The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (50 page)
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Authors: K. J. Taylor
BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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“Is everyone else safe, then?” said Arenadd, as they reached the kitchen.
“More or less, sir.”
“More or less?” Arenadd tensed. “Oh gods, what about Torc?”
“Torc’s fine, sir. Even joined in the fightin’. He’s braver’n he looks.” Saeddryn sounded almost fond.
“And Caedmon?”
Saeddryn closed her eye for a moment. “We did our best, sir. Ye have t’understand how fast it all happened. One moment everyone was gettin’ food an’ organisin’ ’emselves for the day, the next we was bein’ attacked.”
“Yes, I understand, but did you get him to safety?”
“I sent Davyn t’get him an’ Torc t’safety,” said Saeddryn. “They was halfway down the tower when the firebombs started comin’. Davyn died shieldin’ Caedmon. Caedmon was hurt. Torc stayed with him an’ fought t’protect him when the griffiners came down the tower. Afterward he helped carry him t’infirmary. The boy’s a hero, sir.”
“And Caedmon? Is he all right?”
Saeddryn hesitated, then dared to touch his hand. “He’s dyin’, sir.”
30
Lost Memories
A
renadd said very little while he and Saeddryn ate, both ignoring the complaints from the kitchen, where it seemed Skandar had decided to tear down a hanging side of beef. Saeddryn, realising her master was thinking, respected his silence, though she looked as if she wanted to talk.
renadd said very little while he and Saeddryn ate, both ignoring the complaints from the kitchen, where it seemed Skandar had decided to tear down a hanging side of beef. Saeddryn, realising her master was thinking, respected his silence, though she looked as if she wanted to talk.
Eventually Arenadd said, “I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
“Ye weren’t t’know, sir,” said Saeddryn, who had obviously been expecting him to say this. “How were any of us t’know Malvern knew we were here?”
“But I shouldn’t have left,” said Arenadd. “I should have stayed long enough to make sure you were ready. I thought I could come back quickly. If I hadn’t been stupid enough to let that bastard catch me unawares at Skenfrith . . .”
“But they shouldn’t have come here that fast!” said Saeddryn. “None of the griffiners escaped when we took this place, an’ we didn’t spare any of the ones who came here later. So none could’ve got back to Malvern t’inform on us. An’ that lot who came—all those griffiners—they came far too soon after the last lot. Too soon for Malvern t’have realised the first lot had gone missin’. How could they have known?”
Arenadd stared into his cup. “I don’t know. Unless one of them did escape, and we didn’t know about it. Or maybe . . .”
“What about the Eyrie Mistress?” said Saeddryn. “Could she have figured it out? If she knew we were holdin’ her at Fruitsheart, she could’ve told ’em. But she was blindfolded the whole time, wasn’t she, sir? No-one said more than two words t’her, if that.”
“I don’t know,” said Arenadd. “But she’s a clever woman. I saw as much when I met her. Maybe she did realise. Either that or it was something else we haven’t thought of yet.”
“Well, we still won, sir,” said Saeddryn. “We fought ’em off. The Night God protected us.”
“Her and Kaanee,” Arenadd muttered. “Maybe. But the cost . . .”
“No cost is too high for us to pay, sir!” Saeddryn exclaimed. “Don’t ye see? I’m sad about what happened t’Rhodri an’ Davyn, but they were willin’ to die for Tara. An’ so am I.”
Arenadd though of the two Northerners. Honest men, and loyal. Losing them was a blow. “At least Skenfrith was a success. According to Skandar, none of the griffiners survived there, either. And we’ve destroyed the towers. It’ll be nearly impossible for them to use it as a base. That’s an important stronghold of theirs gone.”
“Aye, sir,” said Saeddryn. “Ye did us proud.”
“
Skandar
did us proud.” Arenadd stood up. “I have to go and visit Caedmon. If I don’t do it now, I may not get another chance.”
Skandar
did us proud.” Arenadd stood up. “I have to go and visit Caedmon. If I don’t do it now, I may not get another chance.”
Saeddryn nodded. “Go t’him, sir. I’ll take care of things while ye’re gone.”
C
aedmon had been put in one of the griffiner bedchambers in the tower, away from the other injured people. Arenadd was surprised to find someone on guard by the door.
aedmon had been put in one of the griffiner bedchambers in the tower, away from the other injured people. Arenadd was surprised to find someone on guard by the door.
“My lord!” said the man, looking shocked.
Arenadd inclined his head. “Sorry to catch you unawares like this. Did Saeddryn tell you to stay here?”
