Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (29 page)

'Everyone remain calm,' cautioned Quint as he slipped down from
The Griffin's
back, his legs feeling wobbly and uncertain on the hard surface after being in flight for so long and their near calamitous entry into the city. 'We don't want a fight, let me do the talking.' The huge beaked head swung around to regard him and then turned and snapped out as the first soldiers reached them. Quint held his arms up to show he held no weapons as the others dropped to the ground behind him, his chest felt bruised and ached, and he was short of breathe after their clash with the roof. All he really wanted to do was drop to the ground and recover.

'We are here to help you. We wish to see the Sultan…' He stepped forward as a soldier approached. 'Oh… I really wouldn't get too close to…' He flinched back as
The Griffin
snapped out, her beak glanced off the soldier's polished breastplate with a loud clang that sent the man crashing back into the arms of his companions.
The Griffin
stood up shaking her head and with a last hiss of contempt at the soldiers, launched herself up into the sky, the wind from her beating wings leaving them all coughing and covering their faces against the cloud of dust she left in her wake. As they recovered, the two groups regarded each other, both waiting for the other to do or say something. Eventually, their leader beckoned for them to follow and they all marched into the palace.

'Where is my daughter?' As the group entered the throne room the Sultan leaped up and marched across to them, his large moustache bristling with barely concealed rage. He pushed his chin forward, the little beard, perched like a brush upon the end, bobbing as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. 'I know you. You were the ones who took her before… where is she? I will have you beheaded, and your bodies tossed over the walls to your foul friends who defile this great city with their presence in our desert. Tell me what you have done with her.'

'Are you talking of Princess Fajira? We wouldn't harm the Princess… what happened?' Loras walked forward, ignoring the looks of recognition and then outrage that played across the Royal Magician's face.

'We're here to help you.' Quint gently pulled Loras back and addressed the Sultan directly. 'We've been sent by King Hugo Payne to aid you in any way that we can. The King will be here in a matter of days with his forces, we will do what we can to aid you before he arrives.'

'So maybe it wasn't you, but I still don't know what use you can be. My Magician is keeping the invaders at bay, they are no problem, yet my heart aches for news of Fajira.' The Sultan studied the group of bedraggled children and sighed. Signalling to his guards to leave he walked back to the pile of silken cushions that he had been reclining on, and flopped down dejectedly.

'I am told someone came on a great flying creature and took her away. They flew towards the mountains, but my scouts have searched and found nothing. Now we are prisoners in our own city, and I have lost touch with those who search.' Leaning forward he began twisting a red silken cloth in his hands. 'This is all the intruder left when he flew away. The abductor threw it to her maid as he dragged Fajira away and said to give it to the magic one, but my Magician has no clue to its meaning.'

Loras walked forward and held out his hand. He was trembling slightly as he pushed his glasses up his nose. 'May I see it…? I think it might be for me.' The Sultan looked surprised, cast a look at his Magician, and then handed over the cloth. Loras unfurled it, took a glance and then turned to hold it up for the others to see. The red silken cloth had a large black hawk, pictured in flight, burnt into its centre.

'I'm going to kill him this time Quint. I'm going to find where the Princess is, and then I'm going to kill Matheus Hawk and bring Fajira home… and please, don't try and stop me.'

'I won't try and stop you Loras; I think you need to go, but try not to kill him if you can help it. Let's try and take him back to face the King. Tarent, take
The Griffin
and go with him. We'll stay here and do what we can. We have to learn a little about our new enemies.

The problem when studying a magical clue, at least for Loras, who had so little experience to draw upon, was that unpicking the spell and following the clues back to their source might possibly collapse the whole thing, which would leave him with nothing, but it was incredibly interesting. The Hawk had built up the spells in several layers that had to be carefully peeled back and set aside. There had been a few fairly obvious traps built in, but Loras had managed to brush these aside without any problem. He pushed his glasses back up his nose and studied the impression of the hawk; wings outspread in flight and a smile creased his face in wonder at the artistry involved.

