The Dark Griffin

by K J Taylor

  “It is not your fault,” said Eluna. “I was the one who killed the man. I was the one who agreed to come here. If I must fight, then I will.”

  “I won’t stop you,” said Arren, knowing he couldn’t even if he wanted to.

  “And this wild griffin will learn the meaning of justice,” said Eluna.

  Arren ate dinner with Roderick and his family; it was plain but well cooked, and he ate heartily. The journey had given him a very large appetite. Eluna was given an entire side of beef to eat, and she tore into it enthusiastically as soon as it was placed in front of her. When Arren stepped in to visit her before he went to bed he found her sleeping soundly in her nest of hay, surrounded by scattered bones. He smiled to himself and left quietly.

  His own bed welcomed him, and he stripped down to his trousers and got under the covers; he hadn’t brought a nightshirt with him, and in any case he was used to sleeping in his clothes. His back ached, and when he stretched he felt it crack. Even after more than seven years, it still hurt from time to time. Perhaps it never would completely heal.

  He didn’t realise he’d fallen asleep until the screaming woke him up.

  He jerked awake and climbed out of bed almost before he knew what he was doing. The scream split the air again. It wasn’t human, he realised abruptly. It was a griffin’s voice.

  Arren pulled on his tunic and boots and grabbed his bow and arrows. He found the little bottle of poison on the table and stuffed it into his pocket. The light of dawn was coming in through the window, and he heard the griffin screech again.

  He ran out of the room as fast as he could go, tripping over his unlaced boots. “Eluna! Eluna!”

  She burst into the corridor, all bristling fur and feathers. “Arren!”

  The screech rang out again. Eluna flattened herself to the ground slightly. “Come!” She turned and scrambled away. Arren ran after her, and the two of them barrelled through the front door of the house and out into the street.

  The sun was rising. Overhead the sky was dark blue, still dotted with stars, and the sun was a yellow line spread out over the horizon. The light was pale, painting everything in unreal shades of grey. Arren barely paused to take this in. He looked straight upward, and his stomach lurched when he saw the dark shape circling high above.

  The screech split the air yet again. Everywhere people were appearing, running out of their houses to look up at the distant shape of the black griffin.

  Renn was there, and hurried toward Arren, his face rigid with terror. “It’s come!” he yelled. “It’s come back to find me!”

  Arren put his hand on Eluna’s shoulders. She was trembling.

  “Go back inside,” he said harshly to Renn. “Now! All of you!” he added, turning to address the people in the street. “Go inside! Get out of sight! Now, damn it! I have to be the only person it can see! Otherwise it can choose who to go after!”

  The people obeyed; he watched them run off in a disorderly scramble, doors slamming shut behind them. Overhead, the black griffin continued to circle. It had ceased its calling.

  Arren was amazed by how fast his mind was working. “We’ll call to it,” he told Eluna. “It’ll come after us. We’ll pull it after us, get it out of the village, out into the fields.”

  Eluna didn’t reply. She lifted her head and screeched. “Eluna! Eluna!”

  Arren raised his head, too, and screamed his own name at the heavens.

  He thought he saw the black griffin pause in its circling. Then it screamed back. There were no discernable words there, just a long, harsh screech, like an eagle’s. Arren paused at this; he’d never heard a griffin’s cry that sounded like that. But as the black griffin began to descend and he began to run away out of the village, toward the fields, a thought flashed across his mind: this griffin had no name.

  The black griffin followed them as they ran. He could see it flying lower, homing in on him as Eluna had done back in Eagleholm.

  Arren vaulted over a fence and ran on, through the dewy grass of an empty field. Eluna leapt after him and ran on ahead, still screeching her name. The black griffin flew lower. It was preparing to dive on them.

  Arren stopped when he was well away from the village, in an isolated, open spot where the black griffin couldn’t fail to see him. Eluna crouched beside him, and the pair of them continued to call their challenge.

