by K J Taylor
Senneck, watching in bewilderment, tensed when she heard the voice. It sounded wrong. Too light. Too high.
Too familiar.
Skarok didn’t seem to have noticed anything. He was ready to mate, he had been challenged, and that was enough. He made a sudden rush at the other male. It was one meant to impress rather than seriously attack, all open wings and flailing talons, but it was dangerous all the same.
The other griffin, rather than retreating, tensed back and sprang. His smaller size gave him an unexpected advantage, as he dove under Skarok’s talons and hit him in the belly, beak first. Skarok stumbled back, but the other griffin had not had the sense to dart out of reach after striking, and Skarok took the opportunity and struck him in the back with his talons, hurling him onto the deck.
The other griffin got up, snorting, and lunged at him. Skarok was ready, and the two males began to grapple with each other, talons tearing through fur and feather, beaks aiming for heads and necks.
Senneck stood back and watched. This was a mating fight, and she had no part in it but to wait for the victor. But even though she knew that, she couldn’t shake off her bewilderment. None of this made sense. Where had this other male come from? They were too far away from land for him to have flown over, and there were no other ships in sight.
And anyway, he looked . . . looked like . . . ?
But no. That was ridiculous. Impossible. He wouldn’t . . . couldn’t . . .
But the more Senneck watched, the more she heard the stranger’s wrong-sounding voice, the more certain she became.
He had grown. Grown bigger, sleeker, more well-proportioned. The head was a more proper shape now. But he still had too many talons on his forepaws. His beak was still undersized.
He was still Kullervo.
And he was losing.
Surprise and sheer anger might have given him a head start, but as the fight went on, it became more and more obvious that Skarok was going to win. Kullervo was much too small, and even if his griffin shape was now more complete he had still spent much more time looking more or less human. And he was not a real fighter in any shape.
Skarok threw his weakening foe down, again and again, biting him cruelly on his soft belly. He was attacking not to kill or seriously wound—after all, this was not a territorial fight—but simply to win.
But no matter how many times he fell, no matter how battered he became, Kullervo would not give in. Every time Skarok knocked him over, he got up again, his beak chipped, one eye swelling, but his determination intact.
“You . . . won’t . . . touch her,” he gasped. “I won’t . . . won’t let . . .”
Infuriated, Skarok began to attack more savagely, bashing Kullervo’s head onto the deck. Kullervo looked up appealingly at Senneck. “Senneck! Help . . . help me . . .”
Skarok reared up onto his hind legs. “Coward!” he screamed. “To ask a female for help in this—!” His words broke off into an incoherent screech.
Senneck, however, started toward them. “Kullervo!” she called. “Stop this! Stop now! Fly away!”
Kullervo raised his head, not even seeming to notice the infuriated Skarok. “Senneck . . .”
“Go!” she said again.
Common sense wouldn’t get through to Kullervo, but Senneck’s voice did. He scrambled upright and ran away, launching himself clumsily into the air.
However, Skarok wouldn’t stand for this. His rival had dared to attack him, then had humiliated him by refusing to give in—and by breaking the oldest law of all, and asking the female to help him.
Utterly outraged, and frustrated beyond all reason, he forgot about Senneck and went in pursuit, flying after the cowardly runt as fast as he could.
Dazed, aching all over and still weakened by the transformation, Kullervo had no chance. He flew around the ship in a pointless circle, now truly afraid, but got barely any distance at all. Skarok bore down on him and, swooping on him in midair, struck him a blow between the wings that unbalanced him and sent him tumbling out of the sky.
Kullervo panicked, beating his wings hard to try to recover, but Skarok came on, grabbing him in his talons and shaking him violently before letting go. Kullervo rolled over several times, unable to stop himself. Disoriented, not knowing which way was up, he lost all control and fell into the sea with a deafening splash.
Griffins feared water, and now Kullervo found out why.
In water, wings were worse than useless. As he tried to swim, they caught in the current and dragged him backward, tossing him about like a leaf. He kicked out with his paws, but they were all but worthless here.
