by K J Taylor
Caedmon said nothing. He could feel her hands, her cool, dead hands touching his face. It made his heart flutter.
“I’m not back,” Saeddryn told him quietly. “Not really. I can’t be a real part of the living world again. Before, I didn’t understand why Arenadd became like he did—why he hid away, why he seemed so distant even when he was right there in front of ye. He was a dead man among the living, an’ he was more alone than any living man could ever be. Ye can’t imagine what that feels like, Caedmon. I couldn’t either, when I was alive. Now I wish I could’ve understood, that I could’ve been kinder . . . but how could I? He was in a different world than me. Than all of us. Now I know. Now the Night God’s made me see for myself.”
“You don’t look so different,” said Caedmon, trying to smile.
“But I am, an’ I know it,” said Saeddryn. “Still, I won’t complain. I’m grateful that the Night God gave me this chance t’be here with ye, t’see this whole thing through an’ know I didn’t die in vain.”
“Won’t you live forever, though?” said Caedmon.
“No. The Night God made me a promise. When this is over, I can go t’my rest at last. After all . . . by then I’ll have nothing more t’keep me here.”
Caedmon let out a sob and pulled her into his arms. “Mother—”
Saeddryn held him in return. “There, there, Caddy, no need t’be sad. This is a gift. The Night God’s gift.”
Caedmon almost sobbed again at the sound of his childhood nickname, but he pulled himself together and only let himself hold her a moment longer.
“I have the power now,” Saeddryn murmured. “Use it. Use me. Send me after whoever ye choose, an’ I’ll kill them for ye. Ask me t’get somethin’, I’ll steal it. Whatever ye need. But ye are the one who must decide.”
Shar had been listening to all this in silence. “Kraeaina kran ae is right,” she said. “We have a powerful follower in her. Think quickly, and decide. We can have her kill whomever we choose.”
Caedmon’s bright-eyed look faded, and he scowled as the look of a leader returned. “I know just the one.”
Saeddryn smiled savagely. “I thought so.”
Kullervo woke up feeling cold. Fear gripped him briefly, and he groped around until his hand touched warm feathers. He slid back over toward Senneck and relaxed against her flank, his heartbeat slowing again.
She stirred in the gloom. “I did not mean to wake you.”
He turned his head a little, her feathers tickling his face. “I thought you were gone.”
“Do not be afraid,” Senneck rumbled. “I am here, as I always will be.”
“Yes,” he sighed. “I know. Don’t worry about it.” The last few words were mumbled, and his breathing deepened as he slipped back into sleep.
It was a shallow sleep this time, though, and dreams came with it—half-formed dreams whose vagueness only made them more unsettling. He dreamed of bars, pressing in against his face and arms, and a room that grew smaller and smaller, until he couldn’t breathe. Those were old dreams, from a past he had barely described to his new friends. But other dreams came, too.
He dreamed of flying in his griffin shape, but his feathers moulted away, and he fell, turning over and over to a ground that rushed toward him without ever getting any closer. As he struggled to save himself, it became a face—one-eyed, terrible, the mouth opening wide to swallow him whole.
He woke up shivering and sweating, and light touched his eyes. Dawn, he thought confusedly.
When he sat up, the real world made a welcome return. Morning had come, and Senneck was there, placidly grooming her feathers. The yellowish light touched her grey beak and tinged her sandy brown feathers with gold. Kullervo stayed still and watched her with a secret joy in his heart, noting how her sky-blue eyes half-closed when the light touched them. He could smell her feathers and fur, that warm, rich scent that every griffin’s coat had but which was never so sweet except when it came from her. Her head moved in quick, sure strokes, dragging her beak over her wing feathers with a soft, rasping sound. There was something so certain about her, Kullervo thought—it was in everything she did. Even though he had only known her a few months, she had become the most solid and constant thing in his life, and he had come to accept that she always knew what to do, was always strong, always resolute. That must be why she made him feel so safe.
A smile lit up Kullervo’s face, and his broken teeth made it no less sweet or gentle.
