The Shadow's Heir (The Risen Sun) (7 page)

Laela felt sick. “Oh.”

Arenadd reached into his robe and brought out a small bag. “They searched his house after the arrest—I think you might recognise this.”

Laela grabbed it. “My money!”

“I think most of it is still there. As for Aled . . . tomorrow night is the Blood Moon.”

Laela blinked. “The what?”

“Oh—of course, you don’t know what it is.” Arenadd’s eyes glinted. “The Blood Moon is a very important time for us. A sacred night. It’s a time when the Night God is very close to the mortal world. When that happens, her power weakens, and she needs an offering of blood to save her. I thought our good friend Aled would be a perfect candidate.”

Laela blanched. “What?”

“Tomorrow night, I have to sacrifice someone,” Arenadd explained blandly. “I chose him. I thought you might be pleased to know.”

“Yer gonna kill him?” said Laela.

“It’s always a condemned criminal,” said Arenadd. “As long as it’s Northern blood, she doesn’t care. Anyway.” He drew himself up. “I have things to do, so I’ll leave you to have lunch in peace.”

7

The Blood Moon

L
ying comfortably in his nest, Skandar snuggled deeper into the dry reeds and straw.

“Human sad,” he rasped.

Arenadd, sitting near his head, sighed. “Yes.”

“Always sad!” Skandar said, in an almost accusing tone. “When
not
sad, human?”

“I don’t know.”

The dark griffin nudged at him, none too gently. “Why sad? You, me, live together. Have good food—have females, good nest! Have good land. Why sad?”

“Why am I sad?” Arenadd buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know; what right do I have? Skandar, I can’t live like this. I
can’t
.”

“Why not live?” said Skandar. He sounded unhappy. “What not right?”

Arenadd raised his head but stopped abruptly and cringed before he could speak. His hand went to his chest, and he groaned. “Ugh . . .”

“Hurt,” Skandar said softly.

Arenadd sat very still, teeth gritted until the pain subsided. “Yes,” he panted. “Every so often.”

“But pain is not why sad,” said Skandar.

Arenadd looked away from him, out through the archway at the dark sky. “I can’t live without her, Skandar. I just can’t. Every day, waking up and knowing she’s gone . . .”

Skandar clicked his beak. “Female gone!” he said. “You not gone! Other female come—you Master. Good strong human—all female want!”

“That’s different!” Arenadd snapped. “It’s not all about . . .
mating
, Skandar. I didn’t love any of those women. I loved . . . her. And I . . .” His voice faltered. “I let her die.”

Skandar shuffled closer to him and pressed the side of his head against Arenadd’s shoulder. “Am not dead,” he said. “Am still here. You still here.”

Arenadd ran his fingers through the warm black feathers on the top of his friend’s head. “I know. I should let her go . . . She’d want me to. She’d want me to move on—but to
what
? I feel like the Kingdom barely needs me . . . Most of the people in the Eyrie certainly don’t
want
me—not Saeddryn, that’s for sure. And now . . .” His eyes narrowed, and he stilled. “And now
her
. This girl. Why did I find her? Why is she here? Why . . . ?”

“Is female,” Skandar said dismissively. “Is another human.”

“But there’s something about her,” said Arenadd. “Something . . .
something
. She reminds me of . . . of something. Someone. But I don’t know who, or why. I don’t know, Skandar . . . I want her to like me, trust me—but why would she? Why would anyone?”

Skandar chirped. “Not need female. Have me. Have Skandar trust, like.”

“Yes. Yes, I certainly do. But I need other humans, too, Skandar.”

“Skra!”
Skandar snorted. “Why need human? Human lie, human weak. I not lie, not weak.”

“No. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Skandar—and don’t let me ever tell you otherwise.”

“You do great thing, Arenadd,” said Skandar. “Give me all you promise—all I want. You, only human I like. Best human.
My
human.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Skandar. You know that.”

“Yes. Know that.”

They sat together in companionable silence for a while, each busy with his own thoughts.

“Who
am
I, Skandar?” Arenadd said at last. “Who
was
I? Who died to create me?”

Skandar only stared at him, uncomprehending.

“I was someone before I fell,” said Arenadd. “I had another . . . I had a
life
. Before I was dead. Before I was
this
. This thing, this monster, this
Dark Lord
.”

“Why want know?” said Skandar.

“Because that was
me
, Skandar,” said Arenadd. “If I could only remember . . .”

