by K J Taylor
She covered him with her wing. “You will be better soon. Rest now.”
He pressed himself against her and said nothing more.
After what felt like forever, a healer finally arrived—along with several more guards. They posted themselves around the entrance to the nest while the healer went on in, speaking cautiously in griffish. “I’m here to help.”
Senneck peered up at him. “I was wounded at Warwick, and my human is also wounded and cannot heal me. You must help me.”
“Of course,” the healer soothed. “Show me the worst of yer wounds.”
Senneck readily obeyed, and the healer opened his box of instruments and went to work. Kullervo pulled himself out of the way and lay in the straw, watching blearily.
The healer noticed him and jerked in surprise. “Sweet shadows, where did ye come from? What the—what’s that?”
Kullervo covered the ugly bald wing with some straw. “Don’t mind me.” He closed his eyes.
“Oh, holy Night God.” The healer stood up and ran to the archway, waving at the nearest guard. “Go get a doctor—now!”
Once the man had run out, the healer went back to work on Senneck—cleaning and bandaging and trimming away the feathers that had been scabbed into the flesh. While he worked, he tried to question Kullervo, but the shape-shifter said nothing. He had become very still.
A doctor arrived shortly before Senneck’s treatment was finished. She looked harassed and confused, and went straight to the griffin healer. “What’s all this about?”
The healer pointed at Kullervo. “What do ye think it’s about? Do something for the poor bastard—he looks like he’s about to die on us!”
The doctor went to Kullervo, swearing under her breath when she saw the condition he was in. “Who is he?”
“I don’t know.”
“He is my human,” Senneck told them sharply. “His name is Kullervo, and he is a noble. Do not let him die.”
“Understood,” the griffin healer told her. “Don’t worry; just relax. I’ve sent someone to bring food for ye—in the meantime, I’ll mix up a draught.”
Senneck drank it when it was ready, and rested, not taking her eyes off Kullervo.
The doctor peeled the remains of his clothes away and examined the wounds on his front—not noticing the wings for now. Finding the infected ones, she quickly punctured and drained them. Kullervo was too far gone to put up a struggle and only moaned softly.
“Shadows, someone’s treated him badly,” the doctor muttered. “Where’d he come from?”
“From Warwick,” said Senneck. “The traitor had him tortured.”
The doctor swore under her breath. “I don’t know if he’s going to live through this.”
“Make him live,” Senneck threatened.
Shaking her head, the doctor turned Kullervo over without much effort. Freed from their bindings, the wings flexed weakly in her face.
The doctor let out a piercing scream and scrambled away. “What is that?”
“My human is deformed,” Senneck said, very calmly.
The doctor breathed quickly. “I’ve—never seen anything like it before . . .”
Beside her, the griffin healer looked on with morbid fascination. “They almost look like . . .”
“Do not waste time!” Senneck snarled. “Heal him!”
Faced with her rage, the doctor had no choice but to continue. Returning to Kullervo’s side, she very tentatively touched the wings. Pulling a face at the feel of them, she went back to work on the injuries around them. That done, she turned him over again and covered him up with a blanket brought in by one of the guards.
“Well,” she said, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth, “I’ve done what I could. He’ll need food and rest—a lot of it—and those wounds’ll have to be checked every day.”
Senneck’s meat had arrived. She bit into it very gladly. “You have done well. Now you must go and tell Oeka and her human that we have arrived.”
“I’ll pass on the message,” the griffin healer offered. “Who should I say is here?”
Senneck huffed at him. “Senneck and her human, Lord Kullervo.”
When they were alone again, “Lord” Kullervo pulled himself back toward her—close enough that they were touching. “Thank you, Senneck,” he wheezed.
“It is no more than what any griffin should do for her human,” she said between bites.
The doctor and griffin healer had left, but the guards had stayed to watch over the nest. One of them came in and gave Kullervo some food someone must have fetched. He took it and ate, chewing with difficulty.
