Authors: K.J. Taylor

The Griffin's Flight (42 page)

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight

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Senneck flew over hills and plains, much of it covered in farmland. There were indeed pine forests here, interspersed with a kind of spice-tree whose trunks were ghostly white. It was cold, but there was no snow anywhere.

“Obviously,” said Senneck when he pointed this out. “It is not winter. If there were permanent snow here, farming would be impossible.”

“
Is
there any part of the North where there’s always snow?” Erian asked.

“Further north, perhaps. We shall find out.”

One important difference he did see, however, was in the people. Northerners. They passed through several villages on their way toward Malvern, and at the first one they visited, Erian was openly shocked to see its inhabitants. Every single one of the villagers was a Northerner. There were only a few dozen of them, but the sight of them sent a chill down his spine. They weren’t all tall and thin like their murderous cousin; like ordinary human beings, they came in all shapes and sizes. But he looked almost wildly at them, and everywhere he turned it was the same: pale skin, black hair, black eyes. Many of the men wore small, pointed beards, and the women had their hair braided and occasionally decorated with crow feathers.

They wore rough peasant clothing, not black robes, they had none of the spiral tattoos or painted faces he had expected their kind to have, and they all spoke proper Cymrian, though with harsh, coarse accents. And they welcomed him humbly, bowing and scraping and looking at Senneck with awe.

Erian relaxed then and let them provide him with food and shelter for the night. These people weren’t savage warriors like the Northerners in stories. They were just stupid, frightened farmers, who looked at him as if they expected him to sprout wings or produce fireballs out of the air. Timidly they approached and asked him to heal wounds and sickness with his touch, and bless a couple of squalling black-haired brats.

Now that he thought about it, his secret fears over coming to the North seemed more than a little comical.

He confessed as much to Senneck. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but I was frightened inside. I suppose, after what that man”—he generally avoided calling his father’s murderer by name—“did, I couldn’t help but imagine they were all like that.”

Senneck chirped her amusement. “Lady Elkin would have my eternal respect if they were. Governing an entire realm of people who were like the Cursed One would be a task worthy of Gryphus himself.”

“Why do you call him that, Senneck?” said Erian. “You’ve been doing it ever since we met.”

She clicked her beak. “He is
Kraeai kran ae
. He is the Cursed One. We have known it for a long time.”

“But what
is
a Cursed One?” Erian persisted. “And how do you know it?”

“It is not a thing for humans to know,” said Senneck. “But there was a griffin I knew, at Eagleholm. Okaree was her name, and she was a silver griffin. She had the power of insight, and she recognised him for what he was when he came to the hatchery, hoping to be chosen again. She named him
Kraeai kran ae
for what she sensed in him.”

“What does it mean?” said Erian. “Is there a curse on him? Is that what it means?”

“
Kraeai kran ae
is an old name,” said Senneck. “Its meaning is complex. I do not understand it fully, but it means ‘great evil.’ One day, if you meet a griffin wiser than I am, he or she may tell you.” She fixed him with a pale blue gaze. “But it may interest you to know a little more about that day. When he came before us, in all his arrogance, demanding to be made a griffiner again, many of us merely laughed at him. Others left in disgust. I was one of those who stayed.”

“What happened?”

“I went closer,” said Senneck. “To examine him. I was curious. I had heard the tale already. Eluna chose him when she was a mere chick. A fool she was. She could have become great and powerful, and yet she crippled herself by choosing him. A Northerner! But perhaps they were a fine match: she was as mad as he. And she died because of his stupidity. A fitting end to a sordid partnership. Yet he dared to return, looking for a second chance. I spoke to him briefly, questioned him.”

“So, what happened?” said Erian.

She flicked her tail. “You probably did not notice it when you saw him.”

“Notice what?”

“His ear. His ragged ear.”

Erian shook his head. “I saw the wound on his face.”

“If it comes to pass that you see him again, look at his ear,” said Senneck. “There is a piece missing.” She blinked smugly. “I removed it. I tore his ear to humble him, after the others had rejected him. That is why I do not fear him. I have tasted his blood once, and one day I shall do it again.”

Erian couldn’t help but grin. “You’re wonderful, Senneck. A wonderful griffin. You really are.”

She made a show of looking aloofly away from him. “Work hard to please me, Erian Rannagonson, for I begin to grow fond of you.”

Erian grinned again. “I will, Senneck.” Inwardly he was as happy as he sounded, for since they had left Herbstitt, Senneck’s mood had improved greatly and she had lost the constant air of tension and irritability that had surrounded her during their stay there. Most likely she, too, was relieved that their journey was nearly over.

They spent the first night in that village and left early the next morning, following the River Snow, and from there the going was far easier. They were able to shelter in a different village every night, and once they even came across a small town. There were a few traders and craftsmen there, and Erian noticed that the wealthier of these were all Southerners like himself, come to live in the North. They were the first Southerners they had seen.

He explored the town and visited most of the shops and stalls, curious to know what kinds of things would be for sale here, and by the time he had finished he was puzzled.

“I don’t understand,” he said to Senneck. “The Northern craftsmen don’t seem to be any worse than the Southern ones, but they own all the smaller shops and sell everything more cheaply. Why?”

Senneck clicked her beak. “I think, most likely, the Southerners are taxed more lightly than the rest.”

Erian scratched his nose. “Why, though?”

“To force the Northerners to keep their place, of course,” said Senneck. “It seems clear enough to me, and suitably cunning. Lady Elkin is said to be famed for her mind.”

Erian was instantly reminded of his desire to meet the Mistress of Malvern’s Eyrie and didn’t argue when Senneck told him they shouldn’t linger in the town. They left again the next day and flew on, still heading northward. The locals they had spoken to said that Malvern wasn’t too far, and Senneck had studied a map and estimated that they would be there in under a week.

