The Dark Griffin - K. J. Taylor Page 0,16

deserve more respect.”

“Not these ones, sir. They’re man-eaters.”

“So they give them more people to eat,” said Arren. “Oh, the logic.”

“They’re just criminals, sir.” Gern eyed him. “Why do you have your sword with you?”

“It’s a secret.”

Gern’s face lit up. “Are you doing another raid today, sir?”

“Maybe.” Arren gave up when he saw Gern’s expression. “All right, yes. I’ll tell you about it later if you keep it quiet. I’m going to go and meet up with Bran once Eluna gets here.” He glanced skyward. There were plenty of griffins circling up there, but he thought he could spot Eluna’s white wings among them. “Hold on a moment; I’ll just call her.”

Gern stood back, and Arren cupped his hands around his mouth. He lifted his head and let out a loud, harsh scream. It was an approximation of a griffin’s call, and he repeated it several times, completely ignoring all the people staring at him. “Arren! Arren!”

After a few moments, Eluna’s reply echoed back. “Eluna!”

Arren lowered his hands. “Watch out,” he said, rather hoarsely.

Bystanders had already picked up on what was going on. They hurried to get out of the way as Eluna came down to land. She hit the wooden planks lightly and came to Arren’s side, claws clicking. The people stayed well away from her, openly frightened and awestruck, as if they were looking at a queen. Eluna ignored them. She sat down on her haunches beside Arren, and he stroked her shoulder. “There you are.”

Gern came back, moving very slowly and carefully. He kept his eyes on Eluna, who had turned sharply to watch him, and bowed low. She stared at him, sizing him up, and then looked haughtily away.

Gern relaxed. “I’ll see you later, then, sir,” he said to Arren.

Arren smiled. “I’ll be down at the Red Rat tonight, probably. I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll see you then, sir,” said Gern. He bowed to Eluna again and left.

Eluna rustled her wings and got up. “Time to go and meet Bran,” she said, and set out along the street with Arren by her side.

The two of them moved sedately, keeping pace with each other. People hurried to get out of their way, bowing and greeting Arren with murmured “sir”s. Arren acknowledged them with nods and a cheerful smile. Eluna barely looked at them. Once, when someone ventured too close to her, she lashed out at them, her beak snapping shut inches away from their leg. The unfortunate darted out of the way, to the laughter of the onlookers.

The sun was well up by the time they reached their destination. Another fine day.

The guard tower was right on the edge of the city, not too far from Arren’s home. There weren’t any direct routes to it from his place, though; the city planners had wanted to discourage too many people from travelling around the edge. The city’s platform was extremely strong and was constantly being reinforced, but there was no sense in risking it collapsing. This meant most of the buildings on the platform were built to be lightweight, and those who lived on the very edge, like Arren, were forbidden to own more than two or three pieces of heavy furniture.

The guard towers, however, were too essential to Eagleholm’s security to be built anywhere other than on the edge. There were at least twelve of them, spaced around the boundary of the city, and they were constantly manned by lookouts. Cymria was not a united country, not by any yardstick, and neighbouring powers were quite capable of attacking if they wanted to.

Arren’s arrival was promptly spotted by the guards on the lookout post at the top of the tower, one of whom immediately went inside to alert the others. By the time Arren reached the tower a group of guards had already come out to meet him.

“Mornin’, sir!” said one of them, bowing to Eluna. “Yeh got here early.”

“Hello, Bran,” said Arren. “Yes, Eluna woke me up. Everything ready?”

“Just about, sir,” said Bran. He was a little older than Arren, and three times as heavy. He had broad shoulders and powerful muscles and a square jaw which was only slightly softened by a short beard. Like his colleagues, he wore a red leather breastplate decorated with a black eagle. A short sword hung at his side, and there was a steel helmet under his arm. “How’re yeh doin’, sir? Nervous?”

Arren laughed. “Me? When I’ve got Eluna to look after me?”

Bran glanced cautiously at the

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