The Dark Griffin - K. J. Taylor Page 0,117

not, I’m not. I’m a blackrobe. I don’t want to be. I kept trying not to be, but they—I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop it. They took everything away and now they’re going to kill me.”

“Arren, it’s not your fault,” said Annir. “It never was. Never let anyone tell you that. You didn’t ask for this.”

“We’re going to the Eyrie as soon as we leave here,” said Cardock. “We’re going to talk to the Mistress. I’m going to demand your release, or at least stop them killing you. Don’t worry, Arenadd, you’re not going to die. I’ll save you.”

Arren shook his head vaguely. “It won’t work. I did it, Dad. I stole that chick. I’m guilty.”

Cardock ignored him. “We’ve brought something for you,” he said, showing him a bundle he was carrying.

Arren looked at it. “What for?”

“What for?” said Annir, with a kind of forced cheerful-ness. “Arren, don’t you know what day this is?”

“I don’t . . .”

“It’s your birthday,” said Annir. “Your father and I were coming to see you, and then someone told us you’d been arrested, and—”

“And we came to bring you your present,” said Cardock, holding it up. “Your mother and I put a lot of work into it.”

It was made of black cloth and looked like a piece of clothing. “What is it?” said Arren.

Cardock unfolded it and held it up by the shoulders. It was a long black robe with wide, full-length sleeves and silver fastenings that stopped halfway down, so that the wearer’s legs would be visible and free to move.

“What’s that for?” Arren said blankly.

“To wear, of course,” said Cardock. “Here, feel it. It’s the best-quality material I could get. Warm and tough. It could just about stop an arrow.”

Arren reached through the bars and pulled the robe into the cage. It was woven from wool and was indeed thick and strong, though a little coarse. “Why did you make it for me?”

“Because it’s part of who you are,” said Cardock, almost fiercely. “Take it. If you go into the Arena tomorrow, wear it.”

“Why?” said Arren.

“Because you’re a Northerner,” said Cardock. “When we went into battle, we always wore robes just like this. Let them see you wear it, Arenadd. Let them see you’re not ashamed of what you are.”

Arren bowed his head. “But I am ashamed,” he said.

“Arenadd Taranisäii, don’t you dare say that in front of us. You are a Northerner, and you have no reason to be ashamed of it. It’s part of you and it always will be.”

“And I don’t want it to be!” Arren shouted. “I never did! What godsdamned good did it ever do me? When did it ever make me happy? Everywhere I go people look at me like I’m some kind of animal! And now they’re calling me insane. They’re saying—” He broke off suddenly, wide-eyed with helpless dread. “They said it was my blood coming through. The Northerners’ madness. And—” He looked out at them, almost pleading with them. “And I can feel it,” he whispered. “I can feel it in me. Someone called me a blackrobe and I tried to kill him. I tried to kill Lord Rannagon. I couldn’t stop myself. I’m going mad.”

“No,” Cardock rasped. “Arenadd, no. Stop it. You’re not mad.”

“Well then, what am I?” said Arren, his fingers tightening on the robe until the knuckles whitened. “You tell me, then.”

“Every Northerner is a warrior at heart,” said Cardock. “It’s your spirit coming through. You were born to fight. Why else do you think they made us wear those collars? They had to. It was the only thing that could subdue us. A Northerner is like a griffin. Nothing can ever break his spirit, and he will never stop fighting back until he dies. That’s what my own father told me, and it will always be true.”

Arren gripped the robe in both hands and pulled, as if trying to tear it apart. Then he threw it away. “The blackrobes are savages,” he snarled. “And I won’t let myself become one. Not now, not ever. No matter what happens.”

Cardock looked at him, shocked and hurt. “Arenadd, please—”

Arren turned his back on him. “Leave me alone, Father. If you want, you can come to the Arena tomorrow. See how a blackrobe dies.”

“Arren, please, don’t do this,” said Annir. “Please.”

But Arren did not turn around. As she began to cry, shame bit into him, but he forced himself to look away. Finally, he heard them start to leave.

“Dad!”

Cardock almost ran back.

readonlinefreenovel.com Copyright 2016 - 2024