The Flight of the Griffin (23 page)

Tarent stood and with a nod of approval from Quint, told of their Quest so far; of sailing storm-lashed seas, fighting creatures from a nightmare realm and the seeking of crystal skulls. The room was rapt and mostly silent as the tale unwound. When all was finally told, the council of the Hidden leapt to their feet stamping, hooting and applauding Tarent’s story-telling abilities. The weaving and telling of a good story was a talent prized by the Hidden, and this story had kept them thoroughly entertained. The hall was humming with excited conversations, questions were thrown all around and it took King Cahlrik to stand on his chair and bang his staff loudly upon the floor again to bring some semblance of order back to the room. Reluctantly the talk subsided and everyone resumed their places.

‘As you can see, the Hidden are supporters of your Quest,’ he waved his hand at the gathered council members to quieten them. ‘But weren’t you scared by the horrible stories about us? Most are. Some may say you’re extremely brave…others would call you extremely stupid. According to some stories we’ve heard, we may well have eaten you!’ This drew laughter from all around the dark dingy room as Cahlrik returned to his chair. ‘I am afraid we don’t have any crystal skulls.’ Around the room heads were shaken in agreement. ‘If we had found one…we would probably have sold it,’ laughter followed this and several calls of, ‘The Minstens will buy anything!’ came from the darkest corners, which caused Cahlrik and the others to erupt in laughter and chatter.

Tarent raised his voice above the noise. ‘The Quest brought us here to find a very special tree, which is where we’re told we’ll find the skull. Do you know of this tree?’ The laughter turned to shrieks and excited shouts at the mention of the tree. Several times the name ‘tree of truth’ was mentioned. Again, the king beat his staff upon the floor to restore order.

‘We know of this special tree that you speak of, yes. It is because of this tree and its incessant chatter that we are cursed to remain Hidden.’ He held up his hands to ask for quiet as voices had begun to rise once more, then craned forward frowning. ‘What do you want with the tree?’

‘We mean to find it, then find the crystal skull, and then finally restore the balance. We politely ask for the aid of the Hidden and permission to visit the tree.’ The little king glanced from Tarent to the group behind him, then around at his chattering council.

‘I am sorry but the council of the Hidden must discuss this alone,’ he said attempting to regain some control. ‘This matter goes to the very heart of the Hidden.’ He returned his gaze to Tarent and the others still seated, ‘Please…leave us. Groober will show you to a place of rest and we will meet again after the sun has risen tomorrow morning.’

The crew left the council and spent the rest of the day exploring. Everywhere they went the people met them shyly, but obviously delighted with the strange guests to their city. Tarent and Pardigan discovered an armourer and bought protective mail similar to Quint’s. It was light, yet they were told it would be a barrier to any arrow or blade
. The little old Hidden was thrilled to see Quint’s original vest, confirming it to be crafted by the Hidden, but from a far distant time.

The armourer showed all his teeth, something Quint was beginning to recognise as a smile. ‘Guard it well, young man, for it will certainly guard you. It is extremely precious.’

Much to her dismay, Mahra was pelted with rotten fruit by a group of tiny children and spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning herself and vowing to fly off as soon as she could. As she sat feeling miserable, three Hidden women quietly came and sat with her apologising for their children’s behaviour.

‘You are strange to them, too…clean; they wanted to help make you…one of us.’ Mahra sat in amazement as the children were brought in and they muttered their own apologies. I judged them wrongly, she thought as the children departed in fits of giggles; just as the world has judged them wrongly.

Much later, when they left the forest floor and began the climb up through the trees, the moon was shining brightly through the leafy canopy and any fears or mistrust they may have had of the Hidden had been long forgotten.

The sleeping area that had been set aside for them was a simple platform covered with a thatch of woven leaves and a rail around the edge to stop them dropping the terrifying distance down to the woodland floor. Lying down on beds padded with fragrant grasses and moss, the crew experienced the best night’s sleep they had enjoyed in days.

