The Griffin's Flight

by K J Taylor

  26

  Rogues

  Erian woke up the morning after the dance with a hangover and a feeling of utter misery. He dressed in semi-darkness, choosing his warmest clothes by the light of a single candle. The ceremonial costume was draped over the desk where he’d left it, but he tried not to look at it as he strapped Bloodpride onto his back and picked up his quiver, the un-strung bow packed inside with the arrows. With those, and a water bottle and some dried food in his pockets, he went into the next room.

  Senneck was already awake and looked alert in the dawn light coming in from the balcony. “Good morning,” she said, sounding unusually cheerful. “I expected to have to wake you.”

  Erian took her harness down from the wall. “I thought I’d sleep late after last night.”

  “Ah, but the excitement woke you up, yes?” said Senneck.

  “I suppose so,” Erian mumbled.

  “Then put on my harness, and we shall go,” said Senneck. “Kerod will be impressed if we arrive before he does.”

  “Of course.” Erian put it on, fumbling with the buckles, and the two of them walked onto the balcony, he climbed onto her back and she took off, flying into the early-morning chill. The sky was light grey, tinged with pink on the horizon, and very few other griffins were in the air. A few lights burned here and there in the windows of the Eyrie, and a strange hush lay over everything, as if the city itself were asleep.

  Senneck landed at the top of Council’s Tower. Few traces of last night’s celebrations were left; the tables had been removed, along with the torches, and the only things left were a few scraps of food that had been dropped on the floor and, at the edge of the tower, a partially eaten sheep carcass.

  Erian got off Senneck’s back and wandered around among the plants, trying to ignore his aching head. The hangover was only a mild one, but the memories of the previous night were more than enough to make up for that. His conversation with Elkin—both said and unsaid—replayed itself over and over again. The way she had looked at him, those green eyes so pale and sad, watching him. And after that, the sense he had got from her that he had somehow betrayed her, that she had asked him for something and he had failed to give it. He tried to tell himself it was nothing, that he had only imagined it, but the feeling refused to leave him alone.

  He sighed and kicked the ground. And now he was going to have to spend the entire day with Kerod, the eternal grandfather trying to act like he was twenty. The prospect made him want to yell and throw something.

  The sun began to rise, and Erian and Senneck were still alone. Maybe he won’t come, Erian thought hopefully. Maybe he forgot or something.

  But this small ray of light was dashed a few moments later when Kerod and Eekrae arrived, landing close to Senneck.

  Kerod came hurrying to meet him. “Good morning, my lord! I can’t believe you got here first!”

  “Morning,” Erian mumbled.

  “Old men like me need their rest, of course,” Kerod added. “Anyway, we’ll be able to get an early start, which is good. The place we’re headed for is a fair flight from here. Oh, you’re not bringing that, are you?”

  Erian realised he was looking at the sword. “Yes.”

  “I’d leave it here if I were you,” said Kerod. “It’s dead weight. No use for hunting. Not much use for anything, really, with that many jewels on it. Where’d you get it from?”

  “It’s mine,” said Erian, a touch defensively. “I want to bring it.”

  Kerod shrugged. “Well, if Senneck doesn’t mind. So,” he added, as they walked back toward the griffins, “how did you like the dance? I saw you were lucky enough to dance with Lady Elkin more than once. That must have been a thrill for you.”

  That gave him a far more painful pang than he had expected. “Yes.”

  “She always dances with the new lords after they’re inducted,” Kerod went on blithely, adjusting the quiver on his back. “It’s a ceremonial thing. Oh, Eekrae?”

  The griffin had been watching him and now drew himself up. “Kerod and I were planning to go further northward,” Eekrae said, addressing Senneck. “There are uncharted lands that way, vast areas of forest and mountains. We can find game there: deer, wolves—even bears if we have good luck. The flight will be a long one, and if the weather turns foul we may have to spend a night camping. Does that suit you?”

  Senneck inclined her head. “I think we shall enjoy ourselves very much. Erian and I have camped and hunted together before, and we would be more than glad to see this hunting ground.”

