The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) Page 5

  Kraal sighed. “Do not move.”

  Erian held still, wincing. “I don’t know if I can travel like this.”

  The Mighty Kraal opened his beak wide and breathed out. Soft, pure white light came from his beak. It touched Erian’s shoulder, and a moment later his entire arm felt warm as sunlight. He sighed with pleasure, and as the light vanished he realised the pain had gone.

  He flexed his arm experimentally. Still no pain. “What the—”

  Elkin smiled at his bewilderment. “Don’t worry. He’s healed you. Take the bandage off and see.”

  Erian ripped it away. Sure enough, the wound had gone. A fresh pink scar remained to tell the tale. “Gryphus’ talons!”

  “You should be very grateful,” said Elkin. “He doesn’t do that for most people.”

  Kraal regarded him serenely. “Now you have nothing to hinder you. Senneck, take your human back to the Eyrie and rest. You must leave tomorrow.”

  “I shall,” said Senneck. “Erian, come.”

  He left the temple with her, unable to find anything more to say. Once they were outside he got onto Senneck’s back and held on as she flew away. His mind was so crowded that he missed most of the short trip, and he was glad to be back in his own room.

  Light-headed with shock, he stumbled over to the little desk. There was a note on it.

  He picked it up and squinted at the words.

  Lord Erian,

  Your sister has arrived and is waiting for you in the audience chamber.

  Skade and Skandar hid together in a little copse not too far from Malvern’s walls, and rested. Skandar seemed content to lie on his belly and doze, leaving Skade to do the worrying. She climbed up a tree in a few easy bounds, her claw-like nails gripping the bark, and perched high in its branches to watch for danger. Everything seemed quiet.

  Now she was in sight of the hated city, she found herself confused. What should she do next? How could she get in?

  She tried to think, struggling to use a part of her mind that had never been important before. Despite her human shape and the emotions that had come with it, she was still a griffin at heart, and griffins did not plan. That was what humans were for. They were the ones who plotted and schemed; griffins acted.

  The trouble was that she had no-one to help her decide how to act. If Arenadd was here . . .

  But he wasn’t here, she reminded herself. He was in danger, and it was up to her to plan.

  She looked down at Skandar. There was no way he could go in there. Even if no-one in the city knew what he looked like—and they surely would—the other griffins there would recognise him as an outsider immediately. And if he couldn’t give a good reason for invading their territory, he would be torn to pieces.

  Maybe she could go in. Nobody knew about her, did they? She could pretend to be another human. Humans didn’t use scent to tell where you were from, did they?

  She shredded bark with her claws, trying desperately to decide. How did humans know? They didn’t seem to use smell to recognise things, and they didn’t have plumage. Most of them looked the same to her. How did they work among themselves; what were their rules?

  She wrestled with these mysteries a while longer and finally gave up with a hiss of frustration. It was no good; she couldn’t work it out at all. If she was going to do this, she would have to take the risk of making a mistake and hope for the best. If she needed to, she knew she could fight.

  But once she got into the city, what would she do next?

  Growling with frustration, she jumped down out of the tree and went to see Skandar. The big griffin hadn’t moved. As she got closer to him, her skin prickled. Something was wrong.

  “Skandar,” she said. “Are you well?”

  No reply. Skade walked around him, looking for some clue. His eyes were closed and he sat very still, head drawn in close to his body. She could hear his slow, rumbling breaths. He didn’t look to be in any distress, but something about him made her uneasy.

  She sniffed the air, feeling her body tense instinctively. Only one thing could make her feel this way. Magic. She began to back away within an instant of realising it. Once she was at a safe distance, she turned and ran up another tree.

  Her actions took no thought at all; a human would have stayed to watch or tried to ask questions. But Skade knew magic as only a griffin could; that knowledge was written into her very being. One did not stay near a griffin when he or she was using magic, especially when that magic was unknown. Anything could happen.

  Safe in the treetop, she looked down at Skandar, who was just visible through the leaves. He didn’t look to have moved at all. What could he be doing? Did he even know? He had never struck her as very intelligent, or as knowing much about his own powers.

