He couldn’t help but be relieved when they passed out of the burned area and stopped at a house that was still intact. It had fallen into disrepair lately, and there was a heap of garbage beside the door, but so far it had escaped the fires and the fighting.
Bran knocked on the door. He had to wait for some time before it finally opened.
Flell peered through, looking apprehensive and exhausted. “Oh, Bran.” She appeared to relax.
Bran smiled and held up a bag. “Hello. I’ve brung you some oranges.”
Flell sighed and opened the door all the way. “Come on, come in.”
Bran entered, and Kraeya came close on his heels, ducking her head to fit, though the door and the house had both been made large enough for a griffin to enter. Thrain scuttled between her paws, cheeping, and Flell scooped the chick up in her arms and walked ahead into the study.
Bran sat down in a chair in front of the cold hearth, and Kraeya took up station behind him.
“D’you want something to drink?” said Flell.
Bran nodded. “Yeah, thanks.”
She gave him a cup of wine and sat down in the other chair, leaving Thrain to perch on the back. Nowadays she moved slowly and awkwardly, her once-slim frame hampered by her swollen breasts and abdomen. Her belly looked a little bigger to Bran every time he saw her. He tried not to stare. “So, how are yeh? Ye’re lookin’ well.”
Flell smiled wanly. “Lord Arn came to see me.”
“What, again? I thought you said you din’t want t’see him again.”
“Of course. I said it again, but he talked me into letting him in again. He’s becoming very … persistent.”
“Yeh ain’t gonna say yes to him, though, are yeh?” said Bran, a little anxiously.
The way Flell looked at him then made his heart ache. “I really don’t have much choice.”
“Yes, yeh do,” Bran said sharply. “What’s wrong with yeh, Flell? Yeh ain’t some little girl needs lookin’ after. Yer a lady. A griffiner.”
Flell looked surprised, but only for a moment. “Thank you for saying that, Bran. It’s kind of you. But you don’t understand. I really don’t have any choice. I have to marry, and soon. My father’s fortune is all but gone now, and I can’t look after this child on my own for long. Everyone already knows I’m carrying a bastard, but if someone marries me before it comes they can claim it as theirs. It’s my only hope.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ve asked Lord Arn to come again tomorrow.”
“He’ll be dead the day after that,” said Bran. “You know that, don’t yeh? If he goes an’ does what he’s thinkin’ of doin’—”
“I know that,” Flell snapped back. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” She stood up abruptly, apparently embarrassed by her outburst. “I’m happy that you came to see me, and thank you for the oranges. I appreciate it, but—”
Bran clutched at his cup. “Flell, siddown, will yeh? I’ve got somethin’ t’say.”
She reluctantly obeyed. “What is it?”
Bran hesitated and took a gulp of wine. “Listen, over at the barracks today, Dan asked me—well, everyone’s noticed I’ve been comin’ here a lot, see, an’ they’ve bin askin’ questions.”
“What sort of questions?” Flell said sharply.
“I think yeh know,” said Bran. “The sorts of questions people always ask. An’ today, Dan said—asked me—he’s my mate, right, an’ I trust him. He said, ‘Bran, what’re yeh doin’ goin’ over there all the time? Me an’ the lads’ve bin wonderin’ about it.’ I said it was none of his business, but he said, ‘Look, there’s no point lyin’ about it, we know what’s goin’ on. Why don’t yeh just tell me, mate?’ ” Bran took a deep breath and drank more wine. “So I gave up an’ told him the truth.”
Flell jerked upright. “What? Bran!”
Bran soldiered on, ignoring her. “I said I din’t mean for it to happen, an’ neither did you, an’ it was just one of them things a man can’t stop. After Arren left, an’ that stuff happened, you was miserable an’ lonely, so I comforted yeh, an’, well—” He shrugged and drained the rest of the wine. “An’ that’s the way it is.”
Flell was giving him a frosty look. “I see.”
Bran put the cup aside. “It doesn’t matter, right? Kraeya an’ me, we’re leavin’.”
“Where are you going?” said Flell.
