Authors: K.J. Taylor

The Griffin's Flight (15 page)

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight

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“But I …”

Skade ran her fingers through her hair. “Do you not find me attractive?” she asked, with a hint of mischief. “You said you thought I was beautiful.”

Arren stared at the ground. “Well, I—”

“Answer me!” Skade said sharply.

Arren looked up. “Look, I can’t—it’s not—you’re
a griffin
!”

“No. Not now, Arren Cardockson. Now I am human. A human needs another human, and you are all I want in a mate.” She came closer, so close he could feel her warmth; her eyes were aglow. “Tell me I am beautiful,” she breathed. “Hold me like you did before. I want you to.”

Arren didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted to move away; part of him wanted to move closer. “It’s wrong,” he said. “It’s wrong.”

She laughed. “And what do we care for what is right and wrong, Arren? We are murderers. There is nothing we can do that would make others condemn us more.”

“Yes, but, but—” He could not find words to complete the sentence.

Skade’s eyes narrowed. “If you will not hold me, then I shall hold you,” she said, and pounced.

She collided bodily with him, knocking him flat on his back. He yelped and almost shoved her off, but she was surprisingly strong. She brought her face close to his, her hair brushing against his cheeks. “I am not a fool,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on his. “I know how to be human, I know—” Then she kissed him. She did it clumsily at first, but she followed it up with another kiss, and this time there was more certainty, and when her lips touched his, Arren’s buried feelings boiled over, sweeping away all his doubts and fears. He kissed her back, reaching up to put his arms around her. They rolled over, holding each other close, and after that there was nothing, no thought, nothing to propel them but instinct and an inner heat that changed itself to passion.

Arren could feel Skade’s warm body pressed against his own, separated by nothing but a few layers of cloth. She was thin, but so strong, and delicate as well. She was beautiful; she was wonderful; she was wild; she was untamed. She was Skade.

As their embrace tightened, Skade’s heart began to beat faster, pattering inside her chest. But Arren’s heart was completely silent.

In This Together

E
rian sat at a table in a dank stone room, hands folded in front of him. Senneck wasn’t with him; much to her irritation, the brown griffin had been told that the dungeon passages were too small for her to fit. She was outside, waiting for him impatiently.

Meanwhile, Erian waited, jaw clenched, as a barred door in the opposite wall opened and a trio of guards entered, leading two manacled prisoners. The foremost guard shoved them toward the pair of chairs that had been placed on the other side of the table, facing Erian, and once they were seated, the guards stationed themselves just behind them, ready in case they made any sudden moves.

Erian regarded the prisoners. They were both middle-aged and had the black hair and pale skin of Northerners. The man had curly hair and wore a ragged beard that had probably sprouted during his imprisonment, and the woman had a haggard look about her. Both of them were watching him silently, their black eyes unreadable. Anger rose in Erian’s chest almost instantly. He did not need any proof that they were the murderer’s parents. The resemblance was obvious.

“So,” he said, as coldly as he could, “I am told that you are Cardock the bootmaker, formerly of the village of Idun.”

Cardock stared at the tabletop, unspeaking.

“And you,” Erian went on, “are his wife, Annir, yes?”

“Yes,” Annir whispered.

Erian nodded. “You both lived in Idun, very close to Eagleholm itself,” he said. “I have seen the house you had there, and I cannot help but wonder, why are you not there now?”

They kept silent.

“It seems odd,” Erian continued, “for you to suddenly abandon your home and your livelihood as you did. Your neighbours said you left in a great hurry. In fact, you didn’t even stop to say goodbye. Could you, perhaps, provide some kind of explanation?”

More silence. For a moment Annir looked as if she was about to speak, but her husband touched her arm and shook his head.

“Cardock,” said Erian. “You have an interesting name. And yet, somehow, I find it familiar. As if I have heard it before somewhere.” He scratched his chin. “Cardock … Cardock … oh, yes. That was it. Cardockson.” His voice hardened. “Do you, perhaps, know of a man with the last name of Cardockson?”

They stared at him, unyielding.

“I believe it’s the tradition in these parts for a man to take his father’s name,” said Erian, his voice becoming louder. “So it’s not unreasonable, perhaps, to assume that a man called Cardockson would, in fact, be
your
son, Cardock. Is that so?”

Annir and Cardock had drawn a little closer together, their hands clasped. Somehow, it only increased Erian’s hatred of them.

“I haven’t given
my
other name, have I?” he said. “Actually, I haven’t given
either
of them. How rude. Please, forgive me.” He touched his chest. “I am Lord Erian Rannagonson, and now you know my name, and the name of my father as well.”

Cardock closed his eyes for a moment. The knowledge must have warned him that he could not expect any mercy.

Erian decided to stop playing games. “I’m the son of Lord Rannagon Raegonson,” he said. “And three months ago I saw him murdered in front of me by a man who bore a striking resemblance to you, Cardock. A man I believe visited you before he committed his crime.”

“We don’t know anything,” Cardock said at last.

Erian leant forward. “Don’t think you can hide information from me, blackrobe,” he hissed. “Your position is dangerous enough already. I could have you both killed instantly if I wanted. Who would care about the fate of Northern filth like yourselves? You’re in my power now, and what happens to you depends on whether you give me what I want.”

Annir clutched her husband’s hand more tightly. “We can’t lead you to him,” she said in a strange, flat voice. “We don’t know where he is. We don’t know anything.”

“You were expecting to meet him in Norton, weren’t you?” said Erian. “That’s why you were still here. You were waiting for him to come to you. But he didn’t come. Or did he?”

“No,” said Cardock. “He didn’t come here. We don’t know where he is. We haven’t seen him.”

