by K J Taylor
“It is not morning,” came her reply.
Kullervo said nothing. He yawned and rolled his head back so that his neck cracked pleasantly. Senneck was lying on her belly, partly rolled onto one side, with her legs curled in and her wings draped lazily over her flanks. Her head was raised, watching him.
Kullervo remembered that he was naked, but he didn’t feel embarrassed. Griffins didn’t care about that sort of thing, and why should they?
“How long have you been here?” he asked, not getting up.
“I came to see you but found you asleep,” she said. “I rested while I waited for you to wake. It was not so long.”
Kullervo rolled onto his front. “You’ve never seen me in this shape before, have you? Well . . . here I am, I suppose. This is as human as I get.”
She blinked slowly. “You have not lost your wings.”
“Not my tail either. I can’t grow new bones. If I lost a wing, it would never come back.”
“Then how do you change?”
“My bones . . . change inside me. Make new shapes. I don’t really know how it works, but I can feel them doing it. It’s very painful,” Kullervo added matter-of-factly.
Senneck cocked her head. “Interesting. The half-breed says that she has given you another task.”
“Yes, just to carry a message.”
“I already know what the message will be and who it will go to,” said Senneck. “I have decided to go with you.”
Kullervo blinked. “Really? Why?”
“It will be better than staying here to rot. And I wish to see my enemy again and remember her scent.”
“I’d like you to come,” said Kullervo. “It’ll be better than travelling alone. And if there’s trouble, two of us would be better than just me.”
“You are right. We must leave soon.”
“Agreed. I just need some time—I have to become the griffin again so I can fly there.”
Senneck tilted her head forward. “When shall you do that?”
“Er . . . now, maybe. I feel strong enough.”
“I do not understand how you can use magic in that form,” said Senneck. “Does your magic gland stay with your wings and tail?”
“I think so. I can’t use it the way I do when I’m a griffin, though.” Kullervo sat up, cross-legged. “When I’m human, it’s much harder to control. I can’t just concentrate and make it happen.”
“Then how do you activate your magic?”
“Sometimes, I do it by accident,” said Kullervo. “If I feel threatened or very angry. When I want it to happen, I think of something that makes me upset. My body reacts, to try to protect me by making itself stronger. Growing talons and claws, that sort of thing.”
“Shaaaaeeee . . .” Senneck hissed, but without aggression. “So you shall do this now?”
“Yes, I think I will. Might as well.”
There was an awkward silence. Senneck stayed where she was and watched Kullervo. He sat and looked back uncomfortably.
“It’s not a nice thing to see,” he said eventually. “I always do it in secret.”
“Do it now.” Senneck got up, sitting on her haunches. “I will watch.”
“It’s really not nice,” said Kullervo. “Nobody’s ever seen me change. Well . . . some people did see me once, when it happened by accident. They were terrified.”
“I am not so easily frightened,” said Senneck. “Make the change. I am curious.”
Her lack of trepidation made Kullervo feel unexpectedly pleased. He was almost flattered. “All right, then. Just—don’t touch me. And don’t let anyone else come in, no matter what happens.”
“Very well.” Senneck moved back a way and settled down attentively.
Kullervo looked away from her, toward the ground, and closed his eyes. Memories bubbled to the surface, and he focused on them, letting old voices fill his ears.
Faces staring, staring, always staring. Some afraid, some openly revolted. The worst were the ones who showed pity. It was always guarded pity, tainted with contempt.
What is that? That thing, what is that thing, what is it? Gryphus’ talons, it’s so hideous! What is that thing? Don’t touch it—That thing, thing, thing, thing . . .
Pain and misery hardened in Kullervo’s stomach. His fists clenched, remembering times when they had beat against things—walls, faces, himself, tearing at the twisted wings that thrust out of his back. Freak! Freak!
Anger coursed through his system, hot and vital. Somewhere deep inside him, it touched some hidden switch. Instantly, pain spiked over his skin as the feathers began to sprout.
