The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (15 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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Yorath nearly gaped at him. “But . . . well, he’s staying at our house,” he said lamely.
“Lucky you,” said Garnoc. “He didn’t see yer come out here, did he?”
“No. He was inside when I left, an’ the griffin was in the stable.” Yorath paused. “He hit me.”
“The son of a bitch,” Garnoc growled. “Why, did yer say somethin’ to him?”
Yorath hesitated. “He said his name was Erian Rannagonson.”
Garnoc started. “What? Rannagonson? Did yer say his name was Rannagonson?”
“Yes,” said Yorath.
“What’s he doin’ here?” said Garnoc.
“I dunno,” said Yorath. “He said as he was on his way somewhere.”
“But where? For gods’ sakes, you didn’t tell the Bastard anythin’, did yer? What did yer do t’make him hit yer?”
“He said we couldn’t touch weapons,” said Yorath. “I said Lord Arenadd was gonna drive the Southerners out, an’ then we could—”
Garnoc swore violently. “You damned idiot!” he said. “What did yer go an’ do that for? D’you realise what y’ve done?”
“He never knew nothin’ about it,” Yorath said belligerently. “He’s too stupid t’know anythin’, idiot Southern—”
As he spoke, he heard something behind him and saw Garnoc’s eyes widen suddenly. As he turned to look, it was as if the entire wood exploded.
Something huge and horrible came bursting through the birch trees and rushed into the clearing. He saw it hit Garnoc full in the chest, throwing him violently to the ground, but as he opened his mouth to shout, a pair of hands closed around his neck and shoulder, dragging him sideways.
Yorath struggled. “Let me go! Garnoc!”
The great brown griffin had pinned Garnoc to the ground and was holding him there, snarling and hissing. The big Northerner moaned and tried to pull himself out from under her, but she wrapped her talons around him and trapped him.
The griffiner hit Yorath as he tried to escape. “Hold still, boy, or I’ll snap your neck.”
Garnoc managed to raise his head. “Let him go!” he yelled. “He’s only a boy, he’s done nothin’ wrong. I’m the one yer want, see?”
Erian stalked toward him, dragging Yorath. “Garnoc, is it?”
Garnoc glared up at him. “That’s me name, you sunworshippin’ son of a bitch. What’s the matter? Are yer too much of a coward t’fight me on yer own, if yer need this overgrown pigeon t’help yer?” He cried out as Senneck tightened her grip, her talons driving cruelly into his skin.
“I’m not interested in fighting,” Erian snapped. “I want answers. How did you get here?”
Garnoc said nothing.
Instantly Senneck closed her talons, squeezing until Garnoc’s ribs cracked and he screamed.
“How—did—you—get here?” Erian repeated. “Answer me!”
Garnoc spat blood. “Sod off, Bastard.”
Senneck squeezed again, and this time she did not loosen her grip. She lifted him from the ground, crushing him mercilessly, her talons tearing through his clothes and into his flesh, until blood began to run down her paw and drip onto the ground and Garnoc thrashed and screamed, howling in agony.
Yorath began to cry. “Stop it! Stop it! Please, stop it, leave him alone!”
Erian spoke quickly to Senneck in griffish, and she opened her talons and let Garnoc drop. He fell limply and lay on his back, shaking violently with shock.
Erian placed a boot on his chest and drew his knife. “I can see you’re brave enough for a blackrobe.” He looked down at Garnoc, examining him. “Hmm. Scars on your neck and a brand on your hand. You’re a runaway slave. And I think I know who set you free. But I want to know for sure.” He pressed the knife into Yorath’s neck. “So I’m going to ask you one more time. Tell me the truth, or your little friend dies.”
Garnoc’s eyes spat hate. “Kill me if yer want to, Bastard. But yer gonna get yours.”
“Is that so?” said Erian. “Well”—he pressed the knife down harder—“if that’s all you have to say . . .”
“Let him go, you son of a whore,” said Garnoc. “I’ll tell yer this, an’ much good it’ll do yer. I was a slave at Herbstitt. Me an’ my mates was buildin’ a wall there while the governor was away. One day a new man joined the gang. His name was Arenadd Taranisäii, an’ he set us free. Him an’ Skandar.”