  “Excellent,” said Eekrae. “Then we shall go now. Kerod, climb onto my back.”

  The two griffiners mounted up, and they set out as the sun rose, flying over the city and beyond it on an early-morning gale.

  The flight did indeed prove to be a long one. The two griffins stayed in the air for much of the morning, Senneck flying slightly behind Eekrae and riding on his slipstream. Erian, relatively protected from the cold by Senneck’s feathers and the warm furs he was wearing, quickly became lost in his own thoughts. Or rather, thought.

  Elkin. As the time dragged by, she filled his mind. All he could think of was her: her laugh, her smile, her bright green eyes. Little moments flashed behind his eyes, instants frozen in time. Her hands gripping his as they twirled apart on the dance floor. The way her hair moved over her face when she leant forward to pick a strayberry out of the bowl. The scent of her skin and the way the light caught the gems on her gown. They tripped through his mind, as sharp and real as if they had happened only moments ago.

  The thought of her made him feel strange. His stomach churned and his heart beat faster, but he didn’t know why. Was it fear or shame? Or happiness? He couldn’t tell.

  He kept on thinking of their last conversation. All the time they had been speaking, he had wanted to reach out and touch her, or to tell her how beautiful she was and how being with her made him feel so frightened but so thrilled.

  He knew that if he had done either of these things Senneck would have been furious. Kraal would almost certainly have been the same way. And Elkin—he didn’t know what she would have thought or said. But he knew she would have rejected him. She would have to reject him. She was a great lady, the Mistress of Malvern, the greatest Eyrie Mistress in Cymria, rich, well born, loved and respected. Whereas he was none of those things.

  Erian clenched his fists and stared at them, filled with a terrible sense of helplessness and fury. He felt weak, clumsy, stupid, ugly. What could Elkin ever see in him? What could any woman see? He didn’t deserve her, or anyone.

  I don’t have anything to offer, he thought bitterly. No money, no lands, no connections. I don’t even have looks or charm. I’m nothing and nobody. The picture of Elkin smiled at him in his mind, and he shuddered and suddenly wanted to cry. Sweet, wonderful Elkin. He tried desperately to put her out of his mind, to think of something else, but he couldn’t. Everything seemed to revolve around her now.

  He occupied himself with these miserable thoughts for most of the flight, while below them the inhabited lands of Malvern receded from view. They flew over hills and plains dotted with villages and the occasional town, while the sun rose higher overhead.

  They stopped at midday to rest in a small copse, and Erian dismounted and limped around in a circle, cringing at the cramp in his legs.

  Kerod sat down on a log and massaged his knees. “Argh. Damn these old joints. How are you doing, Erian?”

  “Fine. How much further is it?”

  “Not far at all from here,” said Kerod. “We’ll be there by mid-afternoon, I’d say. But first we should rest and have something to eat, so we’re ready.”

  Erian slumped down at the base of a tree. “Are we heading for something in particular? Some kind of landmark?”

  “Yes,” said Kerod. “There’s a stone circle just beyond the last village—Eitheinn, I believe it’s called. It’s one of the few left standing, and a good base to use for hunting. There’s forest all around it.” />
  Erian’s interest perked up at that. “A stone circle? How big is it?”

  “Bigger than you’d expect,” said Kerod. “Wait until you see it; it’s damned impressive. Say what you like about the darkmen, but they definitely know how to move stones.”

  The two of them shared a chuckle over that, and the mood lightened a little. Erian chewed at some dried meat while Senneck and Eekrae rested, and after a while they were ready to set out again.

  The last part of the journey passed quickly enough. Erian watched the landscape now, knowing they were entering much wilder country. There were no more villages in sight, and the road they had been following had become narrow and winding, often passing through patches of thick forest. Even the River Snow, which ran almost parallel to it, looked wider and faster here.

  They entered mountainous country, and the road petered out as it reached its destination: a tiny village nestled at the base of a large peak where the mountain range began. Eekrae flew on without pausing, passing between two mountains and entering a valley. He and Senneck flew the length of that and then flew on until the stone circle finally came into sight.

