thumped on it, hard.
“Lord Rannagon, are you all right? Lord Rannagon!”
Rannagon raised his sword. “I’m being attacked!” he shouted back. “It’s the—”
Arren thrust. The blade was aimed straight at Rannagon’s chest, but before it connected, the old lord’s own sword lashed out. There was a loud metallic crack, and then Arren was backing away, staring blankly at the shattered hilt in his hand.
The door broke open, and two people and a griffin burst through. Rannagon glanced quickly at them, and it was that gesture which sealed his doom.
Arren ran straight at him, screaming Eluna’s name, and hit him in the throat with the hilt of Orome’s sword. A long shard of metal still jutted from the spot where the blade had once been joined, and it drove straight into Rannagon’s neck, through the skin, through the flesh and into the great vein in his throat. Arren wrenched the hilt sideways, tearing the wound open wide, and Rannagon fell, his sword dropping out of his hand.
Silence reigned in the room for what felt like a long time. Shoa lay dead, her body torn wide open by Darkheart’s beak. Rannagon was still moving, but only a little. Blood gushed from his throat in a torrent, and a few moments later he stilled.
Arren, standing over him with the bloodied sword hilt still in his hand, saw the people in the doorway. Erian, with Senneck. And Flell.
Her eyes were fixed on his face. “Arren, what have you done?” she whispered.
Arren threw the hilt away. “I have had my revenge,” he said. He stepped forward and picked up Rannagon’s sword, and pointed it at Erian. “If you think your father was a great man, then ask yourself why he betrayed me. And ask yourself why even death did not stop me from killing him,” he said.
Erian’s face was pale and he was breathing hard. “I—I—”
Arren laughed. “And you call yourself a griffiner.”
Senneck stalked toward him. “Murderer,” she rasped.
There was a movement from behind Arren, and Darkheart appeared. He darted forward and struck Senneck across the face with his talons, violently knocking her aside. She got up and started to hiss at him, but he was larger than her, and his look was murderous.
“Mine,” he said, starting toward her. “Mine!”
Arren turned away and went to the fireplace. He picked up a fallen book and held it over the flames until the pages caught. “You should have believed me,” he said to Flell, and threw the burning book across the room. It landed on the heap of papers that had fallen from the overturned table, and they caught and began to burn fiercely. A spark landed on a pool of oil spilt by a broken lamp, and flames billowed toward the roof, setting fire to the bookshelf and the tapestries on the walls. In an instant, half the room was ablaze.
Arren pointed at Flell and Erian. “Run,” he said, then turned and ran out onto the balcony. Darkheart paused a moment, still watching Senneck, and then went after him. Out on the balcony, he snatched Arren up by the back of his robe and then took off with a single powerful leap, flying up and into the night and taking Arren with him.
Back in the study, Flell tried to go toward her father’s body. Erian grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her back.
“No!” she shouted. “I have to—”
“It’s no good,” Erian snapped. “There’s nothing you can do for him. We have to get out of here.”
Flell had to be dragged away by her half-brother. He hustled her down the corridor, shouting as loudly as he could: “Fire! Fire! Wake up! Get out! Fire!”
But most of the Eyrie’s occupants would never hear his warnings. As the fire spread, burning up through the roof of Rannagon’s study and into the level above, there was nothing anyone could do to put it out. Most of the building’s interior was wood, and all anyone could do now was run.
As Flell ran, pulled along by Erian’s desperate grip, she could hear the shouts of alarm coming from all around. People were waking up, and griffins as well. They were confused, but they could smell the smoke was wafting down the corridor behind them. Senneck ran ahead, clearing a path, and the three of them reached the great council chamber. From there, they made their escape.
When they reached the street outside, Flell looked up and could see the flames billowing out of Rannagon’s balcony. They were huge and fierce, burning so high