'He's getting quite good at magic,' he said, looking up.

'Can we go yet?' Tarent paced the battlement where he and Loras were waiting. His attention was switching between his small friend, bent over peering at the red material, and then over the wall at the mass of men, animals and… really strange looking creatures that were occupying the desert around the city.

'They don't seem to be making much effort to attack. They appear to be waiting for something… or someone,' continued Tarent, but Loras didn't respond. Yet another arrow arched up towards them, only to flicker out in a fizzle of sparks against the cities protective barrier. Each time this happened, which was often while they were visible at the battlements, Tarent's thoughts returned to their own clash with the barrier as they had entered the city and how they could so easily have been fizzled out in much the same way, he shuddered.

'Do you know where we're going yet?
The Griffin
will be here soon.' Holding his hand to his brow to protect his eyes from the glare of the sun, he scanned the horizon, but there was still no sight of their ride in the deep blue sky. His attention was drawn to a group of the invaders approaching the city. They were coaxing one of the huge beasts forward, whether to use it as a platform to try and gain entrance over the wall or in an attempt to push the wall down he wasn't sure, but the beast appeared big enough for either of those tasks. Yet the men were obviously frustrated. However they tried to guide and drive the creature, it didn't seem to be eager to approach any closer. Several riders were mounted upon its back, guiding it by kicking their heels into its neck as they tapped its rear and sides with long sticks to drive it on while others pulled it with ropes, yet still it swayed, shuffled, swung its head and refused to approach any closer.

'I don't think it likes the barrier,' said Loras as he appeared at Tarent's side. 'Funny looking thing isn't it.'

'Yeah, strange, but I don't blame it. I didn't like going near the barrier either. I don't feel it from this side, but I remember there was a sort of buzzing, swirling feeling coming from near the wall when we flew close from over there, it was horrible. Why don't we feel it here?'

'Magic is wonderful, isn't it?' Loras mumbled. His attention had returned to the cloth which he was back to fumbling with, a blue glow surrounding it faintly, then he glanced up again. 'The magic in the barrier is directed outwards. The Sultan's Magician is really very good, it's a huge spell.' He gazed out thoughtfully, and then pushed his hand out through the barrier - the tiniest ring of white sparks surrounded his arm, dancing in a circle where it broke the magical shield.

'Loras!'

'It's okay. It won't affect anything coming from this side.' He wiggled his fingers about and then waved at the group with the huge beast, but they were distracted. It had just dragged one of its riders off with its long nose and was now using the tormentor as a club to swing at everyone as it stamped its huge feet and danced about, the vibrations reaching them up on the wall. The man was screaming hysterically as he was swung around in huge circles, arms flapping and legs kicking as all those surrounding scattered. Loras pulled his hand back in, sniffed at it experimentally, and then returned his attention back to the cloth. 'We're ready.'

'You know where we're going?'

'No… but the cloth does.'

'The cloth does?'

'Yes, the cloth does.' Loras glanced up as a shadow crossed above them. 'Ahh, perfect timing.'

'Do we need anything else? Provisions… potions… help?'

'No, let's go.'

Tarent watched as
The Griffin
flared her wings and came down to land heavily a little further along the battlement. She appeared distressed, shaking its head from side to side, huffing and coughing, her huge chest heaving as she sought for breath, and she was stumbling drunkenly, her clawed feet scratching at the stonework.

'Here's something else that doesn't like the barrier, and she knows where to fly through at the weakest point.' Loras walked calmly forwards, ducking nimbly under a flapping wing, placed his hand upon the side of
The Griffin's
head and then closed his eyes. Within moments, the shuffling stopped, and her breathing calmed perceptibly, the huge head turned towards Loras and nudged him in thanks. He rubbed her beak then turned to Tarent. 'Ready?'