  The black griffin took the bait. Arren saw its circles getting tighter as it singled him out. He unshipped the bow from his back and strung it as fast as he could. The cork in the bottle of poison seemed to take forever to come out; once he’d pulled it out and stuffed it in his pocket, he took an arrow from the quiver and dipped it in the liquid. It came out dripping, and he put the bottle down on the ground beside him and nocked the arrow onto the bowstring. His heart was pounding so hard it made his head spin. Would it be enough? It had to be enough; it had to—

  The black griffin folded its wings and dived. Arren looked up to watch its descent, and his mouth fell open. It was coming so fast.

  He forced himself not to panic. Just keep calm; keep still; don’t loose the arrow until the moment is right. Think of it as a giant archery butt. Just don’t panic.

  The black griffin was getting closer by the moment. Every moment he could see more of it. See the huge front talons, pointed straight at him. See the silvery feathers and the mottled wings, pointed backward like arrows. The beast filled his vision, huge and horrible. Its beak was slightly open, and he could see its eyes, big and silver, staring straight at him.

  “Arren!” Eluna screamed.

  He loosed the arrow.

  It hit the black griffin square in the chest, embedding itself among the feathers. The griffin jerked suddenly in the sky, and Arren’s heart leapt. But the griffin’s dive did not stop. It continued to fall straight toward him, faster and faster. He panicked and ran, dropping his bow, but the black griffin only angled itself to follow him, skimming low over the grass. He could feel its presence looming over him, and terror ripped his chest apart. The poison wasn’t working. It was coming for him; it was going to get him.

  There was a low, dull thud, and a scream, and then he fell. He was running so fast that he nearly flipped over when he hit the ground. The impact knocked all the breath out of him. He struggled upright almost at once, turning to look, and suddenly realised that the black griffin was not coming after him any more. It had fallen to the ground and was lying there, trying to get up.

  Arren looked around for Eluna. And then he saw her, not far away from the other griffin. She, too, was on the ground; he could see her wings flailing as she struggled to recover herself. He ran toward her.

  The black griffin had stopped moving. It was lying on its belly, wings and legs limp. Its eyes were still open, but as Arren neared it the beast let out a weary sigh and let its head drop. Its eyes slid closed.

  Eluna was still trying to get up. Arren crouched by her side. “Eluna!”

  The white griffin’s head turned toward him and she lashed out, hitting him in the chest. Arren fell over backward, hitting the ground so hard that his vision flashed red for an instant. He was nearly knocked out, but managed to get up again. His chest hurt horribly. He struggled back toward Eluna, calling her name. The griffin was twisted awkwardly, her hind legs turned sideways as if her back was broken. But she managed to gather them beneath her and tried to lever herself upright. One foreleg pushed at the ground, but the other didn’t move, and she fell back, hissing.

  As she rolled over onto her side, one foreleg reaching out for something to grip, Arren saw the blood on her chest.

  He felt his heart freeze inside him. “Eluna!”

  This time she did not lash out when he came to her. She lay still, making a horrible rasping sound. Her eyes were glazed, and he could see the blood soaking into the ground beneath her, and into her feathers, turning white to red.

  Arren knelt by her, reaching out to touch her. “Eluna—oh gods, no.”

  Eluna tried to get up once
again, but flopped back onto the ground. The blood was still coming, more and more of it. Arren touched her chest, very tentatively, and when she only jerked briefly he pulled the feathers aside to look at what was underneath.

  “No!”

  Eluna’s chest had been ripped open, right down the middle. White, shattered ribs were poking through the bloodied flesh, and the wound extended down to her foreleg, exposing the bone there, too. Blood was pouring out of it. Too much blood.

  Arren pulled off his tunic and tried to staunch the flow, but the moment he touched the wound, Eluna screamed. Her head arched back and her beak opened wide, letting forth a loud, awful screech of agony. Her legs and wings trembled convulsively, and then her head suddenly dropped.

  “Help me!” she cried, her voice garbled and panic-stricken. “Arren! Help!”

