The Dark Griffin

by K J Taylor

  The griffin was watching him, as if it knew what he was thinking. But then it yawned again and laid its head down on its front talons, tail twitching gently. It stayed like that for some time, as the sun started to go down, and then, at last, it closed its eyes. A short time later it started to purr softly, and the man’s heart leapt.

  He wasted no time. The instant he was certain that the creature was asleep, he started to edge away from it, toward the end of the overhang where the roof was lower. He’d noticed it earlier and had judged that he could climb over it. Sure enough, the handholds and footholds he had singled out and watched obsessively all evening were enough. He hauled himself up and onto the mountainside above the overhang, stopping every few moments to look back at the griffin. The sun was sinking rapidly, but in the gloom he could still see its great bulky shape on the ledge.

  He climbed upward, heaving himself across rocks, ignoring the pain in his arm. Going downward was impossible. That only led deeper into the griffin’s territory. The only way out was over the mountain and down the other side. He had to try. It was his only hope.

  The sun finally disappeared behind the mountains to the west as he reached the peak, and he stopped there to rest. In spite of the cold, he was sweating. His wounds stung, and dirt clung to his skin. But he forced himself to get up again and headed for the downward slope of the mountain, and home.

  The stars started to come out.

  Eluna was the first to see their destination on the horizon. “There!” she called.

  Arren woke up from his doze. “What?”

  Eluna beat her wings a few times and angled her tail, turning herself toward it. “Rivermeet,” she said simply.

  It took a while longer to complete the journey. Arren watched the village approach. It had taken a day and a half to get here from Lansdown, and by now he found he was much more confident in the sky. He couldn’t stay frightened forever. It was simply too exhausting. And he had begun to appreciate how complex and beautiful everything looked from above. He was glad. His fear of heights had always been a secret source of humiliation for him; what sort of griffiner was afraid to fly? It was just good luck that his job hadn’t required him to travel much; if anyone had found out about it he would have been a laughingstock. And he knew Eluna didn’t like it, either.

  Nevertheless, his stomach lurched when they began their descent. He closed his eyes and held on until Eluna’s paws hit the ground with a sudden bump, and then he straightened up, sighing in relief.

  People were running toward them as he dismounted. Eluna started up instantly, hissing and opening her beak wide. Arren put his hand on her neck and watched the villagers approach warily. But in spite of their fear of Eluna, there was an eagerness about them, and an urgency, too. They stopped at a safe distance and watched him, afraid to come closer.

  Arren surveyed the rows of faces. “Who’s in charge here?”

  Silence, and then a middle-aged man came forward. “No-one, really, sir, but thank gods you’ve come. We were starting to think—never mind. Welcome to Rivermeet.”

  Arren nodded to him. “Thank you. I’m Arren Cardockson, and this is Eluna.”

  The man bowed. “Roderick Kennson. I’m the local reeve. Sir, may I ask . . .”

  “What is it?” said Arren.

  Roderick looked at him, then scanned the sky. “Sir, why have you come alone?”

  The question caught Arren by surprise. “Because I’m all they sent,” he said. “Why, is there a problem with that?”

  There was another silence, and then Arren noticed a small huddle of people at the back of the crowd. They were trying to comfort a woman who was crying.

  Roderick followed his gaze. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said in a low voice. “The beast took another victim last night.”

  Arren went cold. “How many people has it killed?”

  “Seven, sir. Two of them were only children.”

  “Oh gods. I’m so sorry. I would have come sooner, but I only just—well, I was asked to come and deal with it only a few days ago. I flew here as fast as I could.”

  “It’s all right, sir, we don’t blame you. Please, come with me. We have prepared rooms for you and your griffin. You can rest from your journey, and then I will tell you anything you want to know.”

  Arren nodded and started to remove Eluna’s harness. “Thank you.”

  He allowed Roderick to lead him through the village toward his lodgings; the crowd parted to let them through, like water flowing around a stone. He could almost feel their hopeful gazes fixed on him. But he could also hear the soft sobs from the woman grieving for her lost husband. It made anger boil inside him.

