The Griffin's Flight (45 page)

Read The Griffin's Flight Online

Authors: K.J. Taylor

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight
12.44Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Caedmon looked up. “That was quick. Where’s the firewood, sir?”
“The others will bring it. Where’s Arenadd?” Cardock snapped. “I need to talk to him.”
Olwydd gave him a jaundiced look. “
Lord
Arenadd went around the other side of the mountain.”
Cardock nodded curtly and walked off. The mountain was a small one, but he had to walk for a while before he saw the little patch of firelight that marked Arenadd’s camp.
Skandar was still absent when he reached the spot, and Arenadd was sitting alone by the fire, poking at it with his sword point.
Cardock didn’t know what he had planned to do. He had thought of shouting at him, accusing him, even hitting him. But now, looking at Arren, it wasn’t in him to do those things. He didn’t know what to say.
Arenadd looked up. “Hello.”
Cardock moved closer. “You killed those guards.” It came out flatly, neither accusing nor questioning.
Arenadd’s expression tightened. “I did what I had to do.”
Cardock wanted to reach out, hit him or hug him, he didn’t know which. “You said you hadn’t,” he said. “You told me—”
Arenadd was avoiding his gaze. “I didn’t think there was any point in telling you. Knowing it wouldn’t have helped you. I thought you deserved some peace of mind.”
“Peace of—!” Cardock’s voice finally sharpened. “Arenadd, how
could
you? I can’t—what’s happened to you? You’re not the man I remember. How could you have done that? First your master, then Rannagon and all those people in the Eyrie—now this.”
Arenadd stood up. “I thought you said Rannagon deserved to die.”
“Well …” Cardock faltered. “You had just cause to do that. But you told me you couldn’t live with it; you told me so. But you did it again.”
“Not by choice,” Arenadd snapped. He was gripping the sword now, not pointing it at his father but nearly so. “I had to do it. To get you out of there quietly. If even one of them had lived he would have raised the alarm. They all saw me; they’d have described me to someone. Can you imagine what would have happened then? It was for safety—mine and yours.”
“Yes, but …” Cardock’s voice weakened. “But killing people, just like that, I don’t—it’s not
like
you. I never believed that you could—”
Arenadd sighed a long, tired sigh. “I know. I never believed I could either. After I killed Rannagon, I was in a kind of shock for a long time. Sometimes I almost believed I hadn’t done it, or that it was a dream I was going to wake up from. But after those guards—”
“You should have said something,” Cardock said more gently. “I knew you were unhappy.”
“No,” said Arenadd. “It’s not that, Dad. It’s not that I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “It wasn’t the same this time. I killed those guards myself; Skandar couldn’t get in. I took them by surprise. Stabbed one in the back, slashed the next across the throat. The third one tried to run, but Skandar caught him. The last one surrendered, but I killed him anyway. Strangled him. He died quietly. And afterward …” His face was pale. “And afterward, it was—I felt—I
still
feel …”
Cardock felt his stomach cramping. “I heard you crying,” he said softly. “I know you must—”
Arenadd looked him in the eye. “I felt nothing,” he said.
There was silence between them.
“I felt nothing,” Arenadd repeated. “I felt nothing while it was happening, and I felt nothing afterward. And I still feel nothing.”
“But you were—”
“I was frightened,” said Arenadd. “I knew I should feel something, but …” He turned away abruptly, mumbling half to himself, “I am the man without a heart.”
Cardock felt as if the ground had vanished out from beneath him.
“Go,” Arenadd said quietly, without turning around. “Please, just leave me, Dad. I need to be alone.”
His voice was flat and distant—not hostile, or dismissive, but terribly, painfully uncaring.
Cardock stepped closer to him. “Arenadd, please, don’t do this. Don’t be like this. You can’t just hide yourself away like this. You have to talk to someone. I’m your father. Why don’t you trust me any more?”
Arenadd was silent.
“Please,” Cardock said again. “Just listen to me. You know what happened at Eagleholm. You hid yourself away then, remember? You needed help, but you didn’t look for it. Not even from your own parents.”
