“I’m … thinking about it,” said Arenadd, staring at the ground again. There was a crunching sound from behind him, and Skandar appeared, gulping slightly as he swallowed the last of the carcass. The others around the fire drew back in fright, and the griffin sat down on his haunches behind his partner, the feathers on his chest brushing the top of Arenadd’s head. He stayed there, watching them balefully.
Arenadd made no move. “I only hope there’ll be enough game around there,” he said. “He needs a lot of food.”
No-one replied, not even Cardock. Arenadd watched them in silence for a while and then stood up abruptly. “I’m tired,” he said. “I think I’ll go and get some sleep. See you tomorrow.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and walked back toward the shadows he had emerged from. Skandar hissed softly and followed.
Cardock, watching them go, suddenly felt a little pang of fear. He scrambled upright and went after them. “Arren!”
Skandar turned sharply, beak opening, and Cardock backed away. “Arren!”
There was no reply, and for a moment it seemed that Arenadd had abandoned him yet again. But there was a rustling from up ahead and he stepped forward, ghostly in the gloom. “What is it?”
Cardock almost reached out to grab his arm but stopped himself, knowing that would only provoke the hissing griffin. “I want to talk to you.”
A brief silence followed. “Fine,” Arenadd said at last. “Follow us back up the hill if you want.”
Cardock waited a while to let Skandar get well ahead of him, and then followed at a distance. Night had fallen, but fortunately the moon had risen and was bright enough to see without a torch. He climbed the hill, following Skandar’s massive shape, and the three of them navigated the stones and finally came to a halt in a sheltered spot where a small fire was smouldering.
Arenadd crouched down by it and added more wood, blowing on it until it had rekindled. Skandar paused to watch him for a moment and then made an easy leap to the top of a nearby chunk of rock and crouched there like an enormous gargoyle.
Cardock stood at a safe distance, watching until Arenadd beckoned him closer. “Come on,” he said, his voice suddenly taking on a more familiar note of impatience. “Sit down.”
Cardock obeyed, still watching Skandar. Even now, though, father and son sat well apart.
Arenadd sat cross-legged, watching the fire. “It’s a good spot, this,” he said, again sounding much more normal than he had with the others.
Somehow, that gave Cardock some of his courage back. “I wanted to talk to you, Arren,” he said. “It’s been—well, it’s been almost a week since you took us out of there, and you and I have barely spoken.”
Arenadd had looked up at him. “Was there something you wanted to ask me?”
“Well, yes,” said Cardock. “Several things. Where were you? Your mother and I went to Norton; we left the same day you came back to us. We were there for weeks, waiting for you. We spent all our money. Your mother started to say we should go back, but I said we had to keep waiting. But you never came. Why?”
Arenadd groaned softly. “I’m sorry, Dad. I meant to come. I swear, I meant to.”
“Then why didn’t you?” Cardock said harshly. “Well?”
“Dad, I was
lost
. Skandar and I were out in the middle of nowhere, trying to find Norton. We didn’t have a map, and we couldn’t exactly ask anyone for directions. All the time, I knew you were waiting for me and that you were in danger, but there was nothing I could—I was trying, Dad. I tried for months. Half the time we were starving.”
Cardock stared at him.
“Lost, Dad. That’s all.” Arenadd couldn’t look him in the eye.
“Arren, I’m sorry,” said Cardock. “I shouldn’t have doubted you. I should have known it was out of your hands.” He sighed.
“It’s all right, Dad,” said Arenadd. But inside he knew he was lying. He could see his father’s face in the firelight, could see how thin it looked, even half-obscured by a matted beard as it was. He could only guess at what he must have suffered.
You miserable, self-centred bastard,
his inner voice whispered, full of furious hatred.
While you were romancing a griffin and running after idiot fantasies, your own parents were being tortured. Because of you
.