As soon as there was nobody in earshot, Senneck swallowed another chunk of meat and turned her head, laying it down close to Kullervo’s. “Listen now,” she said softly.
He looked blearily at her. “I’m so tired . . . what is it?”
“I have been thinking,” said Senneck. “You are human, but you are also a griffin, and it is clear to me that you have not been taught what your mother would have passed on in the nest.”
“Like what?”
“Your magic is unlike anything I have seen, but it is still magic, and you have never been taught to control it properly. I will teach you.”
Kullervo raised himself on his elbows. “You will?”
Senneck’s tail flicked. “No other griffin would do this, but now that I have chosen you, it is my duty to do whatever is necessary for your survival. Therefore, I shall pass on the ways of control and wielding that I learnt as a youngster. With my teaching, I think that you shall come to use your magic fully.”
Kullervo lay back and reached out to touch her beak. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
28
Family
Kullervo and Senneck rested for most of that day, still under guard. More food arrived for them, and fresh clothes for Kullervo, who put them on gratefully. He was beginning to get some colour back in his face, but he showed no interest in moving to the bed in the room next door—staying beside Senneck every moment.
Neither of them had any way of knowing whether Laela had been told they were back. For now, they were content to rest.
Senneck wasted no time. That evening, when they were both awake, and she was certain nobody was listening, she began to talk to Kullervo—telling him the secrets he needed to know in her quietest voice. Kullervo said nothing at all. He lay very still, staring at the ceiling or his own crabbed hands, taking in every word she said. He felt as if he had never listened so intently in his life, or tried so hard to remember everything down to the last detail. Some of it he already knew, or had guessed, some of it confused him, but as Senneck talked on, he began to feel a sense of revelation, of something opening in his mind like a flower. His heart beat faster with excitement.
This was knowledge no human had ever learnt, knowledge griffins had kept as their greatest secret and refused even to talk about in front of anyone but their own kind. To a human, most of it would have been completely bewildering. But Kullervo felt it reach deep into his mind, to the part of him that was griffish, and there it made complete sense.
Yes, he thought. Yes, that’s it! Of course! And he listened all the harder.
When Senneck suddenly stopped, it was almost physically painful. “What’s wrong?” he said immediately.
“We have been interrupted,” she said.
Kullervo looked up, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw the horrible shape coming toward him. A griffin—only a small one—but . . . wrong. The eyes were white and blind, the beak sagging open. It moved jerkily, shambling along like a cripple, the wings flopping about uselessly at its sides.
“Oeka,” Senneck hissed.
Kullervo struggled to pull himself up, propping himself against his partner’s flank in a sitting position. “You,” he said, tasting unexpected venom in the word.
Oeka stood in the entrance to the nest, seeming to leer at Kullervo. So the freak and the old one have returned, her mental voice sneered.
Senneck regarded her for a moment and lurched onto her paws. Kullervo, holding on to her flank, stood as well—keeping a hand on her shoulder for balance.
But where have you returned from? Oeka continued.
Kullervo could feel Senneck trembling slightly under his hand. He moved closer to her. All of a sudden, she cringed and lowered her head, making an ugly, strangled noise in her throat. “Do not—”
Oeka didn’t move. She hadn’t even blinked since her arrival. But Kullervo could taste the magic reaching out from her to touch Senneck, violating her mind.
He started toward Oeka, raising his taloned hands. “Leave her alone!”
Oeka’s head turned toward him, and Senneck relaxed as the small griffin’s power left her alone and struck at Kullervo instead. He could feel it touch him, probing at his mind, but there was no pain. He hissed defiantly at her. “You can’t do anything to me, you monster.”
Oeka’s mental screech made the walls vibrate. Curse you!
“Oeka!” The stern voice came from behind her. “Stop it right now!”
Oeka hissed and backed off, and there was Laela, looking angry and exhausted.