  She looked out over the plain that lay between her hiding place and Malvern’s walls.

  And saw something moving.

  She slid back down the tree at top speed and ran out onto the plain, stopping to squint at the shape. It came on, straight toward her—it was human! A lone human, sprinting for the trees. A moment later she saw why, when an arrow shot past it and stuck in the ground.

  The human didn’t stop running. He put his head down and sped up, zigzagging to avoid the arrows coming at him. They couldn’t all miss him, and as Skade watched he jerked and stumbled, crying out.

  She knew that voice.

  “Arenadd!” She ran toward him, but she was overtaken by something huge.

  Skandar charged past her, massive paws thudding. Arenadd went straight to him, taking shelter under his partner’s wings. Turning back, Skandar herded him to the trees, with Skade close behind.

  Arenadd didn’t slow down, even with the arrow sticking out of his back. He ran into the copse, tripped and fell headfirst, landing with a thump and an unearthly scream.

  Skade ran to him. “No!”

  He rolled over and curled into a ball, swearing incoherently. His right hand spasmed, trying to cover his left, which he held close to his body.

  Skade knelt by him and tried to comfort him with touch. “Arenadd, I am here. Please be still. You are safe.”

  He relaxed, panting. “G-gods . . . help me, someone is going to burn for this.”

  Skade glanced over her shoulder; Skandar was there, huffing aggressively and looking for pursuit. “You must get up,” she said. “We are not safe here.”

  Arenadd pulled himself into a sitting position. “Skade! Thank the—what are you doing here?”

  “I came to find you, of course,” she said.

  He frowned at her. “I gave myself up to get you out of there, you daft woman. What were you thinking, coming back again?”

  She hissed. “You are mine and I will not live without you. You know that.”

  He softened. “Are you all right?”

  “I am not hurt. But you—” Skade caught his left arm, trying to see the hand. “What have they done to you?”

  “I’ll be all right,” he said. “I just landed on it, that’s all. No, look, just leave it alone, all right? Can you pull that thing out of me?”

  She inspected the arrow. It was embedded in his upper back, but it didn’t look like it had gone in too deeply. “How do I remove it?”

  “It’s easy,” he said, wincing. “Just pull, and wiggle it from side to side. Don’t worry about me; just do it quickly, or we’ll both end up looking like pincushions.”

  She gripped the shaft and pulled hard. Arenadd cried out but twisted his shoulder forward to help. She moved the shaft around as she pulled, and it worked: the point came free, and she hurled the bloodstained thing away.

  “Thanks.” Arenadd got up. “Argh.” He looked down. “You know what?” he said. “I really hate arrows.”

  Skandar lumbered over and shoved him roughly with his beak. “Human come back now,” he said. “Come find you.”

  Arenadd gave the griffin an awkward one-armed hug. “I couldn’t have made it here without you, Skandar.”

  Skandar did not look
pleased. “Human leave!” he said, his black tail swishing angrily from side to side. “Leave mountain. Human run away.”

  “Yes, I did,” said Arenadd, unsmiling. “To rescue Skade.”

  Skandar shoved him again, even more roughly. “Not go without me. Never go without me. Human never go alone, never! You my human, you stay with me.”

  “I had to do it alone,” said Arenadd. “If you’d been there, they would have killed you.”

  “Not kill!” Skandar screeched. “I kill! No human kill dark griffin, no griffin kill dark griffin. Am dark griffin. Am one who kill. Not be killed.”

  “You didn’t want to go,” said Arenadd. “You wouldn’t let me leave. That’s why I ran away, Skandar. That’s why I left you behind.”

  Skade snarled at Skandar. “Your choice was right, Arenadd. I did not think that your partner would care for me.”

  “Listen,” Arenadd said sharply, cutting through the argument that looked about to start. “I’m not going to say I know what’s right or that I made the right decision. All I know is this: whatever we do, we do together. Always.”

  “Together!” Skandar agreed.

  “All of us,” Arenadd growled. “All three of us.”

