The Shadowed Throne (36 page)

Oeka thought her youth and magical strength made her invulnerable, but Senneck knew better. She was older, but she was wiser, and she would win. By the time Oeka emerged—if she ever did—Senneck would be long gone, and Kullervo with her. Safe, and ready to bide her time until her day came again.

When she had absorbed as much magic as she felt she could contain, she broke away and backed off up the tunnel. Once she had reached the entrance again, she turned and hurried away back up the tower. Her throat felt swollen and uncomfortable, and she knew what she had done and what she was going to do would take a toll on her. But she could bear it, and she would.

All for Kullervo's sake.

All for her own sake.

D
arkness was all Saeddryn saw in her stupor. The darkness of death, where her master waited.

The Night God stood over her, pale and graceful, primal in her nakedness, her single eye commanding.
You have done well so far, but do not allow yourself to be blinded.

“Never,” said Saeddryn. She looked up with absolute faith written all over her face. “Never, Master. Thankye so much, for givin' me back my sight . . .”

A gift, for your faith.

Saeddryn frowned. “I remember when Arenadd's fingers were broken by the enemy. They never healed properly . . . couldn't understand why, if he was . . .” She trailed off, embarrassed to have nearly questioned her master's power out loud.

They were broken because he did not listen to me, did not obey me,
said the Night God.
He denied me in that prison, and I could not help him. Even then I could have given him back the use of his fingers, but he did not ask me to. He preferred to remain a cripple.

“He didn't understand,” said Saeddryn. “He was never a real believer, not even after he became yer avatar.”
But I am.
She didn't say that part out loud, but she knew the Night God would sense it in her anyway.

The Night God smiled slightly.
There are more important things to do now than discuss your lost cousin. Wake now.

And Saeddryn woke up. Her eye opened, blinking quickly to focus. To her surprise, she found herself stifling a yawn. “Aaaahhh . . .”

“Mother!” The shout came from nearby, and before she could sit up, hands were touching her, and a face appeared in her field of vision, frowning and pale with concern.

Saeddryn smiled. “Caedmon. Thank the Night God, I came in time.”

Caedmon looked wan and disbelieving, almost afraid, but he returned the smile. “I thought . . . you were dead.”

I am,
Saeddryn thought, but she couldn't make herself say it yet. She needed time to try to come to terms with it herself first. Reality came rushing back, and she sat up sharply. “Where are my boots?”

Caedmon opened his mouth to protest but backed off when he saw her face. “You didn't have any when you got here.”

“Fine.” Saeddryn got out of bed, barefoot, and suddenly realised she didn't have any clothes on, either. She gave a strangled cry of embarrassment and grabbed a blanket to cover herself up, but too late.

Caedmon had already seen what the sheets had hidden, and his eyes widened in utter horror. “Holy shadows, what—? What happened—?”

Saeddryn tried vainly to hide it, but she quickly saw it was pointless. She sighed and let the blanket slip away, bowing her head to look at the ruin that her ageing body had become.

Long, hideous scars spread from her neck to her stomach and down over her thighs. They were jagged and red, so deep in places that they had obviously exposed bone. One had cut straight through her left breast, which still had a deep channel in it where Senneck's talons had slashed through it and down onto the skin below, reaching all the way to her pelvis.

Caedmon had gone white. “What did that? What happened to you? How—?”

Anger and humiliation made Saeddryn's face burn—she turned away and snatched up the gown that lay draped over a chair, pulling it on roughly. “It doesn't matter. It's healed.”
Healed when it shouldn't have,
her mind said treacherously.
Left as a reminder forever.

Even Caedmon must have guessed that she couldn't possibly have survived what had left those scars. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before shaking his head quickly and changing the subject. “How did you get here? Did you escape from Warwick?”

Saeddryn adjusted the gown. “Yes,” she said shortly.

“Were you the only one?” said Caedmon. “Were there others? Did Arddryn—?”

“No.”

The room suddenly seemed very cold.

Caedmon bowed his head. “I thought . . . hoped . . .” He took a step closer to her. “But we've got you back at least,” he said. “At least we've got you.” He took her in a tight embrace.

Saeddryn hugged him back, just as glad in her own way to have him there. “I ran here,” she said quietly. “
Ran.
I had to get here before they did,
had
to, before they got to ye, before it was too late.”

