by K J Taylor
Arenadd reached into his robe to touch the urn. “So my father—”
“Aye, ye could bring yer father’s ashes t’be honoured. An’ ye would pass into manhood as well. It’d make yer father proud.”
“In three months, you say?”
Arddryn nodded. “Three months an’ three days.”
“I’ll do it,” said Arenadd.
“Good. Thank ye, Arenadd. We’d be honoured t’have ye there.”
They had climbed down the side of the plateau while they talked, following a path so narrow it looked like nothing more than an animal trail. Arddryn walked it without faltering, only intermittently relying on Saeddryn to help her. Arenadd, following them both, was impressed. The old warrior had to be at least seventy—probably older—but she carried herself like someone much younger. He realised that he was glad to have met her, and humbled as well. Even if she wanted things from him that he wasn’t prepared to give, he would be happy to stay here in her land and learn what she had to teach.
The trail led through a narrow valley for a while, then descended and passed through a maze of tumbled stones, into a canyon that was nearly round. Trees and ferns had sprouted from the cliff sides, and the floor was covered with what looked like large boulders or heaps of dead branches. From the air they would be barely visible and far from noteworthy, but when Arenadd entered the canyon and looked closer he realised what they were: dozens of hide-covered lean-tos erected among the rocks and then disguised with branches and snow.
People began to appear almost as soon as Arddryn arrived: men and women emerging as if by magic from the undergrowth, all tough and weather-beaten, clad in skins, their faces tattooed with spirals and their hair decorated with bones and copper beads. Most of them had weapons, and all of them looked lean and wild and wary.
They crowded toward their leader, calling out to her in the Northern language, some calling her “my lady,” others addressing her with a title he’d never heard before, something that sounded like “holy woman.”
Arddryn nodded briefly to them and gestured for Arenadd to come forward. “Let them see ye,” she said, speaking the Northern tongue.
Arenadd came to stand by her left side, leaving Saeddryn on the right. His palms were sweaty, and he wiped them on his robe before bowing to the tribe. “Hello,” he said, speaking their language as well as he could, but wincing inwardly at how slow and clumsy it sounded. “I’m honoured to be here,” he added.
They cast scornful looks at him.
“Who are ye?” said one, making an aggressive move toward him. “Slave, are ye?”
Arenadd straightened up. “I am Arenadd Taranisäii of the Wolf Tribe.”
They faltered at that, and a muttering arose from them as they looked at Arddryn.
She nodded. “Aye, this is Arenadd Taranisäii. My nephew, an’ a brave warrior. He’s to become one of us, so make him welcome.”
“Taranisäii?” said one. “How? Where’d he come from?”
“My mother’s womb,” Arenadd shot back. “Why, where did you come from?”
Several of them laughed, and some of the tension went out of the atmosphere.
“Good,” said Arddryn. “Now get back to where ye were before. Arenadd must come with me, an’ ye can talk to him later.” They dispersed, albeit reluctantly, and Arddryn paid no further attention to them. “Ye should be goin’ too, Saeddryn, if ye want t’be home before dark.”
Saeddryn looked unhappy. “Yes, Mother. Is there anythin’ ye’d like me to tell the village?”
Arddryn shook her head. “The less they know the better. Ye ain’t told anybody about who’s come here t’join us, have ye?”
“No. Some of them saw the griffin, though; there was nothin’ I could do about that.”
Arddryn looked annoyed. “Damn ye, boy, did ye have t’fly straight into the village for all t’see? I thought ye had more sense.”
“I didn’t,” said Arenadd. “Saeddryn brought me into the village and Skandar followed. How was I supposed to stop him? Smuggling a griffin through a village isn’t something I’ve ever had to do before.”
“Can’t be helped,” said Arddryn. “Swear ’em t’secrecy, Saeddryn; find out who knows, an’ keep ’em quiet. Give ’em whatever they ask. There’s not much chance they’ll ever be questioned, but it pays t’be cautious.”
“Yes, Mother.” Saeddryn hugged her quickly and took Arenadd by surprise by pausing to hug him, too.
