The Black Talon

by Richard A. Knaak

  “This is Garan i Seraith, the Nest of the Griffon,” she explained.

  A second call arose from within, and although it was slightly higher in tone and pitch, it surely came from the same source. Each of the two cries had sounded as if both a hawk and a lion had sought to speak at the same time from the same mouth.

  The stench that emerged from the temple interior caused even some of the ogres to briefly turn their heads aside. Even Golgren couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose, while Stefan and Idaria had to cover theirs to keep from gagging.

  Golgren turned to his followers once more, calling out commands in the degenerate tongue. When Idaria did not bother to translate, the Solamnic asked, “Why does he speak in this language when I’ve come to believe he prefers Common?”

  “For the Festival of the Griffon, there are far too many who do not know even a word of Common. He speaks now the praises of the people, which are long and full of winding phrases which even I cannot follow well enough to translate, Sir Stefan.”

  Golgren finally finished speaking. He then turned toward the elf and human. With a smile, the ogre leader gestured for them to come forward.

  “Go,” Khleeg breathed in Stefan’s ear.

  Stefan looked to Idaria, whose face was almost expressionless. The elf slave went up the steps, walking as though she were a high priestess. Her chains made no sound.

  When Stefan and Khleeg had joined Golgren, the grand lord, holding the mace ahead of him, led the procession inside.

  And with a rattle of heavy chains, two huge forms leaped forward.

  “Kiri-Jolith’s beard!” Stefan exclaimed, again reaching for his sword. Khleeg, too, reacted but to block the human.

  “Hold!” snapped Golgren, eyes never parting from the massive shapes before them. The shadowy, four-legged forms suddenly jerked to a halt a few yards ahead of the newcomers.

  Two temple warriors set torches in the walls. The torches and a series of narrow window vents along the edge of the ceiling revealed two winged behemoths as tall as horses.

  They were griffons, of course. They had been fed well throughout their lives, enabling them to reach proportions rare in the wilderness. Their bodies were those of muscular cats; but their paws ended in fearsome talons. Their heads were avian and much like a raptor’s. One griffon clacked its beak hard as it stretched to bite at the puny figures. Its beak was capable of cutting through flesh and bone; the proof of that was the ruined remains of amaloks scattered around the chamber.

  The second griffon attempted another leap at them, its wingspread almost as wide as the chamber. Even had there been no iron collar and chain to restrain the beast, the griffon could not have flown far; its wings had been clipped.

  Brown eyes with a definite feline cast darted from ogre to human to elf. Both creatures squawked loudly, the noise so piercing that all within the temple but Golgren flinched.

  From behind the party came handlers leading a blindfolded young amalok whose horns had been severed and whose neck had three ritual cuts that were bleeding freshly. Nostrils flaring, the bleeding creature barked madly, which only served to stir the griffons more.

  The ogres brought the amalok before Golgren, who raised the mace and uttered, “Garan i fatuuth un if’hani amolaki.”

  With that, he swung hard. The mace struck the beast on the side of the skull. The amalok let loose with an abbreviated bark, then dropped to its knees. Despite the force with which the grand lord had struck it, the amalok was only stunned.

  But that was enough for the handlers to hoist and shove the dazed animal toward the griffons—

  With tremendous eagerness, the winged beasts went to work tearing the frantic amalok to bloody shreds. Their talons they used like lions on the hunt, holding the prey down, and with their beaks, they stabbed and ripped at the amalok’s long throat.

  As the griffons fought over the grisly scraps, a temple warrior stepped outside. A moment later a horn sounded and the roar of the crowd briefly drowned out the griffons’ squabbling.

  Golgren signaled for the next amalok. As it was brought forward, the winged predators lost interest in what remained of their first victim. They strained at their chains, eager for fresher blood.

  There was suddenly a screech of distressed metal, and in the next breath, the griffon in front of them managed to break its chain. Fortunately, it was so startled by its own success that it hesitated, disbelieving that it might be free. That enabled Golgren, directly in its path, to leap out of the way.

