Child of the Gryphon

by David Lugsden

  Alan Millar and the Bankses narrowly missed the avalanche of bricks and mortar as they dove for cover.

  Gabriel screamed in horror.

  ‘Gabriel! Oh thank goodness you’re alive!’ Alan Millar cried as he picked himself up. He hobbled over to his son and threw his arms around him.

  Mr Banks was frantic, ‘Gabriel! Where’s my Jessica? Is she... please don’t tell me she’s...?’

  ‘She’s alright, she’s with Ashley. They’re trapped though, I had to leave them to come and get help.’

  ‘Good lad, show me where she is,’ Mr Banks said, ignoring his own pain as he scrambled to his feet. There was a large gash on his forehead and another across his right shoulder, his bowling arm.

  ‘But what shall we do about Janet and Gerald? We can’t just leave them here!’ pleaded Nancy Millar as Jessica’s mother helped her up.

  ‘Dear, there’s nothing more we can do for them,’ Alan said solemnly. ‘The important thing now is that we ensure the children are safe.’

  Gabriel led the adults back to where he had left Jessica and Ashley, negotiating their path uneasily amongst bodies, debris and never-ending walls of flame reaching far up into the sky. The group made it safely back to the small copse of trees, the old elm was still burning furiously. The heat had intensified tremendously, even from several metres away it was unbearable. Beyond the flickering tendrils of the raging inferno there was neither sight nor sound from either Ashley or Jessica. The blaze had consumed the entire area, a foul stench of burnt flesh hung in the air.

  Everyone was panic stricken. ‘Where were they?’ Mr Banks demanded.

  ‘Over there, behind the fallen tree,’ Gabriel pointed. He could feel himself growing weaker by the second.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Mr Banks took off into the cluster of blazing trees and dove headlong over the fallen elm. Over the inferno’s thunderous roar and the loud crackling and splintering of burning tree branches, the remaining quartet could just about hear the blood-curdling sound of Mr Banks screaming.

  All four watched in terror. Mrs Banks turned to the three Millars. Tears streamed down her blackened cheeks, creating channels in the ash. A harrowing look of dread lay deep within her green eyes. Turning back to face the fiery gates of Hell, she raced instinctively after her beloved husband. The fiery gates welcomed her wholeheartedly.

  Bowing their heads, the Millars limped away in silence.

  ***

  Alan Millar shielded his wife and son as they made their way towards the school gates. Few people left within the school compound were still alive. They stepped over the charred bodies of countless people as they progressed toward their destination; friends, neighbours, distant acquaintances. The scene was worse than any hellish landscape from the most terrifying of nightmares. The main school gates were the only logical escape from the disaster zone, but to reach them the family had to cross the entire school campus and negotiate their way between the still blazing, wrecked buildings.

  The school grounds were a warzone. The sky was black with smoke.

  They rounded the school music rooms, or what was left of them, inching ever closer to the Promised Land beyond the school gates. Up ahead the family noticed Mrs Mickleton from next-door-but-one and her two daughters sprinting away from the flaming school art building. The Millars looked on aghast as a devastating explosion hurled the three Mickletons twenty feet into the air, before their charred and lifeless corpses crashed into the molten tarmac.

  Noticing a gap in the voracious inferno, Alan Millar shepherded his family towards it whilst shouting his throat hoarse for any survivors to follow him. Gabriel’s eyes were streaming from the smoke, his throat and lungs burning. In his blurred vision he thought he caught a glimpse of fire seemingly erupting from a distant silhouetted figure, but before he could be sure, a new wave of flame rose up in front of the man, concealing him from view.

  They inched closer and closer to the gap in the blaze where they could see daylight on the other side. The school gates, it had to be. Explosions still shook the ground. Their skin blistered from the searing heat all around them. The flames robbed them of their precious air. They were slowly suffocating from smoke inhalation. But they were almost free. They just had to keep going. Keep inching forward. The gates were only thirty or forty metres ahead on the far side of the school carpark.

  CRASH!