  Skandar huffed disgustedly. “Human need mate for eggs. Keep her until egg come. I not need such long time!”

  Arenadd’s mouth twisted as he suppressed a laugh. “Exactly. A male’s not a male unless he fertilises a few eggs, is he?”

  Skade didn’t smile. “We have no time to waste here. They will be coming.”

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” said Arenadd.

  They were indeed coming, and Skandar had spotted them. He drew himself up, preparing for a fight. “You, no problem,” he snapped. “Enemy come now, and I fiiiight!” The last word was a screeching cry, hurled out over the plain at the oncoming men.

  There were only a handful of them, and they were disorganised and apparently leaderless. When they saw the monstrous dark griffin step out of the trees, screaming a challenge, they stumbled to a halt and backed away. Skandar came on, rasping threats and taunts. None of them looked likely to fight back, and the dark griffin probably would have attacked and killed them all anyway, if a sound from overhead hadn’t made him look up.

  Arenadd and Skade, staying safely among the trees, heard the screech from the sky. “Griffins coming,” Arenadd muttered. “Damn it! We could have handled humans without much trouble, but—”

  Skandar loped back toward them. “Come, now,” he said. “Not fight here. Too many.”

  “You’re right,” said Arenadd. “Shall we fly?”

  Skandar crouched low. “You, come,” he said. “We fly in shadow.”

  Arenadd climbed onto his back at once, and Skade leapt up behind him. Skandar didn’t complain. He stood up and walked off.

  Behind them Skade could hear their pursuers catching up. “Skandar, we must fly quickly,” she called. “If you are struck in the air, Arenadd and I shall fall!”

  Skandar ignored her. He sped up into a lope, then a run and then a charge. Skade held on to Arenadd for dear life as they were both bounced up and down.

  “I’m slipping!” Arenadd yelled. “Skan—”

  Skandar leapt, straight forward and into darkness.

  For Arenadd, the journey through the shadows with Skandar was like using his own newly discovered gift—but a hundred times more powerful. This wasn’t mere shielding. He clung on to his partner’s back, feeling the massive strength beneath him; and despite the icy cold, despite the fact that he couldn’t see anything around them but black void, he had never felt so powerful in his life.

  But it was humbling, too. For the first time he was beginning to see the full extent of Skandar’s power. It had brought him back from death, and now it was taking them all to freedom.

  Unseen in the darkness, Arenadd began to smile. They had the power, and soon they would have a plan. The Night God’s will would be done, and he and Skandar would take everything the world had denied them for so long.

  Anyone who stood in their way would die.

  5

  The Half-Breed

  Erian and Senneck arrived at Elkin’s marble audience chamber and found not one but two people waiting. Two people, and two griffins.

  The woman who came forward to meet him looked older than he remembered, and worn. She wore her light brown hair in a braid, and her eyes were as blue as his own. A young grey griffin followed by her side, clicking its beak nervously.

  The woman held out a hand to Erian and smiled. “Erian. For a moment I thought you were our father!”

  Once Erian might have smiled back at her, but all he saw in that moment was the bundle in her arms. “Flell. Why did you come here?”

  There were lines around her eyes now; they deepened as she looked at him. “There was nowhere else to go. Eagleholm’s a ruin. I had to come and join you.”

  Erian looked past her to the other person in the room. “You! What are you doing here?”

  A burly, bearded young man gave him a grin that, to Erian, looked insufferably smug. “Nice t’see yeh again, Erian.”

  Erian drew himself up. “That’s Lord Erian, you lowborn thug.”

  “An’ that’s Lord Branton Redguard to you, Bastard,” the man said, taking a step closer toward the red griffin that sat beside him.

  Erian stared in outright horror. “You, a griffiner?”

  The red griffin gave a yawn calculated to cause as much offence as possible. “This man is my human,” she said lazily. “I have brought him here, with Thrain and her own human, who is his mate.”

  “His—” Erian turned to Flell. “You, with him?”

  Flell looked steadily at him. “Bran is my husband.”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” said Bran. He put his arm around her. “After all, a man’s gotta look after his own blood.”

