by C. M. Gray
The Griffin swooped low over a large dune, its trailing claws raking the top and then dropped down to the base where it flared its huge wings and reared up, flapping to stop itself. It came to rest and sank down into the sand, snuffling and snorting contentedly as it soaked up the welcomed warmth left from the heat of the day.
The lack of movement was almost a shock to her passengers after a day of rushing wind and turbulent movement. As the silence set in, it took a few moments for each of them to slide or fall into the sand, the warmth of it an unexpected delight as it seeped through their clothing then deeper down to warm their bones. The danger right now was the desire to let go and fall asleep; it would be so easy and so very welcome. Quint knew that if that happened, they would wake in the middle of the night frozen and totally unprepared to warm themselves, and that would be if they were lucky because the alternative would be not to wake at all and die. They needed to rouse themselves, make camp and light a fire.
'Come on, up!' Quint pulled himself to his feet, staggering a little, and gave a soft kick to Tarent's ribs.
'Hey! I'm getting up… really,' murmured Tarent. He rolled wearily over and shook Mahra, but as was normal, she was asleep, curled up as a grey cat. She slept a lot at any time and always after flying. When Mahra was asleep, it was both hard and a little dangerous to wake her, so he left her alone. Pardigan was already on his feet, pulling bundles of wood from The Griffin's back, so Quint began unfurling the length of canvas that they could either string up as a tent or just lay on and look up at the stars. The Griffin had already curled up, her head lying down between her front paws like a huge, strange looking cat… thing, snoring softly. Quint smiled then placed the canvas next to her so that the heat from her body would help to keep them warm - it was going to be good to sleep between her and the fire. He had no idea what the next day would bring. They would be arriving at the desert city of Dhurban around midday, and if the reports that had been coming out of the desert were true, there may be no city left. The King had said the few scouts that had made it back to Deniah gabbled manically, often sobbing as they told of a huge army camped around the city, giant beasts and things that drifted through the desert attacking their small, well hidden camps, mutilating their camels and ripping the life from anyone unlucky enough to be their victim - less than one in twenty of the scouts had been returning.
'You must go to aid Dhurban,' the King had instructed. 'Our own troops will be arriving with the new moon, some seven days hence. If the unthinkable is to happen and the desert city falls, then it shall be the first small settlements of the Realm that would be next to suffer… and then it would be the city of Freya. The invaders must be stopped before they can leave the desert.'
And so the crew had flown whilst Magician Falk and Elisop made their own separate way to Sterling to replace the skulls, promising they would rejoin them as soon as possible for the battle at Dhurban.
'Do not fret, my young friends. I have my own very special way to bring the skulls to their home and then Mr Elisop and I shall fly our own way to Dhurban,' the Magician had cryptically explained.
* * *
Matheus Hawk frowned in concentration as he gazed into the scrying dish. His abilities with the dish had improved along with the rest of his magic, but scrying was still a hot and tiring business. He wiped the sweat from his brow and swiped an arm dismissively at Nhasic, who, interests piqued, had been peering into the hot dish over the Hawk's shoulder as the strange creature, and those that rode it, came to rest somewhere out in the desert.
'I can see your sweetheart, Princess,' cooed Matheus. 'Although what you see in the little runt, beggar's belief! He is no more than a bag of bones, some stupid glasses and a few cheap conjuring tricks.' The Hawk continued to glower into the dish, moving his hands about the burning hot rim to focus and guide the scene. He was well aware of the child Magician's powers and knew not to underestimate him when they next met. However, it was too good an opportunity to taunt the snivelling wretch he had chained to the wall some two spans up on the side of the cave. He ignored the shrieks and name calling and glanced over grinning as Nhasic threw a selection of figs and the dried fruits favoured by the desert dwellers up at her. It really was good to have her here, he mused. It had been several months since he had shared space with anything other than Nhasic and she was almost… company… a companion. The Hawk shook the notion away and returned to his task. The brats were getting close. Tomorrow they would arrive and the next turn of events would begin to unfold, and this group of young troublemakers would die along with the rest of the city. It was time to prepare to meet with them… time to kill the Magician.
* * *
The city of Dhurban, when it eventually came into view, was just how Quint remembered it. Far below the circling Griffin, sunlight reflected, sparkling and flashing from the golden tops of countless coloured roofs and minarets, streets teamed with people going about their business and smoke drifted up in thin wisps from hundreds of chimneys and cooking fires. Within the city walls, life appeared to be normal. Surrounded by a sea of wavering sand dunes the city's high crenulated walls, minarets and towers stood in defiance of the hostile environment that surrounded it.
