The Griffin's Flight (59 page)
Read The Griffin's Flight Online
Authors: K.J. Taylor
Eekrae banked upward without warning and landed on the slope of a nearby mountain, and Senneck followed, forcing Erian to cling on tightly.
It was freezing cold on the mountainside, and windy. Erian stood close to Senneck, shivering. “What’s going on?” he called. “Why are we up here?”
Kerod grinned. “Look at the view!”
Erian did. A wide plateau lay just below them, white with snow, just as the ground for the last few miles had been. Most of it was covered by pine trees, but toward the centre a large patch of ground had been cleared to make way for the circle. They were close enough for Erian to see the stones quite clearly. They had been arranged in a perfect ring.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Kerod. “No-one knows how they moved them all up here.”
Erian thought briefly of the slaves who had built Eagleholm, hauling hundreds of split trees up the mountain to build the Eyrie and the platform. “It’s amazing,” he admitted.
“They call it Taranis’ Throne,” said Kerod. “Some people think a few darkmen still come up here to worship when the moon’s out. It’s forbidden, of course, but who’s going to stop them all the way out here?”
Erian snorted. “Why should we even care about what they do? If they want to worship rocks, let them.”
“It’s never bothered me,” said Kerod. “Let the gods deal with their own affairs, I say. Anyway,” he said, stretching and yawning, “we’re here, and it appears we made good time, too.”
Erian surveyed the landscape. “It doesn’t look like there’d be much game up here,” he said doubtfully.
“Oh, don’t let appearances fool you,” said Kerod. “Look, up there.” He pointed. “See that?”
Erian squinted for a while before he saw a tiny white cross slowly drifting over the mountains.
“Ice eagle,” said Kerod. “Very rare. The feathers are worth a fortune.”
“Chasing down an eagle would be a fine challenge,” Senneck put in. “I would be pleased to try it.”
“I have done it,” said Eekrae. “It is not easy, but if you are agile enough in the air it can be done.”
“Or—” Kerod cocked his head and grinned. “Ah! Can you hear that?”
Erian listened. “I’m not sure …”
“Listen carefully,” said Kerod. “You can just pick it up on the wind.”
After a few moments more Erian thought he caught something. “It’s … some kind of wailing?” he said.
“Howling!” said Kerod. “Fancy a wolf-skin rug for your room, Erian?”
Erian had never seen a wolf before. “How close are they?”
“Just down on the plateau, by the sound of it,” said Kerod. “D’you want to go and see if we can catch them?”
“All right,” said Erian. Hunting something on the ground sounded better than trying to hold on while Senneck chased an eagle. “Senneck, do you want to hunt wolves?”
Senneck was still looking speculatively at the eagle. “Well.” She paused, and then relented. “If that is what you want, then we shall. Eekrae, do you agree?”
“I do,” said Eekrae. “Wolves make fine prey.” He cocked his head toward Kerod. “Come, get on my back. We will land in the stone circle.”
The two griffiners mounted, and Senneck and Eekrae made the brief flight down to the circle, landing on the snow, in the centre. Erian slid off Senneck’s back and admired the stones; now that he could see them more closely he was even more impressed by their size and how they had been laid out. Every stone was carefully spaced apart from its two immediate neighbours, and had been cut and shaped into a tapering oblong. The inner face of every stone had been carved with a triple-spiral symbol, and just above that was a circle.
“Thirteen stones,” said Kerod. “Thirteen full moons. A ‘wolf moon,’ some people call it. The full moon, I mean. Now then.” He unshipped the quiver from his back and took out his bow, stringing it with a fresh string taken from a pouch in his pocket.
Erian hastily strung his own bow and selected an arrow. “So, how do we do this?”
“We’ll be doing the actual hunting from the air,” said Kerod. “But we have to have our bows ready beforehand. And leave anything you don’t need here in the circle—we’ll pick it up later. You should probably leave that shiny sword of yours.”
Erian reluctantly took it off his back, sheath and all. “I suppose it’d only get in the way.” He leant it against the nearest stone and then walked back to Senneck, holding his bow in one hand. “That’s everything except my arrows and my water bottle. So, do we just fly low until we spot them?”
