The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy) (63 page)

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Authors: K. J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's War (Fallen Moon Trilogy)
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“Flell,” she said, coming to her and rubbing her head against the woman’s hand.
Flell scratched her cheek feathers. “Hello, Thrain. How’s my little girl?”
“Well enough,” said Thrain. “I stayed close to her as you asked me to.”
“Good.” Flell went to the crib, anxious despite herself. Laela was a sturdy child, but Flell and Bran had conspired to keep her a secret from everyone else in the Eyrie, knowing that if anyone saw her they would instantly realise she was a half-breed. Not even Elkin knew; her eyesight was poor, and though she had seen the child once, she had apparently failed to notice her black hair.
Flell reached down to touch her daughter’s cheek. “You poor little thing,” she murmured.
“Her father’s comin’ ’ere,” Bran said bluntly, from behind her. “He’s comin’ soon.”
“I know,” said Flell, without looking around.
“We shouldn’t still be here,” Bran added.
“We don’t have anywhere else to go,” said Flell. “And perhaps . . . perhaps Erian . . .”
Bran gave a hollow laugh. “If this plays out the way people’re sayin’, ye’re gonna lose either yer brother or the father of yer child. Which one’s better?”
Flell turned. “Don’t say that, Bran. Please.”
“There’s no choice,” said Bran. “Is there? Sooner or later, yeh’ve gotta face it. We both do. Arren’s not gonna let anythin’ stand in his way, an’ certainly not that halfwit brother of yours. An’ after that, what then? What if he comes up here? What if he finds us?”
“He wouldn’t do it,” Flell said flatly. “I don’t believe it. Arren would never hurt me, and he would
never
hurt his own child.”
“I’d have said that once,” said Bran. “But now . . . now I ain’t so sure, an’ neither are you. Admit that.”
“No,” said Flell. “Because I
am
sure, Bran. My Arren is a good man. He wouldn’t kill a child. Not his own child.”
Bran came closer and put a gentle hand on her arm. “But what if he doesn’t remember about you an’ him?”
Flell stilled. “Not even then. And he will remember. I trust him.”
“Perhaps you do, but I do not,” said Thrain. “I have not forgotten how he was when he returned that night. He put fear into my heart even then.”
Flell said nothing. Bran, watching her, could feel her fear and despair, and he wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her. He wanted, too, to tell her the secret he had been keeping for so many months.
Arren remembered me. He had me, but he didn’t kill me. He let me go. He remembered me
.
But deep down Bran knew the last traces of the man who had spared him were gone now. Arren was gone, utterly gone, and only the Dark Lord Arenadd remained.
 
 
T
he march to Malvern took more than two weeks. Iorwerth had organised the carts of supplies that would follow the army, and Saeddryn and Nerth kept the troops in formation while Arenadd and Skandar kept control of the unpartnered flying above them, scouting ahead every so often to check for danger. But nothing happened. If any enemy troops were left in the area, they fled almost instantly at the sight of Arenadd’s army—thousands strong, their faces hard with determination, every single one gripping a weapon they looked ready to use at any moment.
When they reached the spot where they had to cross the river, a team of a hundred slaves, well trained and used to working as a group, gathered wood and rocks and built a crude dam in a matter of a day. The army had to cross it in a single column, but they managed it well enough, and when some of them lost their balance and fell in, the unpartnered flew down and plucked them out of the water.
By noon the next day, the walls of Malvern were within sight.
That evening a huge camp sprawled over the landscape, patrolled by the unpartnered. At the centre, Arenadd and his friends had their own fire.
Skade sat close to her beloved, holding his hand. It went without saying that she had refused to stay behind in Fruitsheart.
“I suppose you’ll be coming into Malvern with us,” Arenadd murmured to her.
“Of course,” she said. “You will be fighting for your life, Arenadd. I must be there to witness it . . . so that I will know if you are safe.”
He hugged her. “Of course I’ll be safe.”
“Then I shall witness your victory,” she said grimly.
Not far away, Skandar, Hyrenna and Kaanee sat together.
“Tomorrow, I fight,” Skandar remarked. “Tomorrow, Malvern.”
“Yes,” said Hyrenna. “You and I, fighting side by side at last.”
“And I,” said Kaanee. “I shall be beside you, with my human. I will be proud to fight alongside two such great griffins.”
Hyrenna dipped her head to him, flattered. “Tomorrow you shall see the great Hyrenna fight as she did long ago, when Arddryn’s rebellion was at its height and the powerful griffiners trembled. I am old, but my power has not diminished. I shall make our enemies suffer once more.”
“Tomorrow, I will unleash death,” said Skandar, with unexpected eloquence. “Will show you what I can do! Am ready for this, have been ready a long time. My human”—he added proudly—“my human and I fight together, and we
win
. No human, no griffin stop us.”
Kaanee trilled politely. “With your power on our side, victory is certain, Mighty Skandar. However—”
Skandar looked sharply at him. “What however?”
“Kraal,” said Kaanee. “‘Mighty’ Kraal, now no longer mighty. Shall you fight him, master?”
“Will find,” Skandar hissed. “Will find, fight,
kill
.”
“You must, master,” said Kaanee. “Already you have taken so much from him to prove your power over him. All you must do now is kill him. If you face him in combat and defeat him, it will silence the doubters among us, and we shall be yours forever.”
Skandar drew himself up. “Will kill. Will kill him. Swear it.”
“And we trust you to do it, Mighty Skandar,” Kaanee intoned.
Skandar looked up at the darkening sky, full of equally dark excitement. He had no doubt that he would defeat Kraal; doubt wasn’t something Skandar experienced very often, particularly when it came to a fight. But he hadn’t fully realised until now just what it would mean when he did the moon-griffin’s bidding and killed the Mighty Kraal.
Of course, it only made sense. This territory was Kraal’s. Therefore if he, Skandar, killed Kraal, he would win it from him.
Soon, it will be mine,
he thought.
This big land, full of prey and females. I want it. I will have it. Soon . . .
36
 
