Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (13 page)

Once at the top of the stairway, he stepped through a simple wooden door and inside. The swaying movement immediately ceased. The illusion of a small wooden construction replaced, quite magically, with the very real ornate stone and marble luxury of the Great Lord's palatial home, far away from dust, army and elephants. Matheus stopped to marvel at the strength of the magic used to create the link between the two places. Quite simply, it meant the Emperor never had to undertake the tiresome stress and inconvenience of travelling with his army yet could make an appearance when all was assembled and ready for him.

Stone walls decorated with precious stones set in swirling spirals, and geometric patterns echoed the Hawk's booted footsteps as he strode down the long corridor towards the throne room. To his side, through ornate windows and intricately carved screens could be glimpsed tinkling fountains surrounded by manicured gardens, the display of water shimmering in a cooler sunlight at odds with the desert the Hawk had just stepped from. Ahead, two elaborately uniformed guards holding long golden spears stood rigidly at attention either side of a massive door. The guards stared fixedly ahead, there attention impassive as if they hadn't noticed the Hawk's approach. They each had an impressive curling moustache waxed to a gleaming point, wide metal helmets edged in fur and topped with plumes of ornate feathers, black leather boots, similarly trimmed with fur at the knee, and blue satin jerkins edged in gold. 'Ridiculous peacocks,' muttered the Hawk under his breath.

As he approached, their spears crossed protectively in front of the door barring his passage, a show of the final defence before entering the court of the Lord of Shadows. He didn't slow, and the guards, recognising him, raised their spears at just the right moment allowing the doors to swing inwards.

Matheus Hawk strode into the huge audience chamber and crossed the distance between the door and throne without looking up at the Emperor seated upon the high throne, he knew better than that, and upon reaching the steps before the throne, dropped to one knee.

'My Lord, this humble servant greets you and brings you a promised gift. He held the crystal skull out before him and, keeping his eyes averted, waited for a response. The response was some time in coming, and Matheus had to bite back the frustration he felt at being made to posture like this. All will come in time, he thought. Just wait, get this done, and I will never have to bow or scrape to anyone ever again.

He felt the skull lift from his hand and glanced up and watched surreptitiously to see it floating freely towards the Emperor. The Great Lord of Shadows was seated cross-legged upon a throne constructed from polished elephant tusks bound in precious metals; he was holding his hands before him, guiding the skull. His robes were of the finest golden silk, and as he reached out to clasp the skull, the Hawk noticed he wore a different ring upon every finger. The Great Lord's eyes were no more than dark, narrow slits in a smooth round face, his mouth set in a flat unreadable line making his mood hard to fathom, something that had already confounded the Hawk on several occasions. Matheus attention shifted past the Emperor and came to rest upon the tall black crystal standing behind the throne. It was said that this crystal was the source of the Great Lord's magic, engorged by the souls of thousands of victims that had been sacrificed to fuel it, giving these people their name - the Soul Eaters. The crystal flickered and shifted as red streaks of energy crackled silently through the swirling dark clouds within. The Hawk forced his gaze back to The Great Lord, Djinn Tsai, Emperor of the Soul Eaters, attempting to keep some sense of control upon his emotions.

After first making contact here a little more than a year ago, Matheus had been made to wait several days until an audience had finally been granted. He had struggled through the initial discussions then stumbled upon a theme that had caught the Great Lord's interest. He had spoken at length of the Kingdom and the wealth it contained - something he may possibly have exaggerated upon slightly - and been accepted and allowed access to the Great Libraries and Magicians of the Royal court. His knowledge had grown quickly, along with his magical abilities, and during several audiences with the Emperor, a plan had been formed that might allow both of them to prosper.

'I see you have brought me the crystal skull as promised,' The Emperor, DjinnTsai's voice was low and controlled, and just as unreadable as his face. 'This one skull is what holds the courage and heart of the Kingdom's armies?' He gazed into the depths of the skull, his eyes opening only slightly when he perceived there was indeed magic lying dormant within. 'We shall study it with great interest. Thank you Mr Hawk.' He carefully placed the skull upon a small table at his side before returning his attention to Matheus.

