Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (5 page)

Horns and now bells echoed through the palace in a deafening cacophony of sound and confusion. Doors crashed open, and guards and servants filled the corridors making it difficult for Pardigan to keep the Magician in sight. They descended several levels of stairs and entered a huge central reception hall heading, in what Pardigan hoped was the direction of the east tower and the King's chambers.

Keeping up as best he could, he made his way across the hall, sidestepping people who couldn't see him, and so made no effort to avoid him, as he gazed about in awe. The hall was vast and richly appointed. Massive stone pillars the size of mature oak trees lined each side reaching up towards a golden, vaulted ceiling. At the base of each pillar stood a uniformed guard, stern and unmoving, ignoring the pandemonium around them, resigned to their task of motionless duty.

Paintings and elaborate tapestries hung on every wall, lit by burning torches, the scenes of battle and hunting they depicted coming alive in the movement of the flickering flames. It was more than Pardigan had ever believed a palace could be. Glancing down, he almost tripped and lost his spell when he noticed the vast picture decorating the floor. It appeared to be made from little coloured stones all stuck together, the patterns converging at the centre to make a picture of a knight in armour slaying a dragon. It was all so fascinating, and as he was knocked and bumped it took considerable effort to keep up the invisibility spell as his overloaded senses fought to take everything in.

The Magician had reached the other side of the hall and was climbing another broad staircase, the familiar rich red carpet covering each step. Pardigan pushed on, trying to catch up, he had to keep dodging to either side to let people pass, and his luck finally gave out when he clashed heavily with a boy carrying a pile of blankets, sending both boy and blankets flying.

'You clumsy oaf!' cried the boy, hurriedly standing. He glared around ready to yell some more, and then stood scratching his head in confusion when he couldn't see anybody close enough to have bumped into him.

Breathing hard, Pardigan moved on and finally made it to the upper level. He glanced around for the Magician and was relieved to see him talking to a guard outside a large impressive doorway. The guard disappeared inside and the Magician waited impatiently, muttering to himself.

The strain of holding the spell was telling on Pardigan. He leant against a pillar, desperate for a rest. He had a headache, was dizzy, and as several more ghost-like forms drifted past, was convinced he was once again hallucinating.

The guard returned and indicated that the Magician should enter and Pardigan moved closer, slipping in just behind them before the door was closed.

The room they had entered was another large reception room, decorated in the same lavish style as the rest of the palace. However, Pardigan was noticing very little of his surroundings as by now, the strain of the spell had become intolerable, and if he had to hold it any longer, he knew he was going to be sick. Hurrying to a window, he hid behind a curtain and immediately dropped the spell feeling relief flood through him as he slumped down and let the cool draft from the window wash over him.

After a few moments, he cautiously peeked out between the curtain and the wall and saw several people standing or seated around a long table in the centre of the room. Books, papers and maps were covering most of it, and as far as he could tell, all the attention was centred on the figure seated at the far end. It was undoubtedly the King, even though he wore no crown, much to Pardigan's disappointment.

King Hugo Payne, a big, dark haired man, was wearing the most beautiful deep blue tunic that Pardigan had ever seen. The King's features were tense and drawn, evidence of both lack of sleep and the strain of command. Throwing down a curling manuscript, he stroked his full black beard obviously deep in thought, then turned and stared up at the Magician as if noticing him for the first time.

'Ahh, Falk, there you are. Have you any news of this evening's attack on the palace? Apparently, several guards were killed, and Chester, my loyal secretary, was slain in this very room. If what I'm being told is correct, the attack was by an enemy that is… invisible to us.' He looked pointedly at an elderly soldier. 'General Teal assures me that my palace is now secured… although how he has come to that conclusion since the enemy is invisible, is quite beyond me.'

The general had the decency to blush. 'We will of course continue to search your Majesty,' he bowed before taking his leave.

