The Griffin's Flight by K.J. Taylor Read Free Book Online

fed by a thin trickle of water that spilt over a heap of tumbled rocks. Though it was so thin it was a rivulet rather than a stream, it would do. He didn’t like the look of the pond itself; it was murky and full of dead leaves. In fact—
    He froze.
    “Oh my gods.”
    Skandar came up behind him. “Danger?” he inquired.
    Arren fumbled with the fastenings of his robe. “There’s someone in the water,” he said.
    It seemed to take forever to undo the straps holding the sword to his back and then struggle out of his robe; he wrenched it off his shoulders and tossed it aside, sword and all, and then dived from the edge without waiting to take off his boots.
    He hit the surface of the water with a loud splash and a cold shock, and for a moment he was struggling to recover himself. But he broke through the surface and began to swim toward the floating body as fast as he could. It was a woman, face-down, her long hair waving in the water like weed.
    Arren grabbed her by the arm and managed to turn her over; for a moment she started to sink, but then she bobbed to the surface again. She wasn’t moving. Panicking, he swam for the shore, dragging her behind him. She was heavy, and the struggle to keep her on the surface kept forcing him downward. He reached the rocky lip of the pool, half-drowned, and climbed out backward, pulling her with him. She came slowly, the remains of her dress catching and dragging on the dry stone, and he let go once she was half out of the water, legs still partly submerged. He began to pound her on the chest, between her breasts. It was a crude method; he’d learnt it years ago and never tried it before, but now the knowledge flooded back into his mind without being called. He stopped to check her pulse and breathing; there was a weak heartbeat, but he couldn’t detect any breath coming from her mouth. Desperate, he put his mouth over hers and blew air down her throat as hard as he could, trying to reinflate her lungs, then put both hands on her chest and pressed down on the bony plate that supported her rib cage. He blew into her mouth again, then turned her over and thumped her on the back, hoping this would help.
    Without warning, she gave a jerk and began to vomit up water. Arren laid her on her back and she coughed and vomited. The water bubbled out of her mouth and onto her chest, mucky pond water with fragments of rotting leaf in it. Arren fought down his disgust and pushed on her chest a few more times, encouraging her to breathe. Once she had brought up the last of the water, she opened her mouth wide and started to cough and wheeze. After a while, it settled into true breathing, and Arren sat back, giddy with relief.
    There was a thump, and Skandar landed behind him. The griffin came over to inspect the woman, and Arren moved instinctively to protect her.
    Skandar sniffed at her, and then looked up. “Food?” he asked hopefully.
    “No,” said Arren. “Absolutely not. No more eating humans. I’ve told you before.”
    Skandar sat back on his haunches. “Strange human.”
    Arren couldn’t help but agree with that. Now that he had time to look more closely at the woman, he found her appearance very puzzling indeed. Her hair was silver. Not grey or light blonde, but silver. Yet she didn’t look old. In fact, she looked about the same age as he was. Her skin had an odd silvery sheen to it, and her features were sharp and hard; she had a pointed nose and small chin. She was barefoot and wore a very torn and dirty grey dress, which, sticking to her skin because it was wet, revealed how thin she was.
    Arren stood up and lifted her onto his shoulder, then staggered away from the pool, with Skandar in tow. She hung limply, apparently still unconscious. He found a patch of sunlit grass and laid her down as gently as possible, placing her arms by her sides and pulling her dress over her as well as he could.
    This done, he turned to Skandar. “Skandar, could you just—” He broke off.