Bright light hit his eyes. He squinted as he tried to stay afloat and saw the ship ahead. It was moving away, taking its shadow with it.
When he saw that, Kullervo simply gave up. He could not swim, not to keep up with that, and even if he could, there would be no way to get back on board. Realising it, letting the knowledge settle down on him like a great weight, he relaxed and let himself float, drifting away into the endless ocean. It was easier this way.
The salt water splashed into his face. He closed his eyes against it and tilted his head, pointing his beak upward to help himself breathe.
Something hit him, hard, in the neck. The impact shoved him under, and water poured into his beak. He struggled hopelessly, feeling the talons in his shoulders, and realised that Skarok had still not been satisfied. He had come after him one last time, to push him down and drown him.
The talons hooked in his flesh, pulling mercilessly upward. Kullervo’s head broke the surface, and as he coughed and breathed again he found himself skimming through the water, legs dangling. The griffin holding him flew higher, laboriously dragging more of his body into the air. Was Skarok going to lift him up, then drop him again? Was that it? Was he going to torment him before he killed him?
Anger coursed back through Kullervo’s body. Death was one thing, but nobody was going to toy with him.
He forced his wings to unfurl, and began to beat them again. They felt heavy, and sprayed water back into the ocean, but he kept going, harder and faster, knowing that the more he beat them, the faster they would dry. Sure enough, despite the wetness making the feathers shrink and bend, he managed to catch some air. As his legs lifted out of the water, followed by his tail, he flapped with all his might, helping his captor lift him higher. Ahead he could see the ship, its deck now almost within reach. He kept trying to fly, thinking that if he could break free, then maybe he could get back to safety.
But even if he was out of the water, his wings would not work properly. They needed to be fully dried and groomed as well. Breaking free was out of the question.
The other griffin flew higher, not letting go. The railings of the ship passed below, then they were descending at last.
Kullervo’s paws touched the deck, and as the talons released him, he scrambled away, turning to face Skarok one last time . . .
But it was Senneck there. Senneck, her underbelly dripping, blue eyes glaring at him. “Go to your nest,” she snapped. “Dry yourself.”
Kullervo’s fear left. “Thank you—”
Senneck hissed at him. “Go! Go now, before you humiliate me any further, Kullervo.”
Every word cut him far more deeply than Skarok’s talons ever could have. Head bowed, he turned and limped away.
He returned to his nest and flopped down on the straw without bothering to groom. His wet feathers didn’t matter, and his wounds didn’t matter either. Nothing mattered any more. Not now.
Kullervo laid his head on his talons and did something no griffin could do, something that came from the human heart that lived inside him no matter what his shape became. Silently, Kullervo Taranisäii cried.
He must have slept eventually. Vile dreams came to him when he did. But what made them worse was that they weren’t dreams, not really. They were memories. Vague, ugly memori
es.
He was struggling in the sea again, and the sea became a pool. A still pool, filled with a reflection of a hideous face. It wrapped itself around him and dragged him down into itself, embracing him with its ugly reality. Above him, he caught a glimpse of something else, something bright and beautiful that wavered in his vision for just a moment. He strove toward it, reaching out to try to touch it, but the pool closed over his eyes, shutting it away from him forever.
The face stared straight at him, not snarling or mocking but looking at him with a pity that was far worse. Eyes yellow and slanted, head flattened, misshapen feathers stabbing out of the forehead like tiny arrows. Horrible and deformed, full of misery. Full of longing for what it could never have. What he could never be.
He woke up in pain, feeling damp and hot. But he was not alone. Something big and warm touched his back. He felt the heartbeat thudding softly in time with his own, and a great grey beak moved over his wing and flank, grooming him almost delicately.
Senneck.
Kullervo lay there passively and let her groom him, too ashamed to even say her name.
She had noticed he was awake. “Are you well?”
“I’ll recover,” he replied in defeated tones. His throat felt raw.