  Another warrior jumped in to help Golgren. He pulled the grand lord up and away, but just as Golgren regained his footing, his would-be rescuer vanished in a flurry of monstrous talons. Blood and gobbets of flesh rained down on the ogre leader.

  Seizing up the mace, Golgren staunchly swatted at the winged beast. The head of his weapon struck the side of the griffon’s skull but had less effect than it had on the amalok. Screeching, the griffon pressed its attack, slashing at Golgren, forcing the half-breed to retreat.

  But as Golgren backed away, he heard a rattling sound coming from deeper inside, followed by the clatter of heavy chains. The other griffon had also somehow broken free, multiplying his danger and persuading the grand lord that it was no mere accident. The chains were constantly tested, especially before something so momentous as that ceremony.

  Someone had taken the opportunity to prepare the trap, intending that the powerful predators—driven to a frenzy by so much nearby fresh meat and blood—would run riot. That both griffons had done so at the same time was a stroke of luck for the evildoer and a stroke of misfortune for Golgren.

  The griffon dived for him again, snapping at him with a beak huge enough to rip the ogre’s head off. Golgren deflected one such lunge, but the beast’s talons came close enough to tear his robe and leave a line of gashes across his stomach. The grand lord gave thanks to his patron spirit, aware of the irony that said patron was a griffon, as he twisted and dodged to keep alive.

  Then to each side of him appeared a temple guard. With their long spears, they were better able to parry the griffon as another figure—Khleeg—forcibly drew his lord toward the entrance.

  But Golgren was caught between survival and reputation. His retreat couldn’t be perceived as cowardly. The grand lord could not be seen as being rescued by helpmates, as an infant or a female.

  So he broke free of Khleeg, startling the ogre. Before the officer could protest, Golgren seized a sword left by the slaughtered guard. “All out!” he commanded. The grand lord pointed at Stefan Rennert, who was frozen in place, but also had his weapon out and ready. “Khleeg! Remove the knight!”

  Knowing better than to argue, Khleeg slapped his breastplate and followed orders. With a meaty hand, he dragged the knight away. The guards shifted toward the entrance.

  Then, from behind the griffons, a figure appeared that turned Golgren’s plan upside down. Idaria pressed against the far wall, her face calm despite being painfully aware of the terrible risk surrounding her. The griffons, intent on the busy prey in front of them, had somehow failed to notice the easier target.

  There was no reason for Golgren to do anything but leave the female slave to her fate. One elf more or less meant nothing to the ogre realms or the continent of Ansalon itself.

  But then …

  Golgren charged toward where Idaria stood. Both his followers and the beasts were caught by surprise by his audacious action. Khleeg let out a grunt of dismay. The nearest griffon took a swat at Golgren, but the grand lord evaded the blow. Dropping from a run, he slid under the second monster just shy of its beak. As he passed, he let the keen edge of his blade cut a gash across the griffon’s underside.

  As the winged predator shrieked and bucked from the pain, Golgren rolled to a halt and stood before the elf.

  “Come!” he barked, stretching out his maimed limb. Her expression still steady, Idaria grabbed hold. The grand lord guided them both to where Khleeg and several warriors desperately maneuvered to keep open a narrow escape
route for the two.

  One griffon, though, suddenly recalled its wings, and even though those wings were clipped, they were strong enough to assist the freed beast in leaping through the air. The creature soared over the heads of the guards, escaping to the outside.

  With a curse at having lost the one griffon, Golgren battled against the other. The escaping griffon would no doubt wreak catastrophe outside. Eventually it would be brought down, but any deaths or destruction it caused would undermine his power. Many would read in that episode not only a distinct lack of favor from the patron spirit, but worse omens ahead.

  Grand khans had been deposed for far less.

  The griffon’s beak came at Golgren again, snapping within inches of his face. He swung his sword, which clattered against the griffon’s maw, only serving to annoy the beast.

