Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (24 page)

Throughout the night, visions had swirled through the golden clouds of the scrying dish in a mesmerising blur of faces, rocks, paths and places. When at last fatigue overcame him and the visions finally slowed, Matheus Hawk sat back and allowed his senses to recover some control – he was all too aware of how close he was to collapse. The mental will required to focus the visions was enormous. Adding to this was the discomforting necessity of having the bronze dish heated on a fiercely burning brazier, making the whole task incredibly strenuous. Matheus closed his eyes, head pounding as he tried to relax his mind. The flesh of his face felt sore and burned from the heat, but setting pain aside, he tried once more to find the energy and concentration to prepare for one final session. A claw-like hand came up and absently wiped away the sheen of sweat that covered his face, his eyes never leaving the dish.

'Silence, Nhasic,' growled the hunter, 'I am close now.' The little demon stopped its chattering and sat back, baring its teeth in a silent shriek of hatred towards its master's back.

The visions in the dish returned to show parts of the Massif Mountains and then the Bolt, swept with snow in a howling blizzard.

'Where are they?' muttered Matheus. He passed a hand around the rim of the bowl, and the vision moved with it, offering a different view of where he had last seen his despised adversaries.

The hunched shapes of three figures came into view. Matheus tensed as he focused the dish closer, trying to see who they were through the blinding snow. It was difficult. They were stooped or crouched, their cloaks wrapped tightly about them, unmoving, already dead or slowly freezing as they suffered the worst weather the Bolt could inflict. The remains of a fire lay between them, long since extinguished by a combination of wet snow and lack of fuel.

'Just some of Morgasta's dogs,' mumbled Matheus to himself. 'Dead dogs now,' he hissed as his hands moved once more. The image in the dish turned to a blur as more of the Bolt was scanned. 'Nothing,' he finally conceded. 'No avalanche or wall! No way have they managed to stop Morgasta coming through, they have failed!' The image pulled out at a dizzying speed sending Nhasic back into a new fit of shrieking movement.

'
Silence!
' screamed Matheus. His hand slashed out, backhanding the little demon across the room where it landed heavily against the wall. It took more than that to hurt a demon and Nhasic jumped up, hissing, but the Hawk's attention had returned to the scrying dish.

After a further long period of fruitless searching with Matheus now swaying from side to side with fatigue, the image within the dish followed the path and fell upon a bedraggled column of people trailing behind a wagon – unmistakably, the very gutter rats he was after. Relief flooded through him. Drawing a breath he took a moment to still himself. They were out of the Bolt now and retreating towards the distant coast. Making their way along the northern boundary of the Massif, the riders were bent low in their saddles as the frigid wind and driven snow did its best to unhorse them. Matheus let out an evil cackle.

'They
flee!
' he crooned with delight. 'Their trip was for nothing, and they run scuttling back to my fat friend's ship!' Both hands gripping the dish, all thoughts of fatigue forgotten and ignoring the heat, he guided the vision down towards the wagon. Clearing the flurrying snow, he was immediately rewarded with a momentary glimpse of Bartholomew's unhappy face peering out from behind the wagons cover.

'Oh, you poor fat fool, drawn around like the useless barrel of cheese that you are!' With another movement of his hands, the scene changed, stopping briefly on several riders before finding the smaller figure of Loras. Matheus said nothing for a few moments as he studied the small figure wrapped under several layers of cloak. His knuckles whitened, as his grip on the dish became tighter. 'You, my young Magician… you I shall meet later, of that I am sure.'

'Loras will grind your bones to powder and feed your brains to your smelly little demon!' the screaming voice came from the darkness, high on the wall above Matheus. He turned slowly to look at his captive, chained helplessly and held aloft by red glowing coils of magic.

'You know this boy, Princess? How delightful and deliciously fitting, you may prove more useful than merely as a gift for our Lord of Shadows after all.'

'Loras will kill you!' shrieked Princess Fajera. 'He is a great Magician!' She spat as hard as she possibly could, but the thin ribbon of saliva barely reached halfway across the cave floor. Nhasic scuttled forward chattering loudly and dipped his finger into the glistening trail then licked it experimentally. Ignoring them both, Matheus returned his attention to the dish, once more spinning his hands rapidly around the hot rim. The vision pulled out to a greater height before dropping once more, ahead of the group, to horsemen travelling in the opposite direction.