  His lodgings turned out to be at Roderick’s home. Eluna had been provided not with a stable to sleep in but an old storeroom, which had been filled with hay and even decorated with dried flowers and carvings. It almost made Arren sad when he saw it.

  His own quarters were equally grand; everything was scrupulously clean and decorated, and the house’s occupants surrounded him the instant he appeared, asking him if there was anything he wanted or whether anything was unsatisfactory.

  Arren couldn’t bring himself to tell them that they were overdoing it just a bit. They probably thought it was a sacrifice for a rich griffiner like him to stay here. It was quite embarrassing, but he did his best to look as grateful as he felt.

  He wanted to get down to business straightaway, but Roderick insisted that he get some rest first, and he had to admit that he needed it. He’d spent a very long time in the air and he was still slightly dizzy. His knees kept wanting to fold up.

  Once he’d emptied his pockets and put the few things he’d brought with him down on the table in his room, he took his boots off and flopped down on the bed. It was wonderfully soft, and he relaxed almost at once. I’ll just have a quick lie down, he thought.

  A short while later he was asleep.

  7

  Out of the Blue

  “Sir? Sir! Sir, are you in there?”

  The shouts and thumping from outside woke Arren up. He opened his eyes and blinked, puzzled. Everything was gloomy, and the shapes around him were unfamiliar.

  “Sir!”

  The voice recalled him to his senses. He sat up. “Yes? What is it?”

  “Sir, can I come in?”

  Arren got up off the bed and stretched. “Yes, go ahead.”

  The door opened and light streamed in. It was Roderick, holding a lantern and beaming. “Sorry to wake you up, sir, but I just had to come and get you.”

  “What’s going on?” said Arren, squinting at him.

  “Something wonderful, sir,” said Roderick. “The man who was taken the other night has come back. He’s alive.”

  Arren started. “He’s—”

  “Yes, sir. He walked all the way back from the griffin’s lair. You should probably talk to him, sir; he could tell you some things you need to know.”

  Arren was already pulling his boots back on. He did up the laces as fast as he could and then snatched up his cloak. “Show me where he is,” he commanded.

  He woke Eluna before they left the house; she was irritated to be disturbed, but she came with him anyway, hissing to herself.

  The man was in the street, not far away from Roderick’s home, being embraced by his family. Dozens of people had gathered, and the air was full of their loud, joyful voices. Roderick hurried on ahead, shouting, “Out of the way, everyone, the griffiner’s come!”

  People moved aside to let Arren and Eluna get to the man, who turned to see them approach. He was pale, his clothes torn and filthy and stained with blood, and he started nervously when he saw Eluna, but he looked well enough.

  “Arren Cardockson,” said Arren. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right.”

  The man bowed to him. “Thank you, sir. My name’s Renn, sir.”

  Arren was impressed by how in control of himself he looked. “I’ve come to deal with the griffin that took you. Please, can you tell me anything
about it? How did you escape?”

  “It kept me in its lair,” said Renn. “Wouldn’t let me leave. I waited until it was asleep and then ran.”

  Arren blinked. “What? You mean it just—” He paused. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be asking questions now. We’ve got to get you inside and have your injuries looked at. How d’you feel?”

  “I’m all right, sir,” said Renn. “But if I could just go inside—I need something to drink.”

  His wife grasped his hand. “Come on, Renn. We’ll get you home. If you don’t mind coming along, sir, I’m sure you can ask your questions once we’re there.”

  “Not at all,” said Arren, glancing at Eluna. She didn’t look overly bothered; she was watching Renn curiously, and when they set out she went ahead of Arren, evidently keen to hear what the man had to say.

  They were led to Renn’s home and Arren went inside; it was a modest dwelling, but clean, and the main room was nicely warm. Eluna had to stay outside, her head poking through the window.

  Renn’s wife sat her husband by the fire and removed his tunic in order to have a look at his wounds. There were several deep slashes in Renn’s upper arm, and his chest was punctured with the unmistakeable marks of talons. Arren had seen plenty of injuries like this in the past and had received a few himself.

