The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (39 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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Erian shook himself and went after her. It didn’t matter what the symbol was; he had important things to do.
Behind him, the sun shone into the cave. It illuminated the sunwheel, filling its simple lines with shadow. The other symbol, though, stayed in darkness.
It was a triple spiral.
 
 
T
he cave didn’t look like anything much, at least on the surface. It was small and low-ceilinged and vaguely round, lined with jagged rocks. Someone had painted images on the walls, but time had faded them to little more than shades of brown and grey.
There was a hole in the centre of the roof, and the risen sun shone through it. It seemed to glow with an otherwordly light, turning everything it touched to gold, and when Erian saw it he knew. This was where the sun touched the earth.
Without even knowing what he was doing, he took his sword from his back and laid it down in front of the heap of rocks where the sun glowed. Then he knelt before it, bowing his head.
“Gryphus,” he murmured aloud. “I’m sorry I doubted you. I
know
this is your home. I
know
it is. This is where you wanted me to go. Gryphus, guide me. Help me. Show me the way to destroy the Cursed One. If I am
Aeai ran kai
, your chosen warrior, then give me the power I need to win this struggle. Give me the weapon, so that I can confront
Kraeai kran ae
and put a stop to his evil forever. Gryphus, I am yours. Please, help me. Give me the weapon and I swear I will use it to do your will. Gryphus, please answer me . . .
Help me
.”
He kept his head bowed once his prayer was complete, and waited. He knew he had already said everything he had to say, and done everything he had been asked to. Now all he could do was wait for Gryphus to answer him.
But no reply came.
Still, Erian waited.
After a long moment, he dared to look up. Nothing had changed, but the sunlight looked somehow brighter. Or perhaps he was only imagining it.
But nothing had happened. Gryphus had not answered his prayer.
Erian let out a low, miserable sigh. He opened his mouth to say something else, but in that moment he saw movement, and froze. Something was up on the rock heap, something alive.
“Gryphus?” he breathed.
The thing moved again; he could hear scrabbling at the rock. Then it appeared, rising over the top like the sun rising over the mountain, silhouetted in black against the light.
It was a rabbit.
Erian, seeing the little animal pause to comb its ears, groaned aloud.
The rabbit froze for an instant as it saw him, and then bolted. It leapt from the top of the rock heap and ran past Erian, toward the cave entrance, in a blind panic. Erian turned and saw it bound across the floor before Senneck rose up from beside the entrance and pounced. She flicked the rabbit upward with her talons and caught it in her beak, and then swallowed it in a single go.
Erian relaxed. “What in Gryphus’ name was that thing doing in here? Oh, who cares? Senneck, I—”
Senneck didn’t seem to hear him. She sat back and scratched her throat with her talon, gulping slightly as the rabbit went down. And then she stopped dead. Her eyes went wide with shock, and she sat there, one forepaw still raised.
“Senneck?” said Erian. “Are you all right?”
The brown griffin stood up abruptly, planting her paws well apart on the floor. There was a rigidity about her that looked strangely familiar to Erian, but her eyes had a fixed, staring quality about them. She opened her beak, and a horrible gagging noise came out.
Erian stepped toward her. “Senneck! Oh no! What’s happening? Senneck, are you choking? What should I do? Senneck!”
Senneck looked straight through him. She took several jerky steps forward, toward the rock pile, beak still wide open. She certainly looked as if she was choking; the sick sounds from her throat grew louder and harsher, until they had an almost metallic edge to them, and she kept her neck stiffly extended and her beak open, saliva dripping from its tip.
Erian was panicking. He wanted to help her, but he didn’t know how, and he knew that if he came too close while she was distressed she could attack him. But he had to do something.
“Senneck! Senneck, please . . .”
Senneck stopped. She made another strangled rasping noise and then began to rock gently back and forth, tail lashing. A faint gold light appeared around her body and then grew brighter and brighter, unbearably, until it outshone the sunlight coming in through the roof.
Erian gaped and then wisely dived for cover as the light gathered itself in Senneck’s throat.
He hit the floor and covered his head with his arms as the light shot from her beak, and a heartbeat later a blast of pure gold seared into his eyelids and he was consumed by heat.
The sound of it was indescribable. A rushing and roaring, like fire but a hundred times louder, mingled with a high sound like a voice singing a single note. A hot metal smell burned in Erian’s nose, but behind that there was another scent—a sweet, wild, wonderful scent that made him think of Elkin and Senneck and a warm home full of love and children running about him.
The light grew more and more intense, covering him like a blanket of flames. He felt as if it was burning him alive, turning his entire body to ashes. But, strangely, it didn’t hurt.
The roaring grew louder . . .
Erian was terrified, and yet, somehow, somehow he loved it. The light filled him with a hot passion, like lust or hate or joy—some powerful emotion that could change the world. He felt as if it was killing him, but he loved it, wanted it,
needed
it, and nothing else mattered, nothing . . .
When the light and the heat began to die, he wanted to scream or cry. It was over. It was gone. He was alone.
He came back to his senses to find himself lying on his face on the cave floor, shivering and sobbing. The light was gone, and so was the heat. Everything was as it should be.
He dragged himself to his feet and tried to see.
“Senneck?”
His voice sounded shaky and not like him.
He staggered forward.
“Senneck?”
She was lying in front of the rock heap, breathing slowly. Erian went to her side to see if she was hurt, but as he reached her, he stopped and looked stupidly around.
The cave floor was covered in flowers. They were everywhere, growing in all different colours, fresh leaves and bright blooms reaching up to his ankles.
“What?”
Erian decided to ignore them for the moment and crouched by Senneck, touching her neck. She was warm and alive, and her eyes were half-open.
“Senneck,” he said. “Wake up. Please, wake up.”
She opened an eye very slowly.
Erian rubbed her head with his knuckles. “Senneck. Can you talk to me? Are you all right?”
It took a lot of effort, but the brown griffin finally roused herself and got up. She shook herself vigorously and looked at him. “Erian,” she said, and her voice sounded tired but wonderfully normal.
“Senneck.” Erian sighed in relief. “What in Gryphus’ name happened?”
She was looking around at the flowers. “Where did these come from?”
“I don’t know. Senneck, what happened to you? What did you do?”
She shuddered. “I do not know. I know I used magic, but I do not understand why or how. I did not intend to use magic; I felt as if I was compelled to do it. But it was so powerful . . . a hundred times stronger than my own. I have never used such magic. Erian . . .” She looked at him. “I did not hurt you?”
“I don’t think so. Senneck, do you know what that magic did?”
“I think it created these flowers,” said Senneck. “But I do not think that is what it intended to do.”
“Intended?”
“Yes.” Senneck bit nervously at her flank. “I know that magic was not mine, and that it used me. But what for, I do not know.”
Erian looked ahead of her, toward the rock heap. “You cast it this way,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “It must have gone here.”
He walked forward, keeping himself in line with her body. Close to the rock heap, he nearly tripped over something buried in the flowers.
It was his sword. He lifted it out and clutched it tightly by the hilt. “Thank Gryphus; I completely forgot about it. Wait . . . Senneck!”
She came to see. “What is it?”
Erian turned the sword over to show her. The hilt looked the same, but the blade did not. It was covered in strange markings: odd rippling shapes, like water or wood grain.
“I don’t remember them being there before,” he said.
Senneck leant down and tapped the blade with her beak. “I know those markings. The sword was in the path of my magic,” she said.
“What d’you mean?” said Erian.
“When an object is touched by magic, these marks appear upon it,” said Senneck. “They show that magic has passed through it, infused it. Nature stores magic, but sometimes a griffin passes that magic on into something else, usually by accident.”
Erian looked at the sword a moment longer. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and hugged Senneck tightly around the neck.
She nibbled at his back. “Erian? What are you doing?”
He let go and looked her in the eye. “Thank you, Senneck. You’ve done it.”
“What have I done?” she asked blankly.
“You’ve created the weapon,” said Erian. He touched the sword. “And it’s this. My father’s sword. You’ve made it magical, Senneck. Gryphus put his power into you, and you used it to do his will. This sword can destroy
Kraeai kran ae
.”
Senneck blinked. “Are you certain?”
“Yes,” Erian said immediately. “I’ve never been more certain in my life. This is why you came with me, Senneck. So you could make the weapon.”
She thought about it for a moment. “I do not know if I have created anything. But that magic was outside of my control, and who can say what it may have done?”
“Look,” said Erian. “
Kraeai kran ae
has magic, doesn’t he? That’s what keeps him alive. This sword is full of magic now, Gryphus’ magic. Good magic. It can destroy
his
power. Why else would Gryphus have given it to you? To us? So we can kill him! Don’t you see?”
Senneck paused for a long moment. “Perhaps you are correct,” she muttered. “It does not matter whether your god is real. The sword is infused with magic now.” She broke off suddenly and then made a hacking, coughing sound that was probably a griffish laugh. “So you have your magical sword after all, Erian Rannagonson.”
Erian’s eyes were wide and fanatical. “Yes,” he breathed. “And I can destroy him with it. And I will. Oh, I will. I’m coming,
Kraeai kran ae
. I’m coming, Shadow that Walks. And when I find you, you’re dead.”
24
 