Senneck’s head turned sharply toward him, making him freeze, but she only said, “You are awake. Come now, groom and make yourself ready. We leave today.”
“Of course!” Kullervo stood up, still a little unsteady on his legs, and rubbed a hand through his hair. “I suppose I should make the change now, then,” he said reluctantly.
“No,” said Senneck. “You are much too weak to risk using magic now.”
“But I have to fly to—”
“I shall fly,” said Senneck. “Am I not your griffin now? It is expected of me to carry you with me when we have business far away.”
“Oh. Yes.” Kullervo fidgeted, obviously still unused to their newly made partnership.
Senneck nudged him gently with her beak. “It is no burden to me, Kullervo. Even in human shape, you have the light bones of a griffin. You are easy to carry. But I would carry you even if you were the fattest human in this Eyrie because you are my human.”
“If I were fat, I’d lose weight.” Kullervo grinned.
“I would force you to,” said Senneck. “I will carry you, not you and every meal you have eaten!”
“But you said—”
“That is not important. Groom now and eat.”
“Oh. Yes. I should get something for you to eat first—”
“No,” said Senneck. “I will not eat until we arrive. I can fly further on an empty stomach. But you may eat.”
“All right then,” said Kullervo. “I’ll try and be quick . . .”
Senneck sat placidly and watched him scurry around their chambers. He washed his face in the bowl of water provided and gave his hair a quick comb before putting on the new set of clothes that his half-sister had had made especially for him. They were thick and warm, well-made but not obviously expensive—for now, it was better that Kullervo didn’t draw too much attention to himself.
The tunic had been specially tailored to give it extra room at the back for his wings. Once wearing it, he looked as if he had a hump.
The trousers had been made slightly baggy, to help hide the tail—that was easier to hide, at least.
Many humans would have given anything to have Kullervo’s ability to change into a griffin at will, Senneck thought grimly. But none of them would have taken it if they knew the real cost of having that power. The cost of being a hideous deformity in either shape, the cost of living with both human emotions and griffish instincts—and the agony of the transformation itself. It was easy to underestimate Kullervo, as she had once done herself, but the truth was that it took someone exceptional to live the way he did—or even have reached adulthood at all. But he was weak in other ways, and that was why he needed her.
Kullervo ate some of the food that had been left for him, chewing with evident pain. “Ugh . . . my teeth,” he mumbled through a mouthful of bread. “Useless! They’ll have to feed me mush like I was a baby!”
“They will heal,” said Senneck.
“My gums might heal, but I won’t grow any new teeth.” Kullervo swallowed and grimaced.
“Humans cannot grow new teeth?” said Senneck, genuinely surprised. “I have seen that their claws grow back even when they are cut, and I thought . . .”
“Not teeth,” said Kullervo. “If your beak was broken off, it wouldn’t grow back. Teeth are the same.”
Senneck’s tail twitched. “But you have the power to grow a beak. Perhaps you can lear
n to grow teeth as well.”
“That’d be nice,” said Kullervo, looking wistfully at an apple.
“We will see,” said Senneck. “When you have learnt to use your magic fully, we will see.”
Kullervo began to get excited. “Yes, on the ship. You’ll teach me, and it’s going to be wonderful! We’ll see Maijan, and Amoran, and the sea!”
“I have seen the sea,” said Senneck. “It is nothing special.”
“And we’ll meet this Amorani Prince—a real Amorani Prince!” Kullervo went on, oblivious. “And we’ll find a way to stop Saeddryn, I just know it. We’ll stop her, then we’ll be able to live together here, with Laela.” He glanced anxiously at Senneck, but his expression quickly hardened. “And then we can be happy at last.”
Silence followed this little declaration. Senneck’s expression did not change—because a griffin’s expression never does—and Kullervo began to look embarrassed.
“Come here,” Senneck said at last. When he did, she rubbed her head against his cheek and purred softly. “You truly are unbreakable, Kullervo. You, who seem so weak, are far stronger than you seem.”
