Guardians of the Gryphon's Claw

by Todd Calgi Gallicano

  Sam kept stuffing his mouth to avoid answering Chase’s increasingly pointed questions. He went through a whole package of biscuits and could tell the cynocephalus was growing frustrated. Fortunately, Sam was saved by the appearance of Dr. Vantana, who had returned from having the car fixed and was eager to leave. Sam thanked Chase profusely for his hospitality, which turned out to be as legendary as promised. Chase reiterated to Vance his willingness to lend a hand if needed, and Vance nodded and expressed hope it wouldn’t come to that. Before they pulled away in the newly repaired SUV, Chase slipped a box of NICE biscuits to Sam for the ride to Redwood National Park.

  “A gift for you, Sam London,” Chase said as he handed them over. Sam smiled big.

  “Thanks! I might eat them all before we reach the park,” Sam proclaimed.

  “They’re hard to resist.”

  Sam waved to the cynocephalus as they drove off. He would miss his unusual new friend, especially his cooking.

  Once they were on the road, Sam figured it was a good time to finish the conversation he and Vance had begun the previous evening.

  “Before yesterday, when was the last time someone had seen Phylassos?” he inquired.

  “Technically speakin’, the last time he appeared to a human—or anyone, for that matter—was in 1945, shortly after the Potsdam Conference and the atomic bombing of Japan. It was a secret meetin’ with the leaders of the world, informin’ them that a balance needed to be kept. He wouldn’t allow humanity to destroy the planet. After all, they weren’t the only ones on it.”

  “So he revealed his existence and the existence of mythical creatures?” asked Sam.

  “He had to. But they were all sworn to secrecy.”

  “But why would these leaders care about keeping it a secret?”

  “Because if they didn’t, Phylassos couldn’t protect them,” Vantana explained. He noticed Sam’s confusion and continued, “You see, not all magical creatures agreed with Phylassos’s curse on humanity. Many believed they should rid themselves of these humans. The use of nuclear weapons only added to that belief. Phylassos warned these leaders that in order to keep this balance, he would need help. Some way of protecting that secrecy and handling any incidents that might arise.”

  “The DMW,” Sam concluded. Vance nodded.

  “There were individuals like the cynocephali who had taken on that mantle in the years prior, but Phylassos felt it was time to bring humanity in on the cause. And there just so happened to be one of the world’s foremost authorities on mythology in attendance. His name was Dr. Arrigo Busso. And he brought along his twelve-year-old protégé—Henry Knox.”

  “Dr. Knox was there?” Sam responded excitedly. Vance grinned.

  “He was indeed. The two of them were charged with creating agencies like the DMW in every country. Since then, there have been rumors of Phylassos sightings and some supposed communication with the gryphon, but nothing like Potsdam or the other day with you. Now, are you going to tell me what Phylassos told you or what?”

  “I have a few more questions,” Sam replied.

  “Shoot,” said Vantana.

  “Are you married?”

  Vance eyed him. He wasn’t expecting that query. “No.”

  “Girlfriend?” Sam followed.

  “This is an odd line of questionin’,” Vantana observed. Sam shrugged.

  “Just trying to get to know you. See if we have anything in common. I’m also not married and I don’t have a girlfriend,” Sam responded.

  “Really? I’m surprised. Just haven’t met Miss Right yet, have ya?”

  Sam shook his head. “Not yet. But I’m still young.”

  Vance smiled at that. He sniffed the air. “Why the heck do I smell coconut?”

  “Oh. Those are the NICE biscuits Chase gave me for the road. They’re really good.”

  “Well, I guess a dog would know his biscuits.”

  Sam chuckled. “You could smell the coconut?”

  “I’ve always had a good sense of smell. Of course, the serum enhances it.”

  “How?”

  “A serum can enable a human to manifest some of the abilities of the creature whose blood is used. Bigfoots have a killer nose.”

  Sam took a deep breath through his nostrils, but he couldn’t smell the coconut from the cookies. He tried again. This time he took short sniffs like a bloodhound; however, he still couldn’t detect the slightest scent from the cookies.

  “What are you doin’?” Vance asked quizzically.

  “I’m trying out my enhanced sense of smell,” Sam explained.

  “And?”