Erian rolled his shoulders as he mulled this over. “But you knew he planned to come here, didn’t you?” he said at last.

Silence.

Erian nodded. “I see. He knew you would be wanted by the authorities once he had become a murderer, so he told you to run here. But he didn’t come. He lied to you. He and the black griffin have flown away and left you to your fate. But what more could you expect from a monster?”

“My son is not a monster!” Cardock burst out. He lurched forward, only to be hauled back by his guard. “You listen to me, boy,” he snarled at Erian. “Your father deserved to die, understand? He deserved to die for what he did to us. He was in the North; he helped them massacre our people there. He was just as much of a murderer as you call our son. What Arren did was not murder. It was justice.”

Erian lashed out, striking him hard in the face. Unable to contain himself, he followed it up with a second blow, which broke Cardock’s nose. Cardock cried out, struggling to get free of the manacles, while Annir tried desperately to help him. It was a futile effort. Erian sat back as the two of them were restrained.

“You listen to me,” he spat. “Arren Cardockson is a wanted man. Wanted by me. I intend to find him and see to it that justice is carried out. Now you’re going to tell me what I want to know, or suffer until you do. Tell me where he’s going. Where is he
really
going? Where is he hiding?
Where—is—Arren—Cardockson?
”

Cardock spat a mouthful of blood onto the table. “I don’t know, and I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

Erian sighed. “Very well.” He looked at the guard holding Annir. “You, guardsman.”

“Sir?”

“How are your quarters?” said Erian. “Are they comfortable?”

“They’re not bad, sir,” said the guard.

Erian looked at Annir. “But could they perhaps be a little more pleasant than that? A little less … lonely, maybe?”

The guard grinned. “We’re always up for some company, sir.”

“Excellent,” said Erian. “Take her away and let her keep you company for a while. I’m sure she can find ways to entertain you.”

“Certainly, sir.”

“No!”
Cardock lunged toward his wife, grabbing her hands as the guard began to haul her away. “For gods’ sakes, no!”

Erian raised a hand to stop the guard. “You have something to say, Cardock?”

Cardock leapt at him with a scream of pure fury; Erian drew back a little in surprise, but the guards already had the matter in hand. The one near the door came over to help, and he and his colleague dragged Cardock away from the table, throwing him to the floor. He tried to get up, still fighting with all his might to get at Erian, but the guards threw him down again and began to hit him, kicking him in the stomach and groin. He curled up, trying to protect himself, but they continued to kick him; his yells were punctuated by horrible thuds and thumps.

Annir, still in the clutches of her own guard, started to sob. “Stop it! Stop it!”

“That’s enough,” said Erian.

The guards stopped at once, and Cardock rolled over on the floor, gasping in pain.

“Let him go,” Annir sobbed. “He hasn’t done anything, he’s—”

Erian stood up. “Just tell me what I want to know,” he said. “And it will all be over. Why protect a murderer? Do you know how many people died in that fire? It wasn’t just my father he killed. There were others. Dozens of others. Innocents.
Children
.”

Annir sobbed harder. “No. Don’t. Don’t—”

“Just tell me where he went,” said Erian. “Tell me where he was going to go after he met you. Tell me and you’ll be out of these dungeons for good.”

“North,” Cardock rasped.

“I’m sorry?” said Erian.

“North,” said Cardock, struggling to get up. “My son is going north. To his own country. He’ll f—he’ll fight you there. All of you, you murdering tyrants. You can’t—can’t win against him. He’ll punish you, he will, for what you did to us. He’ll—”

Erian sighed. “North,” he said in an undertone. “Now it all makes sense. Of course he’s going north. He thinks he can hide there. Well then,” he said aloud. “If Arren Cardockson has gone north, then north is where I’ll go. You, help him up.”

The guards hauled Cardock to his feet, and Erian stepped around the table to face him.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said. “And if your beloved son wants to fight us, so be it.”

Cardock looked him in the eye. He was bleeding badly and swaying, but he stood tall—taller than Erian—facing him proudly. “He’ll kill you, brat,” he said. “When you find him, he’ll kill you.”

“He can try, if he wants to,” said Erian.

Annir broke free of her guard and went to her husband’s side; they made no effort to stop her but let her reach him and clasp him to her. She let go and turned to look at Erian. “Set us free,” she said. “We gave you what you wanted.”

“I’ll do to you what should be done with every blackrobe,” said Erian. He nodded to the guards. “Brand them, collar them and sell them.”

S
omething nudged Arren in the shoulder, waking him up. He groaned and rolled over. “What’s—?”

He opened his eyes and saw something huge looming over him. He gave a yell of fright and scrabbled away from it as fast as he could go. Skandar backed off, wings opening, hissing. Arren sank back down again. “Skandar, what the—?”

The griffin sat back on his haunches, clicking his beak. “You sleep,” he said reproachfully.

Arren sat up and made an effort to pick the bits of leaf out of his hair. “Well, yes, that’s what I generally do at night.” He looked at the spot where he had been lying. Skade was still there, curled up. She was starting to wake.

The recollection of the previous night came back to Arren. He rubbed his face. “Ye gods.”

Skade turned over. “What, Welyn?” she mumbled.

Arren shook her gently by the shoulder. “Skade, it’s me. Wake up.”

She sat up, yawning. “Is it morning?”

“Yes.” Arren looked around at the camp. The fire had gone out. Skandar was sitting next to it, tail twitching impatiently. He’d eaten the last of the meat and had sharpened his talons on a nearby tree. He looked perfectly alert and healthy.

Skade followed his gaze. “Are you better?” she asked Skandar.

The black griffin regarded her for a moment. “Not sick any more,” he conceded.

BOOK: The Griffin's Flight

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