  Eekrae banked upward without warning and landed on the slope of a nearby mountain, and Senneck followed, forcing Erian to cling on tightly.

  It was freezing cold on the mountainside, and windy. Erian stood close to Senneck, shivering. “What’s going on?” he called. “Why are we up here?”

  Kerod grinned. “Look at the view!”

  Erian did. A wide plateau lay just below them, white with snow, just as the ground for the last few miles had been. Most of it was covered by pine trees, but toward the centre a large patch of ground had been cleared to make way for the circle. They were close enough for Erian to see the stones quite clearly. They had been arranged in a perfect ring.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” said Kerod. “No-one knows how they moved them all up here.”

  Erian thought briefly of the slaves who had built Eagleholm, hauling hundreds of split trees up the mountain to build the Eyrie and the platform. “It’s amazing,” he admitted.

  “They call it Taranis’ Throne,” said Kerod. “Some people think a few darkmen still come up here to worship when the moon’s out. It’s forbidden, of course, but who’s going to stop them all the way out here?”

  Erian snorted. “Why should we even care about what they do? If they want to worship rocks, let them.”

  “It’s never bothered me,” said Kerod. “Let the gods deal with their own affairs, I say. Anyway,” he said, stretching and yawning, “we’re here, and it appears we made good time, too.”

  Erian surveyed the landscape. “It doesn’t look like there’d be much game up here,” he said doubtfully.

  “Oh, don’t let appearances fool you,” said Kerod. “Look, up there.” He pointed. “See that?”

  Erian squinted for a while before he saw a tiny white cross slowly drifting over the mountains.

  “Ice eagle,” said Kerod. “Very rare. The feathers are worth a fortune.”

  “Chasing down an eagle would be a fine challenge,” Senneck put in. “I would be pleased to try it.”

  “I have done it,” said Eekrae. “It is not easy, but if you are agile enough in the air it can be done.”

  “Or—” Kerod cocked his head and grinned. “Ah! Can you hear that?”

  Erian listened. “I’m not sure . . .”

  “Listen carefully,” said Kerod. “You can just pick it up on the wind.”

  After a few moments more Erian thought he caught something. “It’s ... some kind of wailing?” he said.

  “Howling!” said Kerod. “Fancy a wolf-skin rug for your room, Erian?”

  Erian had never seen a wolf before. “How close are they?”

  “Just down on the plateau, by the sound of it,” said Kerod. “D’you want to go and see if we can catch them?”

  “All right,” said Erian. Hunting something on the ground sounded better than trying to hold on while Senneck chased an eagle. “Senneck, do you want to hunt wolves?”

  Senneck was still looking speculatively at the eagle. “Well.” She paused, and then relented. “If that is what you want, then we shall. Eekrae, do you agree?”

  “I do,” said Eekrae. “Wolves make fine prey.” He cocked his head toward Kerod. “Come, get on my back. We will land in the stone circle.”

  The two griffiners mounted, and Senneck and Eekrae made the brief flight down to the circle, landing on the snow, in the centre. Erian slid off Senneck’s back and admired the stones; now that he could see them more closely he was even more impressed by their size and how they had been laid out. Every stone was carefully spaced apart from its two immediate neighbours, and had been cut and shaped into a tapering oblong. The inner face of every stone had been carved with a triple-spiral symbol, and just above that was a circle.

  “Thirteen stones,” said Kerod. “Thirteen full moons. A ‘wolf moon,’ some people call it. The full moon, I mean. Now then.” He unshipped the quiver from his back and took out his bow, stringing it with a fresh string taken from a pouch in his pocket.

  Erian hastily strung his own bow and selected an arrow. “So, how do we do this?”

  “We’ll be doing the actual hunting from the air,” said Kerod. “But we have to have our bows ready beforehand. And leave anything you don’t need here in the circle—we’ll pick it up later. You should probably leave that shiny sword of yours.”

  Erian reluctantly took it off his back, sheath and all. “I suppose it’d only get in the way.” He leant it against the nearest stone and then walked back to Senneck, holding his bow in one hand. “That’s everything except my arrows and my water bottle. So, do we just fly low until we spot them?”

