The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (59 page)

Read The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) Online

Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
7.94Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Senneck glanced back briefly at Rannagon and his sister, flying behind her, and began to fly toward the Council’s Tower, where she had taken off all those months ago.
As she got closer, she saw the two figures waiting for them.
 
 
E
lkin, wrapped in a heavy woollen cloak, watched the three griffins flying toward the tower. The foremost one was brown—could it possibly be Senneck? But she was puzzled by the other two. They were small, obviously young, and flew a little unsteadily. Who were they? If this was Senneck, why did she have other griffins with her?
Beside her, Kraal flicked his tail rapidly. “It is him,” he said. “It must be.”
“I’m not sure,” said Elkin, rather weakly. She already knew he wasn’t listening to her.
Kraal rose up and screeched. Perhaps he looked weak and depressed now, but his voice had lost none of its power.
“Kraal! Kraaaal! Kraaaaaal!”
There was a pause, and then the other griffin called back.
“Senneck! Senneck!”
Elkin felt her heart leap into her mouth. “Senneck!” she gasped. “It’s
Senneck
!”
Kraal drew her close. “It is them,” he said, suddenly calm. “We were right not to despair. They have returned at last.”
Senneck angled herself downward and came in to land, more neatly than she had done before. Her flanks were heaving, but she bent her forelegs to let her rider dismount. He extricated himself and stepped toward Kraal and Elkin.
Elkin stared at him, dumbstruck. This wasn’t Erian. This wasn’t him. This was . . .
A ragged, filthy middle-aged man, his long, tangled hair the colour of dirty straw, his face almost lost amid a scruffy beard. His clothes were rags barely clinging to his undernourished body, and he wasn’t wearing boots—just a few scraps of leather wrapped around his filthy bare feet.
Instinctively, Elkin put a hand to her mouth.
“Who?”
The man came closer, holding out his own big cracked hand. “Elkin,” he croaked.
It was the eyes, still bright blue and untouched in his grubby face, that gave him away.
“Erian,”
she breathed. “It’s . . . is that you?”
Erian grinned, and the illusion of age disappeared from his face. “Elkin. Elkin.”
Elkin looked hesitated, not knowing what to do. “Erian you’re . . . you’re alive. You came back. I didn’t think . . .”
Erian looked as if he wanted to go to her, but he stayed where he was. Incongruously, he shuffled his feet. “I, uh . . . I . . . uh . . .”
Kraal interrupted.
“Aeai ran kai!”
he exclaimed. “You have returned at last, and my waiting has not been in vain. Have you found it?
Have you found the weapon?
”
Erian blinked. “Er . . . er . . . yes. Yes. I think. Er . . .”
“Show it to me,” Kraal demanded.
He pulled the sword from his back and held it out, somewhat nervously. Kraal stepped forward and examined it, sniffing it and peering at it as if it were a piece of food.
Finally, he sighed. It was a deep sigh, one that sounded as if he had been keeping it inside him somewhere for hundreds of years.
“Yeeeesss . . .”
“Er . . . Kraal?” said Erian. “Mighty . . . Kraal?”
Kraal looked him in the eye. “Erian Rannagonson—
Aeai ran kai
—you have found Gryphus’ weapon and fulfilled your promise. Thank you.”
Erian managed another hesitant grin. “I . . . er . . . came back . . . came as soon as I could.”
Kraal looked at Senneck. “Senneck Earthwings, what is wrong with your human?”
She rustled her wings diffidently. “I am sorry, Mighty Kraal,” she said. “But he has not spoken to another living creature besides myself for a very long time.”
“Ah,” said Kraal. “Then that is to be forgiven. Who are these small ones you have brought?”
Senneck glanced briefly at the chicks. They had grown during the journey, and she had begun to lose interest in them. “My chicks,” she said. “The male has chosen the name of Rannagon, and the female is Seerae. They were born on the Island of the Sun, and that is why we did not return for so long.”
Kraal eyed them disdainfully. “So, you are what kept the Day God’s champion away all this time. You do not look as if you are anything special.”
Seerae looked away, but Rannagon met the giant griffin’s gaze boldly. “You are the Mighty Kraal? You do not look so mighty to me. Where are the great griffiners Erian told me you commanded?”
Kraal snapped at him, and Rannagon retreated to hide behind his mother. But Kraal was too relieved to pay much attention to one insolent youngster. “Erian Rannagonson,
Aeai ran kai
,” he said. “You are tired from your journey, and you must rest and groom. When you are recovered, Elkin shall tell you what has happened in your absence. But there is little time left—you must know this.
Kraeai kran ae
’s power has grown a hundred times. Soon he will come to Malvern. I marvel that he has not done so already. You must prepare, and quickly.”
Erian nodded. “I know, Mighty Kraal,” he said, in griffish. “I’m ready.”
 
