Bruised and shocked, he lay with one arm twisted painfully beneath him and caught his breath. Then he got up, quickly looking around for any sign of guards. There was no-one in the enclosure. The griffins lay in their cages, most of them asleep, silent but for the occasional clink of a chain. He was safe. For now.
Arren glanced up at Ymazu and then padded swiftly toward the gate leading out. It was shut, but he judged that he could squeeze through the bars without much trouble. Of course, there would be other gates to get through beyond it . . . No. No escape that way. He looked up at the net. It was more than twice his height, and there was nothing dangling from it that he could grab. Full of fear, he began to make his way around the edges of the enclosure, keeping well back from the cages, looking for footholds he could use to climb back up. But there were none. Though there were some unoccupied cages, their bars were vertical and there weren’t enough horizontal supports between them for him to climb. Between the cages there was nothing but smooth, featureless stone.
Arren started to panic. He went to the centre of the enclosure, where the lifting platform was set into the wooden floor, half-buried by sawdust. It was tightly locked into place, and someone had taken the handle off the winch, rendering it useless. He examined the frame holding the ropes attached to the platform. Maybe he could climb that? It didn’t look too difficult.
He stepped onto the winch and hefted himself up the side of the frame, grabbing hold of a strut to balance himself. It was hard going but he managed it, and after a brief struggle he got to the top and stood below the net. Perfect. From here he could jump and grab the net, and climb up through it. Then Ymazu could pick him up and get him out of there.
The brown griffin was watching him, and he whispered this plan to her. She listened and then clicked her beak to show her agreement.
Arren breathed in deeply and felt his fear recede. All right. He had an escape route.
He jumped down from the frame, ignoring the brief burst of pain from his legs, and walked toward the nearest of the cages. Which one had they put the black griffin into? It had been near the gate, he was fairly sure of that. Accordingly, he went to the cage set into the wall on the right side of the gate and peered in. It was empty. So was the next.
The third was occupied. Arren stood well back, squinting. All he could really see was the outline of the griffin inside, though a shaft of moonlight had fallen over its beak.
For a long time he didn’t move, but then he decided to risk it. “Darkheart?” he whispered.
Silence.
“Darkheart!”
Arren dared to move closer and thump the bars with the back of his hand. “Darkheart!” he hissed again.
There was silence, and then suddenly the griffin’s shadow was moving and shifting, and he saw it stand up, its chains clanking loudly in the silence. He moved back quickly, but the griffin thrust its head forward, straining to reach the bars and hissing.
“Darkheart,” Arren said again, feeling like a fool. “Darkheart, is that you?”
The shadowy griffin did not move for some time, but then it clicked its beak and moved forward as far as its chains would allow. “Darkheart,” it repeated softly.
He recognised the voice. “It’s me,” he said. “It’s Arren Cardockson. I’ve come to set you free.”
A chain clinked. “Arren?”
Arren dared to move closer. “Yes, it’s me. Please, Darkheart, you have to be quiet. I’m going to open the door, and then I’ll come in and take the chains off. But you have to hold still.”
It was doubtful that Darkheart understood all of this, but he paused a moment and then sat back on his haunches. Waiting.
Arren took a deep breath and reached out to touch the door. There was no lock on it, only a pair of huge bolts, each as thick as his arm. He slid one out and then the other, and then slowly and carefully pulled the door open. It swung forward with a faint creak, leaving nothing between him and the black griffin.
Darkheart got up almost instantly and jerked forward, trying to get through the door, only to be pulled back by his