Erian breathed deeply. “And then he led you all to Guard’s Post, where you slaughtered nearly sixty innocent men and two griffins.”
“He set us free,” Garnoc rasped. “All of us. He led us to victory, an’ as a reward he took off our collars and let us go free. We scattered. I dunno where the others are, an’ I wouldn’t tell yer if I did. But they’re spreadin’ the word now. They’re tellin’ every Northerner about what he did an’ who he is. You can’t stop it, Southerner. He’s comin’ back. He’s gonna lead us.”
Erian waited, still holding Yorath with the knife to his throat. But Garnoc said nothing more, and Erian took the knife away and let the boy go. Yorath stumbled off and then ran from the clearing.
Garnoc did not move. “That’s all I know. Kill me now. I’m done.”
Erian sheathed his knife and lifted his boot from the man’s chest. His breathing was ragged and unsteady with suppressed fury. “I would love to kill you,” he said.
“And so would I,” said Senneck. She glanced at her human.
“He has nothing more to say, that is clear. We should make an end to it; we must go.”
Erian ignored her. “I want to kill you,” he said. “But I’m not going to. I want you to stay alive.”
Garnoc looked warily at him. “It’s to be Malvern, is it? An’ a hangin’? Or maybe back to the slavers—that it, Bastard?”
“No. You can keep your life. I want you to go, Garnoc. Leave here. Go and find your master, and give him this message from me. Tell him I said . . .” Erian closed his eyes and breathed deeply. “Tell him I said ‘I know what you are,
Kraeai kran ae
, and I know what you’re planning. The Night God can’t protect you, and neither can your evil magic. I am
Aeai ran kai
, and I am coming.’ ” He paused. “ ‘Remember my face, murderer. It’s the last one you’ll ever see.’ ”
9
 
Starting a War
 
Y
orath almost fled the forest altogether after Erian let him go, but he didn’t. Later on he tried to convince himself that it was because of his own courage and his refusal to leave Garnoc alone, but the truth was that he didn’t know the way back. It was pitch-black by now, and the moon was hiding behind a cloud, so he could barely see an arm’s length in front of his face. He ran blindly out of the clearing and immediately collided with a bush, bounced off it, and landed hard on his back.
The landing winded him badly, and he lay there, gasping and sobbing.
Moments later, he heard loud crunching and snapping from somewhere to his left, mingled with the thud of footsteps—large ones. He lay very still, not daring to move, and as the moon emerged from the clouds he saw the outline of the griffin, so close, walking almost straight toward him.
His heart beat fast. She was coming for him; she was going to crush him in her talons just as she had done to Garnoc. As this idea spread hot panic through his body, he almost got up and ran, but instinct kept him still, lying half-hidden under the bush like a hare.
And then the griffin was no longer coming; she was
there
, nearly standing over him, so close he could hear her low, rumbling breaths and smell the musty scent of her feathers. She paused to look over her shoulder at something, and said some harsh griffish word. Then she turned back, toward him, and walked away, turning to one side to avoid the bush, with her human trailing behind her.
And then they were gone.
Yorath waited for a long time before he moved. His back felt broken, and his chest ached. Eventually it was the thought of Garnoc, still back there in the clearing, that made him get up. He rolled over and levered himself upright, and limped slowly back the way he had come, toward the light.
The clearing looked very big now. Garnoc’s camp had been destroyed, and the fire had burned low. Garnoc was lying beside it, on his side, motionless.
Yorath ran to him and crouched, all his fear forgotten. “Garnoc!”
Garnoc’s face was red, and there was blood on his lip from where he had bitten it. His clothes were torn and stained with more blood, but for some reason Yorath noticed his hands more than anything else. They were resting against his chest, and the fingers, all rigid like claws, were entangled in the torn cloth of his tunic.
Very hesitantly, Yorath reached out and touched him. “Garnoc? Are ye dead?”
Garnoc groaned softly, and Yorath’s heart leapt.
“Garnoc!” he said again. “Please, get up. It’s Yorath. They’ve gone, ye’re safe.”
