Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (6 page)

'Pardigan!' All three slowly put their weapons away, then stood and kicked water at their friend who simply laughed and jumped back.

'Have you any idea how annoying that is?' growled Quint. 'I hate it when you just appear out of thin air.' He took a kick at the grinning Pardigan who easily dodged out of the way.

'Did you get it? Can we go back to bed now?' asked Loras.

'No, we have to go meet the King,' said Pardigan with a grin.

'Very funny, Pardigan, come on let's go,' growled Tarent. 'We've had enough of your foolishness for one night, and don't think you've heard the last of this, we'll all be discussing this in the morning.' He started to move off into the rain.

'Since when did you become my father, Tarent? Like I said, the King wants to meet you all.' He turned to Loras. 'Of course I got the rose. It was guarded by a Magician, and I still got it!' Loras's face lit up. 'Anyway… I wanted to put it onto his pillow, to show that a thief had taken it, but then I listened to what was happening… and they were talking about the skulls… and then I killed an assassin and met the King, and then…'

'
Wooooowwww
, slow down, start at the beginning,' said Quint, placing a hand on Pardigan's shoulder.

'I want to meet the Magician,' broke in Loras excitedly. He was dancing from one foot to the other, all thought of his bed now forgotten.

'Come on, let's go. We can all talk inside,' said Pardigan, and he turned and started across towards the gate. 'There's no point standing here in the rain, they're waiting for us up there,' he called back, and pointed to a window high above where a lone figure stood silhouetted inside.

'Are you sure you're not going to get us all hanged?' Tarent asked as the others walked towards the gate. Pardigan halted and turned around, the familiar grin on his face.

'And just how are they going to hang the crew of
The Griffin?
'

'I think we may end up regretting this,' mumbled Tarent as he shivered and gripped his staff tightly. Thunder rumbled overhead. Glancing up, he sighed, muttered a quick prayer to the Source, and then trailed after the others. At least we'll be out of this rain I suppose. He quickened his pace. 'Hey… wait for me!'

* * *

The guards stood aside as they passed into the warm dry splendour of the castle, and Pardigan grinned as his friends stood open-mouthed in amazement, taking in their rich surroundings. Another guard approached and politely requested that they follow him, which they did, tripping over each other into the huge hall and then up the great staircase dripping water onto the rich carpet as they went. When they entered the King's chambers, both the King and the Magician stood and stared at the damp group standing before them without saying a word.

'These are my friends,' said Pardigan, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 'This is Quint and Tarent, and this is Loras, our Magician.' Loras smiled uncertainly.

Loras tugged at Pardigan's sleeve. 'Which is the Magician?' he hissed, studying the two men before him.

Tarent leaned across and poked him in the ribs. 'Shh.'

'Come on,' said Quint softly, he walked forward followed by the others and fell to one knee in front of the King. 'Your Majesty… we… well, we didn't expect to be meeting you this evening. We actually thought we'd be pulling our friend Pardigan here out of some sort of trouble. We are loyal to the Realm and apologise if Pardigan has caused any problems… which he probably has.'

'Quint!' said Pardigan. 'I saved his life… I already told you.' He appealed to the King. 'You tell them, your Kingliness.'

'
Pardigan!
' hissed Tarent and Quint together.

The King smiled. 'Please, come and join us at the table. Your friend, Pardigan, did indeed save the life of your King this evening, and we are truly grateful. He has also been telling us of your gifts and of some of your adventures gathering the crystal skulls, most impressive. I would very much like to hear a full account. Were you really all blessed by the Source as he says?'

They settled about the table, and began to tell the King of their gifts, filling in a few of the gaps that Pardigan had left out from their adventures as they did so. The Magician was most interested in Pardigan's ability to place-shift and keen to understand the extent of Loras's powers, which he found remarkable in someone so young.

'What are you able to do?' he asked Loras, who hadn't stopped staring at him since entering the room and was holding back a bubbling surge of questions. Loras appeared shocked that he was being asked one instead.

'I don't really know' he murmured thoughtfully. 'It just all sort of happens at the right time. At the moment, I'm studying transfiguration.'

'Transfiguration!' said the Magician in a shocked tone. 'But that's just legend. No one can actually change into an animal… can they?'