“No, my lord. Iorwerth asked me. He said Caedmon deserved t’be left in peace, my lord.”
Arenadd smiled internally. “Good. Just what should be done. Do you know if he’s awake?”
“I think so, my lord. Torc’s with him.”
Arenadd saw the fear almost glowing in the man’s face and suddenly felt depressed. “I’ll go in, then. You stay out here and make sure we’re not disturbed.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Arenadd entered silently. Caedmon was lying in the bed, almost lost amid the blankets. He wasn’t moving, but he was obviously awake because Torc was sitting beside him with his back to the door, and the two were talking in low voices.
Arenadd closed the door behind him as quietly as he could and paused to listen.
“. . . can’t do it,” Torc said. “I just can’t, Father.”
“Ye’re a Taranisäii now, Torc.” Caedmon’s gravelly voice was weak but as resolute as always. “Not a slave. The . . . time’s gone when . . . yer look t’others for what to do. If ye’re certain, then do it.”
“But what if she ain’t . . . what if she says . . . I couldn’t bear it, Father.” Torc sounded almost tearful.
“Weaklings say ‘what if,’ Torc,” Caedmon growled. “Warriors say ‘I will.’ Do it. I want t’know yer did it, before I go.”
“I’ll . . . I’ll try,” said Torc.
“That’s my lad.”
Arenadd hated to interrupt but realised at this point that it would be rude not to, so he coughed politely.
Torc turned, wide-eyed. “Sir!”
Arenadd walked toward him. “Hello, Torc. I’m sorry to interrupt. If you’d like me to leave . . .”
Torc stood up hastily. “No. No, sir, it’s fine. I just didn’t . . . Sir, Saeddryn said . . .”
“I’m fine.” Arenadd smiled fondly at the boy. “Saeddryn told me you acted like a hero yesterday.”
Torc blushed. “I didn’t. I only . . . well, I couldn’t leave Caedmon, sir. I had t’keep him safe, sir.”
“Of course you did,” said Arenadd. “But you were very brave. Saeddryn’s very impressed with you. And so am I,” he added.
Torc grinned shyly. “Did she say that, sir?”
“She certainly did,” said Arenadd, watching closely for the response.
Torc looked even more embarrassed, but pleased. He put a hand in his pocket and glanced quickly at Caedmon, as if for approval.
Caedmon said nothing, but Arenadd saw him wink, and in that instant his suspicions were confirmed. “Well then,” he said. “Maybe you should go and talk to her. I think she’ll need some help while she organises everyone.”
Torc nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll go, sir.” He looked at Caedmon again and hurried out of the room.
Arenadd sat down by the bed, chuckling. “He’s a good lad, isn’t he?”
Caedmon’s face crinkled in a smile. “Aye. I’ve known him a long time, I have. He was like a son t’me long before I took him into our family.”
“You made a good decision,” said Arenadd. “He’s a brave boy, and good-hearted, too. And we Taranisäiis are all too rare nowadays, aren’t we?” he added more quietly.
Caedmon sighed. “Ah, but we’re comin’ back. Bit by bit.”
“Yes.” Arenadd looked at him. The old man appeared frighteningly pale and almost shrunken. There were several painful cuts on his face, but it was obvious his injuries went far beyond that, even if they weren’t visible.
Caedmon looked back resignedly. “There’s not much t’see on the outside,” he said. “It’s all inside. I can feel it.”
Arenadd touched his hand. “Are you in pain?”
“Not so much now,” said Caedmon, wincing. “I can’t feel anythin’ much now. Can’t move me legs. Can’t move one arm. Half me gut’s crushed, but it don’t hurt. I ain’t got long, though. I know that. I’ll be with the Night God soon.”
Arenadd rubbed a hand over his face. “Gods. Caedmon, I’m sorry. I should have been here.”
“Stuff an’ nonsense,” Caedmon snapped. “Ye’ve our leader, sir, an’ ye’ve got better things t’d than look after old men like me. But I’m glad to see yer back,” he added more gently. “I wanted t’see yer again before I went.”
“I came as soon as I knew,” said Arenadd. “Caedmon, you’re the oldest member of my family now. And more than that, you’re a friend. You have been ever since we met in the slave-house at Herbstitt.”
Caedmon smiled. “Same for me, sir. Same for me.”
“Please don’t call me that,” said Arenadd.
“Of course, if that’s what yer want. I wanted t’ask yer somethin’ . . . Arenadd.”
“Ask me, then,” said Arenadd.