  A sycamore tree toppled just to their left, spraying fiery cinders into the air, a tremendous shockwave of scorching heat threw them to the floor. Moving was agony, picking themselves up whilst unable to draw breath seemed as daunting as climbing Mount Everest, yet somehow the family willed themselves to do it. Alan Millar was shouting something to them but was drowned out by the bellowing inferno.

  His brain starved of precious oxygen, Gabriel felt his vision blurring further, unconsciousness was beckoning like a sweet siren’s song. Ahead another silhouetted figure stepped into the gap between the flames. At last help had arrived. The fire brigade must have been called. Soon they would be rescued, all they had to do was hold out for a few moments more and then this living Hell would all be over.

  But why was the figure just standing there?

  He must want to help but is afraid for his own safety, Gabriel thought, yes that must be it. The fire brigade had arrived it was just that their sirens couldn’t be heard over the monstrous inferno.

  Yet the individual remained motionless.

  Surely he should be calling someone, Gabriel thought, or running for help. Why is he just standing-?

  The figure reeled back and spewed a tsunami of Hellfire that crashed down mere feet in front of the Millars with such blistering heat and force that it ripped up the tarmac in front of them, incinerating it instantly. The air fried their skin, their hair sizzled.

  This isn’t real, I’m trapped in a nightmare. That is the only explanation. People cannot breathe fire! But try as he might, Gabriel could not wake himself up.

  Alan Millar dove in front of his family just before another barrage of flame smashed down in front of them. Gabriel watched with dread; his father shrieked in agony as the fire engulfed him.

  A third wave hit, hurling Gabriel and his mother backwards though the air. They hit the floor with a bone-shattering thud. Pain tore down Gabriel’s right arm, from his shoulder all the way to the fingertips. His agony was so intense that for a fraction of a second he thought that he too had been set alight, the angle his arm was bent at told him the actual reason for the pain. Frantically he scanned the ground for his mother. She too had hit the floor hard. She lay unmoving, a little way off, dangerously close to the wall of fire surrounding them.

  Slowly Gabriel dragged himself inch by painful inch over to his mother. Her eyes were closed and she was unresponsive. As delicately as possible, and despite the growing numbness in his right arm, he dragged her as far away from the fire as the clearing they were in allowed. Then nursing her head in his lap he realised that his futile efforts had been in vain. Her neck was broken.

  Anguish consumed him. As he knelt cradling his dead mother, he became oblivious of the fire still raging all around him. His throat was raw from smoke inhalation, yet Gabriel let out a tortured cry of pain. The heartache and anger of his predicament were overwhelming. How could fate be so cruel? Still ignoring the ever-increasing danger all around him, he failed to notice another tree toppling down behind him. The once-mighty oak split apart from its own weight as it smashed into the charred concrete. One of the uppermost bows broke free and caught Gabriel squarely in the back of his head.

  Again Gabriel was sent sprawling across the floor. Skidding to a halt on his one good shoulder, he felt the gravel, now like miniature, red-hot razorblades, shredding his skin. With his last ounce of strength he rolled his head to the side to take a final look at his mother, pinned under the flaming trunk of the tree.

  Gradually, a new sensation began to wash over him. His pain began to wane, the heat from the flames started to diminish. A cooling, pain-free
blackness swept over him and he welcomed it. Soon, ever so soon, his suffering would be at an end and he would be reunited with his parents and his friends. With that last reassuring thought, Gabriel closed his eyes and smiled.

  The blackness swallowed him.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AWAKENING

  Little by little, a comforting warmth returned. Light pierced its way through his eyelids as consciousness reasserted its control.

  Gabriel wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but it felt like a considerable amount of time. His whole body felt stiff and throbbed with the slightest of movements. He felt as though he’d run a marathon, swam the English Channel and gone ten rounds with the heavyweight boxing champion one after the other. What had happened? His mind was like a crossword puzzle, the clues were all there, but there were so many gaps in his memory the solution remained concealed.

  Gabriel opened his eyes a crack. The world around him was a blur of indistinctive shapes and colour. He wanted to rub his tired eyes but his arms felt like lead weights. The blurry shapes gradually started to take form. All around him people were bustling about. Wherever he was, it was brightly lit, although thankfully not so bright as to hurt his painfully sensitive eyes.