Fatherhood
 
A
fter the massacre of the griffiners in the Governor’s Tower, it hadn’t taken long for the rest of the city to fall under Arenadd’s shadow. Goaded on and led by Saeddryn and the others, the local people who had already been secretly won over to Arenadd’s side had risen up and attacked the city guard. Others had joined them—some of them brave men and women swayed by Arenadd’s message, and others merely criminals with scores to settle. Arenadd didn’t care which was which; followers of any sort were welcome. And followers were what he found in Fruitsheart . . . by the hundreds.
Once Saeddryn had led them to the tower and occupied it with their help, Arenadd went out into the city with Skandar and led the attack on the nearest guard stronghold. If Arenadd had been expecting anything when he and Skandar appeared down in the streets, it was not this.
People recognised them easily enough; he heard them shouting his name as he passed, and Skandar’s, too. But when he reached the guard tower and the mob that surrounded it, what followed shocked him.
The people nearest the back of the mob saw him first. Some moved away to hide, but the others stayed where they were, staring at him as if they could hardly believe their eyes.
Arenadd inclined his head toward them, a little awkwardly. “My name is Arenadd Taranisäii,” he said, in Northern. “And this is Skandar. We’ve come to help.”
There was silence, and then a man came forward. Arenadd touched his sickle, but the man did not attack. He stood for a moment, and then fell to his knees.
As if that was a signal, dozens of others threw themselves down at Arenadd’s feet, abasing themselves as if he was an Eyrie Master, none of them saying a word.
“Get up,” Arenadd said uncomfortably. “Please, get up. We have work to do.”
The nearest of them obeyed, and the others followed. Then the man who had knelt first spoke.

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