“I'm all right,” said Caedmon, not letting go. “They haven't attacked yet. But how did you come here so
fast
? Did Aenae—?”

Saeddryn pulled away. “Aenae's dead,” she said. “Like Arddryn. Like Nerth. Like everyone at Warwick.”

Caedmon shuddered. “Oh, gods . . .”

Saeddryn took his hand. “Come now,” she said gently. “We're Taranisäiis. The last true Taranisäiis. It's up to us t'be strong now, t'show our people the way just as we did before. And trust me, Caedmon, the half-breed bitch is not going to win.”

Caedmon's own expression hardened. “You're right. I've already vowed that.”

“Good!” Saeddryn let go and made for the door. “Let's go. We've got plannin' to do, an' not much time t'do it in!”

Caedmon hurried after her. Another man might have tried to argue or suggested that she needed rest, but he knew his mother too well to bother.

Shar was waiting outside, and she almost reared up when she saw Saeddryn. “It is you!”

Saeddryn stopped and inclined her head toward the griffin. “Hello, Shar. Yes, I'm back t'help yer human.”

Shar looked quickly at Caedmon. “And Aenae?”

“He's dead,” said Saeddryn, in a short, flat kind of way.

Shar's look toward Caedmon didn't show the triumph she must have felt, but he knew it was there. Without Aenae, Saeddryn wasn't a griffiner any more, and the implications of that were major.

If Saeddryn had noticed any of this, she didn't show it. “Where's the council chamber, Caedmon? Haven't been there in too long . . .”

“This way, Mother.” Caedmon went to her side and guided her away toward it, casting a warning look back at Shar. The griffin ignored it.

Caedmon had expected Saeddryn to stay close to him and maybe need his help to walk, but he was wrong. She strode on ahead, apparently remembering the way now, and Caedmon, staying respectfully behind her, noticed something had changed. Saeddryn had lost the stiff gait of the old woman she was. Now she moved with a new and terrible grace, every stride full of certainty and power that felt chillingly familiar.

Caedmon's neck prickled. What was going on here? How could this be . . . ?

Saeddryn reached the council chamber and shoved the doors open. There was nobody in there, but she went to the circle of benches at the centre and sat down. “Where're the others? There's talkin' to be done.”

Caedmon nodded briefly and went to stand on the governor's platform, along with Shar. “We'll summon them now.”

“Yes,” said Shar. “They must know what has happened and hear what she has to say.” With that, she lifted her head and screeched her own name to the ceiling. The chamber, uniquely designed for it, magnified the sound and sent it out through the channels in the walls and roof, spreading it to the rest of the tower. It didn't take long for other griffins to hear it, and in a very short time Hafwen and Garnoc arrived. Both of them greeted their old friend Saeddryn with affection. Saeddryn only replied with a brief look and a muttered word. She looked almost indifferent. Hafwen and Garnoc, old campaigners who had become council members despite not being griffiners, sat down on either side of her—but kept their distance. Their looks toward her were wary.

Shar screeched again a few times, for good measure, and the rest of the council arrived in ones and twos. All of them were griffiners; younger men and women chosen by Caedmon for their talents and loyalty. Lady Kaefan, the Lords Cadan and Rees, and Lady Myfina, the youngest of the lot. All of them openly stared at Saeddryn—one or two even exclaimed their astonishment out loud. At a look from Caedmon, they quickly took their seats, with their partners remaining as looming presences behind them. To Caedmon's surprise, Saeddryn didn't stand up, and only stayed quietly where she was. Her single eye moved around the room, pausing occasionally to stare at different people, but her expression stayed impenetrable.

Caedmon had seen this look before, and it meant one of two things. Either she was very angry or very upset. Either one was very unsettling.

He cleared his throat. “Apologies for bringing you all in here so suddenly, but obviously it's important. My mother, Saeddryn Taranisäii”—he gestured at her, expecting her to get up, but she still didn't—“is alive and has come to find us. The only survivor from the outrage the half-breed committed at Warwick. I thought it was important for all of you to see her yourselves and to hear what she has to say.”

He looked hopefully at Saeddryn, along with everybody else. At last, she stood up and came forward. Caedmon stepped down from the platform, along with Shar, and let her take their place.

Saeddryn stood there a moment, silently. She looked pale, but strong. Old, but ageless. Thin, but terrifying.