“You should not have done that.”
“I know. I promise I won’t ever do it again.”
“You did not need to fight for me,” Senneck told him sternly. “I was in no danger. Skarok thought you were challenging for the right to mate with me! But you did not act as a true griffin would. You are lucky he did not kill you for it.”
Kullervo shuddered. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t bear the thought of . . . I didn’t want him to . . . to . . . not that. Not with you. But it doesn’t matter,” he added quickly. “Not now. I’m sorry. Please just forgive me. What I did was stupid.”
“It is only natural that you were jealous,” said Senneck. “I am your partner, after all. I confess that when Erian lusted after a female, I, too, was jealous of her.”
“I was upset,” said Kullervo.
“You did not like Skarok?”
“No. I mean . . . I didn’t think anything about him much. He’s just some griffin. I just didn’t . . . when you told me he was the only male here and you had to . . .” Kullervo shook himself. “But it’s too late now anyway.”
“Too late for what?” said Senneck.
“Too late,” Kullervo repeated. He closed his eyes in a hopeless kind of way, and added softly, “Too late to stop it. He won, so I know you must have . . . you know.”
“Mated with him?” said Senneck.
Kullervo couldn’t stand to use the word. “Yes.”
Even that felt like a struggle.
Senneck snorted. “I did not mate with Skarok.”
Kullervo stilled. “You—you didn’t?”
“No. He came back to me in triumph, and I spurned him and struck him in the face. He had tried to kill my human, and that is something I will not forgive. If I had not had to rescue you, I would have wounded him badly. If you had died, I would have killed him. As it was, he went away, humiliated and disappointed.”
Kullervo could scarcely breathe. His chest felt crushed. “You didn’t . . . ? And you’re not going to . . . ?”
“My heat is ending,” Senneck said brusquely. “The urge will be gone soon. Skarok lost his chance. If I wanted to, I could mate with him regardless, but I do not want to. He is a fool and beneath my dignity to pair with.”
Kullervo’s voice finally ran out altogether. He lay there, feeling paralysed.
“Thank you,” Senneck’s voice came from above him, like the voice of a god. “You embarrassed me, but you stopped me from mating with Skarok, and I did not truly want to let him have me. The mating madness was on me, but now that I can think clearly, I am glad I did not . . . he would have mocked me with it forever. Now, I shall mock him.”
Kullervo said nothing.
Senneck nudged his head. “Kullervo? Are you sleeping?”
Silence. Kullervo could feel his heart fluttering, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make himself speak.
“Kullervo?” Senneck began to sound concerned. “Kullervo, speak to me. Are you hurt? Shall I tell Inva you need healing?”
Kullervo managed to breathe in, and his voice came back. “Senneck,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Senneck, I”—every word felt like a struggle—“I—I fought Skarok because—because I was jealous. I couldn’t . . . couldn’t stand the thought of another male touching you.”
“I understand, but you must control yourself,” she said gently. “I am a griffin, and I must be allowed to mate when I choose. We are not made to be celibate.”
“No,” Kullervo burst out. “No, it’s not like that. I love you, Senneck. That’s why . . .”
She stood up abruptly, turning to look down at him. “What?”
Kullervo wanted to run away, but he knew it was too late now. He’d said it. “I love you, Senneck,” he said. “I always have.”
“Love?” Senneck repeated. She sounded quite blank.
“Yes,” said Kullervo, desperate now. “I love you like a male would. Does. You’re beautiful, and you’re brave, and I don’t want any other female but you.”
“Love,” Senneck said yet again, as if the word were giving her some trouble. “I do not . . . that is not something that we . . . that is not a word I know.”
“Humans love,” said Kullervo. “They fall in love. That’s how they choose their own mates, that’s why they marry. To stay with the one they love forever.”
“But I am not human,” said Senneck. “This thing . . . ‘love’ . . . makes no sense to me.”
“It doesn’t just have to be between male and female,” said Kullervo. “Parents love their children, and brothers love their sisters. Worshippers even love their gods.”
