The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (55 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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Iorwerth and Saeddryn came to him in what seemed no time.
“Sir, what’s goin’ on?”
Arenadd shoved one of the chicks into her hands. “Here, hold on to the little bastard, will you? We’re being attacked. There’s griffins coming from the South—Malvern, for sure. They’re still a fair way away—Skandar saw them in time—but there’s a lot of them, I know that much. And they’re almost certainly carrying more firebombs—probably worse. Iorwerth, you and Kaanee must lead the attack in the air. Saeddryn, you’ll organise the defenders on the ground, the way we discussed—is the water ready?”
“Yes, sir,” said Saeddryn.
“Good. Iorwerth, go and get ready, and for the love of the Night God be quick about it. I want our griffins in the sky immediately. Go on, stop gawping at me and go!”
Iorwerth dashed away.
“Sir, what are ye going t’be doin’?” said Saeddryn.
“I have to take the chicks to the wine cellar, where they’ll be safer,” said Arenadd. “After that, Skandar and I will fly out together, the way we planned.”
“Yes, sir,” said Saeddryn. “I’ll get to work. Good luck, sir.”
“I don’t need luck; I have the Night God on my side,” said Arenadd. “But good luck to
you
, Saeddryn Taranisäii.”
She smiled briefly, pleased to be called Taranisäii, and thrust the chick back at him before running away.
Arenadd, knowing how urgent the situation was, sprinted down the corridor. Fortunately his head seemed to be clearing; maybe it was panic, or some gift his powers had given him, but the hangover didn’t feel so bad now.
Down in the wine cellar, he opened a trapdoor into a little chamber he had already fitted with straw bedding, food and water, and put the chicks into it.
“Stay here,” he told them. “You’ll be safe here, and I’ll come back and let you out after it’s over.”
The chicks looked up at him with resentful eyes, but he shut the trapdoor on them and hastily weighted it down with a spare barrel or two just in case.
Someone had left a jug of cider on a nearby shelf. He paused to take a strengthening gulp from it, and ran out of the cellar.
The tower was a hive of activity. People were running in all directions, carrying weapons and armour, shouting orders, some pausing to take a few bites of breakfast. As Arenadd passed, many of them called out to him, asking him to bless them with the Night God’s grace and protection. Some even reached out to touch his robe, as if that would give them some of the power he had. Arenadd stopped to bless every one of them, touching their heads and murmuring.
The moment he was at the griffiner quarters, he dashed through the nearest door and onto the balcony. There, he cupped his hands around his mouth and called.
“Arenadd! Arenadd!”
It wasn’t long before Skandar responded. He called his own name and flew to his partner’s side.
Arenadd patted the griffin’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Skandar, your chicks are safe. Shall we go and kill some of those bastards?”
Skandar hissed and rasped, practically vibrating with anger. “Kill!” he said. “Kill now! Come, human! We fight!”
Arenadd climbed onto his back without another word. He had picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows on his way up; as the dark griffin took to the sky, he freed an arrow and nocked it onto the bowstring, balancing on his seat.
They weren’t a moment too soon. The approaching enemy were huge on the horizon: there were a hundred griffins at least. When Arenadd saw them, he groaned aloud. Malvern must have sent nearly every griffiner they had to attack him. How were they going to hold this lot off?
Anger hardened in his chest.
I am the Master of Death! I cannot be defeated! If they want to kill my followers, they will die!
Skandar knew what to do. He circled higher, following his fellow griffins. When griffins fought, height was the most important advantage. If they could be above their enemies, they could attack first and far more devastatingly, as they had already proved at Skenfrith.
Skandar, however, had other plans. As the attackers drew nearer, he broke away from the flock of unpartnered griffins flying over Fruitsheart and flew toward the enemy, screeching his name over and over again in a mocking challenge.
In the bright blue of a morning sky, the dark griffin was instantly visible and instantly recognisable. A perfect target for the griffiners from Malvern, who had come to Fruitsheart specifically to find the dark griffin and his human and destroy them both.
It worked. The bulk of the griffiners swept into the city, but at least twenty of them ignored their orders and broke away from their fellows to pursue the two rebel leaders.
Skandar waited until they were close and then flew away. Straight toward the rest of the flock now flying into the city. He folded his wings and slipped through a gap, leaving his pursuers to fly into their allies, scattering them. An instant later, the unpartnered attacked.
Skandar continued to drop until he was a hair’s breadth away from the rooftops of Fruitsheart. His wings opened and he swooped up toward the attacking griffins. On his back, Arenadd loosed an arrow. It hit one of the griffins carrying a firebomb—a ceramic pot full of flammable oil, which was meant to be lit before being dropped onto the city. The griffin dropped out of the sky with his unlit burden, which smashed harmlessly on the roof of the Sun Temple.
The unpartnered were under strict instructions. They attacked the enemy griffins, aiming for the ones who carried firebombs, intent on killing them before their humans could light the deadly missiles. Meanwhile Skandar shot past directly below them, while Arenadd loosed arrow after arrow, frequently hitting his targets thanks to the fact that they were so tightly bunched together.
It was a cunning tactic and one that killed a good number of the firebombers, but some of them survived. Leaning over as far as they dared, they lit the cloth plugs of the firebombs with burning coals they carried in special fireproof pouches, and their griffins released them over the city. Some of them landed harmlessly in the street or failed to catch fire, but some of them hit their targets. When they did, they exploded.
Fire blossomed into the sky, yellow-orange and beautiful.
Fortunately the Governor’s Tower had been built to resist this kind of attack, but Arenadd knew the city was suffering, and he cursed internally as Skandar angled his wings and banked sharply upward to attack the rest of the enemy flock.