'Well, our friend Mahra can change into an owl, a cat and a panther, but then she's had over a thousand years to practice,' said Loras with a grin. 'I would love to be able to become a panther, wouldn't you? I bought a book on it today.'

'Bless my soul!' said the Magician, and the King laughed.

'I think we may have found some unexpected, but very worthy allies, Silas. This is the good news I've been waiting for all evening!'

'Indeed your Majesty.' The Magician turned to Loras. 'Young man, my name is Silas Falk, and I think we shall become very good friends, you and I.'

Loras beamed.

* * *

The crew wandered the palace for the next few days as guests of the King, enjoying the luxury of court hospitality. Servants fetched their possessions from The Owl and they were given a suite of rooms decorated with such unrestrained extravagance that it had them exploring for ages. Tarent sent a letter with one of the Royal messengers to Mahra, and during their meetings with the King and Magician Falk, they learned more about the war in which the Realm was committed.

'To the North of us, the Warrior Queen Morgasta has already made the first advances towards war by attacking our most northern town of Barnham Bolt,' explained the King.

'Awful place… only reason it's there is to guard the pass,' added Silas Falk. 'It's the only real pass through the mountains, I went there once. Legend has it that during an ancient war between the gods, a giant crossbow bolt struck the mountain range, and it cleaved a path from one side to the other. Utter rubbish of course, but that's how Barnham became Barnham Bolt, and it's an awful place at any time of year.

'The garrison at the town of Barnham Bolt isn't a popular posting, I know that,' added the King. 'Anyway, Morgasta's army broke through recently and the fighting was fierce. We finally forced them back into the pass, but this was only an advance party. The scant few intelligence reports getting back from our spies in the North speak of a much larger army gathering at the far end of the Bolt readying for the spring thaw and frankly, we're worried.'

Magician Falk rolled out a large map of the Realm and pointed to the pass. 'This is where they'll come through in just a few months' time, but now the Barbarians aren't our only worry.

King Hugo traced his finger down to the west of the Kingdom to an area that appeared almost empty. Written in flowing script, in low-speak was,
The Great Expanse
. 'It is from here that we believe there is another, more immediate, and possibly even greater threat,' said the King, the parchment crackling under his fingers as he traced across it. 'We have long known of an ancient enemy that legends say lurks across the sands of the Great Expanse. The great city of Dhurban was built as a sentinel against this distant threat, and now our spies tell us a monstrous army is marching and will be at the gates of Dhurban within one lunar cycle, that's in just twenty-eight days.'

'Silas here believes that our sickly looking visitor the other night was sent from the west,' continued the King. 'Morgasta has never been one to break with tradition. The Northern hordes are bloodthirsty savages and have always delighted in looking their enemy in the eye when they face them. These attacks are not in keeping with their ways, the atrocities far too cowardly for their doing.' He sighed. 'However, it
is
strangely inopportune that both armies should be attacking at the same time. We have to ask, have they been conspiring against us without us ever knowing?'

The room was silent for a while as everyone contemplated the map, then Tarent asked, 'And where are the skulls? Do you know who took them?'

'Our belief is that Morgasta has them,' replied the King. 'The thieves left on a large merchant vessel,
The Esmerelda
, which was seen heading past the Northern port of Blasco. The ship was known to have been in the harbour at the time of the theft, and a notorious criminal was identified heading to the boat in the company of the captain. They killed two of my men, as well as two guards at the temple, before sailing north.

'
The Esmerelda
is …' started Pardigan.

'Bartholomew Bask's boat!' chorused Quint, Tarent and Loras all at the same time.

'… and the criminal would be Matheus Hawk,' completed Pardigan. The King narrowed his eyes.

'The two you had trouble with before, yes. Apparently, Mr Hawk was employed in my army, but I'm told we parted company with him some time ago. He is long due for a stay in our dungeons, a thoroughly nasty individual by all accounts.'

'I guess we can all agree with that,' said Pardigan, 'and now they have the skulls.'

'Indeed, now they have the skulls.'

'Then it's up to us to find them… now it's personal.'

Quint nodded and looked around at the others. 'Now it
is
personal.'

They set to work forming a plan to track the skulls and the King and Magician Falk were able to fill them in on where they should start.