Kullervo’s ugly face split into a smile. “Laela!”
Her own face fell. “Kullervo! What happened to yeh? I thought yeh must be dead!”
The smile disappeared, and he self-consciously covered his mouth with a hand. “I’ll be all right. I just need to rest.”
She came toward him, eyes concerned. “Oh yeh poor thing! What did they do to yeh?”
“They tried to make me talk,” said Kullervo, very simply. “I never did. Senneck saved me.”
I have scented the old one’s mind, Oeka butted in. I saw fighting in Warwick, with many dead. Her blind eyes did not flicker. I saw her kill the traitor’s daughter, and an old human. I also saw her kill the Mighty Skandar’s son. And then I saw her kill the one-eyed traitor.
“Saeddryn?” Laela exclaimed. “Saeddryn’s dead? Senneck, is it true?”
Senneck looked away. “I killed the young one, her daughter. Then I killed the one-eyed one, and Aenae with her.”
Laela rubbed her forehead. “So Saeddryn’s really dead. Thank gods. I got worried when they said they hadn’t found her body, but Oeka’s never wrong.” She looked at Senneck, very solemnly. “I owe yeh a debt, Senneck—a big one. I’m sorry I didn’t trust yeh before, but now—”
“Laela, stop.” Kullervo came closer. “You don’t understand.”
She gave him a look. “Don’t understand what?”
“It’s Saeddryn. She’s not— It’s not— Laela, something awful’s happened.”
Laela stilled. “What? What is it? What’s gone wrong now?”
“Saeddryn’s not— She isn’t—” Kullervo struggled for words.
Laela looked at Senneck. “What’s this about?”
Senneck lowered her head. “The one-eyed one has been killed,” she said heavily. “But she has not gone.”
“She’s come back,” Kullervo blurted at last. “She’s like him now.”
Laela had gone pale. “What . . . ?”
Oeka had already realised the truth. No! This cannot be! Do not lie!
“It’s true.” Kullervo darted forward and grabbed Laela by the arm. “She’s working for the Night God now, she’s got Arenadd’s powers. She tried to kill us! I saw her disappear like a shadow—she was so strong! And she was talking about how she was going to—Laela, she’s going to come here and kill us all! There’s no way of stopping her, I stuck my talons in her throat, and she didn’t die!”
Laela found her voice. “Oh shit.”
“It is true!” Senneck broke in. “I saw it with my own eyes. Kraeai kran ae has returned, and it is Saeddryn. She wants you dead, half-breed, and believe me—she will make sure that it happens. There is no stopping the heartless one.”
Kullervo hadn’t let go of Laela’s arm. “What are we going to do? What are we going to do? She’s after us—both of us, she said so! We’re the ones she was sent to kill!”
Laela grasped at this last part, in search of something approaching sanity. “You? Why you?”
“Because—” Kullervo stopped abruptly. “Because . . .”
Do not worry, Oeka rasped. I shall find the truth.
Yet again, she lashed out mentally.
Time passed. Eventually, Kullervo shook his head dully, as if trying to wake himself up. “No,” he said. “The truth is mine to tell, not yours.” He straightened up, facing Laela and looking her in the eye for the first time. “She’s after us because we’re between her and the throne. We’re the only heirs apart from her and her son.”
Laela’s eyes narrowed. “You?”
Kullervo smiled weakly. “Think about it,” he said. “Who else could be depraved enough to make something like me? Didn’t you ever wonder why your father’s lover had yellow eyes like mine, or why her fingernails looked more like claws? Or maybe you could open her tomb, and wonder why there are griffin bones in there instead of human.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re—?”
“Yes.” Kullervo’s yellow eyes were full of fear, and something that had very rarely been there before—pride. “I am the King’s son. I am Kullervo Taranisäii. I am . . .” He laughed softly. “A Prince. Next in line for Tara’s throne.”