Despite Tarent's misgivings, there was no sickening, lurching feeling as they flew out. They cleared the battlements and soared down from the city wall and over the head of the huge angry beast still wildly swinging its captive. As Loras had predicted there was no effect on anything that moved through the barrier from the inside, however, coming back, Tarent knew, would be a different experience. He held on behind Loras as the small Magician steered
The Griffin
low over the enemy camp, giving them a swift but tantalising glimpse of the invaders, leaving a wake of cries and arrows behind them. Once past the horde and out into the open desert, Loras held out the red cloth, so thoughtfully left as a clue by Matheus Hawk and muttered a spell. As the last words left his lips he let go of the cloth and it flew ahead of them, fluttering like a bird in flight before banking around towards the distant mountains.

They coasted for some time, scarves tied about their mouths so they chewed less sand and a Dhurbar idea of a headdress covering their eyes with slits cut to see through. It filtered out enough of the sun's glare to be a comfort, yet allowed them to see at least some of their surroundings. The warm desert wind at their low altitude didn't help much as it tugged at the material, but it was a pleasure after the stifling heat of the city. Below them, the sand could easily be mistaken for waves frozen mid flow - gazing down was mesmerizing taking Tarent's attention for some time. After a while, he leant forward and shouted to be heard over the noise of flight.

'Don't you think it's a bit strange that the Hawk left that red cloth for you to find, Loras?'

Loras turned his head slightly and shouted back. 'No, it's not strange. It was an invitation. Taking the Princess and leaving the cloth were both done so he could get me away from everyone else. He knows were coming, he wants a fight, a showdown, a magical duel, whatever you want to call it.'

'And we're just going to walk into it?'

'What else can we do? We have to rescue the Princess and at some point we have to face down the Hawk. He's been a stone in our shoe for too long. We may as well see what he's up to and deal with whatever he has waiting for us as best we can.'

As best we can… Tarent was silent for a while, thinking about what Loras had said, and for the first time in quite a while felt his faith in his small magical friend waver. This didn't feel like a good idea at all. To be flying right into what was obviously a trap, without any plan or any idea of what lay ahead for them, now felt absurd. Tarent felt the rise of worry quickly begin to verge on panic. He tried to calm himself and think it out rationally. Glancing down at the sea of sand dunes passing beneath them he shook his head then reached back to check his staff was secure and then looked up to see how close to the mountains, they were… close, they were getting really close. He could feel his heart thumping, his breathing becoming laboured. He took another deep breath and tried to shake the feeling. Loras wasn't stupid - he should have faith in his friend's abilities… but as a priest of the Source, surely he should also follow his own intuition, and right now his intuition was telling him, in fact, screaming at him that this was wrong, very, very wrong…

'Loras… Loras. We have to go back… or head up into the mountains away from where the Hawk wants us… it's…' They suddenly pitched upwards as
The Griffin
hit a rising current of warm air, the shock of the movement causing Tarent to stop speaking and both riders to grip on with hands and legs, burying their heads down as the great beast manoeuvred beneath them seeking level flight.

'
Loras!
' Tarent was shouting now, shaking his friend by the shoulder. 'Loras, I don't like this, I have a bad feeling… we have to…' But he didn't have time to finish his sentence as a violent flash and deafening explosion sent him into a world beyond reason. Roaring wind filled his ears, his body was spinning… falling. He was vaguely aware of losing contact with Loras, felt his friend torn away from him and his hold with the warm, vital body of
The Griffin
dissolve, it was just gone… and then came a sickening, awful impact, once… twice… sand forcing its way into his mouth and nose… pain filled his body as it was twisted and contorted… his screams barely audible beneath the deafening, crashing, splintering sound of timber, heavy impact… pain… and then… abruptly… stillness and the very real heat of the sun burning hot upon his face, and then… nothing.

