by Ash, C. B.
The thief looked up at his name, nearly losing his precarious position on the beam. “Hunter! Quick! Shoot the bloody thing. It's trying to kill me!”
Hunter glanced at the drake. The reptile, having noticed the newcomer, stopped its eager attempts to grab the danging vampire and stared at the captain. A few light scars could be seen along the little drake's scaled hide as if it had been whipped. The captain looked around, noticing the broken egg shells, bent locks, pieces of canvas that looked passably like banking money bags, and a horsewhip that had been bitten in two. He also noticed a bag on a hook that looked a much more recent addition than the rest of the warehouse items. He recognized the faint smell of freshly cooked salted pork from it.
“I suspect it has plenty reason to. Besides, unless it's learned to use a wooden stake, I fear your vampiric nature will keep you quite whole, though I still suspect the pain of the bites will sting some, even for you.” Hunter nodded towards the hatchling. “Trying to train it were you?”
Broggins shifted uncomfortably. “Not in the least! That'd be against the law!”
“So far I've seen nothing that tells me you give a whit for the Queen's law.” Hunter slowly eased over, opened the bag, and withdrew a wrapped section of salted pork. “And if you didn’t have a goal to train it, why would a vampire need any salted pork? Your game's done. The bent locks and money bags tell enough in my mind that you'd hoped for a pet to use in some robbery.”
“Lot that you know, ya blowhard!” Broggins snapped while he adjusted his grip on the rafter.
Sounds of running preceded the arrival of Moira and O'Fallon. Both cast a surprised look at the drake and then Broggins. Hunter tore off small pieces of the pork and tossed it over. After an experimental sniffing, the beast worked slowly at the meat. Hunter showed the rest to Moira.
“Moira, would you be so kind as to find something to soften this for the small one over there. I doubt it has enough teeth yet to do more than gnaw at it.”
Moira gave the captain a wide grin, “Aye Cap'n, a bit o' water and a touch o' milk'll do this little baby quite nice. Leave it ta me. I worked for a crew hired by the Royal Geographic Society who had ta take care of a clutch once. They had this idea of markin’ then trackin’ where they go.”
O'Fallon gestured to Broggins, who had not yet left the safety of his rafter but obviously was considering the option. “An' him, Cap'n?”
“Fetch Townsend. Tell him we've found our thieving rascal and he's in dire need of a nice pair of leg irons. That is, until the Queen's men hold their monthly court here. Then he gets to be their problem.” Hunter smiled a bit then. “And send word to the Griffin. I think it's past time we got this hatchling home.”
Epilogue
Branches swayed slightly from a chill wind along the sunlit tree line that decorated the rocky slope. Where the slope left the trees, it ran for several yards before it became a cliff face, rushing downward to the green carpet of the Ardennes in the valley below. A game trail that followed the slope ran between the trees and spilled out onto the cliff face. Beyond the cliff and forest below, the green of the trees spread out like a wool blanket across Glen Coe in the Scottish Highlands.
Out of the game trail walked Moira, carrying a bag of dried beef. Not far behind, the three foot tall hatchling scampered nearby. Occasionally the youngling would become distracted by a butterfly, a bird or even the dance of sunlight on its own blue-gray scales, and fall behind. A moment later, it would realize it was alone and run to catch up.
Moira stepped into the clearing at the top of the cliff and pulled open the bag. The beef inside was enough for what she needed. She felt a nudge at her elbow, then heard a plaintive bleat from the young drake. Almond-shaped obsidian eyes passed a sad look between Moira and the bag of dried beef. Moira tried to remain stubborn, but the hatchling drake was persistent. Eventually pleading eyes won over resolve.
“Oh bloody hell. One mind ya, just one now.” Moira in a mock-exasperated tone.
The drake squeaked an immature roar in reply, then sat back with its maw of stubby curved teeth wide for the slab of dried beef.
Moira selected a modest-sized section and tossed it over. The drake chewed contentedly.
“Careful Moira, we've only so much.” Captain Hunter said, walking slowly up the rocky ground. He leaned heavily on his cane, his broken bones not quite mended from his ordeal. Krumer Whitehorse followed further behind.
Moira smiled, “aye, Cap'n. There's plenty. We can spare a piece or two.”
“All right then. Let's lead him over and hope someone's about.” Hunter said, looking up at the skies.
“Aye, Cap'n,” Moira replied.
Moira withdrew more meat and led the young hatchling, already hungry at the sight of another chance at food, across grass and bald rocks towards the edge of the ridge line. Once there, she tossed the meat to the hatchling and set down the bag. Slowly, she backed away while the hatchling's attention was diverted towards its meal.
Krumer joined both Moira and Hunter closer to the cliff's magnificent view. “Any sign?”
“None yet. However, it's early to tell. She may have moved on.”
The first mate shook his head slowly. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Drakes are very territorial and rarely give up a good, safe nest, from what I understand.”
The pair scanned the sky before Krumer broke the silence. "Any word over Broggins? You spent quite the time with those barristers."
"Quite. Though, I was glad to be on this particular end of a barrister for a change." Hunter sighed a little and continued. "Broggins had more against him than just planning to pilfer a bank. Four outstanding counts of theft, two of extortion and at least one murder. Though the murder was conjecture."
"No body?" Krumer asked.
The captain shrugged, "indeed. It was suggested it was his own sire. A Lady Vanessa Bellgrave or some such."
Krumer chuckled ruefully. "A backstabbing, evil man no doubt, but he is a clever one."
"You sound as if you admire the man?" Hunter asked slightly surprised.
The first mate shot the captain a sour look. "He's a toad, and a blood sucking one. I'm merely impressed at his ability to survive this long."