When the desert merchants had first settled this desert city countless years before, they had each built higher and more elaborate towers in rivalry of each other and to offer praise to their strange faceless god and his many messengers – the result was a truly magnificent city.
Mountains rose in the distance, almost a day's camel ride north of the great city, which offered water to those that could find it and would certainly have provided shelter, minerals and building materials to the early settlers, yet the Dhurbars of ancient times had instead chosen the vast emptiness of the desert to construct their city.
To the approaching visitors it was a beautiful sight that was made no less so by the colossal army that surrounded the walled city like a huge spreading stain.
As The Griffin banked sharply, it came in lower and soared above the invaders. Quint gazed down to study the multitude of colourful tents and shelters of their camp. His eyes fell upon roped off paddocks filled with thousands upon thousands of camels and then huge, lumbering beasts that he had never seen before and couldn't name, he found it hard to draw his eyes away from them. Each strange beast had massive ears as big as boat sails that constantly moved and flapped, stirring up clouds of flies and dust as they paced up and down their enclosures as if impatient to be free. Sandy grey in colour, they were each as big as a merchant's house and had an immensely long swaying nose that separated tiny, glistening eyes. Transfixed for a moment, Quint watched as a large beast picked up some sand with its nose and threw it up into the air towards them, the nose moving around like a serpent, sniffing and tasting. Quint watched to see if a small tongue would dart out of the end, but he didn't see one. What he did now see was that the largest beasts had four strange white horns extending from either side of their heads which fell forward in swooping arcs, the largest almost touching the ground. Above and around them the dust was being stirred by their constant shuffling movement, floating up towards the flying Griffin in a dark choking haze.
He decided he had seen enough and pulled gently in The Griffin's pelt with his left hand while leaning to the side and squeezing slightly with his left leg to bring them back towards the city. He sighed, there was no more delaying their landing, yet there was bound to be trouble. Gazing through squinted eyes, he searched for the large green lawns of the Sultan's palace. The last time they were there they had been rescuing Princess Fajira from her father the Sultan while Loras and the Sultan's Magician had been hurling fireballs at each other… he had a bad feeling about returning.
The Griffin swooped in low towards the city wall but then banked away at the last moment flinging the crew to the side so violently that Quint glanced back the moment he regained his seat, sure that one of his friends must have been tipped off, but thankfully they were all there. In fact, Loras was looking up over Pa
rdigan's shoulder, smiling happily.
Loras cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted to Quint.
'There's a magic shield, a barrier of some kind over the city, it's really good! Go in close again.' Still holding on to The Griffin with one hand, Loras removed his glasses and tried to polish them, obviously eager to get a better look at the barrier on the next pass.
'Can you get us through it?' shouted Quint as he guided The Griffin around again. 'Hold tight, here we go!'
Arrows flew up at them as they passed over the closest invaders, but they were beyond their range and the arrows fell short. They flew along the length of the wall to allow Loras a good look at the magic barrier whilst Quint glanced across, noticing the startled looks from the Sultan's men on the walls and thought again about this all being a bad idea. Then he heard Loras shout again.
'Yes, I can see what he's done… Quint, take us in near the base of that tower… I can get us through there… I think… I think I can anyway because it looks weaker there.'
'You think!' cried Pardigan raising his head with a look of alarm. 'What do you mean you…?' The Griffin turned towards the wall. 'Quint no, don't!' The Griffin dropped further and then soared over the edge of the battlements with the Dhurbar guards suddenly frantic, shouting and stabbing up with their spears as they passed overhead.
Entering the city over the wall felt really… strange. It was as if they were being squeezed then spat out the other side. The experience left each of them feeling nauseous, breathless and shaken.
'Oh, source… I said don't! That was horrible' screamed Pardigan. 'What happened?'
Behind them, the guards were yelling, and a loud gong was being pounded enthusiastically, its deep booming noise echoing in warning, out over the city. The Griffin, beating its huge wings, dipped and faltered, obviously affected the same as its riders by its pass through the barrier. It struggled to lift up over the rooftops and let out a plaintive cry before crashing into a roof, hard, the impact jarring, shaking them all. The Griffin's clawed feet scrabbled and clutched at the tiles as its passengers fought desperately to stay on. Tiles and wooden slats were torn away, crashing into the street below as the great beast struggled to lever itself up with wings and claws towards the roofline and then over. Taking a colossal leap, it took flight once again, huge wings beating in an effort to gain height while the crew tried desperately to hold on.
A short while later they were landing in much the same spot as they done over a year before with a similar group of uniformed guards running towards them brandishing an assortment of weapons and yelling a confusion of orders and commands.
'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.
Chapter 21
The Taste of Sand
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 easi
ly 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?'