“I’m not,” he mumbled. “I let them catch me. I let them lock me up and hurt me and break my teeth.”
“But you never gave in. You did not let them break you, or destroy your innocence, and that is what makes you who you are.” Senneck lifted her head. “Come,” she said softly. “You have eaten now, and it is time for us to go to meet Skarok and his human.”
“Time for us to go,” said Kullervo.
“Yes,” said Senneck, and the two of them left side by side, Kullervo holding on to her wing like a child holding its mother’s hand.
Up on top of the tower, they found Laela waiting alone. It was unusual to see a griffiner, especially one as highly ranked as herself, without her griffin beside her. But Oeka had more important things on her mind than her human, or her duties. Or at least things she thought were more important.
Laela wore one of her father’s robes—this one very thick, with a fur-lined hood and sleeves. Like the rest of his wardrobe, it fitted her perfectly, but then she had always been very much like him.
Kullervo embraced his half-sister warmly. “Good morning!”
She returned the hug. “Nice to see someone’s up. Did yeh sleep all right?”
Kullervo shrugged. “Senneck and me are all ready to go.”
Laela smiled slightly. “I can see that. I bin up here waitin’ by myself for Inva to show up. Guess she slept in, but she’d better not keep me waitin’ much longer. My arse is about to drop off, it’s that bloody cold.”
Kullervo chuckled. “That’s not how Queens are supposed to talk!”
Laela smirked. “I ain’t been Queen long, but I been it long enough to know how I can talk: however I bloody well want to.”
“I see your partner has not shown her face,” Senneck interrupted. “Has she returned?”
Laela’s smirk disappeared. “No, she ain’t. No sign of her since she went off. Just more ugly stories about things turnin’ weird in the Eyrie. I know where she is, at least.”
“In the underground, where the dead are taken,” said Senneck. “Be wary, Laela. Do not go too close. Oeka cannot control the power she is trying to use and will not recognise you. Nor will she be able to protect you.”
Laela’s mouth tightened. “I know. I just wish I could’ve stopped her. I wish I understood what she was doin’ . . .”
“She does not understand it herself,” said Senneck. “Your only hope is to wait until she emerges—there is nothing anyone can do, whether human or griffin.”
“I know.”
“But I’m sure she’ll be all right,” Kullervo said uneasily.
They stood together in awkward silence until Inva and her partner, Skarok, finally arrived. Once his human had dismounted, Skarok shook himself and sat on his haunches, staring insolently at Senneck. She stared back stonily.
Inva bowed stiffly to Laela. “I am sorry for my lateness, my Queen.”
You didn’t stand on ceremony with Laela, but you always stood on it for Inva. “Take it easy,” Laela said awkwardly. “Yer entourage has gone on ahead—don’t want a big flock of griffins all flyin’ together in times like these. Now, are yeh ready?”
“We are,” said Skarok.
“Good.” Laela took a scroll out of her sleeve and handed it to Inva. “This is my message to the Prince. Keep it safe. While yer on the boat, keep an eye out—I got no doubt there’ll be a message sent to yeh.”
“How do you know?” Kullervo butted in.
“’Cause I already sent one of my own,” said Laela. “It’ll have got there a while ago.”
“Who did you send?” asked Senneck.
“Nobody.” Laela grinned and rubbed her hands together. “There was an Amorani diplomat, Lord Vander. He used a little messenger dragon a while back t’bring us a note. Funny little thing; never saw one like it before or after. Well, we never sent it back. I remembered we had it hangin’ around, so I gave it a new note an’ let it fly off. Inva says them things always get back where they came from; they’re better’n pigeons. Anyway, I’m thinkin’ yeh’ll see the little bugger again sometime, so keep yer eye on the horizon.”
Kullervo’s eyes shone. “Wow! A real dragon! I thought there was no such thing! Did it breathe fire?”
“Don’t be daft,” said Laela. “It’s just a kind of lizard what has wings for front legs. We had to keep it in a room with a big fire so it wouldn’t go torpid. Anyway, that’s everythin’ I had to tell yeh, so yeh’d better get goin’.”