  “That’s the idea,” said Kerod. He paused to listen. “I want to wait here a moment. If we’re lucky we might hear another howl; that would help us find them.”

  Erian nodded vaguely. “Yes, of course.”

  He strolled around the circle, easing the ache in his legs and listening half-heartedly. Then, without warning, a low, hollow call came drifting toward them from the trees. Erian stopped dead, blinking. “Was that—?”

  Kerod had started bolt upright. “Yes! That’s it! Listen.”

  Another howl sounded a few moments later.

  “Ooh, it’s close,” said Kerod. “We’re sure to catch them.”

  The next howl came from somewhere behind Erian. He turned sharply to look, but saw nothing. He fidgeted “Uh, Kerod, are you sure—?”

  Kerod wasn’t listening. “Quick, let’s go!” he said. “They can move fast.”

  But Erian was still staring at the trees. “Kerod, I think they’re here. That one sounded like it was coming from just over there.”

  “Are you sure?” said Kerod. “Maybe they—” He stopped as yet another howl came, this time from somewhere to his left, just outside the circle. “Ye gods,” he muttered once it had ended. “You’re right. They must be just in the trees here.”

  They listened for a while after that but heard nothing more. Perhaps the wolves had moved on.

  Erian scratched his head. “You know, my grandmother always told me wolves only howled at the moon.”

  “Nonsense,” said Kerod. “Wolves howl whenever they feel like it. It’s darkmen that howl at the moon.”

  “What?” said Erian. “You mean that’s real? They actually do that?”

  “Oh, not any more,” said Kerod. “But they used to. It was their way of calling to each other. And they used it as a battle cry, too. A little like how griffiners screech when they go into battle. Now, I’ll tell you, Erian, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen that. Griffins and griffiners riding into battle together, it’s—Erian?”

  Erian was standing very still. Behind him, Senneck began to hiss, her tail lashing.

  “Erian?” Kerod repeated.

  Eekrae moved to stand close to his partner, wings raised, and the four of them stood together in a kind of nervous tableau as a dozen
tall, ragged figures appeared out of the trees and walked into the circle. Every single one was a Northerner, black haired and pale, clad in furs. Their faces were tattooed with blue spirals, and they wore bone ornaments in their hair. Some of them had spears, but nearly all of them carried a bow, each with an arrow nocked and ready to be loosed.

  Kerod pulled himself together. “Stay back!” he snapped. “We are griffiners!”

  The Northerners did stop, just inside the circle, but did not lower their bows. Every single one of them was glaring, poised and ready, at the griffiners and the griffins.

  Erian loaded an arrow into his own bow. “How dare you?” he yelled. “Lower your bows now or I’ll arrest you!”

  The Northerners glanced briefly at each other, and several of them sniggered.

  “Arrest us?” said one, his voice rough and harshly accented. “Ye’ve defiled the Throne, Southerner. This is our place, not for ye or yer Southern demons.”

  “Don’t you dare threaten us,” said Kerod, starting forward and pointing his bow directly at the man’s face. “You have no right to bear weapons, darkman.”

  The man spat. “An’ ye have no right to be in the circle, Southerner.”

  “This is our land, and you’ll obey our laws here,” said Kerod. “Now get out of here, and maybe I’ll forget this happened.”

  One of the Northerners shouted in some language Erian didn’t recognise, apparently speaking to the leader. The others responded with jeers and mocking shouts in that same language, and Eekrae instantly reared up and began to snarl and hiss at them.

  Kerod moved forward, putting himself in the way. “That language is forbidden!” he shouted. “How dare you?”

  Erian had begun to feel more and more nervous while this exchange was taking place. He looked quickly toward his sword, but one of the Northerners was between him and it. The man followed his gaze and snatched the sword.

  “Hey!” Erian yelled. “That’s mine! Give that to me!”

  The man pulled Bloodpride out of its scabbard and waved it at the others. “Lookit this! Nice shiny bit of metal, ain’t it? Fancy I’ll keep it. Could be useful as a spit, eh?”