'The Barbarians northern capital is several days from the pass. It's actually two cities divided by a huge river. On one side is Bedlam, which is where Queen Morgasta has her palace, and on the other side of the river is the aptly named, city of Mayhem. As the names suggest, the combined city is an awful place, avoid it at all cost. Fortunately, according to reports, the Queen's army is mustering much closer, just the other side of the bolt in the Northern side of the Massif Mountains, and with luck both she and the skulls will still be there.' The King sat down and waved for Magician Falk to continue explaining for him. The old man appeared eager to do so.

'The Northern Massif is a huge mountain range and a natural border for the Realm. The Bolt is the only true land passage between north and south. However, even in summer, the Bolt is no easy stroll. Frequent earthquakes bring avalanches down upon unlucky travellers, and if they escape the avalanches, there are bandits and mountain howlers preying on each other and anyone else that may happen through. It is a lawless place, a no-man's land if you will. In winter, the pass is truly treacherous and has always been thought impassable, not even an option.' He shrugged and looked at his King. 'For Morgasta's troops to have made it across at this time of year is incredible. We must pray to the Source that the main army will wait until the spring thaw… if they don't…' He left the sentence unfinished and the King laid a hand of comfort on the Magician's arm.

'We can only deal with what we know my friend, and then do all that is possible. We need a few months to make ready and address the more immediate problem in the west before we deal with Morgasta. But now they may have the skulls and…' A loud tapping sound brought the conversation to a halt. Pardigan looked over and gave a cheer.

'Mahra!' He leapt up and ran to the window. Throwing it open, he let in a blast of damp drizzle and a bedraggled, soggy owl. She flapped her wings and flew straight for the fireplace, immediately changing into the more familiar shape of their friend. Crouching down, she held her hands out to the warmth, her teeth chattering, unable to say anything.

'My word,' said Magician Falk. 'That's the first time I've ever seen someone actually do that. I've read about it of course, but I never really thought it possible before.' He stood up to go and meet Mahra, but Loras held out a hand to stop him.

'I really wouldn't at the moment. She can be a bit tetchy after a long flight. It's probably best to let her warm up a bit before asking her a whole bunch of questions. She's bitten my head off several times for asking questions.' He glanced at Mahra. 'But, then I suppose I do ask a lot of questions. Oh, and don't forget she can become a panther as well so biting your head off isn't only a turn of phrase.'

'My word,' repeated Magician Falk sitting back down again, still watching the silent Mahra by the crackling fire, her leathers steaming in the heat.

Once she had warmed up and dried out just a little bit, she came to the table to meet with her friends and then to be introduced to the King.

'I'm sorry. I've been flying for nearly four days with little rest, and the weather has been awful. I'm wet through and, to be honest, I can't wait to become a cat and clean myself properly.'

The King smiled. 'Please my dear don't let us stop you. We're getting used to strange happenings in the palace recently. However, if you would prefer, I'll ask one of the servants to show you to a room where you can bathe… err… properly?'

Mahra smiled. 'Thank you, that sounds like a wonderful suggestion for later, but first I'd like some warm milk if that's possible, and to hear what's happening if you don't mind.' She turned to Quint. 'The talk in Freya is that the skulls have been stolen, are we going after them?' He nodded. 'Good, I thought we would be.'

'They were stolen by Bartholomew Bask and Matheus Hawk,' said Quint. 'It looks as if they're taking them north of the border to the Barbarians.'

They continued their conversation, filling Mahra in on what had been happening. A short while later she excused herself and, much to the delight of Magician Falk, turned into the grey cat then sat on Loras's lap to clean herself.

The King spread a map of the north across the table. 'We need two things, the skulls of course would be your first priority but also any information that you can get to us on Morgasta and her troops. We have to know if they plan to come through the Bolt before the spring thaw. So far, my agents have either returned with nothing or haven't returned at all.'

They decided to split up into two parties as they had so little information. In winter, it would be too cold to fly
The Griffin
over the mountains, at least for any long distances and the strain of her carrying all of them could possibly be too much for her. Quint, Mahra and Pardigan, would, therefore, make a series of shorter flights north, with Mahra returning to the King's agent in Barnham Bolt with any information on Morgasta's army that they manage to gain. Loras, Tarent and Magician Falk, would pursue
The Esmerelda
by sea. With luck, both parties would meet up close to Morgasta's camp. They would stay in touch using the two message books, the original 'Book of challenges' and Magician Pew's copy.