Arenadd turned sharply. “Why, do you think it would have helped?” he snapped. “Could you have given Eluna back to me? Can you stop me from being a murderer now? Is that it? A nice little chat and a cup of tea and everything’s all right again?”
“I’m not your enemy,” Cardock snapped back, “So stop pretending I am. I only want to help. You’re my only son, Arenadd, and I care about you.”
Arenadd’s anger died down again. “No-one can help me, Dad,” he said quietly. “Not you, not the gods, not anyone.”
“Don’t be childish,” said Cardock. “You’re a Northerner, Arenadd. Pull yourself together. There are a hundred and fifty or so men out there relying on you. If you won’t let me help you, then try and help them.”
Arenadd started as if he had just been slapped in the face. “That’s not—I
am
helping them. Don’t try and—”
At that moment the quiet around them was disturbed by a loud thumping and crashing from behind Cardock. He turned sharply; someone was coming, running toward them.
Arenadd raised his sword. “Who’s that?” he called.
The crashing grew louder, and Cardock moved instinctively to stand behind Arenadd as a skinny shape emerged into the firelight.
It was Torc, pale and breathless. “Sir! Sir, come quickly!”
Arenadd relaxed slightly. “What is it, Torc?”
Torc paused to hold his chest. “They’ve—someone’s found us, sir,” he said. “We’ve been seen.”
Arenadd tensed. “Godsdamnit. Who? How many? Are they armed?”
“It’s just one person, sir,” said Torc. “Olwydd and the others caught her; they said I should come and get you straight away.”
“Right,” said Arenadd. “Let’s go.”
The three of them dashed off, with Torc in the lead. The boy blundered through the undergrowth, making for the little patch of firelight on the other side of the mountain. Night had come, and none of them had a torch, but fortunately the terrain was fairly level here. Still, they had to negotiate a large stretch of damp bracken and soap-bush before the ground cleared.
There Torc broke into a full run, and Arenadd followed close on his heels. He drew level, passed him, and reached the spot before Torc and Cardock, which meant that he was the first to see the scene.
Caedmon, Nolan and Annan were there by the tree, keeping well back and staring at the knot of people standing on the far side of the fire. Dafydd and Garnoc were there, weapons drawn, keeping close to Prydwen and Olwydd, who were holding someone between them. They had twisted the prisoner’s arms behind her back, in the manner of professional guards, and Olwydd was holding his sword to her throat. She stood still, breathing hard, her silver hair hanging over her face.
Arenadd stopped dead.
Garnoc saw him and stepped toward him, bowing low. “My lord,” he said. “We caught her trying to steal food at the edge of camp. She was on her own.” He sounded rather proud of himself.
Arenadd didn’t seem to hear him. He moved closer, his eyes fixed on the woman. She wrenched her arm, hissing and snarling.
Prydwen hit her. “Look up, ye Southern scum,” he snapped. “Show some respect.”
The woman looked up sullenly at Arenadd, and their eyes met.
Arenadd stared at her, as if in a trance. “Skade?”
She stilled. “Arenadd?”
Arenadd waved at them. “Let go of her. Do it!”
They did, and Skade pulled away and walked toward Arenadd. The Northerners tensed, but backed away when Arenadd glared at them, and the two of them met by the fireside.
Arenadd looked her up and down. “Good gods,” he said. “Skade. It really is you. What are you
doing
here?”
She straightened up. “What do you mean?” she said. “What do you
think
I am doing here, Arenadd Taranisäii?”
He put his sword back in his belt and folded his arms. “I don’t know, you tell me.”
She hissed at him. “I have been waiting for
you
, you faithless blackrobe. Where have you been? Where did these men come from?”
“They’re friends of mine,” said Arenadd. He paused. “Skade, what in the gods’ names is going on? Why are you still here? And still—why are you still like that?”
She glanced at the onlookers. “Now is not the time for that. You still have not answered me. Where were you? I was waiting for you for days.”