 
H
is room looked much smaller than he remembered, and it was musty as well. It was exactly how he had left it, except for the dust and cobwebs over everything.
By now, Erian was long past caring about dirt. He left Senneck and her chicks to sleep in her nest, and set to doing something he hadn’t done in a very long time: having a bath.
There didn’t seem to be any servants about, so he dragged out the tin bath from the cupboard himself and filled it with water heated over the fire (he certainly remembered how to light one of those). Once it was full, he stripped off the remains of his clothes and climbed in.
He sighed beatifically.
Oh Gryphus, how could I have forgotten how wonderful a bath feels?
And soap, too. He scrubbed himself vigorously, taking away so many layers of dirt that by the time he was done, the water had turned an unpleasant murky brown. He still spent quite a long time relaxing in it, not caring about the colour and simply relishing the warmth.
It went cold all too soon, and he reluctantly climbed out and dried himself down. After that, completely unembarrassed about his nakedness, he filled a smaller basin and began to wash his hair.
That
wasn’t so enjoyable. His hair had grown so long it nearly covered his shoulders, and most of it was so tangled it was less like hair and more like a kind of mat. Eventually, realising he would never manage to clean all of it, he picked up a knife and cut off the long ponytail at the point where he’d tied it.
His head felt very light without it.
He washed and combed what was left of his hair, which took a long time. When he was done he went in search of a razor but couldn’t find one, and settled for cleaning his beard as well as he could. It would do.
After that, he stumbled over to his bed and promptly collapsed on it. Oh gods, a real bed. He couldn’t even remember what it felt like to sleep on a bed. Now he couldn’t believe he had ever failed to notice how soft and wonderful it felt. Surely it hadn’t been like this. He couldn’t possibly have spent most of his life sleeping on beds like this.
It was the deepest and most wonderful sleep he had ever had.
When he woke up, he opened his old wardrobe and was pleased to find his clothes still in there.
He put on his favourite blue velvet tunic, a pair of woollen trousers and a pair of boots. Oh, to wear boots again! The sword was still on the table where he’d left it, and he picked it up and slung it on his back with a spare scabbard he found in the bottom of the wardrobe. He felt much better to have it with him. Somehow complete.
Senneck was still asleep in her nest, with her chicks curled up beside her. Erian thought of waking her but shook his head silently as he decided against it. She had done so much and come such a long way; she deserved to sleep.
Alone, he walked out of his room and up the tower toward Elkin’s chambers, marvelling at how he still remembered the way there, and marvelling, too, at how he didn’t need to stop and rest any more. The ramps that led him there felt like nothing at all.
Elkin was in her audience chamber with Kraal. Erian, seeing them again, suddenly realised how bad they looked. Kraal looked smaller, and Elkin pale and fragile. Had she been like that before? He couldn’t remember.
Kraal stood up to meet him. “Come,” he said. “Sit with us and eat.”
Elkin was seated at a small table. Erian sat opposite her and eyed the food in front of him, suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He was used to ignoring his hunger pains, but here was bread, meat, fruit, cheese, wine—things he hadn’t tasted in months.
He looked at Elkin, wanting to talk to her. “Elkin. You . . .”
All the Cymrian words he knew seemed to have fallen out of his head.
“Elkin,” he said, in griffish. “Elkin, I’m so glad to be home. You can’t imagine how glad I am. Are you all right? You look . . .”
She smiled sadly at him. “Erian. I thought you were dead, you know. I thought I’d never see you again.”