“Skandar remember,” said Skandar. “I live in mountain nest. Look for human. No human talk. One day, you come. See you, think, human different. Human have dark fur, like Skandar. Try and take you, other griffin protect you. White griffin. I kill. Then you—you put me in . . . thing . . . cage. You take me back to place—human nest. I watch you, think you strong. You leave me, other human make me fight. Kill human—many human. Kill griffin. Always wait for you to come back. You special human. Then you come to place . . . fighting place . . . you come back. I catch you, not kill you. Tell you, ‘Set me free, or I kill you.’ You promise. You come later—night. Set me free, and I kill many human. I fly away from human nest, not know where to go. Hear you call. Find you. Hurt. See you die. Use magic, you wake up. Then you, me, go back to nest. Kill human, griffin. Then we fly away, and you my human. Then come North.”

Arenadd nodded. “You told me that much. I captured you, and later on you forced me to set you free. But why did I capture you in the first place? Why was I living in the South if I wasn’t a Southerner or a slave? What was my
name
?”

“Not remember human name,” said Skandar.

“But I want to know. And I want to know why I forgot.”

Skandar yawned. “Maybe Night God know,” he said unexpectedly.

Arenadd’s fists clenched. “Yes. And I intend to make her tell me.”

•   •   •

T
he Blood Moon ceremony took place the following night in the Moon Temple out in the city. The Temple had been built on the site of the old Sun Temple on Arenadd’s orders, as a deliberate sneering gesture at Gryphus, the Day God. He’d always thought the Night God appreciated it.

The witnesses had already gathered by the time Arenadd made his entrance—alone, as tradition demanded. He came in via the dark wood doors and walked slowly toward the altar, admiring his surroundings along the way.

The Temple had been designed to look like a forest. The pillars that held up the roof were covered in tiny brown tiles that spread onto the floor in the stylised shapes of roots, and here and there lantern-holder “branches’ jutted out from them. The lamps they held were silver and had blue glass, so the light they gave off was cool and muted.

There were no benches or seats of any kind, and the gathered worshippers were standing. More than two hundred of them had crammed themselves into the Temple, and more were standing in the street outside. Many of them reached out to touch Arenadd’s robe as he passed. He paused to touch some of them in return, sometimes murmuring a few words.

At the centre of the Temple, a hole had been left in the roof to let the moonlight in. It shone on the circular altar, where Saeddryn and the rest of the priesthood were gathered.

As Arenadd approached, Saeddryn came to meet him. She wore her ceremonial silver gown, and a deer mask covered her face.

She silently offered a cup to him.

Arenadd took it and walked toward the altar, while the priestesses formed into a circle around it. They were bare-chested, clad in nothing but simple fur loin-cloths, each one wearing the mask of a different tribe.

Arenadd lifted the cup to his mouth and drank the blood it contained before handing it back to Saeddryn. She gave him the copper-bladed ceremonial knife in return, and went to join her companions, leaving Arenadd to approach the altar alone.

He reached it and stood there, looking impassively at the victim already chained to it. Aled had been gagged, and he stared back mutely.

Arenadd looked upward, to where the moon shone through the roof. It was a perfect silver orb—a Wolf Moon.

I know you’re watching me,
he thought.
If I didn’t kill him—if I let you die—what would you do then, Master?

But he knew that, even now, he didn’t have the courage to do something like that.

Around him, the priests chanted, invoking the Night God, and the worshippers joined in softly. “Night God, bring darkness, Night God, bring death to our enemies. Night God, take the souls of our dead to the stars and let them shine there forever. Night God, guide us, guard us, oh beloved spirit of the moon and the dark and the shadows.”

Arenadd knew what he was watching for, and he kept his eyes on the moon. Waiting.

Sure enough, after a few moments, he saw it—saw the shadow begin to cover the moon. The Night God’s eye was closing, blinding her to the world and so cutting her off from the strength of her people. Arenadd kept quite still, holding the knife and watching the phases of the moon pass in a single night. The full moon followed by the half moon, the Deer Moon, followed by the crescent, the Bear Moon. After that would come the new moon, the Crow Moon.

As the shadow drifted across it, the moment came. The moon turned red from edge to edge. Inside the Temple, the priestesses moaned and cried out in horror.

Arenadd tore his gaze away from the bloodied moon, and saw the altar and the victim. Aled struggled feebly against his chains. He was actually crying in his terror.

Arenadd felt the same cold calmness he had become so used to over the years, mixed with a terrible excitement—an almost sexual, lustful feeling.

“Join me,” he whispered, and brought the knife down with all his strength.