“Well, we ain’t left yet because we din’t know where t’go,” said Bran. “Thought of Canran, but they’re a load of nether-eye-kissin’ bastards over there. Withypool’s too far. Anyway, what’d we do there? No.” He laced his fingers together and sighed. “No, we can’t go there. It ain’t right. There’s somethin’ else I gotta do, and Kraeya said it’s all right with her.”
“What is? You’re not going to leave the country, are you?”
“Nah. I wouldn’t know what t’do with meself in a place like Amoran or what-have-you. See, my business here is done, like. They won’t have much use for a guard captain here. Time’ll come soon enough when someone decides it’d be better if I weren’t around any more.”
“I understand,” said Flell. “So, where are you going?”
“There’s somethin’ I gotta do,” said Bran. “Flell, we’re goin’ north. T’Malvern, an’ probably even further.”
“Why?”
“Why? What d’yeh mean, why?” said Bran. “There’s someone yeh an’ I both knew an’ lost. North’s where he’s gone, an’ I’m goin’ after him.”
Flell tensed. “Why do you want to find him? Bran, you know he must be dead by now. Even if he was going there, they must have caught him. Erian would have—”
“Erian!” Bran sneered. “That brat came out of the belly of Carrick’s village doorknob, an’ he couldn’t find a thorn bush if yeh stuffed it down his pants. No, Arren’s still out there somewhere. I can feel it in my gut. He’s in the North now.”
“But why do you want to find him?” said Flell. “What good could it possibly do? Do you want to kill him?”
“Again? No. Flell, listen to me.” Bran looked her in the eye. “I failed him. So did you. Don’t close yer eyes to it; yeh know it’s true. We all failed him. He was our friend, an’ we abandoned him when he needed us. If we’d stood by him, odds are this wouldn’t’ve happened at all.”
Flell looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“But we did fail him!” said Bran. “An’ there’s somethin’ else I—”
“Listen,” said Flell. “There’s no—”
Bran reached out and clumsily took her hand. “No, listen. I’ve got t’tell yeh, Flell. Listen. Look, Arren talked t’me, see. After Gern died an’ yeh disappeared. I kept visitin’ him, tryin’ t’keep an eye on him an’ help him when I could. He din’t always answer the door, an’ he stopped comin’ to the tavern much any more—I hardly ever saw him. An’ then one night he came t’find me there—somethin’ had happened to him.”
“What something?” said Flell.
Bran shook his head. “Someone’d attacked him. Broke into his house, wrecked all his furniture, stole everything he had. Then they beat him up so bad he couldn’t leave for days, an’ they put that slave collar on him.”
Flell started. “What?”
“It’s true. I saw what was left of his house, an’ I saw the state he was in. His face was swollen, he had broken ribs—it was amazin’ he hadn’t died. An’ he was terrified. He said it’d happened because he told us someone was tryin’ t’hurt him; he wouldn’t say who, but—”
“My father,” Flell whispered. “He told me after he attacked those men in the tavern.”
“I thought that’s what he must’ve said,” replied Bran. “But he got worse. It got worse. Gern died, an’ Arren believed they’d killed him. He thought they was gonna kill me, too, an’ yeh. It was horrible how he was then. I’ve seen people look at me the way he did—when they was on the way t’the scaffold. He was frightened for his life. An’ someone was out t’get him. It couldn’t be just chance.”
“But my father—”
“There’s more,” said Bran. “I went t’see him afterward. I told him about what was happenin’, said Arren needed to be protected an’ I thought someone in the Eyrie might be workin’ against him.”
“What did he say?” said Flell.
Bran shook his head. “He wouldn’t listen. He said it was only to be expected that people’d be like that to him now he din’t have Eluna any more an’ that if he couldn’t live in the city without gettin’ into trouble he could leave it an’ go back t’Idun. Then when I kept at him he got nasty. Said it wasn’t proper for me t’be usin’ my position t’do favours for my mates an’ that if I kept pokin’ my nose where it wasn’t wanted there’d be trouble for me. He hinted I’d lose my job an’ maybe worse. So I left it alone. I had to.” Bran scuffed at the floor with his boot. “I was a coward. After that I should’ve seen somethin’ really bad was goin’ on, but I ignored it. Shut my eyes, told myself it was nothin’. I started keepin’ away from Arren, makin’ excuses—an’ then it was too late.”