No! Oeka’s cry echoed in every mind there. Unable to attack mentally, she made a clumsy charge and hurled herself at Kullervo, talons spread wide.
Senneck sprang forward, putting herself in the way, and knocked the smaller griffin aside. Standing over her with her own larger talons at the ready, she said, “Touch my human, and you shall die.”
Oeka was too shocked to strike back. Clumsily, she got up and edged away, back toward her own partner.
Kullervo ignored her completely. “Don’t worry, I don’t want your throne. Look at me—do I look like King material to you? I couldn’t run a fruit stall. I told you the truth before when I said I wanted to help you. You’re my sister, Laela. You’re the only family I’ve got. And I promise I’ll do everything I can to protect you from . . . from her.”
Laela hadn’t moved. “A . . . a brother? I got a brother?”
Kullervo smiled. “A half-brother. A half-breed half-brother. Who would have thought it?”
She shook herself, and mumbled, “I knew it. I knew there was somethin’ about you. Somethin’ familiar.”
“I suppose I must look a bit like him. My father. Our father.”
“Yeh do,” said Laela.
Kullervo looked away. “I hoped I didn’t. I couldn’t ever be proud of something like that.”
“Well, yeh should be,” Laela said sharply. He looked at her, and she softened. “Our father wasn’t all bad, Kullervo. He loved Skade very much, an’ I believe he loved my mother as well. An’ to tell yeh the truth . . . I miss him.”
“I wish I could have met him,” Kullervo confessed.
“He woulda been proud of yeh,” said Laela. She smiled. “Like I am.”
They embraced—tentatively at first, but soon pulling each other closer, and if Laela felt Kullervo’s wings, she didn’t show it, and if he felt pain from his wounds, he didn’t complain.
In the bittersweet joy of that moment, neither of them noticed that Oeka had disappeared.
29
The Woman Without a Heart
Darkness in the First Mountains. Darkness among the stones of Taranis’ Throne. Darkness in Iorwerth’s heart, as he carried his old friend to his final r
esting place.
Freezing wind tugged at his clothes and ruffled his hair. He had come up to the plateau of the standing stones alone—leaving Kaanee to sleep in the valley below. Like all griffins, his partner had nothing but contempt for human rituals. Besides, he was tired. And the stones were no place for a griffin to be.
But Iorwerth wasn’t alone. The urn that contained Nerth’s ashes weighed him down—in more ways than one.
Ahead, the stones loomed. To him they looked like a group of hooded people looking down on him in judgment. Instinctively, he bowed his head as he walked the last few steps toward them. He had never seen them before, but all his life he had been told how holy they were. He hadn’t needed it. He could feel it for himself.
He reached the level ground on top of the plateau but hesitated at the edge of the circle. Should he go inside?
Instinctively, he looked upward. The moon seemed to stare at him. He had never seen it so bright before.
Silent accusation pinned him to the spot.
“I know what ye think of me,” he mumbled. “I’m not proud of what I did. But I have to go into the circle. I’m not here for myself, and I know the one I came for deserves to be there.”
Clutching the urn to his chest, he stepped into the circle. Moonlight made the snow within it glow, and the stones cast bars of shadow toward the altar at the centre. For some reason, the sight of the altar calmed Iorwerth down. It made him think of the old Moon Temple at Malvern, and he realised now what he was really looking at. The Throne itself was a temple, no different than the one at Malvern. He had prayed there countless times, and he could pray here, too. The one was a shadow of the other, and this was the real thing. This was where the power of the Night God really lived, and unlike the Temple, it couldn’t be burned down or destroyed. It had been here since the beginning of time and would be here at the end.
Awed, and humbled, Iorwerth went straight to the altar and put the urn on it. Standing over it, he glanced uneasily at the moon again and tried to think of something to say. He didn’t know any of the proper prayers or chants, but as he searched his memory, he remembered something he had learnt as a young man. Old words. Words that had never quite been forgotten, even after centuries of Southern rule.