  “Nothing. There’s no difference. Does it work for everyone who takes it?” Sam asked.

  “So far. Maybe it just takes time to develop,” Vance suggested.

  “Did it take time with you?”

  Vance thought about that for a moment. “Well, maybe it’s ’cause you’re a kid.”

  “I doubt that would have an effect. If anything, it should be stronger in my case ’cause I’m smaller,” Sam answered with certainty. Even after being injected with superpowered bigfoot blood, Sam was still just Sam.

  The two of them finished out the trip in silence. Sam sulked over his lack of supersmell, while Vance sat frustrated with Sam’s continued refusal to answer any of his Phylassos-related questions. Even so, they were both quite comfortable. They had serendipitously stumbled upon one of the many things they had in common.

  —

  Trevor the troll found himself sitting across from Sam London in Ranger Naughton’s cabin. It was quite thrilling for him, since Sam had become a bit of a celebrity in the world of mythical creatures. Word had spread of the boy’s encounter with the legendary gryphon, and the world was abuzz with rumors and conjecture around Phylassos’s appearance. Trevor had heard of the incident from his second cousin Toby, who in turn heard it from his fourth cousin Tommy, who heard it from his half sister Tina. Troll families, though large, remained close-knit. They were creatures who valued family and friendships above all else and took great pride in the number of people they could call friends. In fact, trolls could quickly tell you the exact number of friends they had at any given moment. At this particular point in time, Trevor claimed eight hundred and two friends. He hoped to make it eight hundred and three. The addition of Sam London would be a triumph not only for Trevor but also for the entire troll race. Trevor could boast that his latest friend was one of the most famous humans in the mythical world. And any trolls related to Trevor would by simple fact of familial relation obtain bragging rights.

  “So you’re a troll?” asked Sam London with boyish wonder. Trevor nodded. “Are there many of your kind in the world?” Trevor nodded again.

  “We’re pretty much everywhere. Some creatures have ind-ind-ind—”

  “Indigenous?” Sam offered.

  “Yeah. In—” Trevor struggled. Sam assisted once again.

  “—digenous.”

  “—places they live. But my kind, we can make ourselves comfortable anywhere. Except for like the ocean or inside a volcano.”

  Trolls weren’t good swimmers, and as for volcanoes, trolls didn’t get along well with the Cherufe, a volcano creature who refused to share. Sharing happened to be the cornerstone of the troll culture. No matter how small a morsel of food a troll possessed, he or she would always share it equally among friends and family. In fact, the act of sharing was so important, it was the method by which they established a new friendship. So when Sam offered Trevor one of his British “biscuits,” the troll lit up and smiled so wide his ears crinkled. Eight hundred and three.

  —

  The broad grin on Trevor the troll’s face proved more unnerving than comforting for Sam London. Perhaps it was the color and sharpness of the teeth that caused the traditionally joyful expression to appear almost menacing. But Sam knew that the troll’s grin, though a touch frightening, was well-intentioned. Vance had informed Sam about Trevor before they reached Penelope Naughton’s cab
in.

  “He may not be pretty. Heck, he may even give ya nightmares. But just remember, he’s a big ol’ teddy bear,” Vance explained with his signature smirk.

  The doctor had also taken time before they arrived to explain Penelope’s role within the DMW and mention her recent bout of amnesia. Penelope’s cabin sat off a small service road deep in the forest. It was surrounded on three sides by giant redwood trees and had a rustic wood facade and a stone chimney. Once inside the quaintly decorated home, Vance introduced Sam to the ranger and the troll, then disappeared with Penelope down a staircase that was hidden behind a painting. The painting was of a winged horse drinking from a pond. Sam noticed that the painting was signed simply Trevor. As Trevor munched on his cookie, Sam had to ask.

  “Did you paint that?” He gestured toward the frame. Trevor nodded, crumbs falling off the small tuft of hair on his chin.

  “It’s good. My mom is an art teacher, so I’m a well-informed critic. It’s very imaginative.”

  “Oh. I didn’t imagine that,” the Troll corrected Sam. “It’s a portrait. You’ll meet Gus later.”

  Sam let that sink in as he looked back at the painting. The frame suddenly swung back open and Vance and Penelope emerged.