All the while, Erian could feel the cold growing. The landscape grew steadily rougher; the hills became larger and closer together, frequently dotted with rocky outcrops. The River Snow formed itself into lakes and pools, and the forests became thicker and darker. Wild country.

And then, one morning, they saw it. Up ahead, perched on a hilltop, was a dark, hunched mass, all jagged and tumbled like a heap of fallen bricks. Malvern.

“We shall reach it today,” was Senneck’s only comment.

Erian watched as they drew steadily closer, his heart quickening with anticipation when he began to make out the shapes of towers and rooftops. After a time he could also see dark shapes in the sky: griffins, circling lazily in the updrafts.

Senneck was spotted well before they passed over the stone walls that surrounded the city. Half a dozen griffins flew out to intercept her, and she slowed and let them surround her, careful to show no sign of hostility.

Erian swallowed hard. None of the other griffins had riders, and many of them were larger than Senneck. He knew that if either of them made a false move they were likely to be attacked. He bowed his head, staring fixedly at the back of Senneck’s neck as a sign of humility toward them, while she recited the ancient codes of friendship, promising to enter their territory without designs on their food, mates or nests, and to be a friend to them in time of need.

The griffins listened, and the largest responded with one word. “Follow.”

He turned and flew back the way he had come, and Senneck fell in behind him, riding his slipstream. The others flew either beside or behind her, still watching for signs of trickery.

Meanwhile, the city passed below them. Far larger than Erian had expected, it took the form of levels that had been carved out of the hillside. The tiers of the city were separated from one another by walls. He had never seen a city as heavily fortified as this. Nor had he seen one as
dark
: the stone used to build it was very dark grey, almost black from this distance. It gave the place a slightly grim look, and he began to think he understood why many griffiners saw Malvern as an unpleasant place to live.

The Eyrie stood at the very centre, as expected. It was larger than the one at Eagleholm, which was the only Eyrie he had ever seen. Like all griffiner buildings, it was a tower—or, rather, a series of towers—much like the griffiner tower at Herbstitt, flat-topped and festooned with ledges. Covered walkways linked the towers, but Erian could instantly tell that the Eyrie must be a nightmarish place to try to navigate. The centremost tower was the largest and tallest. Their guides forced Senneck to land at the very top.

Erian slid off her back. The wind up here was icy and very powerful. He could hear it whistling softly between the stones. The tower-top, which was large enough to hold several houses, had been partially converted into a garden. Trees and other plants grew in enormous stone pots and troughs, and there was even an ornamental pond.

But Erian had very little time to take any of this in. The griffins had landed around them in a ring and were moving closer, all staring straight at him and Senneck.

It was all he could do to stop himself from shrinking back against his partner’s flank. Yet he knew what was expected of him, and he knelt hastily, saying nothing. It wasn’t his place to speak now. He spoke to other humans, not to griffins, unless they spoke to him first.

Senneck took a few slow, careful steps toward the male griffin who had spoken to her earlier. The two of them sized each other up for a moment, and then Senneck bent her forelegs and lowered her beak until it touched the ground. “I greet you in the names of the sea and the sky,” she intoned. “I am Senneck, hatched in Eagleholm but no longer of that land, and this is my human, Erian Rannagonson, born of Carrick.”

The male griffin made a quick upward jerking motion with his beak. “Why have you come to Malvern, Senneck?”

“We have not sworn ourselves to an Eyrie,” said Senneck. “Therefore, we have come to Malvern with the intent to swear loyalty to the Mighty Kraal, and to his human, the Lady Elkin. That is our only purpose.”

The male griffin eyed her. “You believe you shall be welcomed, Senneck?”

“I do not,” Senneck replied coolly. “I hope, and that is all. My human and I have come many miles to Malvern, and all we ask is for the chance to speak with your masters. If that is not permitted, we ask for food and shelter.”

After a brief silence the other griffin yawned and gave a dismissive flick of his tail. “We shall allow you entry to the Eyrie. Kraal has commanded that all partnered griffins be brought to him at once so that he may speak with them and know their scent.”

Senneck bowed again. “I thank you.”

“Follow me now,” the male griffin said. “I shall take you to Kraal and his human.”

Senneck rose to follow him. “Come,” she said curtly to Erian.

Erian didn’t need any prompting. He walked by his partner’s shoulder, and the two of them were led to a hole in the roof, which opened into a ramp leading downward.

Their guide walked ahead, talons clicking on the stone, and the three of them climbed down the ramp and found themselves in a large and pleasant corridor. The floor was covered by a long, thickly woven rug, and tapestries hung from the walls. It was as sumptuous as anything Erian had seen at Eagleholm, if not more so, and he wondered if the whole Eyrie matched it. He didn’t, however, feel brave enough to ask their guide, who loped to the end of the corridor and turned a corner into another, this sloping downward just like the previous one. They did this twice more before the corridor levelled out, and after that they made a short trip through a couple of attractive antechambers to an archway leading into a very large audience chamber.

A guard was stationed on each side of the arch, both of them human and unaccompanied by griffins. Neither made a move.

Here, their guide stopped. “Kraal and his human will be waiting for you beyond,” he said to Senneck. “Go in and meet them. I shall leave you here.” He walked back the way they had come, pushing past Erian on the way.

Senneck stood a little taller and nudged Erian with her beak. “Come,” she said. “It is time. Do not embarrass me, Erian.”

“I won’t,” he promised.

Senneck flicked her tail and passed through the arch. Erian paused a moment, then squared his shoulders and followed.

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight

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