The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (9 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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Saeddryn relaxed. “Thank the Night God. I was so worried.”
Arenadd smiled. “No need to worry any more. Not unless you’re me, anyway.”
Rhodri and Davyn had helped Cai to gather the sticks she needed, and some strips of cloth would serve to hold them in place.
“I can start now,” she told her patient. “But I’m warnin’ ye, it’s goin’ t’be painful.”
Arenadd nodded stiffly. “Do it.”
Cai began her work. Arenadd made no sound; he clenched his jaw, and sweat beaded on his face. Annir sat close by him and held his other hand, and he leant on her for comfort. None of the others wanted to watch the gruesome process of straightening each bone before the splints were strapped in place, and Saeddryn quietly motioned them away with her to search for food. Skade went with them, and Skandar lay down by a tree and slept, apparently unconcerned.
By the time Saeddryn returned, the splinting was done and Cai was wrapping the bandages back over Arenadd’s hand. He looked even more haggard than before.
“Are ye all right?” Saeddryn asked.
Arenadd winced as Cai tied the end of the bandage down. “Gods, I would kill for a drink. But I suppose I’ll just have to wait.” He stood up. “Saeddryn, I need to talk to you. Alone.”
“Ye should rest,” she said gently. “Ye look about t’fall down.”
“Later. This is more important.” He walked out of the campsite, waving to her to follow. Skandar glanced up and rose to go with them.
Skade watched them go, narrow-eyed with suspicion, but stayed where she was.
 
T
he moment they were out of sight and earshot, Arenadd stopped. “Saeddryn,” he said. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
She stopped, too, standing close and facing him. “I know,” she said softly.
Arenadd looked away for a moment, his good hand rising compulsively to fiddle with his beard. “I’m going to be honest with you now,” he said. “Completely honest. And I know this is going to be hard to accept, but I promise you that it’s the truth.”
“I believe ye,” she said. Nearby, Skandar looked on with vague interest.
“I know you want a war with the Southerners,” said Arenadd. “A war with Malvern. That’s what your mother wants.”
Saeddryn nodded. “Ye know it all, Arenadd. T’fight is all we’ve wanted all these years. My whole life I’ve been raised to it. But we knew we couldn’t begin until the time was right. We needed more followers—needed
griffins
.” Her hands curled into fists. “That’s why we lost before.”
Arenadd nodded. “You wanted a war, and a war is what you’re going to have.”
“When we’ve got the right—”
“Now,” he interrupted. “It starts now. Here. Today. All I wanted to know was whether I had your support.” Arenadd turned to Skandar. “And yours,” he added, using griffish now. “Skandar?”
The massive griffin looked up. “What have?”
“War,” said Arenadd. “To fight the other griffins, and the pale humans. Do you want to do that, Skandar?”
Skandar opened his beak and made a low, ugly rasping sound. “Want fight! I kill, kill many, kill enemy! Kill human and griffin who hurt us. Take all territory, all for us! Fight!” He slammed one huge forepaw into the ground, talons ripping through the dirt.
Arenadd smiled darkly. “That’s what I thought. And that’s what I want, too.” He moved away, turning to look at both Saeddryn and Skandar. “War,” he said again, in a low voice. “I’ve made my mind up. No more running. No more hiding. I was a lost soul my whole life, and I didn’t even know it. But now I know the truth. Now I
know
who I am, and I won’t ever try to hide from it again. I’m going to start a war, Saeddryn, and I need you with me.”
She came closer. “To the death, Arenadd.”
“Then it’s decided,” said Arenadd, as if that settled it.
“Wait,” said Saeddryn. “I still need t’know how this is goin’ to go. Ye know we can’t just march out there. We need support—an’ not just a few hundred, we need thousands. We need good fighters, we need
griffins
. That’s the only reason we hadn’t started already. We failed before, Arenadd. Hundreds of us died. Our people haven’t forgotten that yet. I believe in ye, I do, but ye must tell me—what are ye goin’ t’do? What’s goin’ t’make it different this time?”
Arenadd stood tall, black eyes glinting. “This time you’ll have us.”
“We had a griffiner before,” Saeddryn pointed out, not unkindly.
“I’m not your mother, and Skandar isn’t Hyrenna. We have . . . a different power on our side now. The greatest power in the North.”
Saeddryn stared. “What?”
“We have the Night God,” Arenadd said softly. “She’s come, Saeddryn. She’s answered your prayers. She sent us. Both of us.”
She looked uncertain. “It’s good t’have faith, but . . .” Arenadd braced himself. “No. It’s not faith; it’s reality. Touch my neck.”
“What? Why?”
“Just do it. Here.” He lifted his chin, exposing his throat, and indicated a spot just below the angle of his jaw. “Put your fingers there, and tell me what you feel.”
She had already seen the ugly purple mark on his neck. “Sweet Night God, what’s that?”
“A rope mark. Just touch it, would you?”
Saeddryn did. “What am I meant t’feel for?”
“A pulse.”
She kept her fingers on the spot for a few moments, frowned and tried again on the other side. “That’s odd . . .”
Arenadd reached up and gently grasped her hand. “Don’t bother. There’s nothing there.”
Saeddryn looked bewildered. “What are ye talkin’ about?”
He looked tired, but steady. “There’s nothing there. Try all you like, but you won’t find anything. I tried every day for months. There’s no pulse.”
Silence.
“No heartbeat,” Arenadd said softly.
“But that’s—that’s . . . that doesn’t make sense. Everyone’s got a—”
“Not me.” Arenadd straightened up. “I’m not human, Saeddryn. I’m not alive.”
Saeddryn only looked at him.
Arenadd couldn’t take the tension any more; he began to pace back and forth, shoulders hunched. “I died the day after my twentieth birthday. Fell to my death. I shouldn’t be here at all. But Skandar was there. He found me; he was the only one there when I died. He used his magic on me. Brought me back. I look the same, I talk the same, but I’m not the same.” He stopped and looked at her. “I don’t have a heart. I don’t have a soul. They’re gone forever.”
He had been speaking griffish for Skandar’s benefit, and the griffin had been listening “Is true!” he said unexpectedly. “True, truth. Use magic, first time that day. Black magic, like black scream.”
“Magic the Night God gave him,” said Arenadd. “I didn’t know it at first, not until I came here—neither did Skandar. But on the night of the Blood Moon, when I killed that man—”
“She came,” Saeddryn rasped. “The Night God came.”
“Yes. I summoned her without even meaning to. She told me the truth then. Told me what I am. What Skandar is.” Arenadd seemed to age as he said the words. “I am the man without a heart. I am the Master of Death. I am
Kraeai kran ae
, the Cursed One. I am the Night God’s creature. I don’t have a life any more; the purpose she gave me is all I have left.”
“What purpose?” said Saeddryn, though she looked as if she already knew.
“To destroy her enemies. To free the North.”
To kill Rannagon’s children
.
“And I see,” said Skandar. “See too. Have dream. White griffin with one eye. She say, never leave dark human. Say, fight by side. Kill all enemy. Fight, and have all you want.”
“She said the same thing to me,” Arenadd told him. He smiled very slightly. “I never was happy except when I had power. So we’re going to take it now. All of it.” He looked at Saeddryn. “I thought I was cursed, but now I know the truth. It’s not a curse; it’s a blessing. I’m immortal, cousin. Unkillable. They hanged me today at Malvern—I
heard
my neck break. But here I am.”
Saeddryn said nothing. She had become very still.
“So you’ll get your war,” said Arenadd. “And when our people know what I am, they’ll come to us.
All
of them, every true Northerner in Tara will come. Skandar and I will crush the Southern scum like insects. Anyone who tries to stop me—
anyone
, even another Northerner—will join me in death.”
He fell silent, and at last Saeddryn moved. She took a stumbling step back, stopped and knelt at Arenadd’s feet. “Master,” she whispered. “Holy warrior. I’m sorry I didn’t recognise ye, I’m sorry.”
She looked up to see Arenadd reaching down to her. “Get up.” He pulled her to her feet. “You don’t kneel to anyone, Saeddryn,” he said sternly. “You’re a Northerner. We stand on our own two feet, or we die.”
She smiled hesitantly. “I always knew the Night God would help us one day. I knew she’d answer our prayers. I should never have doubted.”
“Everyone doubts,” said Arenadd. “Especially me.” He glanced at Skandar and translated the gist of what had been said. “So, we’re agreed?” he finished.
“Agree!” Skandar snorted. “I take humans back to mountain. Where Hyrenna is. Know where they nest.”
Saeddryn nodded. “We’ll go back t’my mother an’ the rest. They’ll have good advice, an’ we can’t abandon them.”
“Go now.” Skandar walked off, back toward the camp.
Saeddryn had one more question. “The others—should I tell them? About . . . what ye are?”
“Not now,” said Arenadd. “They’ll have enough on their minds. And we’d better get back to them now. There’s work to be done.”
6
 