She kissed him on the cheek, on the scar. “I’m glad ye came, Arenadd,” she whispered in his ear, then she let go and walked away.
Arddryn looked after her and smiled a twisted kind of smile. “She’s a good girl, my Saeddryn.”
Arenadd touched the spot on his cheek where she’d kissed him. “She’s not weak, I’ll give her that. She certainly watches over that village carefully; I got about seven paces into it before she kicked me over and shoved a sword into my neck.”
“She knows how t’deal with intruders,” said Arddryn. “We all do. Now come with me.”
She led him through the settlement to the far end of the canyon and pulled some bushes aside to reveal a tiny passageway leading out of it.
“We don’t use this much,” she said. “It leads t’my camp, an’ normally Hyrenna an’ I fly in.”
If anything this path was even more narrow and disused than the last one. Arenadd waded through shoulder-high bracken encrusted with snow, which quickly soaked through his robe and left cuts and scratches on his hands.
“Is it much further?” he asked eventually, reverting to Cymrian.
“Ye’ll speak yer own language while ye’re in my camp, or I’ll pretend ye never spoke at all,” said Arddryn, without looking back at him.
Arenadd swore as he stumbled on a hidden stone. “I don’t speak it very well.”
“So I noticed. I’ll teach ye. Come, hurry up, it’s not far.”
Arenadd quickly decided she had been underestimating: the trip through the wet branches seemed to go on forever before the path finally widened and they entered Arddryn’s camp. It would be difficult to call it a camp, however. It was simply a slightly wider spot in the pass the canyon had led into. A heap of charcoal inside a ring of stones served as a fireplace, but there was no sign of a shelter anywhere.
“This way,” said Arddryn, indicating a heap of rocks at the base of the cliff, behind the fireplace. At first glance it looked like nothing more than that, but when they had rounded it Arenadd saw a gap between it and the cliff, with darkness beyond.
“My home,” said Arddryn. “Come, see for yerself.”
She squeezed through the hole, and Arenadd followed. It led to a cave, its ceiling high enough for them to stand upright. Light filtered in through a hole in the roof, and the interior was surprisingly comfortable: the walls had been scrubbed clean and carved with odd symbols and spiral patterns, and the floor was covered in dry grass. A heap of skins lay against one wall to serve as a bed, and there were some pots and baskets of food stacked in a corner.
Arddryn sat down cross-legged on the bed. “It ain’t much, but it serves. Sit down, why don’t ye. D’ye want somethin’ t’eat?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“There’s dried meat in that basket,” said Arddryn. “Get some for me while ye’re at it.”
They sat together and chewed at the smoked venison.
“So,” said Arenadd. “You’ve lived here ever since the war?”
“Aye, more or less. This was a hidin’ place for me after I left Malvern. The griffiners defeated us at Tor Plain. There was a village there. Ain’t there now, not any more. Rannagon did this t’me face, an’ Hyrenna carried me away back here. I stayed in this cave a long time, half-dead, thinkin’ everyone else was gone. But they started comin’ back. Just a few who’d survived. Came to Eitheinn, then to the Throne, hopin’ t’find me. Found the cave in the end, too, an’ me inside it, an’ that’s when I found out my baby daughter was alive. I raised her here till she was old enough to
go an’ live in the village. She wanted t’stay here, of course, but I wouldn’t hear of it. Why should she spend her life in some tiny cave? No-one knew her name or what she looked like, so she could live in a house an’ have proper food. It’s what she deserved.
“You’re a good mother,” Arenadd said politely.
Arddryn gave another ghastly smile. “Thank ye.” They finished eating, and she stood up and dusted herself down. “Shall we go outside? I fancy seein’ the sky.”
They went outside and both examined the sky. There was no sign of a griffin up there.
“When d’you think they’ll get back?” said Arenadd, uncomfortably aware that it would start to get dark soon.
“Oh, before night,” said Arddryn. “It’s nothin’ t’be worried about.”