Senneck blinked. “I have seen how humans pair for life . . . Erian once tried to tell me . . .” She looked at Kullervo again. “This means nothing to me. And besides, you are not . . .” She trailed off.
Kullervo stared at his talons. “I know love. But I’ve never been loved. Not by anyone. When I was a child, I saw people around me, I saw parents holding their children, I saw lovers holding hands. But no-one ever held me. And if I reached out to them, they wouldn’t reach back.
“When I flew North, I didn’t really know why I was going. I thought my mother might be there, but I didn’t really know why I wanted to find her. I knew she wanted me to die. But now I know why. I wanted to find her so I could reach out to her, so I could try to make her love me. But she was dead, and so was my father . . .” He shivered, and dared to look up again. “I’ve never . . . I’ve never been interested in human females—women. They just don’t look beautiful to me. I’ve never seen one and wanted to touch her the way I want to touch you. When you touch me, when you groom me, when you talk to me . . . that’s when I feel so right, like everything is perfect as long as you’re with me. I think that’s love. I think I love you.”
Senneck only stared at him, utterly uncomprehending.
Kullervo couldn’t meet her gaze. “I’ve become my father,” he muttered. “My evil father. I love a griffin, gods have mercy on me. What will I do next? Will I become a murderer . . . will I kill again, and love it? Oh, gods, no. Don’t let me be him. I don’t want to be him . . .” Tears ran down his beak.
“Kullervo.” Senneck came closer and rubbed her cheek against his head. “Be calm. Do not say these things. You are upsetting yourself for no reason.”
Kullervo relaxed. “Just promise you’ll stay with me, Senneck. I know I’m too young for you anyway. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I don’t think I can be a father anyway. Mules are sterile, and so am I.”
Senneck crouched down by him and began to groom him again
. “Rest now, Kullervo. I will take care of you. Skarok is gone, and I shall not leave you again.”
“Do you promise?”
“Yes. I promise.”
38
The Diary and the Darkness
“—Passed unanimously. The Master of Taxation was very pleased. Afterward—”
Laela turned several pages.
“—woke up and found her dead beside me. Of all the horrible things that have happened in my life, that was one of the very worst. I wish—”
Another page.
“—visited Fruitsheart with Iorwerth—”
And another.
“Yesterday, I returned to Malvern after a visit to Guard’s Post. Skandar and I flew on beyond it to just past the mountains. It was the first time we had seen Southern lands in at least ten years. I was unexpectedly surprised to see they looked so much like my own territory. The sight of enemy lands and civilisation so close gave us both a terrible urge to keep going in the hopes of finding a fight, but while pillaging some pathetic Southern village was horribly tempting I had to admit it would be childish. Guard’s Post was in good shape, anyway, and that was the main thing. I must remember to visit it again soon. I can’t risk letting it weaken.”
Laela listened to her father’s voice speak on for a while, then, growing bored, moved on.
Oeka’s promise had been right. No matter what page of the diary she opened, every one read itself out loud to her. The voice had been growing fainter over the last few days, however, and she had begun to search through the book more thoroughly, fearing that it might stop altogether. Yorath had vanished without a trace and did not reappear even when she tried to have him summoned. Nobody seemed to know where he was. With him gone, she had nobody else around whom she trusted enough to read the diary to her.
In a way, the book had been keeping her company, but in all honesty, it only made her feel even lonelier. Hearing her father’s voice like this was just a constant reminder of how much she missed him.
She missed the way he would smile with his eyes, the way he seemed to know everything that was going on. She missed what she had sensed in him—the terrible vulnerability that hid under his cool, neat exterior, the feeling he had given her that in a way he grieved as much as his victims for all the crimes he had committed. And even though one of the greatest of those crimes had been against herself and her family, part of her still refused to hate him for it. He had shown her the silent, lonely heart he kept hidden away from the world, and in a way she felt she had been entrusted with it, as if it was his greatest treasure.