Immortal Darkness: Shadow Across the Land (8 page)

“Molar!” called Caeo, fighting against the
urge to jump off the cliff and save his endangered friend. Fearing
for himself and for Molar, he ran down the cliff in the opposite
way of which he’d climbed up. All the while did he seem to move
faster than Molar had earlier while moving up the cliff.

Oh—I can’t save him!
Helplessly, Caeo
stopped in his tracks and watched his friend fail at an attempt to
stop himself from hitting the ground. Such a failure was celebrated
with a thunderous
crash
and then with the sounds of
horrified sobs.

Taking sight of their injured friend on the
hard, sandy ground, Caeo and Mesd hurriedly rushed down to help
him. “Look! His paw! It’s in the wrong place!”

How were they supposed to heal the poor,
young griffin while—at the same time—steering clear of trouble? The
plan to do anything of the likeness was foiled when—without
warning—Carpla stepped behind the two griffins, investigating what
had caused the loud thump.

A shock ran through the two griffins’ bones
at the sight of Molar’s father. Nervously, Caeo came to be the
first one to speak to Carpla. “H-how did you get here?” he
stammered, his bones still as ice.

A pause occurred just before Carpla responded
coldly, “I was just about to pick him up—but now I have to pick an
injured
griffin up.” As he bent over and picked his wailing
son up off the ground, Mesd and Caeo fearfully backed away. He then
slowly walked home, not speaking a single word to Molar or either
of his friends.

Mesd and Caeo exchanged shocked glances as
they watched their friend’s father leave short-lived footprints in
the sand. All the while did they both hear their friend’s cries
spread through the air.

Time seemed to move as slowly as a turtle’s
pace in Molar’s mind. The pain he had felt made him seem somewhat
dizzy. He barely noticed his father’s ash-like hands curling around
him as though Carpla were carrying a human baby. Such a thought
made him feel puny.

--

After what felt like a century, Molar heard
the creaking of his father’s opening front doors. His dizziness
almost completely faded away, Molar felt a carpet’s fabric tickle
his injured paw. With a quick glance did he realize both he and his
father were inside. Once he was gently placed on the carpet in his
father’s antique room, he took a look up to see Carpla standing
over him—a blade in-hand.

Looking down at his front paws, Molar heard
Carpla calmly ask him, “What were you doing there?” He was too
ashamed to reply, but he knew his father would grow even
angrier—and such was the case when Carpla yelled, “Answer me!”

“I was trying to fly,” sighed Molar,
embarrassed by his own foolery.

After a pause, Carpla gave a shake of his
head. “Why on Mocrano were you trying to do that?” he asked
irritably. He then took notice of Molar’s best response: a shrug of
his shoulders.

“Well,” Carpla continued with a sigh, “You’re
just going to have to stay in this castle until that paw is
healed.” With those few words, he turned around and strode out of
the room—leaving Molar to lie alone on the itchy carpet.

Molar could not stand having to remain cooped
up in the castle where there was nothing fun to do. He would rather
go outside and fall off the same cliff he’d just injured himself
with—but this time would he deliberately shatter his cranium! Only
a few heartbeats had passed when Molar’s injured paw caused boredom
to rain over his entire being.

Sighing, Molar began to regret having ever
made the attempt to fly before he was ready. He should have known
that it would have only caused him to hurt himself; how could he
have not seen this coming?

Within moments did the boredom he’d brought
to himself caused sleep to start swelling in his head. As such a
notion took over his mind, Molar had forgotten about the pain in
his paw while resting his head upon it. Very slowly, he noticed a
dream fade into his mind.

--

Time had passed—time brought changes—and
change brought Molar’s wings to the height of their strength. His
paw had fully healed, and his wings were ready to bring his feet
from the ground. Finally Molar would be able to do what he had
attempted with his friends so long ago—and he would be able to
leave without a broken paw.

Right at the brink of dawn did Carpla come
marching into Molar’s sleep. Upon waking up did he resist the urge
to yawn—as he was afraid such an action would hurt his chances of
taking to the sky today. It was before actually preparing for
flight when Molar quickly consumed a fistful of fish and sipped a
mouthful of malid.