Sun and Moon
 
T
he next day dawned bright and cold, and the army broke camp and resumed its march toward Malvern. As they neared it, they could see the men up on the walls, a good number of them and well armed.
But Arenadd had already planned for this, and the word had been put out among the army. They halted when they were just out of arrow range, and the plan went into action.
Kaanee and Iorwerth rose into the sky together, with Saeddryn, and the unpartnered went with them. They flew over the walls, far too high to be hit, and launched themselves straight at the Eyrie.
On the ground, Arenadd climbed onto Skandar’s back and nodded to Nerth. Nerth reached out nervously and took hold of Skandar’s tail. The griffin hissed irritably but didn’t move, and behind him the army formed into a long line, each man clasping the hand of the man behind him. Arenadd had told them in no uncertain terms that they had to hold on with all their strength and not let go for any reason. He hoped they would obey.
When they were ready, the signal was passed along the line until it reached Nerth, who tugged at Skandar’s tail.
The griffin’s response was instantaneous. He braced himself and leapt into the shadows. For a few moments they were rushing through cold blackness, and then Skandar hit the shadow wall head on. His beak shattered the stones like matchwood, and he charged on through the wall and into the city, dragging the line of people until he leapt back into the light, bringing them with him.
The dark griffin exploded into the real world, followed by a stream of armed darkmen. They stumbled here and there, frightened and disoriented, but Nerth and Garnoc were there to bring them back into line.
“Attack!” Nerth yelled. “Go where ye will, attack any Southerner ye find, spare none of them!”
“Do it!” Arenadd echoed. “Attack! Kill the Southerners!”
And the slaves obeyed.
Arenadd watched them spread out through the city, some of them baying like wolves, every one of them ready to fight. Ready to kill.
“Nerth,” he said. “Garnoc. Keep them together. Don’t let them destroy too much of the city or attack anyone from our race. Skandar and I are going to the temple to find the Bastard.”
“Yes, sir,” said Nerth. “Sir . . .”
“Yes, Nerth?”
“Be careful, sir. We can’t lose ye now.”
Arenadd smiled down at him. “Don’t worry, Nerth. The Night God will protect me. But . . .”
“Yes, sir?”
“But if I don’t come back, Saeddryn is in charge. It’ll be up to her to rule. Tell her that. If she doesn’t survive, you, Iorwerth and Garnoc will decide what to do. I trust you.”
“Yes, sir. Good luck, sir.” Nerth bowed low and dashed away.
Now
. . .
Arenadd looked down and found Skade standing by Skandar’s side, waiting as calmly as always. He grinned and offered her his arm; she took it, and he pulled her onto Skandar’s back and settled her down in front of him.
Skade held on as the black griffin took off, flying toward the temple. “You are certain the Bastard will be waiting for you?”
“Yes,” Arenadd said in her ear. “He knows. We both know where the gods have decided we should fight.”
Skandar flew powerfully, avoiding the other griffins flying over the city. He made straight for the temple and landed on the ground in front of it.
There, in the entrance . . . a massive white griffin was sitting and calmly waiting for him.
Arenadd got off Skandar’s back and helped Skade down after him. “Be careful,” he muttered to her. “It’s him.”
Kraal stood up. “Welcome,
Kraeai kran ae
,” he said. “Welcome back to my city. And welcome to you . . . my son.”
Skandar crouched low, hissing. “I kill you,” he said. “Today I kill you.”
“One of us shall die today,” Kraal agreed. “
Kraeai kran ae
”—he glanced at Arenadd—“I know I cannot fight you. Go into the temple and face your destiny; I shall not stop you. But you must leave my son to me.”
Arenadd nodded courteously. “I’m sure Skandar can deal with you. Skandar.” He turned and touched the hissing griffin on the shoulder. “Good luck. Fight with all your power. I know you can win this. I have faith in you. I always have.” And he hugged him.
Skandar nibbled Arenadd’s upper back. “Will kill him,” he promised. “Will kill him for you. You go fight now, human. Fight sun-human. Kill him.”
“I will,” said Arenadd, and let go. Almost instantly, he grabbed Skade and hustled her out of the way. And not a moment too soon.
Skandar screamed and rushed forward, charging so powerfully he was less like a griffin and more like a force of nature.
Kraal tensed and then leapt.
The two griffins met with an almighty thud, so loud it sounded as if it must have broken both their necks. But they recovered themselves, and an instant later they were locked in combat, tearing at each other with beak and talon. For a while it looked as if Kraal had the upper hand, but then he suddenly broke away and ran. His wings opened, and he lurched clumsily into the sky. Skandar went after him without a moment’s pause, and Arenadd and Skade were alone.
“Come,” Arenadd said quietly. “Let’s go.”
They stepped toward the open door of the Sun Temple, hand in hand.
As they passed over the threshold, Arenadd winced, and his hand tightened its grip on Skade’s.
With every step, his pain increased. He could feel it inside him, in his chest,
burning
at him. He groaned softly, fighting the urge to run, to hide . . . to escape the pain.
By the time he had reached the end of the corridor leading to the great domed chamber, he was shuffling, his head and shoulders bowed, moving like an old, old man.
He stopped at last and turned to Skade. “Skade,” he rasped. “You have to stay here.”
Skade, looking at him, felt her heart cringe inside her. His face was grey, his eyes dull.
She clasped his hand. “No.”
“Stay,” he repeated. “Whatever happens . . . don’t try to interfere. This is between him . . . and me. No-one else.”
“Arenadd, he’ll kill you!” she said. “You cannot fight him here!”

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