  Suddenly, the lone monster was surrounded by Khleeg and the guards. Golgren almost swore at the officer for failing to heed his order to retreat—especially with the second griffon on the loose—but he knew that Khleeg was single-mindedly devoted to his lord’s welfare. The escaped beast was a secondary concern, no matter how much carnage it might unleash.

  Golgren swept past his warriors, not even sparing a glance at Khleeg. Idaria held tight to his arm as they left the temple. Outside, however, they were still not safe.

  There, the grand lord beheld Sir Stefan Rennert and a pair of guards attempting to keep the second beast at bay. The human’s countenance was twisted into so fierce an expression that he almost resembled an ogre. Along the creature’s path, three guards lay mauled and a fourth hung back, his arm in tatters.

  The throng had edged away to a safe perimeter. Golgren’s impressionable and superstitious people were not quite certain how to read the chaos. The grand lord would have preferred that they had all simply fled in case he further disgraced himself.

  Golgren glanced at Idaria, commanding, “To the palace! Return to the palace!”

  Confident in her obedience, the ogre leader paid her no further mind; he rushed to aid the knight, who might still be of value should they actually live to discuss Golgren’s proposed “alliance.” But as he neared man and beast, a shadow loomed over him. Golgren heard the familiar cry and knew that the other griffon had slipped past Khleeg and the others.

  The ogre barely had time to whirl about and defend himself. He struggled to bring his sword up to meet his foe.

  Razor-sharp talons and a monstrous beak bore down on Golgren …

  XIII

  WINGED TERROR

  If the griffon had just leaped a little more to his left, the ogre would have stood a chance, but—

  Then the winged beast let out a harsh cry and twisted in midflight. Its shift in trajectory brought it exactly where Golgren desired.

  Aware he was still in great danger of being crushed, the grand lord nevertheless used all his strength to force the blade up.

  The sword drove into the griffon’s underside, digging deep just below the rib cage and cutting down into the belly. A shower of steaming blood and other fluids drenched Golgren, nearly gagging him. The griffon let out an ear-splitting shriek.

  Several tons of flesh collapsed toward him, threatening to crush the ogre. Using the sword roughly as a pole, Golgren steered the heavy body away from him as much as possible as he tried to jump away.

  It was not enough. The badly wounded beast fell awkwardly on his right side, one huge leg draped across Golgren’s head and face. Fighting for air, he squirmed under the flailing giant. His lungs felt crushed and burned from a lack of air.

  As the griffon’s struggles grew more chaotic, the leg blanketing Golgren rose and convulsed. The grand lord thrust his arm up, protecting his face from another blow from the leg. The grand lord took in as much air as he could then used his other arm to drag himself out and away from the huge animal.

  Someone grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled the ogre leader free. Golgren caught a glimpse of Idaria’s solemn face.

  The thrashing griffon suddenly noticed them. Crawling, it made for the pair, its sharp beak snapping at Golgren’s ankle.

  The elf thrust a shorter sword into the half-breed ogre’s hand. Golgren lunged as best he could.

  He jammed the blade into the griffon’s maw with such force that the hilt and his hand sank deep into the monster’s gullet. All the griffon had to do to relieve the grand lord of his sole good hand was to clamp its beak shut and chop it off.

  But the ogre’s strength and desperation were such that the sword not only penetrated the back of the griffon’s throat, but tore through sinew and flesh until the point burst out the back side. Instead of biting down, the griffon opened its beak wide in a failed attempt to dislodge the blade. Twisting its head back and forth, it pulled weapon and wielder up in the air.

  As he flew off the ground, Golgren dropped the second sword. No matter, for the griffon, overcome by injuries and loss of blood, finally stumbled and fell, flopping onto its back. With the short blade still lodged in its throat, the behemoth shook once and at last died.

  Golgren managed to roll and land on his feet, although the impact shook his bones. He exhaled in relief and victory. However, another animal shriek reminded Golgren that the nightmare was far from over. As he fought to keep his wits, the grand lord saw that Stefan was keeping the second griffon occupied, but his situation was desperate. The two guards still stood with the knight, but their skills were clumsy compared with the human’s, and if anything, the ogres impeded the knight.