Soon Molar found himself standing on a large
cliff with his father at his side. It was maybe five times taller
than the cliff where Molar had hurt himself on the attempt to fly.
Such was a place where Molar and a horde of other flying creatures
were to have their first flight.

Upon making his way to this educational
cliff, Molar took sight of Mesd, Caeo, and Toakld—who hadn’t seemed
to change a bit—sitting together. “I’ll let you go now,” his father
murmured with a pat on Molar’s back.

Without a look back in Carpla’s direction,
Molar trotted over to the three familiar griffins. Upon coming up
to his friends, Molar spoke to and chatted with them until the
flight teacher came up to the front of the group of fliers.

“Quiet!” the teacher hushed, catching all the
students’ attentions. “So young fliers—today you will learn how to
fly. What you must understand is that all of you have no feathers,
which makes this especially harder than it would a slave to
teach.”

“What is he?” wondered Molar through a
whisper.

“I’m not for sure,” Toakld began, “but I
think he’s what you call an eagle.”

“What’s an eagle?”

“Quiet!” the teacher growled. He stood up
tall on his two feet, his back straight as a dignified look placed
itself upon his face. Such was the look of an intimidating leader,
indeed. “Anyway—I won’t give you the ability to grow feathers, but
I will give you the courage, strength, stamina, and spirit to fly
freely!”

“How exactly will you do that?” one of the
children stirred behind Molar.

“Well, my plan is mainly to tell you all that
there is nothing of the sky to be afraid of—that the only worry is
that if morale goes down for you, then being up high will be
dangerous.”

Beyond the young fliers’ imaginations, the
teacher was able to show the young fliers how to not be afraid of
heights in less than a day—how all they needed was morale. None of
the fliers could believe the sophistication placed into the
teachers’ words, how it actually helped them—almost as if he were
once a skilled counselor.

After much mental training, the teacher was
able to give the children a small amount of physical training. It
was only a fraction of the time he’d spent on mental training when
he decided it was time for them to fly for real.

“Now is the time!” the teacher explained,
pointing the students to the edge of the cliff. “It is time to fly!
Remember that the wind you pass through should hit your wings.”

The children surprisingly didn’t feel nervous
at all, but really excited and full of this morale their teacher
had told them about. “Ready—and fly!” he commanded.

The fliers flapped, and flapped, and flapped
until Molar took sight of one of his other griffin friends—who was
already hovering off of the ground!

Chapter IV

The Feeling of Flight

Molar couldn’t believe what he had just seen!
“Caeo! You’re flying!”

“I am?” he panted, taking a look down at his
feet. He noticed as they barely even tiptoed their way along the
ground. “I’m flying!”

The sight of another one of the griffins
hovering gave a boost of confidence to form in Molar’s mind. He
could almost feel himself walking on air as he gave his wings gave
another great flap. Already Molar began to feel lighter and lighter
with every heartbeat—soon realizing his feet were no longer
touching the ground. He took a look down to notice the only things
of his paws that touched the ground were his paws’ shadows.

“I think I‘m flying!” Molar cried with glee.
After he gave only a few more beats of his wings, he felt something
slightly sharp press against his back.
What’s going on?
Getting a chance to turn his head, he noticed his teacher was
pushing him off of the cliff with his beak.

A horrific cry for help split the air at that
moment; all the while did images of himself falling as a younger
griffin fill his mind. Just as he had done after being pushed by
Caeo, Molar furiously pounded his wings against the air. Within
moments, however, did his screeches of fear turn into cries of
laughter—vibrating in the air—as he realized he had just succeeded
in learning how to fly.

Flying like a bird, Molar flapped his wings
again and again as he became one with the sky. Images of flying at
many high altitudes flooded his mind. He could only imagine the
places opened to him now—and all the sights he could see.
Where
will I go from here?