Flell let go of his hand. “Yes. He told me the same thing he told you.”
“What? You mean yer father?”
She nodded. “After what Arren told me, I went to see my father and told him the story, and asked him to do something to help him. He said he would try and do something, but he also said—he said Arren had been disgraced and that every griffiner in the city disapproved of our relationship and believed it was unhealthy and dangerous. He said he trusted me enough to let me make my own choices, but he wanted to advise me to stop seeing Arren completely. He said Arren had become violent and that there were rumours all over the city that he was losing his mind. He said, ‘I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I’m afraid for you. If you were hurt …’” Flell shuddered. “And after that every time I thought of Arren I remembered that. I was frightened. I realised I was pregnant, and I didn’t know what to do. So I stayed away.”
“Neither of us knew what t’do,” said Bran. He glanced at Kraeya. “An’ that’s why we’re goin’ north. I have to find him, Flell. There’s got t’be somethin’ I can do.”
“Bran, he’s a murderer,” said Flell. “There’s nothing anyone can do for him. When they catch him they’ll execute him.”
“No. Listen. Arren was my best mate. What happened to him was my fault, an’ I have t’do somethin’. If I can reach out, find the man he was before all this, then maybe—I dunno. I gotta try. That’s all I know.”
“Well, go then,” said Flell. “And good luck.”
“I’m goin’,” Bran said, and nodded. “In a few days. But what’re
you
gonna do? Stay here an’ marry that idiot Arn? Sell the house an’ run off to Eire? What?”
“I don’t know,” Flell said honestly. “I’ll find something.”
Bran stood up. “But that’s why I came t’see yeh, Flell. I want you t’come with me.”
She stood, too. “Bran, I really can’t—”
“Why not?” he demanded. “I’m a griffiner, ain’t I? I’m young an’ strong, I got a sword, I know how to lead an’ organise. If I was part of a great ol’ family line, I could get a good post—maybe even Master of War at Malvern. If I married right.”
“Now listen—” Flell began.
“Listen t’what?” said Bran. He clutched at her hands. “I ain’t no fancy thinker, I don’t know much about books an’ suchlike, but I know some stuff. Like, I know a man’s gotta take responsibility for his blood, an’ if a woman needs help he oughta give it.”
“Bran, this child isn’t—”
“It’s mine,” said Bran. “Yeh an’ me made a mistake, right? That’s what half the city thinks.”
“Well …” She faltered.
“Don’t yeh see?” Bran said wildly. “C’mon, think about it! If yeh marry me, you an’ I can go to the North together, away from all these madmen an’ women. I’d be a father t’the child; we’d be a proper family. All three of us together.”
“But Bran—”
He clutched her hands, his big ones nearly engulfing hers. “I
love
yeh, Flell,” he said at last. “I’ve loved yeh for years. Ever since Arren introduced us. But I never said nothin’, ’cause—well, I was some dumb guardsman who couldn’t read, an’ you was a great lady, beautiful an’ clever an’ gentle an’ all the things I’m not. But you ain’t weak. ‘Pretty like a flower, tough like a thistle, that’s our Flell.’ That’s what Arren used t’say, remember? Look at yerself. You deserve better’n this. Better’n Arn an’ this ruin. I can offer yeh better, I swear. If yeh wanted me to, I’d build an Eyrie for yeh. Anythin’.”
Flell smiled. “Bran, you’re babbling.”
There was a moment’s slightly shocked silence between them, and then Bran burst out laughing. “See?” he said. “That’s what I was talkin’ about! Flell the thistle!” He became serious. “But I meant it. You an’ I have both got unfinished business. We gotta find Arren, an’ we gotta save him.”
“From Erian?”
“From Erian, and himself.”
About the Author
“A lot of fantasy authors take their
inspiration from Tolkien. I take mine from
G. R. R. Martin and Finnish metal.”
Born in Canberra, Australia, in 1986, Katie J. Taylor attended Radford College, where she wrote her first novel,
The Land of Bad Fantasy
, which was published in 2006. She studied for a bachelor’s degree in communications at the University of Canberra and graduated in 2007 before going on to do a graduate certificate in editing in 2008. K. J. Taylor writes at midnight and likes to wear black.