'Ahh, now this may prove to be entertaining. A band of Morgasta's scum about to add spice to the day!' his laughter filled the chamber and Nhasic slipped closer to see what delight had befallen his master. 'Let us see how your young friend fares against a Barbarian sword, Princess. I hope he survives because I want to show you what his heart really looks like.' His laughter all but covered the sounds of the Princess's sobbing as he turned to watch with interest as the two groups came closer together.

* * *

Pardigan shivered uncomfortably as he waited for Mahra to say her goodbyes. Rain had finally found its way beneath his cloak to soak the back of his shirt, and he was tired, uncomfortable and ready to curl up somewhere warm and sleep for a long, long time.

'Come on, Mahra, let's go,' he hissed, but she was ignoring him, trying to console the little girl.

'We have to go in.' Mahra was softly saying to Nella. 'We've come for something that was stolen, and it's inside this temple.'

'But it's an 'orrible place. People that go in and… well, they don't come out again. Just leave it; whatever it is ain't worth it. Come and live with us instead… won't you?' Mahra silently shook her head and pressed a gold coin into the girl's hand. Turning to Nipper, she did the same for him and then looked to Tad. She held out a coin, which he took, and appeared about to say something, but then changed his mind.

'When all this is over, we're coming back for you… do you believe me?' Mahra held the gaze of each in turn until they nodded. 'We're going to be away for a while, and then we will come looking in the drains for you. Just a few weeks and we'll be back, I promise.' She could see that both Pardigan and Quint were itching to get into the temple.

Pardigan peered nervously up and down the street then his attention was drawn to Elisop who was looking lost. He had brought them to the temple, but now appeared reluctant to go in - he couldn't blame him.

'You don't have to come with us you know.' Pardigan watched as the strange little man drew himself up, his bearing and whole character changing.

'I have important information for King Hugo, that is true, but you need me. We will all go in and then leave together.' He nodded in agreement with himself and then started towards the door, only to be stopped short as Quint grabbed his arm.

'This time, you can stay with me,' said Quint. 'Pardigan will lead, and Mahra will keep to the back.' Mahra nodded.

Pardigan walked towards the door, blinking invisible as he approached, conscious of the splashing sound of his footsteps. He glanced back to see the three children hiding back in the shadows and Mahra obviously resisting the impulse to run back and lift Nella in her arms; he smiled then turned his attention back to the door.

There didn't seem to be any sign of trap or warning bell, but he was suddenly overwhelmed with a strong feeling of impending doom, which made him wish he had some of Tarent's gift of perception. Shrugging it off as best he could, he glanced to the edges of the door searching for any concealed mechanism, and then up above at the looming stone figure of the bat, wings outstretched, mouth drawn back baring sharp teeth in a silent scream. It appeared set to fall upon him and he sat back heavily on the muddy ground, his stomach lurching in shock. 'Well I hope they don't have any of those in there,' he murmured. He got up and slowly turned the large brass doorknob, feeling his luck change as the door gently wafted open. Unfortunately, the smile soon dropped from his face as the odour of rotting corpses and corrupted magic escaped past him into the wet Mayhem night, forcing him once more to take a step back. Bile rose in his throat, but he still managed to hold his invisibility. He glanced back and saw the others had moved out and were following just a few steps behind, their faces registering revulsion as the smell crept out to meet them.

'Ugh, Source preserve us… bad eggs?' hissed Elisop holding his sleeve over his nose and mouth. 'I think… oh, my goodness… I think something died around here, horrible!' Nobody was arguing about the smell, they were all pulling a variety of faces and covering their mouths.

'I think a whole lot of things have died around here,' mumbled Pardigan, 'wait here.' Still feeling he was about to gag and fighting both his stomach and his better judgement, he slipped through the open door and into the temple.