“Days? What d’you mean, days?”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” Skade snarled. She was speaking Cymrian now, though in a slightly stilted manner. “I put my faith in you, Arenadd. I trusted you to be here. I came out of the cave, thinking you would be there, and you were gone. I waited for days; I nearly starved. You were the only—” She moved closer. “The spirits refused me,” she said, reverting briefly to griffish. “As you can see. I have been condemned to live out the rest of my life in this body. I returned to the living world knowing that you were the only thing I had left. My only link to the new world I must live in. My only comfort. And you were gone.” Her voice rose. “You were
gone
! You betrayed me. Abandoned me!”
“
Abandoned
you?” said Arenadd. “I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood the last thing you said to me.” His voice took on a sour tinge. “I don’t know, it’s been a while, but I thought it was something about how our pairing was over and you had no more use for me. That was it, wasn’t it?”
She hesitated. “Words spoken in haste can—I was confused, overexcited. I did not mean to hurt you.”
“Well, that makes everything better, doesn’t it?” Arenadd sneered. “You find me, make use of me, toy with me, and the moment I stop being useful you drop me like a hot coal. Or maybe I should say a hot iron, which is what they jammed into the back of my hand after they caught me and dragged me to Herbstitt.”
Skade backed off a little. “They caught you?”
“Yes. Under this very tree, as it happens. Not that I wouldn’t have left anyway if I’d had the choice.”
“You
wanted
to come here,” she said. “You believed they could—”
“Well, they didn’t. Understand? They didn’t care. They tortured me and then threw me out, and meanwhile my parents were being sold into slavery. Thanks for the advice, it was a big help. We come all this way, neither of us get what we’re after, I get captured. Wonderful plan. Had you actually thought of another idea in case they didn’t like us? Hmm? Or were you hoping you could get Skandar to carry you somewhere else next?”
“I did not know,” Skade snapped. “And you agreed to it. You did not know what to do any more than I did. If they did not help you, then that is not my fault.”
“All they told me was the exact same thing people used to shout at me in the streets back home. ‘Go back to the North, blackrobe.’ So that’s what I’m going to do, and I’m taking these men with me.”
“And me?” said Skade.
“You?” said Arenadd. “What about you? Go back to Withypool if you want; I don’t care. Go your own way. I don’t want any part of it, understand?”
There was silence. They had been shouting at each other, so loudly that the onlookers had backed away. Others had come to see what was going on, and several dozen pairs of eyes were staring straight at them.
Skade didn’t seem to be aware of them, or of anything except Arenadd. She looked suddenly smaller, and lost. “I thought … I did not …”
“Did not what?” said Arenadd. His voice and face were full of dislike.
“I thought that you could help me,” said Skade in a small voice.
“Really.” It wasn’t a question.
“Arenadd,” said Skade, “I—I should not have said what I said. Ever since I returned and you were not here I thought of what I said, and thought that you had left because of it. And ever since then I have regretted it. I waited here because I did not know what to do, and every day I thought of you and wished you were here. And I realised that I missed you. I missed you every moment. I looked for you in every shadow, I thought of everything you had ever said to me, I—” She bowed her head. “I must learn how to live this way now, and you were the only teacher I ever had. Without you I am lost.”
“And why should I care about that?”
Skade said nothing. She stared at him, her golden eyes pleading. The pupils were no longer slitted. They had become round, and the gold had been reduced to thin bands around them, barely noticeable to the casual glance. They were nearly human now.
Neither of them spoke, and the silence drew out between them.
Arenadd did not falter. He stood rock steady, arms folded, glaring at her with contempt and anger in every line on his face.

Other books

Cruel Justice (DI Lorne Simpkins (Book one)) by Comley, Mel; Tirraoro, Tania
The Last Starship by Marcus Riddle
Untold Tales by Sabrina Flynn
Candy and Me by Hilary Liftin
Bran Mak Morn: The Last King by Robert E. Howard, Gary Gianni
Love Gone to the Dogs by Margaret Daley