After that, there was nothing but fighting.
Skandar attacked with all the mad ferocity that was his nature, rushing past enemy griffins with his talons spread to cause as much damage as he could, sometimes grappling with one of them in midair and tearing at them with his beak. Arenadd, for his part, did plenty to help. He loosed arrows at every griffin that came within range, and when they were fighting at closer quarters he drew his sickle and hacked at them and their riders.
Despite the success of these tactics, and despite the number of attackers who died during those first few moments, the defenders were still outnumbered. At least twenty enemy griffins broke away from their flock to attack the archers on the wall around the tower and on the balconies of the building itself. Arenadd’s human followers did their best, but they had been hastily trained and organised, and few had ever fought in open combat before, least of all against fully trained griffiners.
Worse, the griffins did not take long to begin using their magic.
One of them swooped low over the ramparts, spitting fireballs at the hapless defenders and killing a good number of them. Another, small and fast, circled over the tower and breathed a column of blue light, which instantly froze a knot of archers solid. As if this was a signal, the griffins still in the sky—both enemy griffins and the unpartnered—began to unleash their own powers. Some, lacking powers that were useful in combat or perhaps simply wishing to conserve their energy, continued to rely on their beaks and talons.
A gust of wind nearly as powerful as a hurricane blasted into a group of unpartnered, sending them pinwheeling through the sky. Arenadd saw another griffin send out a wall of force that knocked away those who were snatching at his neck and wings, though whether it was an enemy or one of the unpartnered he couldn’t tell.
The unpartnered fought back doggedly, using any and every power they possessed that could hurt their enemies. Arenadd saw griffins fall out of the sky with their wings consumed by fire. Others died more gruesomely.
He saw a large tawny-brown griffin with a human on his back fly past a bunched pack of enemy griffiners. As he passed the griffiners he released a thin line of silvery light from his beak, straight at them. Wherever it hit, it had a devastating effect.
Severed limbs fell away in all directions. In some cases, the light had cut through human and griffin in a single stroke. Dozens of griffins fell, horribly cut apart.
Arenadd looked quickly at the griffin that had killed them, and realisation hit him in an instant.
Kaanee
.
He had never realised just how powerful the leader of the unpartnered truly was.
The humans below were not faring so well.
Arenadd had kept most of his attention on balancing on Skandar’s back and aiming his arrows, but during a brief moment of rest he glanced downward and felt his stomach lurch. There were huge gaps on the walls where the archers had been wiped out and not replaced. The tower itself was little better; he could see smoke billowing out of at least one of the openings and an alarming number of corpses scattered on the roof and elsewhere.
“Godsdamnit, they’re being crushed,” he muttered. “Skandar!
Skandar!
”
The dark griffin, caught up in the midst of battle, didn’t seem to hear him. Arenadd tried yelling for a little longer, and when that didn’t get a response he finally leant forward and yanked at a handful of feathers.
Skandar lurched slightly in midair, his head half-turning to glare back at him.
Arenadd waved urgently at him. “Skandar! Skandar, we’ve got to go down!
Down!
Skandar!”
At first it seemed that Skandar wasn’t listening, but after Arenadd had repeated himself several times, he suddenly wheeled about and began his descent toward the tower. The enemy, seeing him, went in pursuit by the dozen. Arenadd could hear them screeching, and he fancied there was a note of vicious triumph in it: on the tower, he and Skandar would be sitting ducks.
Skandar touched down, a little too fast, making an audible thud. Arenadd was off his back almost the instant talon had hit stone, and they took up a fighting stance side by side, both looking up at their oncoming enemies.
Arenadd realised he had only a handful of arrows left, but that was more than enough. He loosed them as quickly as possible, not taking the time to aim them very precisely. Some of them hit their mark, and those that didn’t managed to scatter the diving griffins. Once his quiver was empty, he hurled the bow aside and drew his sickle.
“Wait for it,” he muttered. “Wait for it . . .”
Skandar knew. He crouched low like a wolf about to pounce, paws and talons spread wide in readiness. He kept his head turned upward, silver eyes narrow. Waiting.
The griffins came lower . . .
Arenadd could see the foremost of them now, talons open ready to strike, the human on his back holding on for dear life. It looked as if they were aiming for his throat, and they were coming so fast . . .
“Now!”
A mere instant before the griffin hit, Skandar and Arenadd both leapt.
The real world vanished in an eye blink, and cool, welcoming shadows embraced them both.
The oncoming griffin saw them vanish, but he had no time for more than a moment’s terror. A heartbeat later, he hit solid stone.
The impact sent shock waves straight through the griffin’s body. His outstretched forelegs took the full force. They shattered instantly, collapsing back into his chest. His beak struck the stone next, at an angle, snapping his head sideways and breaking his neck.
His human was thrown from his back and died almost instantly.
The rest of the attackers were only slightly luckier. Most of those at the front smacked into the tower like the first, some dying and others suffering crippling injuries.
Those who managed to save themselves were forced to land, angry and bewildered.
“Where have they gone?” one griffin screeched.
Above, the unpartnered were ready to carry out the next stage of the plan. They gathered together and attacked as one, driving the enemy down toward the tower-top, almost as if they were trying to herd them. A good number of them, thinking their comrades on the tower had cornered Arenadd and Skandar, went in the direction the unpartnered wanted for at least a short distance. The unpartnered continued to attack them from above for a few moments, but the enemy quickly began to drive upward again.
And then, inexplicably, the unpartnered fled. They broke off their attack and scattered, and the griffiners quickly spread out to chase them.

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