  Arren grabbed at the wound, pulling the edges toward each other to try to close it. It moved a little, and he snatched up his tunic and tied it around her neck, binding the injury shut as well as he could. But blood began to soak through the fabric almost instantly, and Eluna’s movements slowed. She lay on her side, her throat pulsating with each desperate breath, eyes half-closed. “Arren,” she whispered.

  Arren looked up, toward the black griffin. It lay still, eyes closed, the arrow sticking out of its chest. Its front claws were outstretched toward him, and he saw the blood on them. It was only then that he realised what had happened. Eluna had flung herself in the way.

  People were coming already. He was vaguely aware of them running toward him over the field, calling out to him.

  Arren sat down beside Eluna, lifting her head. “Eluna, please, Eluna, just breathe, just—”

  Eluna’s eyelid twitched, but she said nothing.

  Arren looked up as people ran past him. They were making for the black griffin. Many of them had knives and sticks.

  “Stop!” Arren yelled.

  They paused and looked back at him. “What is it, sir?” said one. Renn, he realised. He saw Eluna and came to Arren. “Oh my gods, your griffin—”

  “Don’t kill it!” Arren shouted at the people. “Leave it alone! I said leave it alone! That’s an order, godsdamnit!”

  They withdrew, confused and sullen. “Why, sir?” said Renn. “It’s killed people. It’s hurt your griffin, it—”

  “Go and get some ropes,” Arren snarled in a voice that didn’t sound like his own at all. “I want you to tie its legs together. And its wings. As many ropes as possible. Don’t let it escape.”

  “But sir—”

  “Now!”

  They ran away, stung by the rage in his voice. Arren didn’t watch them go. He stroked Eluna’s face. “Eluna? Eluna, can you hear me?” The wound wasn’t bleeding any more, and hope rose inside him. She would be all right. She would survive, she would—

  Eluna’s beak opened slightly, and she whispered something.

  “Eluna?” said Arren. “Eluna, please, just stay awake. Say something.”

  The white griffin’s eyes closed. “Arren,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “Open your eyes! Eluna, just—”

  Eluna’s tail twitched. Her head moved, ever so slightly, and then fell back. Her beak was open, and a little blood trickled out of it. Then, a few moments later, her entire body stilled. She let out a low, soft sigh, and then she didn’t move any more.

  Arren patted her neck. “Eluna! Eluna!”

  Nothing. No response. Nothing but silence. Arren felt for a pulse. There wasn’t one.

  “Eluna!”

  Something wet splattered onto his face. He touched it and realised it was a drop of rain. More of it started to fall. It brought a fresh, green smell with it.

  The people had returned. They had brought ropes, and they swarmed over the black griffin, tying its legs and wings and binding up its beak. It lay there, motionless except for the heaving of its sides, not knowing that its freedom was being taken away from it forever.

  Arren watched without seeing. He was vaguely aware that there was blood running down his chest, but he felt no pain. He stayed where he was, cradling Eluna’s head in his arms, and when people came to him and asked him if he was all right he didn’t answer.

  8

  Taken Sky

  The rain helped to wake the black griffin. He opened his eyes—slowly and with a great deal of effort—and found he was lying on his side. He was cold; his feathers were soaked. There was a pain in his chest, and his forelegs hurt. He tried to get up, but found that he couldn’t. His legs were tied together, and his wings as well. Thick, strong ropes were holding him down; more ropes bound his beak shut.

  Terror shot through him, icy cold and smothering. He began to struggle wildly, pulling on the ropes with all his might, but they would not break. A strange weakness and lassitude filled him and he slumped back onto the ground, gasping for breath. He couldn’t breathe properly with his beak tied shut, and the air whistled painfully through his nostrils.

  He lay still for a while, taking in his surroundings. He was lying in a field, very close to the human village. There were humans there, standing not far away and watching him. Many were holding sharp objects in their paws. The black griffin hissed warningly at them, and some of them drew back slightly, but they did not run. They knew he was helpless.

  The black griffin began to struggle again, trying to move toward them. His legs were still pinioned together, and he began to jerk his entire body, trying to drag himself over the ground. But his hind legs had been tied to his forelegs, and to his wings, and more ropes were attached to stakes driven into the ground. He could not move in any direction, and the more he struggled, the tighter the ropes became. He felt his skin break suddenly; hot blood trickled down over his back paws.