“That’s the idea,” said Kerod. He paused to listen. “I want to wait here a moment. If we’re lucky we might hear another howl; that would help us find them.”
Erian nodded vaguely. “Yes, of course.”
He strolled around the circle, easing the ache in his legs and listening half-heartedly. Then, without warning, a low, hollow call came drifting toward them from the trees. Erian stopped dead, blinking. “Was that—?”
Kerod had started bolt upright. “Yes! That’s it! Listen.”
Another howl sounded a few moments later.
“Ooh, it’s close,” said Kerod. “We’re sure to catch them.”
The next howl came from somewhere behind Erian. He turned sharply to look, but saw nothing. He fidgeted “Uh, Kerod, are you sure—?”
Kerod wasn’t listening. “Quick, let’s go!” he said. “They can move fast.”
But Erian was still staring at the trees. “Kerod, I think they’re here. That one sounded like it was coming from just over there.”
“Are you sure?” said Kerod. “Maybe they—” He stopped as yet another howl came, this time from somewhere to his left, just outside the circle. “Ye gods,” he muttered once it had ended. “You’re right. They must be just in the trees here.”
They listened for a while after that but heard nothing more. Perhaps the wolves had moved on.
Erian scratched his head. “You know, my grandmother always told me wolves only howled at the moon.”
“Nonsense,” said Kerod. “Wolves howl whenever they feel like it. It’s darkmen that howl at the moon.”
“What?” said Erian. “You mean that’s real? They actually do that?”
“Oh, not any more,” said Kerod. “But they used to. It was their way of calling to each other. And they used it as a battle cry, too. A little like how griffiners screech when they go into battle. Now, I’ll tell you, Erian, you haven’t lived until you’ve seen that. Griffins and griffiners riding into battle together, it’s—Erian?”
Erian was standing very still. Behind him, Senneck began to hiss, her tail lashing.
“Erian?” Kerod repeated.
Eekrae moved to stand close to his partner, wings raised, and the four of them stood together in a kind of nervous tableau as a dozen tall, ragged figures appeared out of the trees and walked into the circle. Every single one was a Northerner, black haired and pale, clad in furs. Their faces were tattooed with blue spirals, and they wore bone ornaments in their hair. Some of them had spears, but nearly all of them carried a bow, each with an arrow nocked and ready to be loosed.
Kerod pulled himself together. “Stay back!” he snapped. “We are griffiners!”
The Northerners did stop, just inside the circle, but did not lower their bows. Every single one of them was glaring, poised and ready, at the griffiners and the griffins.
Erian loaded an arrow into his own bow. “How dare you?” he yelled. “Lower your bows now or I’ll arrest you!”
The Northerners glanced briefly at each other, and several of them sniggered.
“Arrest us?” said one, his voice rough and harshly accented. “Ye’ve defiled the Throne, Southerner. This is our place, not for ye or yer Southern demons.”
“Don’t you
dare
threaten us,” said Kerod, starting forward and pointing his bow directly at the man’s face. “You have no right to bear weapons, darkman.”
dare
threaten us,” said Kerod, starting forward and pointing his bow directly at the man’s face. “You have no right to bear weapons, darkman.”
The man spat. “An’ ye have no right to be in the circle, Southerner.”
“This is our land, and you’ll obey our laws here,” said Kerod. “Now get out of here, and maybe I’ll forget this happened.”
One of the Northerners shouted in some language Erian didn’t recognise, apparently speaking to the leader. The others responded with jeers and mocking shouts in that same language, and Eekrae instantly reared up and began to snarl and hiss at them.
Kerod moved forward, putting himself in the way. “That language is forbidden!” he shouted. “How dare you?”
Erian had begun to feel more and more nervous while this exchange was taking place. He looked quickly toward his sword, but one of the Northerners was between him and it. The man followed his gaze and snatched the sword.
“Hey!” Erian yelled. “That’s mine! Give that to me!”
The man pulled Bloodpride out of its scabbard and waved it at the others. “Lookit this! Nice shiny bit of metal, ain’t it? Fancy I’ll keep it. Could be useful as a spit, eh?”