****

The sun was just touching the uppermost leaves of the tallest trees, making them look like large clusters of stars in the still dark sky when Groober, bearing a tray of hot brews steaming in the chill air, gently woke them. The birds and squirrels were already up and active and it was the chatter of forest animals that welcomed them to another day on their Quest.

Pardigan sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He glanced about and saw that Mahra’s bed was empty and that Loras and Quint were still trying to stay asleep. He sipped at his cup of brew, blowing the steam off to cool it, happy to stay in his bed and look around. Tarent was talking quietly with Groober in hushed tones so as not to wake the others. He glanced across to where Loras slept. A squirrel was sitting close to Loras’s head and it appeared to be contemplating a nibble on his ear. Pardigan laughed and tossed a twig at it and it scurried away, Loras slept on, unaware of his narrow escape. Sitting up, Pardigan pulled his cloak around his shoulders and hugged the hot cup with both hands enjoying the warmth.

The light began to improve and he noticed activity on other platforms across the city. The smell of newly baked bread wafted up to him from somewhere down below and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he was hungry.

‘What’s happening?’ he whispered across to Tarent who had finished his conversation with Groober and was sipping his brew with a frown on his face.

‘Apparently the king’s council was up most of the night debating what to do and Groober says it may not have gone well.’ Placing his cup to the side, he stood up. ‘Come on, let’s wake the others, Groober’s invited us to break our fast at his house and says Serik and Char will be there as well.  After we’ve eaten we’re to go back to the king’s throne room to meet with the council and hear what they’ve come up with.’

‘Well at least we’re going to eat first, that’s a blessing from the Source, I’m hungry enough to eat one of these squirrels.’ Pardigan pulled himself up and shook Loras’s shoulder. He had to do it several times before Loras finally propped himself up on one elbow complaining of the cold and the early hour, but he soon cheered up at the sight of the hot brew and talk of food.

Groober’s house was on ground level in the base of a huge sycamore tree, the light didn’t reach this far to the forest floor and it smelt damp and earthy. Inside, Serik and Char were in fine form, chatting happily as they pulled fresh buns out of a small oven.

‘We were eating with friends last night and they were asking all sorts of questions, some of them very silly. You have to remember that most of the Hidden haven’t seen outsiders ever before. That’s the problem really, that so much has to change if we’re to trade over the seas as we would like.’ Serik laughed out loud at the notion, the sound emerging as more of a strange barking sound than a laugh.

‘These two would be building a huge ship the likes of which no Hidden could ever sail, then vanish off to see if they could trade with the Source itself,’ said Groober.

They chatted happily but breakfast was over all too soon, and the crew, escorted by their Hidden friends, made their way to the king’s throne room.

When they arrived, it smelled just as awful and as dingy and smoky as before. There was a hush as they walked in and a hurried scuttling as the council members returned to their seats. King Cahlrik waved them to the front and council members moved to the side as they made their way through. Groober followed, quietly apologising to all he disturbed, and sat close by.

Cahlrik stood. ‘Friends, we welcome you back here to the heart of the Hidden people and wish you to know that when you leave here, you are welcome to return whenever you wish. This has not been said to any outsider in many years and it is with joy that I say it to you now.’ The council members all clapped their hands and stamped their feet in agreement, accompanied by many calls of support. Cahlrik continued when the noise had died down. ‘The council has been in discussion all night and debated your Quest back and forth but we keep returning to one problem. Should you find the skull you seek, will it take the magic of the tree away with it? We believe that it would, and in doing so it would not only rob all reason from the lives of the Hidden, but it may give life to the ancient curse. Should the rest of the tree be disturbed, then a time of eternal night shall descend upon everything, the trees will die and the night-walkers will inherit the forest. It is because of this tree and its continual chattering about life, love and all kinds of stuff, that we are cursed to guard it, to keep it hidden. We can’t just let you all wander off with it now, can we? It has therefore been decided that you cannot visit the tree. If there is any other way that we can help your Quest we would gladly do so. I am truly very sorry.’ The king did indeed appear sorry and it was obvious that the decision had not been easy in coming. The Hidden waited for some kind of response. At last Tarent stood up and addressed the gathering.