He shuddered. “Well, you’re free now,” he said loudly. “And I swear I’ll die before I let anything else happen to you. And we’re going to find Mum as well. One way or another, we’ll set her free, and I’ll take care of both of you. I’ll find a way to fix things, I promise.”
Cardock sighed. “In the North, maybe.”
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Arenadd asked. “Taking them all to the North, I mean.”
“Olwydd and the rest couldn’t be happier,” said Cardock.
“I know. But what about the others? What do
they
want?” Arenadd buried his face in his hands. “I’ve tried to ask them so many times, but they won’t tell me anything. All they’ll do is what I tell them to do, and they never disagree with me about anything. Olwydd was right. They’re not men any more. They’re broken.
Objects
. They’ve got no will of their own.”
“They’ve been slaves all their lives, Arren,” Cardock said gently. “You can’t expect them to be able to forget it overnight. These things take time.”
“Was it like that when you were a slave?” said Arenadd.
“I don’t know,” said Cardock. “I barely remember any more. I was only very small. Too young to be used for labour, too young to sell, and my parents were both dead. Until the Bastard sold me, I hadn’t seen another Northerner besides you and your mother in more than thirty years.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with them when we get to the N—to Tara,” said Arenadd. “I was planning to free them, let them go their own way.” He tugged at his beard. “I thought I was setting them free!” he raged suddenly. “I thought they’d be
happy
! I thought they’d thank me! I’d be their saviour, some kind of hero. But all I’ve done is become another master for them to serve, who’s probably even worse than the last one they had. Now instead of living in a leaky barn and doing what they’re told, they’re wandering through some gods-forsaken wilderness with no shelter and doing what they’re told. And they probably hate me far more than they hated—” His voice broke. “I thought I was doing the right thing, Dad. I thought I was being brave.”
“You were,” said Cardock. “Arren, you
were
. What you did was one of the bravest things I’ve ever known. You knew that if they caught you, you’d be killed; you knew you could be seen, but you came back anyway, just to help me and your friends.”
Arenadd didn’t seem to hear him. “I thought I was redeeming myself,” he mumbled. “I thought that if I did that, it would somehow make up for what I did. I don’t know what I’m doing any more, Dad. I don’t know why I’m doing it. Everything I do only makes things worse.”
“It hasn’t,” said Cardock. “Are you listening to me? It
hasn’t
.”
His voice was a father’s voice now, stern and no-nonsense. It pulled Arenadd up short. “What do you mean?” he said, a little timidly.
“I mean that what you did at Herbstitt was a good thing,” said Cardock. “It made things better for me, didn’t it? And it did for Olwydd and his friends. And the others—they’ll thank you one day, Arenadd, I swear they will.”
“But it doesn’t change anything,” said Arenadd. “It doesn’t change what I did … Rannagon.” The name was half-whispered, almost fearfully, as if it were a curse. “I still killed him. But I had to. Eluna died because of me, it was my fault as well as Rannagon’s. If I’d only done something. If I hadn’t gone to Rivermeet, if I hadn’t run, if Eluna hadn’t—and I knew it was my fault. I had to kill him. Eluna put her trust in me. I had sworn to—we were partners. I served her, she served me. I had to avenge her, to make amends …”
He was mumbling, his words wandering here and there, and Cardock knew he was bringing up everything he had thought of since Rannagon’s death, trying desperately to find some way to justify himself. “If Rannagon tried to kill you, then he was a traitor,” Cardock said. “And if he could have been brought to fair trial for it, he would have been sentenced to death.”
“Sentenced to death?” There was suddenly a sneer in Arenadd’s voice. “For what? For trying to kill me? I’m only a
Northerner
, Dad. Who would have cared? Without Eluna, I was nothing. Less than nothing.”
“For Eluna, then,” said Cardock.
“Perhaps, but it never would have happened. I was the only witness. Nobody would have believed me, and I knew it. That’s why I never said anything. And when I
did
tell the truth, at my trial, they didn’t listen. Rannagon told them all I was mad, and they believed him. Killing him was the only way to make him pay.”