'
What…
' His consciousness swam back into awareness… must have slipped away. '
Oh Source, what's happened?
' Images floated through blurred vision of yellow sand, blue sky and searing, bright sunlight. He tried to rub at his eyes, but his arm wouldn't move… wouldn't respond and move up to his face. Oh, Source, his head hurt… he cast about trying to focus.

'Loras
… Loras.
' There was no response beyond the high-pitched ringing that filled his ears. He blinked and tried to focus. Broken wooden planks, ropes and canvas, filled his blurry vision. Tarent's mind caught up with him, and the jolt of realisation hit him, it was bits of the boat…
The Griffin
was down.

* * *

'Here we go to play our game of war… here we go to gather souls.' The Emperor, Djinn Tsai, hummed a soft tune and shuffled slowly along the tiled corridor of his palace. The doorway ahead of him would open within the giant palanquin on the back of his largest war elephant, which now stood at the head of his army besieging the desert city of Dhurban. He realised he was experiencing the very human emotion of pleasure, and he studied the sensation with interest, his head cocking from one side to the other, a small smile upon his face.

Gentle sunlight filtered through plants and flowers draping down from an upper balcony to his right hand side, lending his path a dappled, ethereal light. The sharp click of his wooden soled shoes contacting with the mosaic floor was a pleasing accompaniment to sounds of tinkling water drifting upon the soft breeze from a nearby fountain - all of these small things a delight to his senses, his slow pace reflecting joy in the combined experiences of his surroundings. He was also aware of how annoying his slow progress would be to the two senior generals trailing him by some three paces.

Head tilted to one side, he continued to murmur to himself and then stopped to watch as a large yellow and blue butterfly entered the passageway ahead of them, flitting amongst the rays of sunlight, silently moving in an erratic dance that, surely, could only make sense to the delicate creature itself. As it neared, the Emperor gently raised his right hand, and it came to rest upon his finger, slowly opening and closing its shimmering painted wings. Behind the Emperor, the generals remained still, accustomed to their Emperor's often erratic behaviour, they waited patiently as he gently brought the small creature close to his face to study it in a ray of sunlight. The butterfly continued to move its wings as if basking in the warm light and appeared quite content upon its perch; ignorant of any danger it may be in.

'Such exquisite beauty, such grace and yet…' Pushing his hand outwards to return the butterfly to flight, the Emperor, Djinn Tsai, clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and loud in the confined passage, snuffing the tiny creature's life in an instant. For a moment, the Emperor remained unmoving, his hands clasped as if in prayer, still holding the now broken form. 'Yet so fleeting and fragile, this thing we call life…' He opened his hands and slowly licked the crumpled insect from his palms, savouring its essence without sign of distaste. Once finished, he wiped his mouth with a silk cloth extracted from his sleeve, and slowly turned to regard the two generals. 'Shall we now go to war? Shall we see what this desert city has to offer in the way of souls and amusement?' Without waiting for an answer, for he required none, he spun on his heels and continued his slow dreamlike walk to the portal door, gestured with his hand for it to open, which it did accompanied by a hiss and gust of hot dry air, and then stepped through into a far hotter, dryer place.

* * *

'I know we have to go down there, but when we're wandering around dancing with wraiths… where do you think they might have hidden the last crystal skull? I really don't see any likely spots, do you?' Pardigan continued to stare at the incredible diversity of tents and people that comprised the invading army, aware that it stretched completely around the city. 'Bartholomew said they were called the Soul Eaters. I don't think I really like the sound of that.' A scowl creased his face as his attention was drawn to a huge beast, the biggest they had seen, ears flapping, long nose swaying, being slowly driven forward with its handlers pushing through the ranks of bustling warriors. It had a building constructed upon its back that rivalled the size of any merchant's house back in Freya. 'I wonder what they're planning to do with that?' asked Pardigan in awe of the enormous beast.

Beside him, Quint was silent as he took in the full might of the invading force and the monstrous animal coming towards them. 'I don't know, Pardigan. I really don't know.'