  The black griffin slumped back, groaning softly. The rain continued to fall, running in rivulets down his flanks. Dull fear burned inside him. He was trapped. He couldn’t fly, couldn’t walk, couldn’t fight, and the humans were there and watching him, free to do whatever they wanted to him. Would they kill him?

  He stretched his neck upward, straining to look ahead, toward the village. The white griffin was lying there, not far away from him. She was dead. He could see the massive wound his talons had torn in her chest. The human was there with her, the one he had chased. It was cradling the dead griffin’s head against its chest and staring straight at him.

  The black griffin looked back, some of his fear giving way to curiosity. This human was different to the others, in more ways than one. The fur on its head was black instead of brown, and the cloth that covered its body was unfamiliar, too. It had not run when he had swooped on it, but had stood firm and faced him. And there had been a griffin with it. Standing by its side. And when he had chased after it, intent on snatching it up off the ground, the griffin had flown at him. She had attacked him, to defend the human.

  And now she was dead and the human was holding on to her body. The black griffin did not understand why. She was dead. What good would it do?

  The humans around him were looking toward the one by the dead griffin, as if they were expecting it to do something. The human seemed unaware of them, but then it suddenly stood up and walked away, leaving the white griffin’s body lying where it was. The black griffin watched it go, and once again the strange feeling arose in his throat, that feeling of a scream trying to escape. But he could not make a sound.

  Arren didn’t speak to anyone. He jumped over the fence again and re-entered the village, making for the nearest house. There was a shed attached to it, and he shoved the door open and went inside. He paused a moment to scan the rows of tools, then picked up a shovel and left. People had followed him to the shed and were watching him curiously, but he ignored them and returned to the field where Eluna lay. The black griffin was still there, fighting pointlessly against its bonds. People were poking at it with sticks to torment it, and the creature tried to lunge at them, hissing.

  “Leave it alone!” Arren snapped at them. They glanced at hi
m and desisted, though reluctantly.

  Arren turned away. He paused a moment, looking down at Eluna’s still form, and then thrust the shovel into the ground by her head and began to dig.

  People gathered around him.

  “Sir?”

  “Sir, you’re hurt, you should be resting.”

  “Please, sir, let me do it.”

  Hands tried to take the shovel from him. Arren jerked it back. “No!”

  “But sir—”

  Arren continued to dig. “Get wood,” he muttered. “Build a cage. For the griffin.”

  “But why, sir? Weren’t—shouldn’t we kill it?”

  “I will take it away,” said Arren. “It won’t bother you any more. Now get the wood.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Arren didn’t watch them go. He continued to dig, not noticing the splinters digging into his hands, or the pain of the wound in his chest. The rain continued to fall, turning the dirt to mud even as he shovelled it aside. It dripped red off his tunic and turned him cold all over.

  He did not stop digging until he had created a large, deep hole, and then he finally threw the shovel aside and returned to Eluna’s side. The white griffin’s body had gone cold, and her feathers were stained with blood and dirt.

  Arren crouched beside her and did his best to smooth down her coat. She wouldn’t want to look dirty and bedraggled ; she’d always hated rain—

  He stopped suddenly, choking back a sob. For a moment he sat still, shuddering, but he managed to control himself again. He lifted Eluna under the shoulders, wrapping his arms around her mangled chest, and began to drag her toward the hole. She came slowly, her wings and legs dragging, head bouncing gently on the ground. Arren fell into the hole and pulled her in after him. She landed on top of him, nearly squashing him, but he struggled out from beneath her and began to arrange her body, gently folding her legs in under her belly and curling her tail around her body. He pulled her wings over her like a shroud, and lifted her head in his hands. “Here,” he whispered to her. “You can sleep here, Eluna. You’re safe now.” He kissed her beak and pulled a feather from her neck. “I’ll come back. We’ll meet again, Eluna. I promise.”