The Dark Griffin - K. J. Taylor Page 0,150

I’m like this, Rannagon. You killed Eluna, and then you killed me. And now I’ll make you join me.”

Shoa darted forward, putting herself between the two humans. “If you touch him, I will tear you apart,” she rasped.

Arren snarled. “I will have my revenge,” he intoned.

“Please!” Rannagon shouted again. “Please, you don’t understand! I didn’t want you to die! I didn’t even want to—”

“But you did it!” Arren roared. “You did it, Rannagon!”

“Rannagon did only as I told him to,” Shoa interrupted.

She started to advance on him, and he backed away slowly, step by step. The yellow griffin’s eyes were icy cold, full of cruelty.

“Rannagon is weak,” she hissed. “He was always weak. I chose him for his mind, but he has no will. Every day I have pushed him to be strong, to choose what is right, to take what is due to him. It was I who made him rise to be Master of Law, next to be chosen as Master of the Eyrie. But his weakness betrayed me. He fathered a bastard and disgraced us both.

“And then you were there. The upstart blackrobe, slipping into our council like a rat, ready to spread your corruption and your evil magic. You had charmed Riona—and so many others—into believing you were not like other Northerners, that the madness was not in you. It was only a matter of time before you duped her into naming you her successor, and became the tyrant that had been inside you since birth.

“Rannagon would not kill his own son. And he did not want to kill you, either, so he arranged for your disgrace. When you survived your journey to the South, Rannagon wanted to leave you be. You could no longer be a threat, with your griffin dead. But I knew you would find a way. I called up my magic, and I cursed you; and from then, I knew I did not need to do anything more. You were doomed to a death as terrible as you deserved.”

Arren collided with a table and could go no further. Shoa stood in front of him, blocking his escape, her talons tearing at the floor.

“I’ll expose you,” he whispered. “I’ll tell them what you did.”

“Who would believe you?” said Shoa. “A blackrobe, and a murderer? One who was not only insane, but dead? You cannot fight us. You never could.”

“I’m sorry, Arren,” Rannagon called. “I did what I had to do, I—”

And then it was too late. In an instant, as he looked at Shoa and at the man behind her, the madness closed in over Arren’s brain. He dived sideways, rolled and vaulted upright, then ran at Rannagon, sword raised.

Rannagon was fast. He dodged out of the way and swung his own sword, hard, straight at Arren’s neck. But Arren ducked it and struck. The broken sword caught Rannagon in the stomach, briefly embedding itself in the flesh before it ripped out, leaving a trail of blood over Rannagon’s tunic. Rannagon roared and punched Arren in the face, bowling him over, and then Shoa was there. She lashed out with one wing, knocking Rannagon aside, and then pounced on Arren. He rolled out of the way, got up and ran, darting this way and that to avoid her. But in this confined space there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Her talons hit him, hurling him across the room; he hit a bookshelf and fell to the floor, and when he landed he felt the first true pain he had experienced since his resurrection.

He tried to scrabble away, but Shoa had him cornered now; she rushed at him, beak opening wide.

“No!”

It was Rannagon. He ran forward, pushing past her to get to Arren. Shoa hissed and raised her beak, threatening him, but he pushed her away.

“I said no!” he said again, and she retreated a little, tail lashing.

Rannagon placed his boot on Arren’s chest, pinning him down as he tried to get up.

“I want to do this,” he said.

But the delay had been long enough. Arren’s fingers closed around the hilt of his sword, and he lifted and swung it with all his might. It hit Rannagon in the leg, so hard Arren felt it cut through the flesh and strike bone. Rannagon screamed and reeled away, and Arren picked himself up, dived under Shoa’s beak and ran for the double doors leading out of the study. He burst out onto the balcony and began trying to climb over the side,

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