  The world slowly came into focus and Gabriel sensed that something was not quite normal. He was somewhere entirely unfamiliar. It appeared to be some kind of hospital ward, but was unlike any hospital he’d ever seen. It was earthier, almost... cave-like. The people rushing around the room failed to notice Gabriel’s eyes had opened, albeit a crack. Gabriel couldn’t help but notice how strangely the people were dressed. I’ve awoken in the midst of some weird fancy-dress party! he thought to himself. One boy at the back of the room was dressed in what seemed to be exceptionally hairy trousers. A woman who exited the room appeared to have wings strapped onto her back. I must still be dreaming, Gabriel thought and closed his eyes again.

  He willed himself to leave the dream world and to awaken fully. Cautiously, he opened his eyes a slight crack again, just enough to glimpse around the room. No good. Everything remained unchanged. Gabriel opened his eyes wider, desperately hoping for some evidence of normalcy.

  It was then that he was spotted.

  ‘He’s awake!’ Furry-Trousers cried excitedly.

  ‘He is?’ shouted another from somewhere behind Gabriel, with yet more excitement in his deep, booming voice.

  ‘Yes, can’t you see?’

  ‘Not through the back of his head I can’t!’

  ‘Send word to Omari!’ a third commanding voice ordered.

  Gabriel had the distinct impression that these people knew him. But how was that possible? He didn’t recognise anybody. And just how did he get here... wherever here was? He couldn’t for the life of him remember being invited along to a fancy-dress party. Let alone one in a cave! Before he fell asleep what had he been doing? Where had he-

  The Summer Fête.

  The fire.

  His parents.

  Ignoring his throbbing arms, Gabriel clutched at his head and buried his face in his hands. It had suddenly all come rushing back to him. He had lost everything. He let out a dull groan as anguish enveloped him once more. Rivulets of tears streamed down his face as though a dam had burst behind his eyes.

  The voices continued.

  ‘Is he still in pain? It sounds like he’s still in pain!’

  ‘Ask him.’

  ‘Yes. Quite. Someone should speak to him,’ the second voice chimed in again.

  ‘OK do it then, say something!’ said the third voice.

  ‘Say what? I don’t know what I should say!’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him how he’s feeling?’

  ‘No... It should be something meaningful, memorable! History will remember this moment!’

  ‘Well in that case it can’t be me – I don’t want to say something foolish and have history remember me as an idiot! You do it!’

  ‘Me...? Oh, I couldn’t possibly...’ the third voice stammered.

  ‘Oh, you three are useless, move out of the way! I’ll do it!’ a fourth voice snapped impatiently.

  ‘Oh... OK, well if you insist... if you’re sure... I mean, I did want to say something and all, it’s just...’

  ‘M-me too! I was just about to volunteer but seeing as you’re so eager...’

  Gabriel felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder. The touch was strangely soothing, like ointment on his burns. Opening his eyes he was presented with a vision such as he’d never before seen. Gazing down at him was a girl, who he guessed was of a similar age to him, but of such striking looks that he blinked his eyes in disbelief. Her long dark hair hung down and shimmered like black opal as the light touched it. As she looked upon him with her enchanting emerald green eyes, he felt sure she was looking into his very soul. That scolding voice had evaporated, in its place was one that was silky soft and reassuring.

  ‘Hi, Gabriel... that’s your name isn’t it?’ the girl purred. ‘How are you feeling? You were quite the worse for wear when you were brought in.’ Despite his aches and pains, her smile made him feel considerably better.

  ‘I... uh, where...? How...?’ he stuttered whilst trying unsuccessfully to sit up.

  ‘No, don’t try to get up just yet. Your body is still healing, you’re best not trying to do too much too soon,’ the girl said, ‘Do you remember anything about what happened?’

  ‘I... I, uh... remember the fire, my parents... they... oh God. I was... wait, how did I get – where am I?’

  ‘OK, one thing at a time. You’re currently lying in the recovery ward in a place known to us as Sanctuary.’

  ‘Sa-Sa-Sanctuary?’