  “Come on, Sam. You’ve got an appointment,” Vance said as he grabbed his jacket and hat. Sam climbed to his feet and reached out his hand for Trevor to shake.

  “It was nice”—Trevor pulled Sam into a hug—“meeting you,” Sam strained to say.

  “Wow,” Vance quipped. “You two are friends already? That was quick.”

  It was later on in their adventure that Dr. Vantana would reveal to Sam what sharing meant to trolls. The simple act of giving Trevor a cookie resulted in making a lifelong friend. Sam finally broke free from the troll hug, which felt like a bear hug, only sweatier. He said his goodbyes and followed Vantana to the door. Penelope pulled him aside before he exited.

  “Dr. Vantana tells me you have not exhibited any enhancements following the injection of Magnapedaxin thirteen,” the ranger whispered. “Is that still the case?” Sam sniffed the air and nodded. She pursed her lips to the side in a perplexed manner. “That’s very unusual.”

  “I’m not surprised,” said Sam. “It figures it wouldn’t work on me.”

  “No, it doesn’t. There’s a reason, Sam. It’s just a matter of scientific investigation. I’ll get to the bottom of it. I promise.” Penelope smiled and mussed Sam’s hair.

  —

  The sun was just beginning to disappear past the horizon as Sam followed Vantana off a trail and farther into the woods. Sam had never visited Redwood National Park and was overwhelmed by the size of the trees. Dr. Vantana explained that the tallest of the trees was known as Sequoia sempervirens and the largest in diameter was Sequoiadendron giganteum. Sam was in awe of these massive spires of wood and leaves. They were nature’s version of skyscrapers.

  After forty-five minutes of hiking, they came upon a giant redwood trunk that was damaged during a lightning storm and had fallen to the ground. The slope of the terrain propped the trunk up several feet from the surface, enabling Vantana and Sam to walk beneath it.

  “It’s just through here,” Vantana said as he stepped underneath the hollowed-out trunk.

  Sam followed the doctor, and when he emerged on the other side, he suddenly noticed a change in the landscape. The trees now surrounding them were even larger than the ones they had passed along the way. Four times as big as the biggest redwood they had come upon just a quarter mile back.

  “Are these still Sequoiadendron giganteum?” Sam asked.

  “Nope. These are Sequoiadendron collosaeus. The true giants of the forest. Not many humans have laid eyes on them, Sam. This is a section of the park that is hidden from our kind for reasons you’ll come to understand.”

  Sam could hardly fathom the magnitude of what he was seeing. He felt as if his eyes were betraying him. These trees were just too big to be real.

  Dr. Vantana led them down a beaten path until they reached a pond surrounded by several Sequoiadendron collosaeus. Sam recognized the pond as the one in Trevor’s painting, sans the winged horse. Exhausted, Sam plopped down on a rock to catch his breath. Vantana was busy scanning the terrain and muttering to himself.

  “Are we there yet?” Sam asked, out of breath. “We’re not going to camp the night, are we? I really don’t like camping. I’m not very good at it. I didn’t last very long in the Boy Scouts. They wanted me to learn all these knots. Do you know how long it took me just to learn how to tie my shoes?”

  “Shhh,” Vance silenced him. “I always get a little mixed up here. North is noon; we’re looking for four o’clock.” Vance pointed his left arm northward, then moved his right arm like the small hand of a clock until he reached four o’clock. His hand was now directed at one of the trees that lined the pond. It looked big enough to park two dozen cars around its base and soared into the sky so high Sam couldn’t see the top. Dr. Vantana walked toward the tree, and Sam gathered himself and followed. Once they were at the base, Vantana put out his hand and began feeling the rough, creviced bark. This went on a full minute before Sam finally asked—

  “Uh…what are you doing?”

  “Lookin’ for the button,” Vance replied, frustrated.

  “Button?” Sam asked. “Button for what?”

  Vance abruptly stopped his hand and grinned. “The elevator.” He pushed in on the tree bark and Sam could distinguish a button-shaped indentation. It lit up with an auburn glow and was followed by the distinct ding of an elevator arriving. Sam watched in amazement as the bark vibrated and wrinkled, then split and slid open. This tree apparently had an elevator. It looked like one you would find at an upscale apartment building, well lit, with sequoia-paneled walls. A familiar classical piece played over the elevator speakers; Sam remembered it from music class as a composition by Mozart. Vance stepped inside, but Sam hesitated.

