Her griffin sprang forward, snarling, and Arren realised he was pointing the arrow straight at the griffiner. He hastily relaxed the string and threw the bow aside. “Deanne, I’m sorry. You surprised me.”
The red griffin hissed at him, tail swishing, and Arren bowed low to him. “I am sorry,” he said in griffish. “I did not mean to do that.”
The red griffin eyed him suspiciously for a few moments and then returned to Deanne’s side. She laid a hand on his shoulders but kept her eyes on Arren. “What were you doing?”
Arren went back to the bale of hay and sat down. “I thought it was stirring,” he said.
Deanne glanced at the black griffin, which hadn’t moved an inch since it had fallen asleep. “No need to be so jittery. It’s sound asleep. And you really shouldn’t point an arrow at it like that; you could very easily have let go of the string by accident. And don’t stand so close to the bars. I already warned you about that.”
“Sorry.”
She came over and placed a large iron lantern next to him. “Here. For when it gets dark.”
“Can I have some blankets?”
“Oh, yes, of course. Sorry, I completely forgot. I’d better see about that hammock, too.”
Arren paused as something suddenly occurred to him. “Deanne?”
“Yes?”
“Why did you come here?”
“We came here to deal with the griffin,” said Deanne. “We’d been given the assignment about a week before you suddenly disappeared.”
Arren stared at her. “You mean you knew about it all the way back then?”
“Of course we did. We don’t just rush off on these assignments, you know. They have to be planned first. We left the day after you did.”
“Who told you about it?”
“Lord Rannagon, of course. He always handles things like this. What’s the matter?”
Arren looked away. “I—nothing. Never mind. I was just curious.”
Deanne frowned at him. For a moment she looked as if she was going to say something, but then she turned away, saying, “I’ll just go and get those blankets.”
Arren stared at the book without really seeing it. His mind was racing. What was going on?
9
To Home
The black griffin didn’t wake up for the rest of the day, and by the time night came it was still asleep. It lay very still, its breathing slow and peaceful, its tail twitching from time to time. Plenty of people ventured into the barn to look at it, muttering in astonishment when they saw how huge it was. None of them ventured too close, but Arren kept an eye on them anyway. Some of them tried to talk to him, but his replies were curt and unfriendly, and they quickly realised that he wasn’t interested and left him alone.
He became bored with watching them and opened the book. It was a beautiful thing; the pages were high-quality parchment, and the writing on them was neat and done in fine black ink. There were illustrations, too. He turned the pages carefully, skimming through the information on them. There was a section for each of Cymria’s regions and their different customs. Eagleholm. Withypool. Wylam. Can-ran. He turned a page and came across the section about Northerners.
A picture stared up at him. It was of a man, tall and sinewy, with pale skin. He was clad in a long black robe, which was open at the front to reveal a narrow, scarred chest and a pair of black leggings. His hair was black and decorated with feathers and bone discs, and he had long fingers and a thin, angular face painted with blue spirals. He had a small, pointed beard and carried a long spear in one hand. The eyes were black and stared coldly straight at Arren.
Arren sighed and, in spite of himself, started to read the text on the next page.
The people of the North, also known as the “darkmen” or “blackrobes,” live in an icy and inhospitable part of the country. They are a primitive race, noted for their savage and heathen ways and for their cruelty in battle. They worship the dark Night God and speak a harsh, crude language, but have neither the wit nor culture for writing or art. Their songs and legends are barbaric and unsophisticated, full of tales of battle and slaughter, and unlike the other people of Cymria, they are not unified but constantly fight amongst themselves.
After the coming of the griffiners and the creation of a united nation under their rule, the blackrobes attempted to make forays into the warmer lands of the