“It’s just that I don’t want to be here too late,” said Arenadd. “We’ve still got to fly back to the village.”
“There’s no need,” said Arddryn. “Ye’re welcome t’share my cave, or ye can have a shelter back in the gorge with the rest.”
“Thank you, but I’d really rather go back to Eitheinn.”
Arddryn shook her head. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
Arenadd tensed at once. “What? Why?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Arddryn snapped. “What, d’ye think ye can go flyin’ back into the village just as ye please? Ye think people won’t notice? Ye should be thankin’ the moon ye weren’t spotted on t’way here as it is. Anyway, there’s no need for ye t’be there. This is yer home now. Ye’ve got t’stay by me these next three months, too. The Blood Moon ceremony ain’t somethin’ what just happens. There’s things ye must know first, things I have t’teach ye, understand? Everythin’ ye should’ve learnt when ye was a boy. Ye’ve got hard work ahead of ye.”
“Three—? Look, Arddryn, please—it’s not that I don’t want to stay,” Arenadd lied. “But I left someone behind in the village. I promised I’d be back. I can’t just vanish.”
“Someone?” said Arddryn. “What someone?”
“Her name’s Skade. She’s my friend; I brought her with me.”
“Don’t worry about her,” said Arddryn. “Saeddryn can look after her.”
“I promised her I’d be back with her soon,” said Arenadd. “If I don’t, she’ll be—I can’t do that to her.”
“Why, are ye married to her?”
“Well, no—”
“Then it doesn’t matter,” said Arddryn. “Ye’ve pledged yerself to me, an’ now ye’ll do as I say. She can wait for ye.”
“Can I at least send a message to her?” said Arenadd.
“Maybe, if someone visits from t’village,” said Arddryn. “Worry about it another time. Now come with me. I got somethin’ t’show ye.”
She limped toward a large clump of bushes over by the opposite side of the pass, and as they approached, Arenadd saw them quiver. A strange sound came from within.
“What’s in there?” he said.
“This,” said Arddryn, and pulled the bushes aside to reveal a griffin. It was a scrawny-looking brown male, lying on his stomach with his legs folded beneath him. As the bush was pulled away and sunlight hit his eyes, he lifted his head and made a horrible groaning noise through a beak that had been tightly bound shut.
Arenadd stood back, seeing the ropes around the griffin’s wings. “What in the gods’ names—?”
“This one flew into the circle a few weeks back,” said Arddryn. “Some of our men caught him up there with his human an’ another griffin with a partner.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
Arddryn looked disgusted and shoved the bushes back into place. “Ouen, curse his hide. Griffiners come up here sometimes, t’hunt. We hide away from the bastards. But Ouen an’ some of his friends were up there an’ saw ’em inside the circle, an’ decided t’go up there an’ tell ’em t’clear off. Then Ouen decided to rob ’em as well, an’ things got out of hand. They killed that griffin’s human. Wounded the other, but he got away. The griffin went mad an’ attacked. Killed most of Ouen’s friends, but the idiots led him straight t’the hides. They tied him up an’ then asked me what t’do—I ask ye, what am I supposed t’do with a griffin?”
“For gods’ sakes, why don’t you just kill him?” said Arenadd. “And if that other griffiner got away—”
“Calm down,” said Arddryn. “They already came here. A few days after it happened. Group of griffiners flew into the circle an’ searched around here. They never found us down here an’ flew away before nightfall. Asked some questions in the village an’ left it at that. I tell ye, that Elkin’s losin’ her touch.”
“Well, you should still kill him,” said Arenadd. “What use is he?”
Arddryn shrugged. “I say, never throw anythin’ away. Dead he’s useless. Alive, we could find a use f’him. Either way, leave him be f’now. I just wanted ye t’know he was here so ye wouldn’t stumble on him by accident.”
Arenadd tried not to think of the terrible dead look in the griffin’s eyes. And he tried not to look at Arddryn either, at her deformed face, which made him feel sick.
Oh gods, he thought. What have I got myself into now?