The change took hold.
A little way away, Senneck started slightly. She had seen Kullervo go still, apparently concentrating, and had noted it when he began to breathe harder, his face twitching the way human faces did when they were distressed in some way. Still, nothing seemed to be happening.
Then he went rigid, in a way that looked very familiar to Senneck. His mouth opened, and she braced herself, expecting to see the magic come forth. But none did. He only gasped, and hunched slightly. For a moment, it looked as if nothing else were going to happen, until she saw the little spines appearing all over his skin. They thickened, and grew longer, and opened out into feathers. Fur sprouted, too. Kullervo didn’t react much at all, and Senneck began to think that he had been lying when he had said the process was painful.
At least, she thought that until she heard the first crack, then the ominous creaking and sinewy tearing noises that came from somewhere inside him. She looked on, revolted, as his form began to pull itself out of shape, and the vile noises grew louder. Kullervo threw his head back and let out an unearthly howl.
Senneck made no move to help him. Nor did she look away. She stayed just where she was through the entire process and did not look away until the last vicious breaking sound had died away.
Kullervo lay unconscious in his griffin form. Senneck did move closer then, to sniff at his wing. He had the rough, musky scent of a mature male griffin. She huffed her surprise. He was small, and odd-looking, but he was still a griffin—a real one. Not an illusion or a false shape, but a true griffin.
“Then you do have the blood of a griffin in you,” she said aloud. “You are a true hybrid as you claimed . . . how can this be?”
She wondered how much of his story he had really told her and how much he had kept back. But she determined to find out. There would be time on the journey, and she would see how much of a true griffin he was.
Kullervo took a day to recover from the change, and, when he was ready, he went to see Laela. He caught up to her in the council chamber, with Oeka back at her side.
Kullervo faltered at the sight of the small griffin. Her eyes were glassy, and the eyelids drooped, making her look tired and ill. But there was nothing sluggish about the way she moved when she came down off the platform and swaggered up to him. You taste of disgust, an unearthly voice said.
Kullervo took a step backward. “Oeka? What’s wrong with you?”
I have taken what is rightfully mine. Her beak lowered, putting her forehead closer to him, and she tensed.
Kullervo felt something push at him, inside. His head ached, and he shook it dazedly. “Stop that!”
Oeka gave an unformed, ugly hiss. You cannot hide from me forever, freak. I will find what lurks in your mind and tear it free, one way or the other!
“That’s enough, Oeka.” Laela’s voice interrupted. “Leave him alone unless yeh want to carry this thing yerself.”
Kullervo moved away from the blind griffin and looked at Laela. “What is this? What happened to her eyes?”
“Don’t ask,” Laela said shortly. “Now, are yeh ready to go? Is that why yer here?”
“Yes. Senneck and I are going together.”
“Thought so. Here it is, then.” L
aela held up a wooden tube whose ends were covered in wax. Long leather straps dangled from it. “This is a message-holder. Got the scroll inside, see? I’ll tie it on yer back, between yer wings, where it’ll be safe. Pull it off when yeh get to Saeddryn an’ put it in her hands. No-one else should be able to get at it.”
“Clever. Should I crouch so you can put it on me?”
“Don’t worry about it; yer too short to worry about that.” Laela came over and attached the message-holder, buckling the straps around his wings and under his belly. “How’s that feel?”
Kullervo tested his wings. “The straps chafe a bit.”
“Got it.” Laela loosened them. “That better?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Great.” Laela nodded in satisfaction. “Got the idea from the Amorani messenger dragons an’ had it made special. It’s a good fit.”
“I need a map now,” said Kullervo.
Laela produced one and held it up for him. “This trip oughta be simple. Here’s Malvern, right here. See the river? That’s the River Nive. Follow it south till yeh find the spot where the two rivers meet. The other river’s called the River Snow. Follow that one north an’ keep goin’. I ain’t sure how far it is, but Warwick’s right by the river. Here, I got a picture of it.”