‘King Cahlrik, council members, I don’t think that anyone knows what to say or do next. We know you don’t want to give away the one thing that you have been guarding for so many years, we wish we didn’t have to ask for it, but we believe you’ve been guarding it for a reason, waiting for the time when it would be needed. The night-walkers as you call them may already be here; I think
they
are what we call demons. We search for the skulls to defend the earth from these agents of Chaos.’ He glanced down at his companions, and drew a deep breath.

‘We’ve told you how the balance has swayed back and forth, a universal battle between Chaos and Order since a time before humans and the Hidden existed. How everything and everyone is a soldier for one side or the other and how those sides switch backwards and forwards as the years slip by. But Chaos has been getting stronger and we’re now on the brink of the balance; the world is sinking lower and lower into instability, hostility and fear…into chaos and the darkness you speak of. A group of magicians saw all this happening a thousand years ago and a great spell was forged. Three crystal skulls formed the key to this spell, which when activated, would correct the balance, allowing the world to live in harmony. We have to find those three skulls and bring them together at the right time, in the right place, for it all to work. I believe your ancestors were charged to remain in hiding by these magicians, to become the Hidden, so that one of those skulls would be safe until we could…’

‘Kaboom!’

A huge explosion ripped the air and Tarent along with half the council was flung to the floor. Screaming and shouting could be heard from outside and the smell of sulphurous smoke filtered into the room. The king picked himself up from where he’d fallen and addressed a council member struggling up beside him.

‘Go and find out what’s happening.’ Another loud explosion came, rocking the room again, followed by the creaking scream of a tree and the terrible crashing sound as it fell to the ground. The shouts and cries from outside increased and panic started to spread in the throne room, a crush developed round the doorway as everyone tried to leave.
The Griffin’s
crew hadn’t moved during all this, but stayed in a group waiting until a direction opened for them and some sense could be made of what was happening.

The council member returned. ‘We’re under attack by something from above us; it’s causing terrible damage in the city, my King. A tree has fallen.’ He stood trembling, waiting to be told what to do.

‘Chaos it seems is visiting us,’ muttered the king. ‘Come this way.’ He pulled back the curtain behind his throne and headed down a dark passage followed by everyone else who wasn’t already crushed round the door.

The passage led out to a lower level and onto a walkway amongst the trees. Above them, through the trees, they could see a huge wooden shape drifting past, dropping things that were exploding in the city. Several trees around them shook violently forcing everyone to cling to the swaying walkway.

‘What is it?’ asked Quint.

‘I have no idea,’ replied Tarent. ‘From here it could be anything, I’ve seen flying things before, huge bags filled with hot air and a basket hanging underneath, but I don’t think that’s what that is.’

‘It’s a boat,’ said Pardigan. ‘Look, it’s got an anchor dangling underneath.’

‘Funny boat, why is it attacking the Hidden and how did it know where to look?’ As Quint finished speaking the boat changed direction and started to turn towards them.

‘I’m going to see who’s on it,’ said Mahra leaping from the walkway. Several of the Hidden stepped back in alarm as she shimmered into the shape of a large snowy owl and flew away.

‘It would seem your stories were true, several of my people had you for liars.’ King Cahlrik tugged on Tarent’s sleeve. ‘So why is our city being attacked?’

‘I really don’t know, but we’ve been attacked by all kinds of things recently, I’m sort of getting used to it, which is a bit worrying,’ said Tarent as Mahra returned, swooping down and changing back into her human form.

‘It’s a ship with demons on it. They’re hurling down clay pots filled with something explosive and there’s one demon on there that’s wielding magic sending all kinds of spells down onto the city.’