32
The Hunt
Skandar didn’t return that day, or the next. When he finally did, Arenadd immediately asked him to fly them out of the mountains and back to Eitheinn.
Skandar only gave him a blank stare.
“Skade,” Arenadd tried to explain. “I have to get back to Skade, understand?”
“Not want leave,” Skandar said at last. “Home now.”
“But Skade—”
Hyrenna had been listening, and she came closer now. “You will not leave, Arenadd.”
“I only want to go back to Eitheinn,” he protested. “I can’t just leave Skade there on her own; I have to see her, explain—”
“You will not leave,” Hyrenna repeated. “Not until the Blood Moon has come and we give you permission.”
“Human not leave,” said Skandar. “Not need mate. Find new mate.” Plainly, he was done with listening to Arenadd.
“Finish your learning,” Hyrenna commanded. “Try to leave and I will hunt you down.”
Arenadd shot her a venomous stare. “I’ve been imprisoned long enough, griffin, and nobody is making me stay.” With that he got up and walked away.
Skandar bounded ahead of him and stood in his path. “Not go.”
“Out of my way!”
“Not go. Stay.”
Arenadd made several attempts to get past him, but Skandar was faster and eventually knocked him over with an angry snort.
“Stay!” the dark griffin ordered.
Arenadd gave up without saying anything and returned to his new home.
He’d been given a shelter to himself in the settlement in the canyon, which according to its inhabitants was called Taranis Gorge. It was tiny, just big enough for him to lie down in. He had to pile his possessions, such as they were, beside his feet. But it was cosy enough, in its own way, and warmer than he had expected.
He spent the first day settling in, but his lessons began almost immediately. Arddryn had ordered several of her followers to teach him different things. A man called Nerth began teaching him how to track and hunt animals, and a woman called Wynne showed him how to make a bow and arrows, while her sister Hafwen taught him about the properties of different herbs found in the mountains. And from Arddryn he began to learn all the Northern lore and legends she insisted were so important. He learnt the language from everyone, since he was forced to speak it all the time. If he ever used Cymrian he was ignored.
He stayed on the lookout for Saeddryn, but she never returned from the village, and he quickly saw that the settlement in Taranis Gorge was almost completely cut off from the outside world. Arddryn explained that they seldom left it and that their friends stationed in the village only came to visit very rarely, to bring supplies when times were rough or to carry important messages. As it was, Arenadd had no w
ay of contacting Skade or even asking after her.
A day or so after his first attempt to leave he tried again. This time, he was more careful. He waited until nightfall and slipped out of the gorge, sneaking off through the snow as quietly as he could.
He didn’t see Hyrenna or anyone else trying to follow him, but his attempt was foiled by the mountains themselves. The snow around the gorge was far deeper than he had expected. Before long he was soaking wet, chilled right through, and hopelessly lost. It took him half the night just to find the gorge again, and by the time he returned to his shelter the others were already getting up.
If anyone noticed his absence, none of them said anything. He suspected that Arddryn had guessed. Resentment simmered inside him, but he said nothing and did his best to at least take in what they were trying to teach him.
Life in the gorge was hard: food had to be gathered every day, and Nerth and a band of hunters devoted much of their time to hunting and trapping animals for skins. Arenadd went with them and by watching learnt most of the skills they used. He already knew how to tan the hides they gathered, which won him plenty of thanks and a little admiration. When he wasn’t doing that he was helping his other teachers with their daily tasks and listening to everything they had to tell him.
On the evening of the fifth day, Arddryn’s followers—twenty-two of them in all—gathered around a single fire to share their food and talk, and Arenadd was called upon to speak. He told the tale of Eluna’s death and its consequences, and finished with a brief description of how he had escaped from prison and killed Lord Rannagon.
The Northerners listened, their faces unreadable. They were a silent, unemotional lot; Arenadd found himself worrying that he was saying the wrong thing. He wondered if he was anything like them. Old memories came back to him of the voices of his friends back at Eagleholm. Flell caressing his face and saying, “You should smile more, Arren. You’re so solemn all the time!”