  But the griffon had had enough. Flapping its wings, the creature sprang to fly away and escape for good. Because of its special breeding and size, however, the creature rose no higher than two yards into the sky before plummeting back down like a rock … on top of a guard who had been gaping up at it.

  The frustrated griffon tore into the hapless ogre with abandon, scattering pieces of flesh everywhere. Some of those in the crowd abandoned the area without care for anything but saving their own hides. Golgren swore; it was more humiliation for the grand lord, and the fleeing witnesses would spread the news of his fall from Garantha’s patron spirit’s favor.

  The Solamnic bravely pressed the attack, trying to force the animal back. That only served to infuriate the griffon. Scattering aside the gruesome remains of the ogre, it lunged for the human.

  The beak clamped down on Sir Stefan’s arm. If not for his armor, much of his limb would have been ripped away. As it was, Stefan did lose his grip on the sword. It was all he could do just to keep his footing as the griffon stomped about.

  Finding that it could not bite through the knight’s armor, the winged creature angrily shook its head, tossing the Solamnic back and forth like a doll.

  As Stefan struggled, other guards produced a massive net to toss over the griffon. They tossed the net over the animal’s head but overshot their mark, entangling the griffon’s wings.

  The net briefly distracted the griffon, who did not notice that Golgren had sneaked up behind it. With a spear seized from one of the strewn corpses, the grand lord maneuvered stealthily toward the beast. If he hoped to salvage the situation, it was a matter of utmost importance that he, and he alone, slay the beast and win back the day.

  At a gesture from Golgren, those guards nearest the knight withdrew cautiously. Stefan, preoccupied with fending off the griffon, noticed neither their withdrawal nor Golgren’s advance.

  Then the grand lord tried a trick, imitating the barking of a young amalok, a plaintive cry as though one were separated from its mother. Sure enough, instinct made the griffon turn swiftly in his direction, momentarily dropping its defenses.

  Golgren thrust.

  The spear penetrated the eye nearest to him. The griffon let out an enraged scream and caught the weapon’s staff in its beak. With a single bite, it snapped the spear. Then, shaking its head wildly, it managed to dislodge the dripping tip of the weapon from its damaged orb.

  The winged behemoth, shrieking with anger and fury, saw only Golgren. It swung com
pletely around to face the grand lord, incidentally swatting away with its tail and killing instantly an ogre guard who had strayed too close.

  Golgren did not have much of a weapon left, only the splintered end of the spear. Regardless, he grasped the piece and used it cleverly to parry his monstrous foe’s talons. Yet one sharp nail drew a red line over his forearm.

  Staggering, Golgren sought the griffon’s throat. He could not hope to impale the beast, but perhaps he could do some damage.

  The griffon leaped at him. The move was so sudden, the grand lord almost lost his head as the beak snapped at where his own throat might have been if the giant predator hadn’t misjudged its leap—likely owing to the loss of one eye. Instead, the beak slammed the ogre leader in the chest, striking him like a blow from a battering ram. He was thrown back.

  As the griffon readied another leap, a sound drew Golgren’s attention. A length of chain dangling from its metal collar dragged beneath the beast. The grand lord thought for a moment then lunged down to grab the loose links. Seizing up the chain, he grabbed hold of the griffon’s shoulder and pulled himself up.

  His stunt would have failed immediately if he hadn’t deliberately picked the beast’s blind side. As it was, Golgren barely got hold before the creature’s beak came whipping around, trying to bite off the ogre’s leg.

  Golgren took the chain and quickly looped it around the griffon’s thick neck. The moment that was done, he wrapped the remainder around his waist then leaned back as much as he could and pulled with all his might, tightening the noose.

  The griffon let out a complaining rasp as Golgren threw his weight and strength into it. The grand lord struggled to keep his grip as the winged giant writhed and staggered. Because of its wings, the griffon was not likely to roll onto its back, although all bets were off in its dire situation.