Grumbling, the King turned back to the Magician. 'I am surrounded by old men and farm boys now that the Royal Guard has gone to secure the borders. Unfortunately, all of this is happening at a time when the war moves on
two
separate fronts, it is
extremely
frustrating… and with the skulls of Sterling Temple now stolen… well, we need good news; Silas, talk to me.'

Shuffling his feet uncomfortably, the Magician cleared his throat. 'There is indeed magic at work in the palace tonight your Majesty. I have seen evidence of it myself. I am sorry Sire but I do not bring you good news. The err… the rose, I'm afraid, has gone.'

'
Gone?
What do you mean gone?
' The King stood up. 'I hope you're not telling me that a thief got into the palace and then past you and your magic, as well? Please don't tell me that Magician Falk, I'm having a bad enough night as it is. Losing my thief trap as well, it just cannot be. Does the Source itself conspire against me?' He shook his head in exasperation and sank back down into his chair. 'This should not be happening!'

'I am sorry, your Majesty, but the rose has been taken. The ringing, a noise that only I can hear, awoke me, and I found, to my surprise that a young boy was stealing it. When I tried to arrest him… he place-shifted, a most remarkable feat. I have never met anybody else that can place-shift other than myself, and I can only do it across a short distance. It is an ancient, almost forgotten discipline. This boy shifted a full twelve spans! Really quite incredible.'

'Do you think he was one of the killers?' asked the King.

'I cannot say for sure, Sire, but I don't believe so, just a very gifted thief with some remarkable magical abilities. Child or not, he is the most talented thief I have ever come across. He was cool, calm, and most incredible of all, he could place-shift. I would dearly love to speak with him again.

'And we let him get away…'

The Magician looked downcast. 'I am sorry your Majesty but yes,
I
let him get away.'

Behind the curtain, Pardigan was now standing listening to the exchange with interest while, of course, waiting for an opportunity to find the King's bedroom, place the rose on the pillow, and leave.

'I never expected for any thief to be able to place-shift. I am truly sorry your Majesty, I have failed you.'

The King sighed. 'We need help and quickly, Silas. The skulls are almost certainly on their way to one of our enemies and somehow, they will be used against us. A thief that can take the rose may possibly help return the skulls, even if he is only a child. Try to find him Falk, I wish to speak with him, this child thief with such magical abilities.'

Pardigan had heard every word but still wasn't sure what was going on. However, he did know he was tired of being described as a child all the time as if that were a crime in itself. There didn't sound as though there was any danger here, and he knew he could always shift out if there were. Making his mind up, he checked the street below the window as a means of escape. He would need to be close to shift, but he could do it.

Blinking into invisibility, he took a deep breath and came out from behind the curtain. There were now only four people in the room, the others having left. Making his way softly across the carpet to the King's right side, he was still unsure if he should make himself known or not. Tarent certainly wouldn't approve, that much was for sure.

The King was receiving a new report about attacks in the palace from one of his captains while the Magician stood patiently at his other side. Pardigan waited and listened then as one of the soldiers left, he noticed a smoky form slipping through the door into the room. He studied it with interest as it carefully made its way towards the King, unseen by anyone but him, and realised it was one of the same ghostly shapes he had seen moving about in the halls. One of the things he had thought a ghost or figment of his imagination, but this thing looked real. The captain withdrew, and Pardigan made up his mind as, whatever it was, started to close in on the King and appeared to be raising a shadowy arm. He realised, with a rising sense of alarm that it must be one of the attackers they were talking about!

Dropping his invisibility spell, Pardigan let fly his knife and the Magician also reacted, surrounding him in a magical bubble, similar to the one Loras had found so interesting on the Isle of skulls.

'
You!
' cried the Magician. Pardigan stayed where he was. The bubble was no trap to him, he could shift out whenever he pleased, but it was serving as a very good shield against the two guards who had drawn swords and were approaching.

'I wasn't aiming at the King. One of your invisible killers is on the floor behind you, dead I should think,' said Pardigan, looking from face to face. The King glanced behind him and jumped up from his chair.

