and he turned and smashed his talons into the red griffin’s chest. Sefer reeled away and then leapt back without warning, driving his talons into Darkheart’s shoulders.
The two griffins grappled with each other, screeching, and Arren hurried out of the cage and crouched by Orome’s side. “Orome? Orome!”
Orome did not respond. He was already dead, his throat torn so deeply that his head had nearly been severed from his body. Arren reached down and gently closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He straightened up. Darkheart and Sefer were still fighting, both so intent on each other that they were completely unaware of his presence. He skirted around them and ran for the lifting frame. But even as he stepped onto the winch he heard the shouts, and looked up sharply to see a group of men run through the gate and into the enclosure. Panic shot through him. He started to climb the frame as fast as he could, but the support broke and he fell hard onto the platform, which lurched alarmingly.
The men had seen Arren, and the black griffin. They rushed in, raising the long spears they held. But Darkheart had also seen them. He glanced at them for a heartbeat and then threw himself forward, ducking in under Sefer’s beak and hitting Sefer with his full weight. There was a sickening snap as the red griffin’s neck broke, and Darkheart wheeled around and attacked the humans now trying to surround him.
Arren watched in horror as they were cut down, their spears utterly useless against the wild griffin’s rage. There was no time to try to climb the frame again. He ran around them as fast as he could, and darted out through the gate and into the dark tunnel leading to the pit. One man attempted to go after him, but Darkheart struck him from behind, and Arren heard his scream as he ran.
The door to Orome’s office was open, and he ran in and grabbed the sword from the wall. That made him feel a little safer; he stuffed it into his belt and began to search the drawers. He found a ring of keys in one and snatched it, with a little surge of triumph. Then he ran out of the office as fast as he could go.
There were a few torches burning in the tunnel, and he used their light to find his way to the small gate he had seen the day when Darkheart had come to the Arena. He tried several keys before he found one that would unlock it, wrenched open the gate and ran into the passageway on the other side. There were no torches there, but he didn’t slow down. He ran on blindly, heart fluttering, and didn’t know he’d reached the end until he collided with the door. There he tried the keys, one by one, choosing them by feel until one finally worked. The door opened, and fresh air blew onto his face. He threw the keys back into the corridor, slammed the door on them and ran away into the city.
22
Falling
Arren ran. He left the Arena behind and headed for the market district, where there should be plenty of places to hide. The image of Orome’s dead body kept flashing before his eyes, its neck one huge bloodied wound, and horror came with it. What have I done? What have I done?
The streets were almost completely deserted at this time of night, but there were still torches burning here and there. Arren stayed out of the pools of light and found a narrow alleyway to rest in. There he sat down with his back to the wall and breathed deeply, trying to compose himself. He had to get out of the city as fast as possible, but how? Ymazu wouldn’t be able to find him now, not in the dark, and if he called out to her he would be heard by every other griffin in the city. No. He was on his own now. Ymazu had told him she wouldn’t fight for him. Most likely she had already gone back to find Vander. If he could get to one of the lifters and conceal himself on it, then perhaps he would have a chance.
He stood up. No sense in staying here. The longer he stayed in one place, the greater the chance of being discovered.
The nearest lifter wasn’t far from the spot where his home had been. He left the alley and loped along the street beyond