Hunter chuckled. "His neck isn't stretched yet, not that it would do much for one of his kind. In either case, the trial was not lengthy. He was much the picture of a braggart, and denied everything with a glib lie for the most of it. When evidence, albeit as thin as ice in spring, was presented of the murder, he grew agitated and practically flew into a rage. Acted as if he never knew. It took five stout lads to hold him down so he could be chained to his chair with blessed manacles. The verdict was quick to return. They'd hang him for sure, but everyone knows that'll do no good. Word is that he'll spend his long days beneath Millbank prison until they decide what to do with him."
"Not a stake through the heart? It would be more effective, waste less time,” Krumer said with a derisive snort.
"Ah, there's the rub of it. His crimes merit a hanging - by law there's no provision for a stake through the heart." Hunter paused a moment to recall a memory. "The oddest part I cannot deduce, was why Wilkins was there."
Krumer looked confuse. "The little man from the hospice?"
"The very same,” Anthony replied. “I wasn't permitted to hear his testimony. No one was, save the barristers of course. Odd all that secrecy given his story was of a 'gambling debt'. No way of knowing what was said, though."
"Spirits move in their own time and way, Anthony,” Krumer explained. “Shamans of my tribe taught that they can be anywhere, when we might need them most, of course."
Hunter considered that a moment, "Quite. I just had not expected one to be cleaning a hospice floor."
An ear rattling roar broke the conversation. From above, an adult drake - the very one that had attacked the Brass Griffin - soared overhead, wheeled, then flew close enough that Moira, Hunter and Krumer all were possessed of an instinctive urge to duck. The lightning drake extended her
wings and dropped with an unusual grace to the rocky ground. Large, dark reptile eyes shifted uneasily across the three Griffin crew. Beside them, the young hatchling sniffed the air curiously while it chewed steadily on the dried beef.
Moira shifted her weight nervously while she watched the adult drake from mere yards away. "Cap'n?"
"Do nothing sudden." He ordered.
"Aye ta that," Moira replied.
Krumer frowned. “It’s not often one can be this close to a drake, without losing parts of their body, or more commonly their lives. Present company excluded of course.”
Hunter did not reply. His eyes were locked on those of the adult drake. Slowly he took a step forward.
Moira started, but Krumer waved her to be still.
Hunter shook his head and spoke quietly to Moira and Krumer. "Just hold your course. We'll see this through. Moira, toss me some of that beef."
Moira dug out another piece which immediately drew both the attention of the hatchling and adult drake. The hatchling looked from hunger while the adult drake visibly tensed in concern. Moira tossed the dried beef slab to Hunter, who caught it clumsily, thanks to his cane and cracked bones. Quickly, the younger drake hurried over to Hunter and sat nearby, looking between Hunter and the dried beef in earnest.
Hunter looked from the hatching to its mother, “my thanks.” He turned his attention to the little drake. "Time for you to be off, little one." With a grunt, Hunter tossed the beef towards the adult drake.
It sailed through the air, but before it could reach the ground, the older drake caught it in a massive paw. Chasing the meat, the younger drake paid little heed to its direction; that is, until it noticed how close it was to the larger drake. The hatchling skidded to an abrupt stop. While it turned its gaze up at its mother, the young drake’s eyes glinted with fear and confusion. Slowly, cautiously, the mother dropped the beef to the hatchling and trumpeted. The sound was not as loud as a roar, but actually a deeper, softer song. Surprising since it was made by a several ton reptile. Tentatively, the hatchling took the beef, chewed some of it, then bleated in reply.
"Cap'n, am I seein' this? I never seen a drake act like that before," Moira said incredulously.
Hunter smiled, his own suspicions completely laid to rest. "Quite right. I'm sure you haven't. Neither have I."
"Animals often do many odd things," Krumer commented, although he sounded less than convinced at his own statement.
Once the young beast was done with the meal of beef, the adult drake nudged the hatchling away from the crew and towards the edge of the overlook. She looked down at her offspring then spread her wings and trumpeted a short burst of notes. The hatchling clumsily mimicked its mother, a passing attempt at best. Suddenly the mother crouched and leaped into the air and off the cliff. The younger drake started forward a few steps, then paused to look back at Moira, Krumer, and Hunter.
Hunter leaned on his cane and smiled. "Go on, now. Your mother is waiting."
The hatchling did not make a sound, but watched the captain for a long moment. It turned toward the edge with a deep breath, then leapt into the air. At first the youngling fell like a rock, but wind caught under immature wings and let the young drake glide for a brief pace. When he lost the wind, his mother caught him deftly and placed him on her back.
"I've heard said that dolphins in the sea are animals," Hunter commented aloud. "Though I've seen those same animals stop to help a sailor for no reason other than the sailor is endangered by, say, a shark. Might as one would help another person just because they are in need. Funny, that."
Beyond the three of them, the adult drake circled in a wide path and looked back at Hunter, her offspring clutching her back and bleating aloud merrily.
Captain Hunter nodded slightly with a ghost of a smile. The drake returned the nod, banked to the right and flew toward the mountains with a trumpeting roar.
About the Author
C. B. Ash holds degrees as a Physical Scientist and Computer Scientist. Since college, he has run his own networking business, worked as laboratory technician, taught martial arts, and traveled for several years as a software engineering consultant. Currently he shares his time between software architecture, web design and slaving away over outlines for new manuscripts … when he's not keeping his cat off his keyboard.
During that time he has written several fantasy and science fiction short stories, a fantasy/murder mystery novel and several poems. One of which garnered him the Emily Dickinson Award in Poetry. His first novel, Kinloch, was published in May, 2004. Tales of the Brass Griffin: Red Lightning is one of the Tales of the Brass Griffin series. To find out more, visit: http://BrassGriffin.com.