In the midst of his thoughts, Molar flinched
when he heard the teacher remind him, “Remember to stay here until
everybody is done!” Taking a glance over at the eagle, Molar gave a
quick nod. Upon doing so did he take notice of another flying
creature—whom he narrowly missed with a quick shift to the
left.

To pass the time, Molar and most of the other
flying creatures glided around and around in circles. To anyone who
was used to flying, this would have seemed a most boring
exercise—but to any flying novice, such a practice induced great
fun. Such were the thoughts within Molar’s head.

It had not taken long for the last flying
creature—a bat—to find herself flying with the rest of the
enthusiastic fliers. Once so was done, the teacher gave them all
some time to enjoy their new flying abilities. Little did he know
of how much it would hurt the children to take away their freedom
to fly.

After only a short time, the teacher let out
a screech, which drew the other fliers’ attention to him. Almost
every one of them scowled at the sound of the high-pitched cry,
stopping in midflight all the while. Floating in one area, each of
the students locked their gazes on the eagle.

As silence penetrated the class, the flying
teacher continued, “Well—now that you’ve all learned how to fly,
we’re going to go to the Mapharaux so that Yofel can congratulate
us.” Some of the flying children exchanged excited glances, but one
of them—a small crow—asked the teacher, “What’s the Mapharaux?”

At the sound of these words, many of the
fliers—Molar included—turned their heads toward the little crow.
Each of them wondered,
How can he
not
know about the
Mapharaux?
Almost half of them looking at the crow gave a glare
toward the little bird.

After having received a moment of grief, the
crow hearing of the flight teacher when he told him, “The Mapharaux
is an enormous tower that lies in the center of Mocrano. Not only
is it really big, but it’s also where Yofel lives and gives out his
speeches.” A pause occurred as the teacher placed himself in front
of the other fliers.

“Everybody follow me!” he commanded,
beckoning the others with a talon. He then gave his wings a flap as
most of the younger fliers stumbled to catch up within the first
heartbeat of flight.

Molar tried his best not to accidentally run
into any of the other fliers. The last thing he wanted was to cause
mayhem in the moment of everyone’s peaceful excitement. Before he
knew it, his peaceful moments soon became worrisome moments when he
thought of one of the other fliers running into him.

Thankfully, Molar’s worries faded into
nothingness when he took sight of the Mapharaux’s graceful figure.
While he hadn’t ever been within this building’s presence, Molar
had heard multiple stories about it—all of which sprung from
Carpla’s mouth.

From where he’d been flying, the Mapharaux
appeared tiny to his eyes. Such a sight brought forth wonder into
his mind. Surrounding the tower’s entrance were over a hundred
Mocranians; one of which was Carpla.

“Congratulations to you all!” the fliers
heard Yofel cry from the Mapharaux. The sound of Mocranian cheers
split the air at the sound of Yofel’s flattering words. Each of the
young fliers felt a shock fly through their spines when they
realized that the cheers had come from what appeared to be a small
pool of milk.

Of all the fliers, none was more surprised
than Molar.
That’s my grandfather!
he realized, nearly
forgetting all about the notion of flight. A cringe formed in his
shoulders when he took sight of his grandfather’s shocking mask.
What’s he doing out here? Why are there so many people
here?

“Come down here!” Yofel beckoned to the
altitudinous fliers. At the sound of their leader’s voice, each and
every one of them made their way to the large balcony from which
Yofel made his speeches. Almost a half of them collapsed under
their feet when they made this attempt at landing.

Before handing out each of the individual
fliers their rewards, Yofel personally walked up to Molar with his
two hands hidden behind his back, his gaze driven away from all the
other fliers. Such a notion caused nervousness and excitement to
drizzle down his spine. What were to be their first impressions
toward each other?

“Molar,” he began, “I have seen your progress
in flight throughout your life. Now that you have the ability to
fly freely, I would like to award you with this cloak!”

With outstretched arms did Yofel present
Molar with a hand-woven cape. A majority of its fabric colored
green, this cloak showed a picture with a griffin in a sunset
background. After taking a quick glance at his prize, Molar placed
the cloak upon his shoulders, looked up at his grandfather and
praised, “Thank you!”