The big man did not respond at first, but Yorath kept talking to him, and eventually his eyes opened. He looked up blankly at him. “Yorath. Are yer all right?”
“He cut me neck a bit,” said Yorath. “But it’s fine. Garnoc, I think . . . ye’re hurt bad.”
Garnoc shuddered, and his hands curled inward; and then, quite unexpectedly, he rolled himself onto his back. There were deep bruises on his chest, already turning blue and purple, but he kept his eyes open and began to look more aware. “That . . . son of a gods . . . cursed . . . whore.” He groaned. “If he’d . . . fought me himself, he’d have . . . my spear through his gullet.”
Yorath clutched at his hand. “Can ye get up, sir?”
Garnoc laughed painfully. “I ain’t no sir, boy. I was born a slave.”
“But ye’re not one now,” said Yorath. “Ye’re a warrior now, sir. Brave Crow-tribe warrior.”
“Just like . . . yerself, eh, boy?” Garnoc grinned.
“I want t’be,” Yorath said, almost shyly. “An’ that’s why ye’ve got t’live,” he added. “I want ye t’teach me fightin’, sir.”
Garnoc breathed deeply. “Yer right. Got to . . . get up. Help me, Yorath.”
Yorath pulled him by the arm to help him sit up, and then hooked an arm behind his shoulders to lift him to his feet. Garnoc was heavy, but he managed to stand without knocking his helper over, though it obviously caused him pain.
“Are ye okay?” said Yorath.
Garnoc stood hunched, his eyes crinkled. “Back seems fine. I think I can walk.”
“Well, come on then!” said Yorath. “I’ll help ye. We got t’get back to the village so the healer can help ye.”
“Straight to where the griffiner went?” said Garnoc. “No.”
“But ye need help, sir,” said Yorath.
“Bring me my spear,” said Garnoc.
Yorath did, and Garnoc took it and leant on it.
“That’s better,” he said. “This’ll keep me standin’ upright. Think I can walk, if I take it slowly.”
“But where are ye goin’, sir?”
Garnoc took a few slow, hobbling steps. “That’s . . . yeah, that’s good enough. Yorath, can yer do me another favour?”
“Sure, sir,” said Yorath.
“Good. Gather up . . . there’s some supplies an’ whatnot scattered around . . . could yer gather ’em for me?”
Yorath nodded and darted around the camp’s remains, picking up bags of food and a leather waterskin, and wrapping them up in a blanket.
Garnoc tucked the bundle under his arm. “Thanks, lad. Ye’ve been a great help.”
“But it’s my fault,” said Yorath. “I led the griffiner here.”
“I know, but it can’t be helped,” said Garnoc. “Yer didn’t mean t’do it, an’ I know yer meant well. I ain’t angry with yer. Now, get back home, Yorath. Yer parents’ll be worried somethin’ terrible.”
“But where are ye goin’?” said Yorath.
“I’m doin’ what that bastard told me t’do,” said Garnoc. “Should’ve done it a long time ago. I’m goin’ t’find him.”
Yorath’s eyes widened. “Lord Arenadd?”
Garnoc nodded. “He’s got t’be warned. An’ if he’s going t’fight Malvern, then he could use my help.”
“I want t’come with ye,” said Yorath.
“Well, yer can’t,” said Garnoc.
“But how am I gonna learn about fightin’ if ye leave an’ I never see ye again?”
“There’s other people y’can ask,” said Garnoc. “I ain’t a master warrior anyway. Most of my life, the closest thing to a weapon I used was a pickaxe.”
“But I can help ye,” said Yorath. “Ye need someone t’look after ye an’ help ye travel. I could do it; I know how t’—”
Garnoc shook his head once and walked away, heading northward.
Yorath watched him go, a lump of misery growing in his stomach. He couldn’t bear the thought of going home—home, where there would be chores and arguments and his father’s discipline. Home, where the griffiner was waiting.
Garnoc didn’t look back. He walked out of the clearing, moving slowly but with surprising strength. Soon he would be out of sight.
Yorath thought of calling out to him but didn’t. He watched him for a few moments longer, his fists clenching. Then, as Garnoc left the clearing, Yorath went after him and didn’t look back.

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