforthcoming as before.
Like the other Eyrie Masters, he asked for time to talk with his council. But the time here stretched out over three long days. Three days in which Kullervo, becoming oddly tense and sullen, refused to leave the Eyrie for any reason.
On the third evening, Lord Penrin summoned him and Senneck back.
‘My council and I have talked about this matter, and we have decided that we will not be sending anyone to Malvern,’ he said baldly.
‘Why not?’ asked Kullervo.
Lord Penrin’s expression did not change. ‘We know who you are, and you are not a prince. You’re a native of Withypool, and therefore one of my subjects.’
Kullervo stiffened. ‘I’m a Northerner,’ he said.
‘You were the Griffin-Boy who was put on show in the fighting pits,’ said Lord Penrin. ‘I saw you there myself when I was an apprentice. You lived in a cage and ate scraps that people threw.’
A low hiss began in Kullervo’s throat. But he sounded calm enough when he said, ‘I’ve gone up in the world since then. Like you have, Eyrie Master. You’ve seen my sister’s letter. Worry about that, not the person who delivered it.’
Penrin snorted. ‘Is that so? I should remind you, Prince Kullervo, that an Eyrie Mistress shows respect for her neighbours not just by what she says, but by who she sends to say it. And I am not in the habit of accepting treaties from sideshow freaks claiming to be the offspring of the Dark Lord Arenadd.’
Kullervo’s hiss grew louder, and took on a snarl. ‘And my sister?’
‘A sister only you say exists,’ said Penrin. ‘The answer is no, Griffin-Boy. Leave my city, and take your friends with you.’
Kullervo nodded curtly, and stalked out. He was in a foul mood for the rest of that evening, surprising his friends, who had never seen him like that before.
But though the trip to Withypool looked like it had been a wasted one, it wasn’t quite.
Before Kullervo left the next morning, he had a surprise group of visitors. No less than seven griffiners came, most of them young, but one of them was an older woman who said she was nothing less than the Master of Law herself.
‘We believe you, Lord Kullervo,’ she said. ‘We believe you’re the winged man, and we want to go with you.’
Kullervo didn’t waste any time being surprised over this: he had heard similar things in Wylam and Canran already.
‘Aren’t you the Master of Law?’ he said instead. ‘Don’t you have to stay here?’
She waved a dismissive hand. ‘My apprentice is more than ready to take over from me once he finds out I’m gone. He’s so eager that I’m fairly sure he’s been planning to get rid of me himself, in fact. They don’t need an old woman like me here. I want to spend my last years doing something more important than shouting at guardsmen and hunting down poisoners, as if we didn’t have three of them on the Council already!’ She glared at Kullervo.
He laughed despite himself. ‘All right, then, come with us if you want to that badly. We’ve got room.’
Red was grinning. ‘Wow, we’re almost like an army or somethin’ now, ain’t we?’
‘Close enough, but we’re not going to attack anyone,’ replied Kullervo.
‘A pity,’ Senneck said quietly.
They left Withypool together, sixteen griffins in a great flock. Senneck flew at its head with Kullervo, and felt bigger and stronger for all the others behind her.
Red had been right: they were almost an army now. They could certainly put up a strong defence if it came to a fight. And even if he didn’t seem to know it, Kullervo was their leader. This had been his quest from the beginning and still was, and everyone there was there because they wanted to follow him. Kullervo accepted his role without complaint, and hadn’t given in to any temptation to become a bully. He probably didn’t even know how. But leadership had changed him, Senneck noted.
He had grown calmer and more confident, and his voice had slowed and deepened. His face was scarred now, and that, combined with his newfound ability to lead others, made him remind her of his father more than he had ever done before.
When they got back to Malvern — and they would soon enough — Senneck felt certain that her human would be a much more powerful force there than he had been before. With time, and her help, he had learned how to be. And that was all to the good.
It was everything she had hoped for, and more.
Everything was going to plan.
Their journey in the South ended as it had begun, in Liranwee. By now, after nearly nine months since their first sight of it, the new city had grown significantly. The walls were complete, and the Eyrie’s outside was finished as well. Other buildings were growing around it and proper houses had appeared further away. The city had taken on a definite shape now, and several villages had even been founded on the lands around it.
Lady Isleen received them graciously. ‘So glad to see you again!’ she said to Kullervo. ‘I was beginning to wonder if you would ever return.’
‘It’s been a long time,’ Kullervo agreed. ‘But we’re ready now, if you are.’
‘Much more ready now than I was before,’ said Isleen. ‘Rest here a while, and tell me when you want to leave.’
‘Soon,’ said Kullervo. ‘I want to get back to Malvern!’
‘I understand. In the meantime, eat, drink and sleep. The morning should be fine.’
The tent that had belonged to Red’s father was still there, albeit in rather bad shape, but some thoughtful person had gathered up its contents and locked them away in the Eyrie. They were brought back now.
‘All yours,’ one of the bearers told Red. ‘The Master of Gold made sure your inheritance from your father was kept safe.’
Seeing his father’s possessions again made Red go quiet for most of that evening. He rearranged them in the ten
t and kept out of everyone’s way, not saying much when he sat down to eat with Kullervo and Resling. Kullervo noticed his mood, but left him alone. Red obviously had something on his mind.
Later on, when Resling had left for his own quarters and Senneck and Skandarson were asleep, Kullervo found Red hiding behind the dressing screen. He was crouching by an open chest, and as Kullervo watched he lifted out a short sword in a leather scabbard and turned it over in his hands, half drawing it to check the blade.
Kullervo coughed politely, not wanting to spy.
Red glanced up, but quickly relaxed again. ‘This is my dad’s old sword,’ he said. ‘An’ here …’ He reached into the chest and pulled out a leather breastplate. ‘His armour too. He always took good care of it, an’ showed me how to look after it too. Armour’s no good if you don’t take care of it, he said.’
‘You’ve never really talked about him,’ said Kullervo, coming to crouch beside him and look into the chest.
‘No …’ Red looked vaguely unsettled.
‘What was his name?’
‘He was called Danthirk, but everyone just called him Dan. He was a guard in Eagleholm before he was a griffiner. This was his guard armour an’ sword, see?’
‘Oh,’ said Kullervo. ‘So that’s how he knew Bran?’
‘Yeah, Bran was his captain. They was in the same squad. Dad said they used to go drinkin’ together after work, an’ …’
‘Yes?’ said Kullervo.
There was nothing vague about Red’s discomfort now. ‘An’ there was … someone else too.’
‘Who?’ said Kullervo. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you know how Bran was … who his best friend was, I mean.’
‘He was friends with my father,’ said Kullervo. ‘I know.’
‘Yeah, so that means my dad knew him too,’ said Red. ‘He told me about him an’ what he was like. Said he knew him well, an’ used to help him catch smugglers.’
Kullervo frowned. ‘Why didn’t you tell me this before?’
Red clutched the sword to his chest. ‘’Cause … ’cause I thought you’d be angry.’
‘Angry? Why?’