“No, no.” Caedmon looked away. “No, it’s not important, not now.”
“Yes it is,” Arenadd said firmly. “So tell me.”
Caedmon coughed again, and shuddered. “It’s nothing.”
Arenadd had to smile. “Go on, tell me.”
Caedmon was silent for a long moment. “They say . . . I mean, it’s . . . everyone knows . . .”
“What?”
“Ye’ve met the Night God,” Caedmon said at last. “We all know it.”
Arenadd hadn’t been expecting this. “Yes,” he said. “I suppose I have.”
“What is she like?” Caedmon asked. “What . . . I know I’ll meet her soon. What is she like? Is she kind? Will she welcome me?”
Arenadd smiled sadly. “I could tell you what she’s like.”
“Please, do,” said Caedmon. “I just want t’know. So I can . . . be ready.”
Arenadd wondered where he should begin. “She’s beautiful, in a way. Black hair.” He smiled briefly. “Like Arddryn, a little, with one eye. The other eye is the moon, just like the stories say.”
“Is she kind?” Caedmon persisted. “Is she?”
Arenadd thought of her pitiless eye. “She can be,” he said. “She’s . . . so powerful. She can be angry . . . terrible anger. But when she’s happy, she makes you feel like . . .” He tried again: “She has the same emotions we do, but more powerful. A hundred times more powerful. When she’s pleased, she can make you feel so happy and peaceful you think you’re going to burst with it. When she’s angry . . . but she wouldn’t be angry with you, Caedmon.”
Caedmon looked at him, his expression almost childlike. “Are yer sure, Arenadd? How d’yer know?”
Arenadd touched Caedmon’s forehead. “Because you’re a Taranisäii, Caedmon. You’re from the greatest family the North ever bred. You kept faith in her even after all the suffering you went through while you were a slave. She won’t forget that. She loves the people who stay by her. She loves
us
. We’re her people, Caedmon. Her chosen people. She loves us when we’re brave most of all. She sent me to help you. She guided me to you, so I could set you free. Because she cares about you.”
us
. We’re her people, Caedmon. Her chosen people. She loves us when we’re brave most of all. She sent me to help you. She guided me to you, so I could set you free. Because she cares about you.”
“She cares?”
“Yes,” said Arenadd, knowing it was what he needed to hear. “She cares, Caedmon. And She’ll welcome you. When you get to her, she’ll make your star one of the brightest.”
Caedmon had begun to look sleepy. “Are ye sure?”
Arenadd leant close to him. “Yes, Caedmon. More than I’ve ever been. She’ll be waiting for you. And so will I.”
Caedmon’s eyes drooped. “You?”
“Yes.” Arenadd hesitated and then whispered in his ear. “The Night God already has my soul, Caedmon. She took it from me a long time before I met you, so she could put magic in its place. She took it and gave me power in return. My soul is already with her. Waiting. When you find her, you’ll find me. I’ll protect you. And so will she.”
Caedmon’s eyes had closed. “I’ll see yer then,” he mumbled. “One day . . .”
Arenadd sat back. “Sleep, Caedmon. You’ve earnt it. I’ll win this war for you, and when I have, I will build a great temple to the Night God. The greatest temple the world has ever seen. And I’ll carve your name on the altar. The North will know what you did for it. I promise.”
T
wo days after the destruction of Skenfrith, Caedmon Taranisäii died. He spent his final day unconscious, while his adopted son kept up a vigil over him. That night, as the moon began to rise over the rooftops of Fruitsheart, he finally stopped breathing, one final, silent sigh marking the moment when his soul slid out of his body and away.
wo days after the destruction of Skenfrith, Caedmon Taranisäii died. He spent his final day unconscious, while his adopted son kept up a vigil over him. That night, as the moon began to rise over the rooftops of Fruitsheart, he finally stopped breathing, one final, silent sigh marking the moment when his soul slid out of his body and away.
Arenadd himself conducted the funeral rites, which took place that very night under the moon—the best time for any Northerner to be laid to rest.
As the funeral pyre burned, the Lord of Darkmen stood by with Saeddryn to his right and Torc to his left—the two surviving members of his family—and said the rites while their friends looked on in silence.
“Of earth born and in fire forged, by magic blessed and by cool water soothed, then by a breeze in the night blown away to a land of silver and bright flowers. May . . .”
As he spoke on, Torc and Saeddryn sang a low humming song in the Northern tongue, invoking the spirits of the sky and the sacred animals. Deer, wolf, bear, crow, griffin.
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