'My army marches smoothly, and I am advised we shall be ready for our first battle, with the city of Dhurban, in only fifteen days. However, as you know, my wraiths are able to travel a little faster and so shall begin their attacks in only half of this time… all, we feel, is going as planned. On a different note, I am told you already ride the Drac-Au-Shun. Have you become accustomed to it so quickly? It is an ancient beast, Mr Hawk, and normally requires many years to master the discipline necessary to control it.' Djinn Tsai tilted his head to one side as he waited for an answer. Matheus knew that the egg that he had presented to the Great Lord had hatched, but was still young, and as yet, unridden, a fact that made him smile, for he had found a way to speed up the growth rate of his own beast.

'I have a way with beasts, Great Lord. The Drac-Au-Shun has not proven too much of a challenge. It will be interesting. In our history, we have many stories of such creatures. In the land beyond the Great Expanse, it has a different name, and many still believe it to be merely the subjects of stories and legends. When I ride the, Drac-Au-Shun in front of your army, it shall bring terror into the hearts of all who see it. None have ever heard the name Drac-Au-shun, nor seen or ever felt its fire, yet all will know it by another name. The cry upon all their lips… shall be dragon!'

* * *

The small wooden boat pushed gently away from the
Black Destiny
to move across the still, moonlit waters of the bay towards the smaller
Jenny,
it barely created a ripple nor hardly made a sound. If the guards on
The Jenny
had noticed their escape, they would have raised the alarm, which they hadn't, so Tarent was hoping they were in a similar state of intoxication as all the other pirates.

'Stay low,' he whispered pushing down Loras's overeager head. Loras was trying to see what was happening on the beach. The dancing light from the fire reflected on the still waters of the bay as he gazed over and it seemed another fight had just broken out. Sounds of yelling and cheering drifted across to them accompanied by the occasional clash of swords.

'We can only hope they all get drunk enough to kill each other and save us the bother,' hissed Magician Falk from his hiding place under one of the wooden benches, a position he obviously found less than dignified for a Magician of his standing. He had regained his former vigour and been fuming about being captured ever since they had released him.

Tarent dipped the oars into the water and gave a long slow stroke that brought them a little closer to
The Jenny
. Still no wiser to why their powers had suddenly ceased they had decided to remain cautious until they truly understood what had happened. He had been watching
The Jenny
for some time and, as far as he could tell, there was only one lookout pacing the deck. Watching him make his circuit, he had counted several times to judge when was best to make their move between the two ships. They were moored close together, so it was only a matter of moments before they had crossed the gap and were slipping alongside.

Tarent held a finger to his lips to indicate silence, then tapped Loras on the head to make sure he understood as the scrape of a boot indicated that the pirate guard was passing on his patrol above them; Loras scowled at him and silently mouthed, 'I'm not stupid!'

Guessing that the sentry had moved on, Tarent clambered up the short distance to the rail and peered around the deck. The patrolling pirate was indeed the only one moving about, but had just stopped to watch a game of 'Old Jack Bones' being played by three others close to the wheelhouse. The three were sharing a bottle of rum between them and all appeared a little worse for wear, one looked set to pass out at any moment. He was weaving back and forth with his eyes closed, and the others had to slap his face and shake him whenever it was his time to throw the dice. Tarent ducked back down to whisper to the others.

'There are four including the one walking round, the others are all sitting on the deck by the far side playing bones. Can either of you silence them somehow without alerting anyone else on the boat?'

Magician Falk stood up, and the little rowboat wobbled precariously for a moment as the old magician steadied himself on the side of
The Jenny
.

'I think that must be my job, young man. I've been starting to feel a little left out, leave the blackguards to me.' Pulling himself up he peered over the edge of the boat… and vanished.

'Black what?' hissed Loras, 'What's a blackg…?'

'Shhh,' Tarent held a finger to his lips again, reminding Loras to stay silent. A moment later, the bushy beard of Magician Falk came into view beaming down at them in the moonlight.

'All asleep, come on up.' They clambered up over the side, and, after checking to see that indeed the pirates were sleeping soundly, slipped past and through the open hatchway.