Inva nodded. “I will see your orders carried out. I know Prince Akhane well, and he will not be able to resist the chance to see this woman . . . this heartless one. He will help us.”
“He’d better,” said Laela. She nodded curtly. “Go on, then. Get goin’ an’ fly fast!”
Kullervo gave her another quick hug before he got onto Senneck’s back. “We won’t fail you. I promise. And in the meantime, keep yourself safe! I want you to still be here when I get back.”
“You got it.” Laela smiled. “Good luck, Kullervo, Inva—Senneck. An’ you, Skarok. I’m trustin’ you to keep my best diplomat safe!”
“I will not fail you,” Skarok said, with all the arrogant certainty of youth. He took off moments later, and Senneck followed. The two griffins flew in tandem, Senneck riding on Skarok’s slipstream without embarrassment.
Kullervo turned his head to look back and saw Laela grow smaller and disappear into the distance. She looked very alone, and vulnerable, and he shivered with fear for her.
“Don’t worry, Laela,” he murmured to himself. “We’ll be back. We’ll do this for you. I swear we will.”
33
A Window to the Past
Oeka, Tara’s dominant griffin, ruler of Malvern’s Eyrie, master of the unpartnered, owner of the human who was Queen, Oeka the all-powerful—Oeka who had once been green-eyed and beautiful—Oeka was lost.
She had forgotten how to judge the passing of time. Had she slept? She knew she had not eaten. Nor had she felt hungry. To begin with, when she had put herself into the trance needed to work the magic she was building into herself, it had been a struggle to shut out the physical senses that remained and would be a distraction. But as she worked on it, she became more and more effortless, until now . . . now she realised that she couldn’t feel her own body any more. She didn’t know if she had moved once, or whether she was even still breathing. Locked into the cloud of pure energy that surrounded her, she couldn’t panic or even feel fear. Instead, the knowledge came coldly and simply, as a fact and nothing more.
She had already become blind, deaf, and mute. Now she was paralysed as well.
But none of that mattered. She had expected to pay a price, and that price had been paid. The price of her own body and the mu
ndane senses and abilities that went with it. She had been prepared for that, and beside it, the rewards made it almost irrelevant.
What did it matter that she would never fly again, when she could project her mind anywhere she wanted and be invisible and invulnerable? What did it matter that she would never lay eggs, when she could reach into any mind and take whatever she wanted? What did it matter that she couldn’t walk, when she had the ability to crush any enemy in an instant using nothing but pure will-power? And what did it matter that she was blind? Her mind reached out, and it could see so much further, and take in so much more . . .
She reached out now, effortlessly, to touch the mind of her human. Emotions wavered there. Laela felt lonely, but she felt resolute. She was doing well. Holding on. And that arrogant, withered old hen Senneck was gone, which was good. Along with the twisted freak called Kullervo, which was even better. If Oeka had had her way, she would have crushed the pair of them. As it was, she would have to hold herself back. They could still be useful, after all.
No! What use were they, next to her? With this power she had now, she could do anything. Even Kraeaina kran ae would be nothing but an insect beside her sheer might. Others might not see the cursed human, but Oeka would sense her mind the moment she came close, and she would squash it in an eye-blink. It would be easy.
Oeka left Laela alone and turned her attention back to her task. She had already decided that she would not stop until she had used all the power she had taken from the Spirit Cave. It was hers—why not use it all? And when she was finished, she would be even more powerful than she was now.
Down in the crypts beneath the Eyrie, the atmosphere distorted. The air became hot and cold by turns, and disturbing noises howled around the walls. Vague images flickered here and there before disappearing. At the very centre of all this, Oeka’s body lay on a stone slab, silent and unmoving. It looked dead. Worse than dead. The eyes were white and unseeing, disintegrating outright from lack of use. Feathers and fur had come loose and begun to shed onto the floor. The beak was open, tongue dry and cracking.