The picture was surprisingly vivid, painted on a piece of fine sheepskin. It showed a city, as seen at a distance from the air. The walls around it were tall and forbidding, made from dark stone, and, at the centre, the griffiner tower looked like the limbless trunk of a burned tree.
“Good, ain’t it?” said Laela. “It was done by some griffiner. Don’t know his name, but they called him the Master of Art for a joke.”
“He was very talented,” said Kullervo. “So this is Warwick?”
“Yeah. I ain’t seen it myself, but I showed it to Iorwerth an’ he says the Master of Art got it right. Kaanee agrees.”
Kullervo studied the painting, doing his best to memorise the details. “I think I can remember this.”
“Shouldn’t be hard,” said Laela. “Now, the map. I was thinkin’ maybe I’d put it under the strap on yer back. Senneck can pull it out for yeh if yeh need it.”
“That could work.”
After several attempts, Laela managed to secure the rolled-up map. Oeka stood by in silence. It was hard to say if she was aware of what was going on—those dead eyes couldn’t watch anything, but maybe she was using some other sense to see what her human was doing. Laela and Kullervo both kept a careful distance from her and pretended there was nothing unusual in the room.
“There, all ready!” Laela said eventually. “Where’s Senneck?”
“Waiting for me at the top of the tower. She said to tell you, ‘Do not worry, your pet shape-changer is safe with me.’”
“She’s such a charmer, ain’t she?” Laela rolled her eyes.
“It’s just her way. I don’t mind.”
Laela put her head on one side. “Yeh really do trust her, don’t yeh?”
“I do.”
“Why? Yeh know what she is.”
“It’s because I know what she is,” said Kullervo. “A sad, lonely griffin who only just found a reason to live again.”
“Don’t be fooled, Kullervo,” Laela said. “If she still had her human an’ all the power she had before, she’d have killed the both of us by now.”
“I don’t believe that, Laela.”
“Believe what yeh like, then. But watch yer back.” Laela hugged him. “Be careful. Don’t get yerself lost again, all right? Come back quick, for my sake.”
Kullervo rubbed his head against her. “I will. I promise.”
She let go of him. “Get going, then. Do me proud.”
Kullervo kept his eyes on her, saying nothing. When the atmosphere became uncomfortable, he quickly transferred his gaze to the floor.
“What is it?” Laela asked.
Kullervo looked up again. “Laela, I should tell you something.”
“What?”
He scratched at the floor, neck arched and bristling defensively. “I should have told you before, but I was afraid.”
“Tell me now, then,” said Laela. She had tensed.
“I—” Kullervo began, and stopped.
Oeka pushed in. Tell her now or be gone, you deformed freak of nature.
At that, Kullervo did something nobody would have expected. He reared up, opening his wings wide, and hissed.
Oeka lashed out mentally.
It didn’t work.
Kullervo struck. His talons caught her in the shoulder, throwing her to the floor. Laela rushed in to stop him from attacking again, but he only turned around and stalked out without another word.
Oeka got up clumsily. She was bleeding. I am hurt.
“Serves yer right,” Laela snapped, and ran out after Kullervo.
She caught up with him in a corridor part-way up the tower. He was moving fast, but slowed when she called out to him.
Laela caught up with him. “Kullervo, are yeh okay?”
“I’m not hurt,” he said shortly.
“That ain’t what I meant.”
“I shouldn’t have hit her,” Kullervo said, without looking at her or slowing down any further.
Laela kept pace with him. “She was asking for it, talkin’ to yeh like that. I dunno what’s got into her. Don’t want to know, either.”
“She can’t see into my mind,” said Kullervo. “It makes her furious.”
“She ain’t never been content with not havin’ somethin’ she wants. Look, what were yeh gonna tell me?”
“It’s not important.”
Laela knew he was lying the instant the words were out of his beak, but she didn’t say so. “All right, then. Have a good journey.”