Once the silence had drawn out and become steadily grimmer and colder, she raised her head and looked at everyone. She didn't look angry or threatening, but there was something in her gaze that made everyone there—even the griffins—shift around uncomfortably.

“Warwick's destroyed,” she said at last, in a low voice. “Nerth is dead. Morvudd is dead. Nerthach is dead. Penllyn, dead. Seerae, Yissh, and Raekae, all dead. Torc Taranisäii, my husband, is dead. My daughter Arddryn is dead. Crushed to death. Her partner Rakek died with her. Aenae, my partner—dead.”

She listed out the dead in a cold, flat tone, dropping each name like a stone slab. All the humans there bowed their heads. Some even shed a few tears. Even some of the griffins huffed softly or closed their eyes sadly as they thought of their fellows.

“The fall of Warwick was a day we'll never forget,” Saeddryn said softly. “I know I never will. And I confess that when I went into the Eyrie tower there an' found my daughter's dead body, left for me to find, I cursed the Night God right there an' then. Decided it was all over. We'd been abandoned. I'd been abandoned.” She smiled very slightly. “But I was wrong. I've been sent here to tell ye that. Ye are not abandoned. True Northerners are never abandoned, no matter how often it looks that way. I believe it now, an' my message to ye is that ye should never give up hope.”

The councillors smiled back at her, some standing straighter. Caedmon, watching, couldn't help but smile a little as well.
This
was a side of his mother that he recognised very well. Listening to her now, it was easy to imagine her back in the beautiful Moon Temple in Malvern, directing the sacred ceremonies.

But that was something she would never do again, Caedmon thought, losing his smile when he remembered what had happened to the Temple. Burned to the ground, almost certainly on the Queen's orders. When that had happened, he had known for certain that there were no depths she wouldn't sink to.

“Now then,” Saeddryn went on, suddenly businesslike. “Here's what I know. Lord Iorwerth an' Kaanee, his partner, have taken the unpartnered an' gone back t'Malvern. But they've left a garrison in Warwick. Most likely once the half-breed's had a think about the situation she'll send them on here. Like it or not, Fruitsheart's the centre of all this now. That's all I know for now, but there's one other thing I'm going t'tell ye that I've learnt.”

“What's that, Mother?” said Caedmon, using the familiar term without any embarrassment. “Anything you know could help us now.”

Saeddryn acknowledged him with a nod. “The half-breed has someone workin' for her other than that poor fool Iorwerth an' that lot he commands. Someone just as dangerous, in a way. Maybe more so. A pair of spies. Both of them look harmless, but they aren't.”

“Who are they?” Lady Myfina asked.

“One is an old griffin. Brown, with blue eyes.” Saeddryn's own eye glinted as she gave Hafwen and Garnoc a meaningful look. “Her name is Senneck. Do ye know that name?”

They looked puzzled. “Can't say I do,” Hafwen muttered, but hesitantly.

Saeddryn smiled without humour. “She's an old friend from the war. Once partnered to Erian the Bastard.”

“Her!” Garnoc exclaimed. “I thought she died in Malvern!”

“So did everyone else, but she's back now an' working for the half-breed,” said Saeddryn. “Remembers me very well, an' that's probably why.”

“Who's the other one, then?” said Garnoc.

“The other one.” Saeddryn's mouth twisted. “The other one is . . . odd.”

“Human, or griffin?” Shar asked.

Saeddryn's mouth twisted even further. “Both.” She rubbed her forehead, and ploughed on. “I don't understand it, but this is all I know. Sometimes he's a small grey griffin. Sometimes he's an ugly man with . . . wings.”

“Wings?”
said Lord Rees.

“An' a tail,” said Saeddryn, unsmiling. “His name's Kullervo. We caught him in Warwick, kept him locked up. He wouldn't talk, but Morvudd had a look at him. He's got some sort of power—he can grow feathers an' fur, turn into a griffin. Morvudd wanted t'find out more, but he escaped on the day Warwick fell. Killed her in the process.” Noticing the puzzlement and skepticism on the faces of her listeners, she growled, “Don't look like that. I don't lie. That's what I saw. That's what he is. He looks harmless, but he's dangerous. He tore Morvudd's throat out. Did the same t'four guards on his way out, too. He's with Senneck. They work together—fly around the place spyin' for the half-breed. They're as dangerous as each other.”

“Are ye sure?” said Hafwen.