  “They carved an elevator into a tree?” Sam asked in disbelief.

  “Not carved into the tree. It just appears that way. It’s actually part of a structure that was built around the tree.” The doors began to close and Vance stopped them with his arm. “I don’t feel like climbin’ today, Sam. You’re gonna have to get in.”

  Sam entered the elevator and Vance let the doors close. The control panel had hundreds of buttons. Each was labeled with a floor number and a time. Vance’s finger hovered above the panel and then settled on one of the buttons. The forty-seventh floor at eight-fifteen. Sam concluded that, like the arrangement of the trees around the pond, this was also configured in relation to a clock. Upon the push of the floor button, the elevator immediately shot upward. Sam grabbed the handrail to steady himself. The ascent was quick and not entirely straight up. Sam could feel the elevator shift sideways—and he realized it must be circling the tree. The sensation was akin to being shot up a spiral staircase at high speed. Sam’s ears popped, and he began to feel light-headed. Vantana was watching.

  “You get used to it,” he offered.

  Sam wasn’t sure why he would ever need to. When else would he be traveling in an elevator that was part of a giant redwood tree? The elevator halted as suddenly as it had started. Sam had to grip the handrail to keep from falling over. The doors slid open and Sam’s eyes went wide. He was staring out onto a massive tree branch that stretched outward into a sea of intermingled branches. There was nothing on either side of this branch except a steep drop to the ground. The branch itself was about as wide as a two-lane roadway. Vance motioned for Sam to get off.

  “This is your stop.”

  “My stop? You’re not coming with me?” Sam asked.

  “I think it’s best if you talk with him by yourself. Maybe you’ll tell him all the stuff you won’t tell me,” Vance said with a snarky smile. Sam wouldn’t admit it, but he had come to trust the doctor, even if he wouldn’t share with him exactly what the gryphon had said. He’d been instructed to be careful with whom he spoke about their meet
ing, and he was taking that warning seriously. He also felt safe around Vance and didn’t much like the thought of the ranger not being with him for his encounter with the mysterious “Carl.” Rather than admit this feeling, Sam steeled himself and stepped out of the elevator and into the open.

  “Well? Where is he?” Sam asked.

  “In his house. Waitin’ for you. You gotta go knock on his door, Sam.”

  “Knock on his door?” Sam repeated.

  “Or ring the bell, whichever strikes ya.”

  “What door? What house?”

  Vance pointed. “That one right there.” Sam followed his finger and saw nothing. He peered back at Vance, his disbelief evident in his expression.

  “Look harder,” Vance suggested firmly.

  Sam turned his eyes toward the branch once again. This time he focused and scanned the scene carefully. His gaze concentrated in one spot for a second or two; then he saw it. There was something on the branch just a few yards ahead. Sam squinted, thinking it might help him discern what he was looking at. It was a structure of some sort, but it was camouflaged so as to be almost completely invisible. It was as if Sam were seeing through the structure itself. As though it were entirely transparent. It was only visible because the edges of the structure didn’t seamlessly transition into its environment. This visual wrinkle in the air betrayed the outline of the structure just enough for Sam to spot it. The more he stared, the clearer it became.

  It was a house of simple architecture. One that reminded Sam of the colonial homes he had seen in history documentaries. It had four windows and a front door covered by an arched portico, held up by two pillars. The structure was exactly the width of the branch. It was a tree house unlike any Sam could have imagined. As he started toward it, he immediately noticed that this house was much larger than he’d thought. The front door was twice as tall as a normal front door. Carl must be big, Sam deduced. He glanced back at Vantana, his nerves dancing a jig in his stomach.

  “Go on. He won’t bite,” Vance said reassuringly. “You’re small enough that he could just swallow you whole.” The doctor chuckled at his joke, but Sam wasn’t amused. He got to the door and found that both the knocker and the button for the bell were too high for him to reach. He clenched his hand into a fist and banged against the wooden surface. Even at this proximity, the camouflage was impressive, making it appear as though Sam were knocking on air.