The copper blade, etched with sacred runes, sank into Aled’s chest, through his ribs, and penetrated his heart. He jerked and screamed briefly, and then went limp as he died.

The instant that happened, Arenadd saw the world around him fade away.

Darkness came in its place.

He looked around, almost dreamily, and found himself surrounded by a ring of strange beast-headed women. Each one was an animal spirit in human form, and each one represented one of the ancient tribes of his people. He inclined his head toward the wolf-headed woman who represented his own tribe, and then looked upward, to where the mural of stars painted on the roof had become real stars, shining far more brightly than they usually did in a sky that had become the entire world.

Arenadd breathed deeply. “Come to me,” he said softly.

Silence answered him.

And then she was there.

Arenadd turned to face her and saw her, standing near him as if she had been there all along. She looked just as he remembered her—young but old, wearing nothing but a mantle of silver fur that left her breasts exposed. In one hand she held a silver sickle, in the other the full moon, somehow balanced on her palm.

Why have you summoned me, Arenadd Taranisäii?

Arenadd stepped toward her. “I gave you your blood, just as I did before, Master.”

The Night God sighed.
Oh, my sweet Arenadd. How much you have suffered.

“You know the pact,” said Arenadd, stone-faced. “I gave you your blood. Now answer my question.”

She ignored him.
Arenadd, you have not listened to me in such a long time. I am not pleased by this.

“I have a Kingdom to look after,” said Arenadd. “That’s enough to occupy me now.”

Yes.
She lifted her hand and put the full moon into the hole where her eye should have been.
You have done so well, Arenadd. My people prosper, and I am worshipped as I should be once again. You have done as I asked you, and I am grateful.

Arenadd’s expression did not change. “Good. Now you can tell me what I want to know.”

Ask, and I shall answer.

“Then tell me this,” said Arenadd. “Who am I?”

The Night God smiled.
You are Arenadd Taranisäii. You are the Shadow That Walks. You are the King you deserve to be.

“I didn’t deserve to be a King,” Arenadd snapped. “And that isn’t what I mean, and you know it. I want to know who I
was
, Master. Who was I before you changed me? Before I was your creature?”

She reached out to caress his face.
Why do you wish to know this, Arenadd? Why can you not let the past rest?

“I don’t know, Master, but I want to know.” Arenadd’s face creased in pain. “Who did you sacrifice to make me? I know . . . I know I had a life before then. I know I was someone. But I don’t know who, or why I died . . . I don’t know why I forgot.”

It does not matter,
said the Night God.
Truly. Listen, Arenadd. Our time is short, and I have new commands for you to carry out.

“Oh, do you?” Arenadd snarled. “What is it now, then? Who else do you want me to kill?”

You have reclaimed the North in my name,
said the Night God, quite calmly.
Now I would have you deliver Gryphus’ ultimate punishment. You must invade the South. Conquer its cities and its Eyries while they are still in disarray. There is confusion and poor leadership there now—take advantage of it. The griffiners’ power can be overthrown. If you act quickly, the whole of Cymria may be ours for the taking!

“So Saeddryn tells me,” Arenadd said sourly.

Then she is right. Destroy the South, Arenadd. I command it. It is in your power.

Arenadd hesitated. “I don’t want to.”

Do it,
she hissed.
I command you.

“What if I refuse?”

She enveloped him, smothering him in her cold, numbing power.
You know what I can do to you if you do not do as I tell you, Arenadd.

He shuddered, trying not to show his fear. “I know, Master. I know. But the Southerners aren’t a threat any more, and surely . . .”

The coldness around him increased, spreading pain into his limbs.
Surely nothing!
the Night God raged.
I have commanded, and you must obey! The Day God will be an enemy to me until the ending of time itself, and he must be destroyed, or he will destroy me!

Arenadd cringed under her onslaught. “All right! All right! I’ll do it, Master. I’ll do it.”

She relaxed and took away the pain.
Excellent. You will do as I have told you?

“Yes. But only if you tell me who I was.”

Why are you so anxious to know?

“I don’t know, but I am. Please, just tell me.”

Very well.
She stood over him, her skin shining like the full moon.
Before you died, you were a young griffiner who went by the name of Arren Cardockson.

Arenadd felt a shiver go down his spine. “Why did I die?”

You had a griffin partner who was killed in an attempt on your life,
said the Night God.
You swore revenge upon the one who had betrayed you, but you did not have the strength or the will to take that revenge. Eventually, you attempted to become a griffiner again by abducting a griffin chick, and were sentenced to death for your crime. You were killed as you tried to escape from prison.