The others laughed. Erian’s fingers itched, wanting to let go of the bowstring, but he restrained himself. “Senneck,” he said, switching to griffish. “Senneck, what do we do?”
“They would not dare attack us,” said Senneck, but she sounded uncertain. “We must make them leave without attacking, or—”
The leader stepped forward, holding out a hand. “Give us yer money an’ those bows an’ anythin’ else ye’ve got,” he said. “After that, ye can leave.”
Erian gaped. “They can’t rob us!” he said to Senneck, still using griffish. “Senneck, do something! Scare them off!”
Senneck shoved him out of the way and began to advance on them. “Begone,” she hissed, her tail lashing. “Begone now, or I shall attack.”
They did back away at that, and for a moment Erian thought they were going to leave, but then the leader gestured at his friends to stay where they were. “We are going nowhere, griffin,” he said, and to Erian’s bewilderment and horror, he said it in fractured griffish.
Kerod had gone pale. “How do you know that language? Who taught you? Answer me!”
What happened after that, happened fast. Senneck, infuriated by the sight of her human being threatened, lunged straight for the leader. There was a screech and a shout, a dull
thunk
, and Erian turned to see Kerod fall, an arrow embedded in his chest.
thunk
, and Erian turned to see Kerod fall, an arrow embedded in his chest.
“Senneck!” he yelled, and a heartbeat later something hit him in the shoulder, so hard it spun him sideways and sent him staggering to the ground. He landed on his back in the snow, stunned. When he reached for his shoulder he found something stuck there, something long and thin, like a piece of wood or an arrow, but it couldn’t be stuck in him; that was absurd, ridiculous—
Then the pain hit him. He cried out. “Senneck! Senneck! I’m hurt! Help me! Senneck! Where are you? Help!”
But Senneck did not come, and he lay on his back, shuddering helplessly, his back wet and freezing cold from the snow, his shoulder turning hot and sticky with blood. He wrapped his good hand around the arrow and kept it there, not knowing what to do. He was bleeding, his shirt was turning red, there was an arrow in him, he was going to die …
Screechings and shouts came from somewhere away to his left, and panic flooded through him. Senneck was hurt, they were attacking her, and he couldn’t help her; they were going to die together.
And after that there was nothing but a grey haze, and pain, and blood.
27
The Gift
T
he hammer connected with a sickening thump and a crack, and Garnoc screamed and toppled over like a falling tree.
he hammer connected with a sickening thump and a crack, and Garnoc screamed and toppled over like a falling tree.
Instantly the hall erupted. Cries of horror rent the air, mingled with shouts as the slaves moved, some to make for the doors, some to draw their weapons and others to run toward Garnoc, who lay bleeding on the floor.
“He’s killed him!”
“He’s mad!”
Prydwen and Dafydd ran straight at Arenadd. “Ye son of a bitch!” Prydwen yelled.
Arenadd laughed dementedly. “I did it! It worked! Look!”
Dafydd crouched by Garnoc. “Garnoc? Garnoc, talk to me!”
Garnoc sat up, groaning. “Me neck! Me bloody neck! What did ye do?”
Arenadd came forward, pushing Dafydd out of the way. “Gave you your reward. Look.” He grasped hold of the collar and pulled. For an instant the two of them struggled, Garnoc screaming in protest, and then the collar came away, blood-stained but intact.
Arenadd backed away and held it in the air. “Look!” he bellowed. “Look!”
The commotion stopped for an instant, and then broke out afresh.
Garnoc, though, was silent. He stood up, clutching at his neck. Blood ran over his fingers, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stared at Arenadd.
Arenadd looked him in the eye, and nodded. “A strike to the right spot. It was true.” He threw the collar down at Garnoc’s feet. “You’re free, Garnoc. My reward to you.” He turned, holding the hammer up over his head. “My reward to all of you!” he yelled. “If you come to me, I will break the collars and make you into men again! You won’t be my property, or anyone’s property! Afterwards, you can go. Leave. You won’t have to take my orders; you can go wherever you want and do whatever you choose. That is your reward!”
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