The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (28 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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She coughed again. “Need . . .”
“Elkin, I cannot do this forever,” he said. “You are ill because you have pushed yourself too hard.”
Elkin squinted; her eyesight was poor at the best of times, but now the griffin was fading in and out of focus as she watched. It made her feel nauseated. “Had . . . work to do,” she managed. “Prepare the . . . important . . .” She slumped. “Please.”
Kraal sighed, his warm breath ruffling her hair. “I will, but you must promise that you will rest more after this.”
Elkin managed a nod.
Above her, the big blurry shape that was Kraal breathed a white mist toward her. She lay still and let it touch her and vanish into her, cooling her and soothing her aching limbs. After that she dozed briefly, and when she woke up she was clearheaded.
She sat up, and this time there was no dizziness or nausea. The strength had come back into her limbs, and she could breathe without pain.
She sighed. “Thank you, Kraal.”
The white griffin regarded her solemnly. “You will be fine for now, but do not strain yourself. The sickness will return, and if it does you must recover from it yourself. The more I heal you, the worse the sickness will be when it strikes you down again. Sooner or later, it will return so powerfully that you will die before I can help you.”
Elkin climbed out of bed. “I know. I promise I’ll be more careful.”
“See that you are. Now prepare yourself.” Kraal turned and loped back into his nest, tail swishing.
Elkin hastily began to dress herself, her mind already abuzz with other, more urgent thoughts. First there were those documents to read, after that she had a consultation with the Master of Building, and then at noon there was a meeting of the entire council at which they would choose a Master of War for the first time in decades. And if she didn’t keep a clear head, if she made the wrong choice . . .
They couldn’t fight against
Kraeai kran ae
without a Master of War. All Elkin knew about warfare came from books. She still had her father’s sword but had never had the strength to wield it. The Master of War had to be someone who could fight.
She felt another cough rise up in her throat and stifled it behind her hand.
I can’t get sick,
she thought, almost panicky.
Not now! There’s no
time.
Fortunately the cough turned out to be an isolated one, and she finished dressing and left her chamber. Kraal met her in the audience chamber, and they went to begin the day’s work.
The sickness might have been fended off for the time being, but it left a lingering weakness behind. By the time Elkin had finished her meeting with the Master of Building she was already exhausted, and there was still half a day left to go.
She ate a small lunch, with only Kraal for company. Even chewing felt like hard work.
“I wish Erian was here,” she murmured aloud. “I miss him.”
Kraal shifted. “I am glad that he is not.”
Elkin looked up in her surprise. “Why?”
“Because he must reach the Island of the Sun as quickly as he can and find what he needs to fight
Kraeai kran ae
,” Kraal rumbled. “And because you cannot afford to have him here to distract you.”
Elkin reddened. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen.”
He pressed his head against hers. “I am glad that you found a mate, Elkin. Every creature needs one. But humans allow mating to override all else and interfere even with matters of life and death.”
Elkin stared at her plate. “Yes . . . I suppose you’re right.”
He was, she thought as she finished eating. Humans were notorious for letting their hearts rule their heads. Once she had laughed at stories of ancient heroes killing themselves over the death of their beloved and wars being fought over the possession of one woman. But now . . . She sighed. Poor Erian. He was just an overgrown boy, really—with that freckled face and snub nose and the awkward way he carried himself, as if he was unaware of his wide shoulders and big hands. Still content to walk around with his head in the clouds, in spite of the heavy responsibility that had been placed on him. But that was just his way, and despite herself she knew she loved him for it.
A servant opened the door at that moment, and she shook herself. No time for dreaming.
The councillors’ chamber wasn’t far away, and she and Kraal reached it in plenty of time for the meeting. The other members of the council were still arriving, and Elkin took her place on the dais with Kraal to wait while they filed in—the Master of Law, the Master of Taxation, the Master of Learning, the Master of Healing, the doddering old Master of Diplomacy and a handful of others picked for their intelligence and experience.
They solemnly took their places in a circle around Elkin’s dais, while in the gallery above, ordinary griffiners came to watch the proceedings.
Once all were settled, Kraal screeched for silence, and Elkin could speak.
“My lords and ladies, griffins and griffiners,” she said, the echo in the chamber helping to carry her voice to every ear. “We are gathered here in council to discuss the need to appoint one of our number as Master of War, to be the general we will need in this time of war and danger.”
As she spoke, she watched the faces of the councillors, reading their expressions with practised ease. She could see their discomfort, mixed in many cases with doubt or suspicion. Few of them had even gone to watch Arenadd’s execution, and Elkin knew perfectly well that many of them had been openly sceptical about the story, and the need to appoint a Master of War and build up an army again. Well, she had no reason to try to persuade them just yet. They trusted her enough to do as she commanded without question.
“I have spoken to the candidates,” she continued, once the formalities were done, “and made a list of three who I believe would be best for the post. However, before I make my final decision I must consult the council.”
“Who are your candidates, my lady?” asked the Master of Law.
Elkin took the list from her sleeve. “The first is Lady Malla, currently your assistant and in command of the city guard. I feel that her experience in the arts of command would be invaluable. What is your opinion?”
Shrae, the Master of Law’s partner, spoke out. “I do not think that Malla would be a good Master of War.”
“Why is this so?” Kraal rumbled.
She lowered her head toward him. “Ratch, her griffin, is too weak.”
There was a stirring among the assembled griffins; calling another griffin weak was a deep insult.
Kraal showed no surprise or anger. “Why do you say this, Shrae?”