  Her gaze still unwavering, the girl replied, ‘It’s a place where people like us are safe from the outside world.’

  Gabriel held her gaze. For a moment he questioned whether he had heard the mystery girl correctly, and then repeated, ‘People like us?’ He was now fully awake, baffled by the girl’s statement. What could that possibly mean, “people like us?”

  The girl’s eyes were full of sympathy, her voice draped with genuine compassion. ‘I realise you have a lot of questions, and to be honest, I’m not sure that I’m the one who should be telling you all this, or even if I’m capable. I think you should wait and speak to your grandfather.’

  Suddenly it dawned on him. Whoever, these people were, whatever was going on, it was all a case of mistaken identity – it must be! His grandparents had died before he was born. His parents had shown him old photographs countless times and told him endless stories about them. In fact it was one of the things that had made the Millars even closer as a family – they were all each other had. But not anymore. Now it was just Gabriel, all alone in this unsettling and bizarre, new world.

  ‘I’m sorry but I think there’s been some mistake. My grandparents are all dead... just like my parents.’

  The girl looked towards the floor, clearly troubled. A pang of guilt rippled through Gabriel. Everyone, including the girl had been excited when they thought he was someone else and now all their hopes had come crashing down, all because of him.

  ‘Is that right? Have we got the wrong person?’ Furry-Trousers piped up again.

  For the first time since he had fully opened his eyes, Gabriel took his eyes off of the girl, realising that he had been utterly transfixed with her and turned his head in the direction of the voice. The sight before him nearly made him fall off the bed. Standing towards the back of the room was a short, teenage boy hanging on every word that had passed back and forth between Gabriel and the girl. Except he wasn’t a boy in the normal sense. The top half of his body could be mistaken for human... if it wasn’t for a pair of ram-like horns sprouting from a shaggy mass of brown hair. Gabriel thought that the... whatever he was, was still quite young as his curling horns had not yet acquired the length or girth that one associates with an adult male sheep. Passing his eyes over the strange creature, Gabriel couldn’t help noticing its incredibly hairy arms an
d chest. But what was most alarming was from the waist down. Completing the goat-boy’s appearance was not a pair of hairy trousers as he had first thought, but instead the hindquarters and cloven hooves of... well... a goat, or a perhaps a sheep (he couldn’t, in all honesty, tell the difference) covered by a mass of long scraggly hair.

  ‘Oh I assure you, young Sattan, there is no case of mistaken identity here,’ Gabriel now turned to face the voice of a new figure that had entered the room. ‘Please, everyone, allow me some time alone with my grandson.’

  Obediently, the girl, goat-boy and two other strange-looking individuals (a tall blonde man with two large, brown wings; and an enormous barrel-chested individual with disproportionally sized arms and legs) exited the room leaving Gabriel alone with the gentleman claiming to be his grandfather. Of course that was impossible: in the photographs he’d seen of them, his grandparents looked very much like his parents, Alan and Nancy, only older with grey hair and wrinkles. The man now standing before him looked nothing like any of them. He felt another stinging twinge of his heart strings at the thought of his parents.

  ‘Greetings, Gabriel. I can’t tell you how much I have missed you these last fourteen years. How frantically I have searched for you. Several of the other elders believed you were dead. As did the vast majority of the population here in Sanctuary, I should imagine. How are you feeling now?’

  ‘Well still pretty achy, but on the whole not too bad I suppose.’

  The old man perched on a stool at the side of the bed and smiled kindly. He had a peculiar look, Gabriel thought, vaguely familiar, although he wasn’t sure how, and yet strange and otherworldly. Elderly and rather frail in appearance, it was clear that he had been a strong and powerfully built man in his youth. The old man sat there for what seemed like an eternity with a deep but loving gaze focussed upon Gabriel. The light from the lanterns hung around the room bounced off of the man’s entirely bald head. Gabriel noticed that the old man had the same bright amber eye colour as he did, albeit framed by a pair of the bushiest eyebrows he had ever seen, turned a smoky grey with age. His tattered robes, layered with silver and black fabrics, looked very much like ruffled feathers and added to the overall appearance of a wise old owl, past its prime but nonetheless still just as majestic.