The entrance hall was small and dimly lit, and he was immensely relieved to find he was alone. No strange priests or giant bats were waiting to greet him, so he allowed himself to relax a little. Directly opposite the doorway on a small table was a twisted candelabrum with three deep red candles burning. The strange ethereal light they produced offered the room a dim radiance, but they did little to suggest any detail; the room was icy cold. Two doors led to the interior, the larger of which was open. Crossing as silently as possible, Pardigan peered through and was rewarded with an all-enveloping darkness that revealed little except the feeling of a cavernous open space. A little disappointed, he moved on to the second door and gave the handle an experimental turn; it was locked. Quickly retracing his steps, he became visible and signalled for the others to come in. They huddled around him as he gave his whispered report.

'The good news is that I've not seen anybody yet… and no giant bats.'

'No giant…!' began Elisop, but Quint silenced him with a glance.

'Go on Pardigan.'

'Well the bad news is that it stinks even worse in here. The small door is locked, and this other door leads into what I think is the main hall, at least I think it does, it's very dark in there. If you all stay here, I'll go inside and have a better look.' With a nod of agreement from Quint, he blinked invisible again. With nothing better to do, the others followed and peeked around into the large black space, trying to see something in the gloom. It was dark, but something told their eyes that it wasn't completely dark while their noses told them this was definitely where the smells were coming from.

'I can't just wait for him, I'm going to have a look around in there, as well,' whispered Mahra, and moments later, a dark grey cat slipped silently into the darkness.

'Me too,' hissed Elisop but Quint caught him by the collar and hauled him back before he could take more than two steps.

'No, we wait here.'

Whilst in the form of a cat, Mahra could see well in darkness, in fact, all her senses were at their highest. Rows of benches were blocking any real view, but from the far distant side of the Chaos temple she could hear deep chanting coming from several voices. Closer to her, in the centre, she could just make out a dim red glow surrounding a central platform where six hooded figures crouched silent and unmoving as if in deep meditation.

Something heavy banged against her, and she just caught herself from letting out a meow of anger at being kicked, when the sound of a hushed curse told her the assailant was an invisible Pardigan who hadn't seen her.

'Let's go back to the others,' she whispered to the dark space that she presumed Pardigan must occupy.

When Pardigan came out of the hall a few moments later, the first thing he did was to look at her and smile.

'Sorry, didn't see you.'

'At least you didn't step on my tail. So what did you see?' asked Mahra, rubbing at her hip where she now had a bruise. 'Any idea what they're doing in the middle?'

'I saw them. It's a bit odd really. There are six people on the stage thing, but they aren't doing much of anything really. Oh, and there's some kind of fire burning in the ground. Maybe they're making a spell or something… and there are three other monks or priests or whatever they're called on the far side making a horrible noise, maybe Loras would call it singing, I don't know, but it was quite spooky.'

'Did you see any sign of the skulls?' asked Quint hopefully, but Pardigan shook his head.

'There's a big chest on the platform, they could be in there I suppose, but maybe we should have a look around further before getting to that? No point in disturbing any of that lot if there's not any need to, eh?'

Quint nodded. 'Can you open this door over here?' Pardigan smiled and went over to the locked door as Quint turned to Mahra, 'Maybe while we check in here, you can see if there are any other rooms off the main hall.' She nodded and changed, blurring into the shape of the cat and darted back into the chamber, just as the sound of a bolt clicking back alerted them that Pardigan had unlocked the second door. He pulled it open and Elisop and Quint slipped inside.

'I'm going back to the hall as well,' said Pardigan. 'Meet back here later, okay?' There was no answer. He glanced in and realised they were already gone. With a shrug, he closed the door and returned to the darkness.

The great empty chamber was a strange place. Although he couldn't hear anything or say what it was that bothered him exactly, it felt as if the space was filled with a vibration or sound that for some reason left him with an empty nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach. Being invisible wasn't helping much either. He felt exposed. It was as if some dark malevolent force was watching him, waiting for a reason to expose him to the Priests of Chaos. Darkness stretched upwards giving the impression of an endless void, and the chill fetid air didn't merely make him cold, it seemed to be slipping beneath his clothing like the icy fingers of death itself, stealing the warmth from his body. He shivered and tried to throw the sensation off.