Shrae flicked her tail, dismissing the anger around her. “I have seen him. He has hidden it, but he is ill. I believe it is a problem in his lungs. Even if he recovers, he will not be able to use his magic again.”
“Can any other griffin confirm this?” said Kraal.
“My human can,” said Shrae.
Lady Lerran nodded. “Malla is my niece. I visited her recently, and her partner is indeed sick.”
Elkin frowned. She had liked the young Master of Guards. If her griffin was as ill as that—and Lerran would be unlikely to tell a lie that would stop her own relative from being given such an important post—then Malla would probably lose even her current position. A weak griffin was almost as bad as a dead one.
“Then we’ll move on to the next candidate,” she interrupted.
“Yes, my lady.”
Elkin consulted the piece of paper. “The next on the list is Lord Rhyl. He’s young but an accomplished swordsman, and Kael, his griffin, is very powerful in magic. Both of them have studied warfare and are keen to be appointed.”
There was a murmuring among the humans.
“What magic does Kael have?” a griffin asked.
“Her power is ice,” said Kraal. “I have spoken with her and witnessed it myself.”
“And how well does she control it?”
“She is well practised,” Kraal said.
Nobody tried to argue with that.
“I can vouch for Lord Rhyl,” said the Master of Learning. “I myself helped to provide him with books on battle strategy. He has been interested in the subject since he was a boy; he once told me his greatest dream was to lead an army into battle.”
Elkin smiled slightly. “Maybe we can make that dream come true. I’ll speak to him again, and tomorrow he will come before the council.”
“And who is the final candidate?” asked Lady Lerran.
Elkin consulted her notes again. “The final candidate is Lord Dallin . . .”
As she read out the details for the candidate, a sudden flurry of movement from the councillors’ seats made her look up. One of the griffins had made a quick half-turn, nearly upsetting the bench behind her, and an instant later Elkin saw why.
Lord Dahl, Master of Taxation, had collapsed, falling forward off his seat and onto the floor, where he was lying crumpled.
The Master of Healing was quick to react. She ran to her friend and turned him onto his side, shouting as the other councillors darted toward her, “Keep back! Give him room!”
Elkin stepped toward the edge of the dais while the healer checked Lord Dahl’s pulse and breathing. No-one else dared do anything.
Finally, the Master of Healing looked up. “He’s dead,” she said quietly.
In that instant, Dahl’s griffin lifted her head to the ceiling and screamed. Up in the gallery, the spectators began to shout and screech.
Elkin stepped off the dais. “Dead?” she exclaimed. “How?”
“I don’t know, my lady.”
There were shouts from behind, and Elkin turned sharply, in time to see the Master of Learning falter and then fall.
Lady Lerran stepped toward him. “He’s—” She stopped, her face suddenly pale. She gasped and groaned, turning toward Shrae for support before she, too, collapsed.
The Master of Healing ran to her and her colleague, but an instant later the verdict came back. “Dead! Both dead!”
Elkin felt herself go hot, and then cold. She stumbled back onto the dais, instinctively pressing herself against Kraal. “What’s happening?”
Kraal drew back, half-covering her with his wing. “I do not know.”
Screams came from the humans in the gallery, and everything seemed to slow. Elkin stood, paralysed, unable to do anything but watch as three more councillors toppled. Two more quickly followed, one as he was running for the door in a panic. In the space of less than thirty heartbeats, more than half of her council died before her eyes, without a sound or a warning.
Only the Master of Healing, still untouched, managed to keep her head. She checked the bodies, one by one. “Poison,” she said. “It’s got to be poison. There’s not a mark on any of them.”
The surviving councillors had pulled away, hiding behind their griffins, keeping well back from the mourning griffins, some of whom began to attack each other in their fury and despair.
Kraal, seeing them, pushed Elkin aside and screeched.
“Enough!”
When they paid no attention to him, he came down from the platform and ran at them, scattering them like a flock of chickens. Most fled; one or two actually tried to attack him, but all of them quickly gave up and flew away, through the portals in the roof.
In the silence that followed, Elkin stepped toward the cowering Master of Healing. “I don’t understand,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “How could it be poison?”
“It must be, my lady,” came the reply. “There’s no other explanation I can think of.”
“Is there a poison that works that quickly?”
The Master of Healing sat silent for a few moments, rubbing nervously at her nose while she thought.
Her griffin interrupted. “Viper’s Tears.”
The healer’s face lit up. “Yes! Yes, it has to be that.”
The name was unfamiliar to Elkin. “Viper’s Tears?”
“The fastest poison we know of, my lady,” said the healer. “It must be taken through the mouth. The victim dies moments after it takes effect, just the way we saw—no noise, no struggle. There’s almost nothing that kills as quietly as it does.”
Elkin blanched. “But who could have done this? And how?”
“I don’t know.”
Kraal returned to the dais, stiff legged and bristling, seeming twice as big as before in his rage. “Come,” he said harshly. “Elkin, come, now.”
She went to him. “Kraal, something terrible has happened. I have to—”
“You are in danger!” he said. “Elkin, do you not see what this means? Half of your council has been poisoned. The Eyrie has been infiltrated, and you will be a target. We must not stay here.”
Elkin nodded. “Yes, you’re right as always. Karmain, I want you to alert the Eyrie. Tell Lady Malla and the guards. Have every tower searched high and low, question everybody who’s come into contact with the food the councillors ate, and if there’s a way of testing for Viper’s Tears in food, use it.”

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