'What by the Source is that?' he exclaimed, his face creasing with a look of revulsion. The Magician bent down to study the corpse more closely

Pardigan place-shifted from the bubble. 'Here… I was just bringing you this.' He leaned over and dropped the golden rose onto the table in front of the King. 'But then I saw that thing coming towards you,' he pointed down at the now visible body on the floor, 'and decided I should stop it.' He glanced behind the King to the thing on the floor.

It was about the same height as him, but that was where any similarity ended. Dressed in just a few simple rags, its skin appeared loose as if too big for the body it covered. It was translucent, the blue of veins and bones clearly showing beneath. In death, its slightly pink eyes were open and staring. A shudder of revulsion moved through Pardigan, the creature appeared to be the shape of a small man, but it looked to be the close relation of a maggot.

The knife had entered its chest and found a way between the ribs to its heart. A white substance bubbled up around the blade to form a creamy froth. Reaching down, Pardigan pulled the knife clear. It made a wet sucking sound as it came free, which made him feel sick. Examining his knife, gingerly, he watched as the sticky white jelly covering the blade turned the shining metal black. He dropped it back down on the body, unwilling to put it back in his cloak.

'It's a wraith,' said the Magician looking up, '… quite fascinating. Now I know exactly what the attackers are, I can help clear the castle of them. But what of you… who are you, young man?'

Pardigan made a theatrical bow. 'My name is Pardigan; sometime thief, quester of skulls, and now, saviour of Kings.' He gave a grin. 'Actually you're the first King I've saved, but I like the sound of it already. I can probably help you with the skulls, by the way, but not only because I stole your golden rose. I think, maybe, there are a few things I should explain.'

After removing the wraith, the guards returned to their posts, and Pardigan started to talk. He told the story of restoring the balance and how the crew of
The Griffin
were chosen to complete an ancient spell to hunt down and reunite the three skulls in Sterling Temple. He told them of the gifts that the book and the old Magician had given them, and how they were each able to use them.

'Loras is our Magician, he's the one I said would love to meet you, he's always excited by anything magical, especially other Magicians. Quint is the fighter and Tarent is a priest of the Source, although sometimes I think he takes his role as priest far too seriously.'

'And where are these friends?' asked the King. He stood up and walked slowly to the fire, his hands outstretched towards the warmth. 'We should like to meet all of you. The Kingdom is sorely in need of allies right now, especially with the crystal skulls gone. The skulls have become a centre of focus for our Realm, even after such a short time. They make the people feel that the Realm was blessed by the Source and that we are in some way special.'

He spun around. 'No one must know that it wasn't angels of the Source that brought the skulls to us. If it were ever to get out that it was…' he looked at Pardigan, '… I'm sorry but, a group of children that… please, forgive me, I don't mean to insult you.'

'Don't worry, we all understand. We've never told anyone that it was us who found the skulls, we could see what it meant to people.' Pardigan stood and stretched, then walked to the window to gaze down at the street below. 'Do you know who took them? Or where they've been taken?' He rubbed at the misted glass and peered out into the rainy night. Just as he was about to turn back into the room he noticed three figures crouched in a doorway opposite the palace, he smiled and turned to the King. 'If you'll send word to your guards at the gate, I can bring my friends up to meet you. I think they were worried I might mean to play with your rose; they're sitting on the other side of the street in a doorway getting wet and probably cursing me. The King and Magician walked over and stood next to him, each cleaning his own patch of misted glass.

'I can accompany you down if you like,' offered the Magician.

'No, just send word if you don't mind, it'll be quicker this way.' Pardigan turned, looked down at his friends and, with the familiar disconcerting
whoosh
, place-shifted.

The barest moment later and he was standing in front of them, instantly colder with the rain trickling down the back of his neck.

At his sudden appearance, Quint threw up his hands in shock and yelled; yet he had still managed to pull his knife free. Loras scrabbled back whilst producing a blue ball of flaming energy and Tarent leapt up gripping either end of his staff, ready to draw the twin swords.