  Erian’s eyes flicked to the bundle. “I see.”

  Flell held up the infant inside for him to see. “Our daughter. She was born on the journey.”

  Erian saw the tiny face, the eyes milky blue, looking myopically up at him. He could have been looking at any baby in its mother’s arms, but he knew he wasn’t—even before he saw the wispy hair on the head, already as black as sin.

  If his disgust showed on his face, Flell pretended not to notice. “Your niece,” she said, cradling the child to her chest. “Her name’s Laela. Laela Redguard.”

  Erian had never been more furious in his life. “What are you doing here?” he almost shouted. “What are you doing here in this room, pushing that thing in my face? Have you gone completely mad? Do you have any idea what’ll happen when people find out—”

  “That’s enough, Erian.” Flell spoke quietly, but her voice cut across his. “No-one is going to find out. Laela is Bran’s daughter, and that’s all there is to it. All we want is a new home, and we need your help.”

  “Why should I help you?” said Erian.

  “Because you’re my brother,” said Flell. “You’re the only family I have left, apart from Laela. And why would you turn your own sister away?”

  Erian opened his mouth to retort, and shut it again when he saw the trap he was in. Damn her! “Fine,” he growled. “I’ll try and persuade Elkin to give you a place here.”

  “Thanks a lot,” Bran’s rough voice interrupted. “Glad t’have yeh as my brother-in-law.” The grin returned, full of insolence.

  Erian resisted the urge to punch it. “But you’re going to stay out of my way, understand?” he said. “And you’re going to keep that—that half-breed brat out of my face. If the truth about this ever gets out, to anyone at all, I’ll disown you.”

  If Flell was finally going to shout back at him after that, none of them ever found out. The griffins started up suddenly, and everyone there turned as Kraal and Elkin arrived.

  The red griffin and the until-now-silent Senneck instantly bowed their heads to their massive elder. He stood over them, focusing his attention on the red griffin. �
�I do not know you. What griffin are you?”

  “I am Kraeya, hatched at Eagleholm,” she said, without looking up. “And this is my human, Branton Redguard.”

  Kraal had seen Thrain as well. “And who are you, little one?”

  Thrain looked up at him. “I am Thrain,” she chirped. “My human is Flell.”

  “More newcomers,” Kraal summarised. “Elkin, speak with them.”

  She waited to receive them, hands folded into the wide sleeves of her gown. Flell and Bran both stood in front of her and bowed respectfully as they introduced themselves.

  “Ah!” she said on hearing Flell’s name again. “I remember that name now. You’re Erian’s sister, aren’t you?”

  Flell, who was a head taller than the Eyrie Mistress, nodded. “It’s an honour to meet you, Lady Elkin.”

  “And who’s this?” Elkin added, looking at the child. “Erian never told me he had a nephew!”

  “Niece.” Flell smiled. “This is Laela.”

  Elkin glanced at Erian. “You must be very proud.”

  “Of course.” Smiling at that moment was sheer agony, but he forced himself to keep going. “Lady Elkin, my sister and her husband are looking for a home. After the disaster at Eagleholm, they have nothing left. They came here to ask me for help.”

  “Oh, I would never turn away the daughter of Lord Rannagon,” Elkin said at once. “Or a child without a home, for that matter. Of course you can stay. Perhaps they can use your rooms while you’re away, Lord Erian.”

  “They’re welcome to them,” said Erian, through gritted teeth.

  “Wonderful! Go on, then, why don’t you, and get yourselves settled. You must be tired after your journey.”

  Bran bowed to her again. “We won’t forget this, milady. Me an’ Kraeya never had an Eyrie, so we’ll swear ourselves to yeh. I’m sure yeh can find a use for us.”

  “We shall be honoured,” Kraeya said gravely.

  “Thank you,” said Elkin. “I’ll have a message sent when the proper arrangements have been made.” She nodded, dismissing them all, including Erian. “I will see you later,” she said, every bit the gracious lady. “Oh, Erian?”