  “So, tell me,” Arren said, while Renn’s wife set about cleaning and dressing her husband’s wounds, “what happened? Start from the beginning.”

  Renn shuddered and winced. “Well—” He accepted some water from his wife and drank it in one swallow. It seemed to revive him a little. “Well, I was out in the field seeing about a broken fence, you see, sir, and I knew I had to be careful not to stay out too late, but I lost track of the time. I started heading back, but the sun went down and I couldn’t see too well—hadn’t brought a lantern with me.” He stopped to drink another mug of water. “And—and I was pretty close to the village, I remember, when I heard this noise. Like a sort of rushing, sir. And then the next thing I knew there were big sharp talons wrapped around me and I was—well, flying. I couldn’t see much, but I could feel my arm bleeding, and it hurt like mad. I tried fighting back, but the thing was just too strong. It was like being in a vice. I could hardly breathe. Don’t know how long I was in the air, sir. A while. The moon was up by the time we got there.”

  “Where did it take you?” said Arren.

  “Into the mountains, sir,” said Renn. “Ow! Damn it, that hurt! Sorry, sir. It wasn’t very far into the mountains, sir. Right on the edge. The griffin took me into a valley—couldn’t see it then, sir, but I saw it the next day. There’s an overhang in the side of the mountain; that’s where it lives. It just dumped me in there and left me. I tried to run off, but it wouldn’t let me. Just dragged me back. I stayed there all night, sir. Didn’t know what to do. My arm was hurting and it was cold as anything, and I was stuck there. I think I slept a while. Next thing, it was dawn, and the griffin was still there. Wasn’t doing anything. It was just sitting there and watching me.”

  Eluna nudged Arren’s shoulder and muttered to him in griffish.

  Arren listened. “She wants to know what it looked like and how big it was.”

  Renn glanced at the white griffin. “It was bigger than her. Much bigger. It had black fur on the back end, and silver feathers up front. The talons—they were huge. Longer than my hand. It just kept looking at me, sir. Like it wanted something. I don’t know why it didn’t just kill me. It must have been waiting until it was hungry—oof!” His wife had suddenly flung herself on him and was embracing him tightly. He held her, a little awkwardly. “It’s all right, love. I’m fine. Ouch.”

  Arren held back a smile. “So how long were you there?”

  “Most of the next day, sir. The thing had—there were bones, sir. In the lair. Human . . . bones.” Renn shuddered. “I—I recognised some of them, sir. The clothes, I mean. It’d carried them all back there and eaten them. There were just bones, scattered everywhere.”

  “But the griffin didn’t try to kill you,” Arren muttered. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, sir,” said Renn. “It just watched me. And once it came up to me and just . . . sniffed at me, sir. Like a dog, almost. Nudged me with its beak a bit, and then backed off. I hit it once. Picked up a bone and whacked it. It screamed at me, but it didn’t bite me or anything. Just dragged me back again, sir.”

  “I’ve never heard of a wild griffin doing that,” said Arren, which was broadly true. He’d never heard about wild griffins doing anything, in fact, but he wasn’t going to admit it. “So how did you get away?”

  Renn shrugged a little wearily. “It fell asleep in the end, sir. I climbed up over the mountain and got out of there before it woke up, sir. That’s when I found out it was right on the edge of the mountains, sir. There were paddocks right on the other side. So I just walked home.”

  Arren whistled. “You’re a lucky man, Renn.”

  “I know, sir,” Renn said quietly. “Oh, I know.”

  “It’s odd, though. I wonder why it did that? I’ve never known griffins to hoard food.” Arren looked at Eluna.

  The white griffin paused in the act of preening one of her wings and blinked slowly, thinking. “A griffin does not store food,” she said eventually. “We will eat carrion, but a kill is eaten at once. The hunt . . . makes you hungry.”

  “But could it have just been teasing him?” said Arren. “You know, toying with him?”