* * *

Water dripped with a constant melodic rhythm, splashing into the many containers scattered around the floor of the crowded tent. Every container was different and, therefore, each was making a different sound. Unfortunately, to those in the tent of a more nervous disposition, the strange melodic effect was somewhat unnerving. The sound of its drumming was all that broke the heavy silence surrounding the royal throne. Bartholomew Bask, a man of no small nervous disposition, was wringing his hands in frustration and no small amount of fear. The meeting with the Warrior Queen Morgasta was definitely not going as he'd previously imagined.

They'd encountered the Queen's ship without any difficulty, and Bartholomew had felt relief when the Hawk had kept to himself during negotiations with the vessel's captain. Even Nhasic, the tiny demon, had stayed hidden. The Queen's ship had escorted them to a protected anchorage where they had transferred to horses for three days of uncomfortable travel through harsh terrain and filthy weather, during which Bartholomew had been able to convince himself that Morgasta's court would receive them with celebration, ceremony and comfort… and of course a sumptuous banquet, and that riches would be immediately forthcoming.

When the sight of the Queen's army encamped in the low foothills of the Massif Mountains had signalled the end of the awful journey, he had experienced a great feeling of relief.

The army was sprawled over several hillsides surrounding a small muddy valley. The tents, of every shape, colour and size, were pitched for as far as Bartholomew could see. Gathered around smouldering campfires or huddled in shelters constructed from an assortment of scavenged materials, small groups of warriors watched them pass. Dogs ran freely through the camp, frequently erupting into vicious fighting over some discovered scrap of food, which caused the closest warriors to join in screaming at the animals as they kicked out sending the combatants whining. Bartholomew eyed them all with fear. The warriors of Morgasta's army appeared to be both men and women, or at least he guessed some of them were women, it was very hard to tell. They all wore the same assortment of ragged clothing and armour, and were all covered in filth. If you were a Barbarian, Bartholomew noted, washing was obviously seen as a sign of weakness. The further they travelled into the camp, the more attention they seemed to attract, and Bartholomew noted with trepidation that a silent and growing crowd had started to follow them.

'A collection of rag-tag tribes,' was how the Hawk described them, a little too loudly for Bartholomew's sense of self-preservation, and he hushed him as tactfully as possible.

'Hold yerself, Mr 'awk. Kindly hold yerself a little longer if yer please. I'd be ever so grateful.'

They had finally come to a large tent and were halted while the Queen was notified of their presence. Bartholomew spent a very nervous time waiting as the Barbarian warriors crept closer; silently surrounding them with an air of barely disguised hostile intent. When they were bade enter, it was a relief, however, regrettably, this had been a fleeting emotion.

So now, they stood before the Queen in her royal tent, and the silence continued. A silence broken only by the water that dripped with its constant melodic rhythm into the buckets around them, a Barbarian orchestra in this strange Royal court. Bartholomew felt as though he was teetering on the very edge of madness. He gazed about, seeking something, anything that might offer some view of sanity, but found nothing.

The Warrior Queen, Morgasta sat high upon her throne, a living goddess to the Barbarian people. Dressed from head to foot in black leather armour that was overlaid in a black, misty material offering the mere illusion of a gown, she made a strange if hypnotic sight to Bartholomew who didn't feel he should stare at her but also realised it was very hard not to. The lips upon her white powdered face were coloured in the deepest crimson and painted in a constant smile. It was not a smile of comfort, however, for the eyes above betrayed her true feelings and they were burning with an intense malevolence towards her guests.

It was during this drawn out silence, a silence that Bartholomew was beginning to think would never end that Nhasic chose to make an appearance. The little demon, tired of being shut away in the confines of the Hawk's cloak, scuttled out to sit on his shoulder where it hissed at the closest Barbarians. The rabble fell back with cries of alarm, several of them making the horned sign of protection against evil. Matheus Hawk didn't move. Possibly enjoying the fact that everyone's looking at him, thought Bartholomew, and welcome to the attention he is at this point.