The Chosen One
 
E
rian and Elkin ate together that night, alone but for Senneck and the Mighty Kraal. The two griffins crouched together by a wall in the massive dining hall and shared a huge ox carcass that nevertheless didn’t look big enough to feed Kraal.
As for the two humans, they sat at the long table. Elkin ignored the impressively carved chair at the head of the table and sat opposite her guest instead, watching him with those pale green eyes while servants laid out the food.
Erian’s mouth had gone dry. He drank some cider to calm himself down and tried to think of something to say. All his words seemed to disappear when Elkin was there.
“Try some of the venison,” she said. “It’s roasted in cymran juice and honey.”
He obeyed. “It’s delicious.” Any possible follow-up escaped him.
They ate in awkward silence, while behind them Senneck and Kraal huffed at each other. Senneck seemed intimidated by the massive white griffin and kept her distance from him. Erian saw her, and felt more empathy for her than he had in ages.
As the uncomfortable meal drew on, he started to panic. He’d barely said anything since he’d arrived, and if he didn’t speak soon his last chance would be gone.
He was so caught up in his own embarrassment that he utterly failed to notice that Elkin was just as quiet and fumbling as himself. But in the end, it was she who spoke.
“What do you think about all this, Erian?” she asked.
He started, nearly upsetting his cup in the process. “What—I mean, uh . . . what do I think about what?”
“All this,” she said. “Everything that happened today. After all, you were mixed up in it.”
Erian glanced at Kraal. “I don’t really know what to think. I’m . . . scared.”
Elkin half-laughed. “Of course you are!
I’m
afraid. If you said you weren’t, I would know you were lying.”
Erian blushed, but his old desire to impress her made him square his shoulders. “I’m afraid of him, but I’m going to fight back. I swore to see him dead, and I’ll keep my word. I’ll
always
keep my word, the way a griffiner should.”
Elkin smiled. “I knew you would. But I wonder . . . what does Kraal think you’re going to find on this island?”

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