  “A young griffin might,” said Eluna. “But this one is my age, at least. Old enough not to risk losing food by keeping it alive.”

  “What did she say, sir?” said Renn’s wife.

  Arren looked at her. “Uh, she said that as far as she knows, griffins don’t keep prey alive, and only the very young play with it. Hunting should have made it hungry. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Renn shuddered and scowled. “You’re here to kill it, aren’t you, sir?”

  “Yes, if I can.”

  “But is there only one of you here, sir?”

  “Yes. I just arrived.”

  “If—” Renn’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry if this is rude or anything, sir, but where are the others?”

  “The others?” said Arren.

  “Yes, sir. Shouldn’t there be other griffiners here to help you, sir?”

  “What makes you think that, Renn?” said Arren. He was beginning to feel uneasy.

  “There’s been problems with wild griffins here before, sir,” said Renn. “The last time it happened I was just a boy, but I remember it. A wild griffin was taking cattle, sir, so the reeve sent a message to Eagleholm. A few days later, three griffiners showed up. They were older than you, sir. They stayed here a while, asking questions and making plans, and then they flew off together one morning, sir. They came back with the griffin’s tail for a trophy. Said they’d found it in its territory and killed it, sir.”

  “I remember that,” his wife said suddenly.

  “Anyway,” said Arren, “I’ve been assigned to do this and I’ll do my best. Now that Eluna has an idea of where it lives, she can track it down.”

  “We trust you, sir,” said Renn.

  But Arren wasn’t sure if he trusted himself. Now he was here, and hearing about this griffin first-hand from one of its victims, he was feeling less and less certain by the moment. Back in Eagleholm, when he’d told Bran and Gern about his mission they had been impressed and confident. Neither of them had had any doubt that he could do it, and that had boosted his own confidence. Now, though, his certainty was beginning to drain away, and he started to think that perhaps he was in over his head. What am I even doing here? he thought suddenly. I’m an administrator, not a hunter!

  “I’ll do my best to make sure your trust is well placed,” he said smoothly. “Now”—he stood up—“I’ll leave you to rest. I think you’ll be fine. You’re a strong and brave man, Renn. No doubt I’ll be telling your story back at Eagleholm for years to come.”

  “Thank you,
sir,” said Renn.

  Arren left the house with Eluna. “So, what did you think of that?” he asked her.

  Eluna shook her head with a quick, darting motion. “I think that tomorrow we shall find this griffin’s territory and fight it, and we shall win.”

  That cheered him up a bit. “But how will we do it?”

  They walked in silence for a time, both thinking deeply.

  “I’ve got a plan,” Arren said at length. “How about we find a place to perch, somewhere near to its territory. You call out a challenge, and when it comes flying to attack us I’ll loose an arrow at it. If I time it right, it should be all over in moments. We won’t even have to go near it. How does that sound?”

  Eluna listened. “It sounds like a good plan,” she said. “Have you got the poison?”

  “Yes; there should be enough to coat at least three arrowheads. I think I could do it in three tries. And if that doesn’t work—”

  “If you do not bring it down, I will,” said Eluna. “I will fight it in the air.”

  “You shouldn’t.”

  Eluna’s beak snapped shut an inch from his neck. “Do not tell me what to do!” she rasped.

  Arren jerked away instinctively. “No! No, look, please, calm down, that’s not what I meant. I was just—well, it would be dangerous.”

  She hissed at him. “You think I am afraid?”

  “No, no, not at all. I just don’t want you to be hurt, that’s all.”

  Eluna looked amused by this. “So, it is not me who is afraid. It is you.”

  “Yes,” Arren said simply. “If you were hurt . . .”

  She raised her head proudly. “I am not afraid. I must fight. A griffin who does not fight is worthless. A coward survives, but a coward does not live.”

  “Yes, but there’s a difference between being a coward and just being sensible.”

  Eluna snapped her beak. “To fight is to live. And I will fight to protect you.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” Arren muttered. “I shouldn’t have got you into this, Eluna.”