Erian smiled shyly. “I missed you so badly, Elkin. I never thought I’d see you again, either. But how are you? Are you well? What happened while I was gone?”
She nodded toward the food. “Eat, and I’ll tell you. There’s so much to tell.”
Erian needed no further encouragement. He grabbed everything that looked tantalising—in other words, everything—and ate ravenously.
While he ate, Elkin talked.
A moment later, Erian choked on his bread.
“What?
He
kidnapped
you?”
“Yes,” said Elkin. “After he poisoned the council, he snatched me out of this very chamber. He pulled me into the shadows with him and took me away.”
Erian groaned softly. “Oh gods. Oh Gryphus. I should have been here. If I’d known—”
“No,” Elkin said sharply. “Finding the weapon was more important than anything else. Even me. And even if you’d been here, you wouldn’t have been able to do anything.”
Erian put down his food and reached out to touch her hand. “What did he do to you, Elkin? Oh Gryphus . . . what did he do? If he hurt you . . .”
She reached out with her other hand and clasped his. “No, Erian. Don’t worry. He never touched me. None of his followers did.”
Erian stared at her. “They didn’t?”
“No,” said Elkin, for some reason glancing at Kraal. “They gave me a comfortable room to live in, and brought me good food and water. Arenadd—
Kraeai kran ae
—came and saw me himself. I got sick after a while, and he came to me and—”
Erian tensed. “What? What did he do?”
She paused, suddenly and inexplicably ashamed. “He cared for me. Brought me water and medicine, comforted me with words. He even held on to me while I was feverish. He was . . . kind.”
Erian just stared at her as if she had grown a second head.
“Kind?”
“Yes,” said Elkin. “He acted as if he cared about me. He wasn’t . . . he didn’t act as if he was evil. He seemed . . . sad and lonely.”
Erian continued to stare blankly, but inside he was thinking. Kraal had said that the Dark Lord was being controlled, that he was the Night God’s slave. What if that was true? What if, underneath—
“Do not be fooled,” Kraal snapped. “Elkin, tell him what this
kind
man did next.”
“Of course. After he set me free in return for the ransom, he destroyed Fruitsheart. Killed every griffiner in it. After that . . .”
Erian listened in silence as she talked on, telling him everything
Kraeai kran ae
had done over the last months. Every murder, every conquest, every burning and slaughter.
“Why didn’t you do something?” he demanded at last, unable to keep his silence any longer. “Why didn’t you send the griffiners against him?”
“I was ill,” said Elkin, suddenly angry. “Do you understand, Erian? I was so ill I barely survived. I couldn’t govern Malvern in that condition. I was so feverish I couldn’t tell waking from sleeping.”
“Then why . . .” Erian turned to Kraal.
The white griffin looked away. “I did what I could,” he said stiffly. “The decisions I made were . . . were not the best I could have made. I sent a hundred of our finest warriors to Fruitsheart the instant I knew
Kraeai kran ae
was there.”
“And what happened?” said Erian.
Kraal looked at him again. “They were destroyed,” he said. “Utterly destroyed. The dark griffin’s magic killed all but a handful, who fled back here to tell the tale.”
Erian gaped at him. “A
hundred
?”
“Yes,” Kraal said harshly. “Our strongest warriors have gone. The few we have left . . . we have placed them under the command of our new Master of War, but there is little he will be able to do when
Kraeai kran ae
attacks Malvern. The unpartnered griffins have betrayed us to him, and now he commands more than twice our strength.”

Other books

El banquero anarquista by Fernando Pessoa
El séptimo hijo by Orson Scott Card
The Marquess by Patricia Rice
Last Detective by Thomas, Leslie
Wish for You by Valentine, Marquita
Rock n' Roll All Night by Bailey, J.A.
Indestructible by Angela Graham