“Then you made him pay,” said Cardock. “For Eluna, and for the North.”
Arenadd watched him miserably. He wanted to scream it out.
His children saw me do it! They saw their father die! I burned the Eyrie; I killed Lady Riona and all the others. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep any more. I can’t
—
Cardock watched him. “Don’t torture yourself,” he said. “You can’t change the past.”
Arenadd said nothing. He stared out at the stars, blank-faced but breathing shakily.
Cardock moved closer to him. “Arren?”
Arenadd didn’t look at him, but he stirred at the sound of his voice. Then he began to speak. “I’m a bad person.” His voice sounded jerky and emotionless. “I’ve always been a bad person. There’s something wrong inside. I know it.”
“You’re not a bad person, Arren.” Cardock touched him on the shoulder. “Stop it.”
Arenadd didn’t react to the touch. “I ran away from home when I was only ten. But after that, I never really did grow up. I did things I shouldn’t have. Bad things.”
Cardock felt cold all over. “What things?”
“I wanted to be a griffiner,” Arenadd mumbled. “A real griffiner. That’s all I wanted all my life. They did everything to stop me, but I kept on going no matter what I had to do. All those apprenticeships, and they never let me finish one. Every time I got close, they moved me on to a new master. One day, I realised they’d never let me finish. I’d never be a master of anything.”
“But you did finish, and I’m proud,” said Cardock. “I was always proud.”
Arenadd ignored him. “My last master. I remember him. I hated him so much, and he hated me. He wanted me to leave, but I knew it was my last chance. I stayed no matter what he did. I wanted his position, and I knew there was no way he’d ever let me have it. I did what I had to do.”
“Arren, you didn’t—?”
“I poisoned him. And when he was dead I took his position for myself. They couldn’t stop that.”
“Arren—”
“But it still wasn’t enough. The Master of Gold wouldn’t pay me fairly. I got less than half of what my old master had. They wouldn’t even let me live in the Eyrie or have a place on the council. I needed money; I had to feed Eluna. Roland helped me, but he couldn’t keep on doing it. So I took what I needed from other people. I framed people for smuggling, so I could take their belongings. I made people pay me twice the correct amount for their licences. And when people complained, I threatened to kill them if they did anything.” Arenadd laughed in a flat, discordant way. “Half the city hated me. And when Eluna was gone, they came back for revenge.”
Cardock said nothing.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Arenadd said at last. “I’m sorry for the things I did and for the things I’m going to do. I’m sorry I abandoned you, and I’m sorry for all the things I said. I was just a child in a man’s body. A stupid, selfish child. So I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry I took your only son away from you and turned him into this.”
Silence followed; yawning, aching silence.
Cardock felt sick and frightened. “Arren, I—”
At last, his son turned to look at him. “Arenadd. Call me Arenadd. I’m done with Arren. That was my name when I was pretending to be a Southerner, and that time’s done.” He sighed a long, weary sigh. “I don’t think I know what I am any more, but I do know one thing. I’m a Northerner. I’ve always been a Northerner, and I will not be ashamed of it any more. And from now on, I’m going to do what you always told me to do, and be proud.”
Cardock finally lost the battle with himself. He let out a sob and hugged Arenadd tightly.
Arenadd hugged him back, and father and son held each other for a long time.
“I
will
keep them safe,” Arenadd muttered. “No matter what. I’ll fight for them, and lead them if that’s what they want. I did anything I had to for myself once, now I’ll do the same for them. I’ll kill for them. Die for them. Anything.”
19
Malvern
S
o this was the North. During his boyhood, when he had listened to stories about it, Erian had always pictured it as a vast snowfield broken up only by bare craggy mountains and pine forests. Now that he was seeing it in reality, he couldn’t help but feel slightly cheated to discover that it looked little different from the Southern lands they had just left.