“I will.” Kullervo paused to nudge her gently with his beak, then turned toward a handy opening in the tower wall. It was there to serve as a door for griffins, and he launched himself easily through it and flew away. Off to find Senneck and begin his flight to Warwick.
Laela went to the opening to watch him go. She felt sadder than she had expected, and lonely as well. She had come to like Kullervo more and more every time she met him, and with Oeka in this state, having him there to confide in meant even more.
She hoped he would be safe.
18
Fate
Warwick was a large city—one of the largest in Tara. It wasn’t the richest—that honour went to Fruitsheart—but it had some of the strongest fortifications of any Northern settlement. Saeddryn had spearheaded the small group of rebels that had conquered it all those years ago and, for her, it was an obvious place to go. She had also lived there for a time after Arenadd’s crowning, before official duties called her back to Malvern.
Warwick only had one griffiner tower at its centre, as opposed to Malvern’s five, but it was a large one and even had its own council chamber, of sorts.
That was where Saeddryn gathered, with Aenae and her group of friends. There were Penllyn and Seerae, who had come here well ahead of her to be ready for her arrival. Nerthach and his partner, the oddly named Yissh. Lady Morvudd and Reakee. And lastly there was Nerth. Old Nerth, who had fought in the rebellion and been left with a lame leg that had stopped any griffin from choosing him. He had the place of honour on Saeddryn’s right-hand side, and he listened in grim silence while she spoke.
“More word has come from Malvern,” she said. “The half-breed seems to be preparing. Griffin-killing spear launchers are goin’ up on the walls. The royal army is buildin’ its numbers. They’ve left us be so far, obviously, but they’re more than ready for a fight.”
“Then let’s go!” Morvudd said. “Attack!”
“I told ye no,” said Saeddryn. “We’re not going to Malvern.”
“Why do we not go?” Yissh dema
nded. She was already extending her talons in anticipation.
“Listen,” said Saeddryn. “We’re the right side in this fight. An’ if we’re going to win, we have to stay that way. We’ve done nothing wrong, only the half-breed has. So we’re going to wait. She has to attack us. An’ when she does, Caedmon an’ Arddryn will be ready on either side. The traitors will be wiped out, an’ when they’re gone, that’s when we march on Malvern. With the Kingdom cleaned up, the throne will be ours, an’ no-one in Tara will want it any other way.”
“Come on!” said Nerthach. “Why wait? The longer we do, the more the half-breed bitch digs her claws into our land. Who knows what damage she could do—what she’s doing already! And she’s got Lord Torc in her clutches—for all we know, he’s being tortured right this moment.”
Saeddryn suppressed a shudder. “Torc knew the risks. We’ll do what we can for him, but there’s only so much we can do.”
“Lady Saeddryn is right,” Nerth interrupted, speaking up for the first time in the entire meeting. “We could attack Malvern now, but imagine how much damage we’d do. That city is ours by rights, an’ we want it in one piece—and there’s one more thing. Think of who lives in Malvern.”
“Griffiners?” Morvudd suggested. “What does that matter?”
“Griffins,” Aenae rasped. He glared at the woman. “Unpartnered griffins. The same griffins that helped to conquer the city in the first place. If you had been alive then, you would know how much destruction they caused.”
“Aenae’s right,” said Saeddryn. “Attack Malvern, and the unpartnered will come out. We’d be torn to pieces. They won’t come out here themselves; no-one commands them any more. But Malvern is their territory.”
“Yes,” said Nerth. “It’s not worth the risk—all the lives we’d lose. We attack them on our own terms, away from any cities.” He gave Morvudd a filmy-eyed but stern look. “Ye don’t want street fighting, missy. Take that from someone who’s tried it.”
“And it’s more than that!” said Saeddryn, trying to take control of the conversation. “The half-breed is already a usurper. The moment she attacks us—tries to kill the rightful heirs to King Arenadd’s throne—she shows everyone her true colours.”