The narrow passageway was cramped and dingy, lit by feeble oil lamps set at every turn, it was a world of shadows, and strange sounds as the boat creaked and moaned around them. Dropping down several levels they finally found their way below the waterline to where the prisoners were being held, a simple spell threw the lock and the crew of
The
Jenny were free. Silently, the ship was retaken, and made ready to sail. The captain was relieved to be free and understandably eager to get away, but when Magician Falk spoke of exacting a 'just revenge' on their former captors he agreed to hear their plan.

'We need to know what they have that can block our magic,' mused Loras. 'If we can stop that from happening again…'

'Let's try asking one of these fine fellows,' said Magician Falk. He snapped his fingers next to the closest man's ear, and the pirate sat bolt upright, a shocked expression on his face as he glanced about trying to make sense of his predicament.

'Eh… wos 'apening? 'Ow did you get…'

'Be silent…' Magician Falk held up a hand, and a flame appeared upon his thumb. It jumped across to the next finger and then the next; the pirate's terrified eyes followed the flame, his bottom lip wobbling in fear. Magician Falk closed his hand, and the flame disappeared.

'I am a Magician, so is my young friend here.' Loras gave the pirate a smile and a friendly wave, Magician Falk frowned at him then returned his attention back to the pirate. 'When your captain arrived, our magic seemed to disappear… why was that?'

With a glance to his sleeping companions, then over to Loras. His eyes became even wider and words spilled out of his mouth. 'Two rings, one on each hand. He claps 'em together, and there ain't any magic can touch 'im. Please stop that boy from doing that,
please
… I told yer about the rings didn't I?' He attempted to back away as the conjured illusion of an eel, slipped into Loras's ear, then wiggled out of the other. Loras was pretending it was painful and was making a mixture of comical faces and gurgling sounds. Tarent, watching from the hatchway, was doing his best not to laugh at Loras's antics, but it was working with the pirate.

Magician Falk glanced at Loras then back to the pirate. 'My friend will ask his eel to visit you if you're lying. Where did he get them, these rings?' The pirate shook his head and looked about ready to run but Magician Falk placed a restraining hand upon his shoulder.

'Dunno. I swear it, by the Source. I dunno where he got 'em. But 'e 'as to touch them rings 'bout every turn of the glass for the protection ter keep working.'

'How very interesting,' said Magician Falk with a smile.

After they'd returned their talkative pirate to his blessed sleep, the two Magicians and Tarent had taken the rowboat and headed for shore, carefully being as silent as possible until they were on the beach.

It was still dark with several hours remaining until dawn. Clouds had come in covering the star-filled sky, which further masked their approach. Most of the pirates were asleep with just a few remaining awake by the dying fire, still drinking, laughing and quarrelling; Captain Tregawn was among them.

'Good evening, Captain!' called Tarent as the little rowboat crunched up onto the shore. The pirates stopped whatever they were doing - except one who couldn't actually stop throwing up but would have really liked to.

'Who's that there?' called the Captain. He stood up, narrowing his eyes as he squinted into the darkness where the boys had landed.

'Don't worry, it's only two young boys and an old man,' said Magician Falk walking up the beach into the light of the fire. A wave of his staff was enough to stop the pirate's hands coming together, freezing his arms, so his hands were pinned wide apart in mid-air. The pirate Captain struggled mightily, but even with all the effort he could muster, he couldn't bring his hands, and, therefore, the rings, together. He finally ceased his efforts and regarded them silently as they walked up the beach.

'At 'em me lovely lads,' he muttered.

To the Captain's side a big burly pirate jumped to his feet, drew his cutlass and launched himself at Magician Falk, the sword slicing down with a hiss. Loras stepped forward, held up a hand, and the pirate bounced off a wall of air and landed in the fire. He leapt up shrieking, slapping at his bottom to get rid of the burning cinders. Two others slammed down the lid of a large chest and drew knives before sitting on it protectively. The puking man continued to puke. Loras snapped his fingers; the chest disappeared, and the pirates collapsed to the floor. Captain Tregawn, his arms still held upright, appeared angry enough to burst.