by Zachary Howe
Gordie’s eyes flew open wide with shock and he rolled away as a lion’s paw the size of his body came down hard on the granite where he had just lay. He gripped the edge of the rock, looking down the mountainside—it was a straight drop. He rolled back over, his shock exacerbated. Another great paw came raining down on him and he rolled backwards, his feet flipping over his head, until he stood wearily on them. The massive head came hooking in towards him and he dove aside, hopped up, and ran to the back of the cave, where he wheeled around and watched the beast turn.
The body was twenty feet long, double if he counted the swishing tail. It turned and faced him, silhouetted by the full moon beyond. Its eyes narrowed. Gordie mimicked the gesture. He pulled his bat out of his sling and lifted his left hand, producing the Stygian shield, ignoring the blood that coated it as it streamed from his talon-pierced shoulder. The gryphon lifted one of its massive paws, pads to the ceiling, and extended eight-inch claws. It contracted its hand twice as if to say, ‘I’ve got my own weapons,’ as it stared him down. A ghost of a smile touched Gordie’s lips.
“Game on,” he said, and charged. A man-sized paw swiped at him and he buffeted it with his shield before he attempted to tomahawk the beak. The bat came down hard on stone as the gryphon rolled left. Gordie was amazed by its agility given its size. Then a wing flapped out and sent him sprawling backwards. He landed on his back ten feet away. His shield disappeared beneath his skin and his bat clattered away. Rolling to his right, he pushed himself up, but not before he noticed, for the first time, a large nest with a large golden egg glistening in the moonlight. He ogled too long and was sent flying into the back wall as one of the giant paws contacted his whole body.
The stone wall was merciless, but fortunately, his bat lay at his feet. He shook off the cobwebs as he stepped out of the Gordie-shaped indent in the wall and snatched up his weapon. The beast charged him and swiped again. He batted the paw away. Then the sharp beak tried to peck his face, but he pulled his shield up in time to block. The gryphon recoiled and hopped backward, glaring at him again, this time with a sense of caution. He realized that it had underestimated him and it was now aware of that fact. It crouched and circled around to his right, apparently deciding that it was better off dealing with the bat than the shield.
Gordie followed its lead and circled the other way with his back against the wall. He lost focus again when he came across a break in the wall. A dark passage led downward into the mountain. He heard the gryphon pounce and dove left as the two front paws closed on nothing. It screeched in anger and its tail came whipping around to smack Gordie in the face. He spun, spat blood, and jumped backward as the beast turned and swiped at him with another massive paw.
Gordie was angry now—battered and bruised, cold and bleeding. He glared at the gryphon and absorbed his shield. Then, concentrating, he produced a black blade that glimmered in the moonlight. The gryphon looked at it, and Gordie thought he saw a spark of fear in its eyes. He grinned and charged.
He sliced at the gryphon’s face—it dodged and snapped at his, but he brought his bat around and smacked it on the beak. A paw came in from the side and Gordie slashed at it. He was covered in a spray of hot blood and the gryphon screeched in pain, rearing up on its hind legs. Gordie felt victorious for a minute, but it began to beat its wings, and the force was immeasurable. He flew back and slammed into the rock wall before the gryphon dropped back to all fours, limping on its front right paw. Gordie looked left and saw the cave mouth a foot away: he had been that close to being tossed off the mountain top. He breathed a sigh of relief and reclaimed his bat from the floor.
The gryphon had spun around so it stood between him and the nest—it crouched in wait. The combatants charged each other. Gordie swung his bat down at the face again, but the gryphon was ready this time, and it caught the bat in its beak. It ripped it from his hand and tossed it away where it clattered and bounced before it came to rest at the wall. He tried to stab upward into the gryphon’s chest with his blade, but it sidestepped and took a bite at his head. He ducked just in time to avoid decapitation and slashed at its chest. It leapt backwards—a cloud of feathers floated to the stone floor and swirled around in the breeze.
“Close call.” Gordie smirked.
The gryphon lunged at him again. He turned his blade into a shield and blocked another paw swipe and then uppercut the beast right under its beak. It flipped clean over, but before it landed on its back with a thud, its tail came whipping up and caught him between the legs. He doubled over and the tail struck him in the face, sending him sprawling on his back. Nausea swept him again as he writhed on the ground, but he heard the gryphon roll over, so he scrambled back to his feet, backing up as he did so.
He spat a couple times in quick succession with his hands on his knees before he unfurled and rose to his full height. The gryphon pounced again. Gordie was growing weary of the fight and wanted to end it with a sudden fury. He absorbed his blade and waited for the monster. He saw the moon glowing over its shoulder, felt the chill night air sweeping into the cave. The stone trembled as the gryphon bounded toward him. It attacked.
As Gordie expected, it took a large swipe. He stepped inside the paw with its five blades, wrapped his arms around the wrist, and upheaved the beast, lifting it over his head and sending it slamming into the stone on his other side. He heard the crack of rock and the moan of the animal. Stepping up to its chest, he extended his blade.
The gryphon lay there on the floor, its breast rising and falling. Gordie stared at it, his arm cocked, ready to deliver a fatal blow. He looked up at its face and saw its eye regarding him. He looked back at the vulnerable underbelly, the pristine tan pelt.
Why do you pause? Gordie recoiled as an unfamiliar voice spoke in his mind. It was a woman’s voice—old but strong; knowledgeable beyond belief. Gordie looked around until he realized the source. He looked the gryphon in the eye, completely bewildered.
You have your prize. Take your trophy, hunter. You have won, the voice said slowly, disdainfully.
I can hear you. Can you hear me? Gordie thought towards it. He knew the answer before the response came. The lines of telepathic communication between them resonated in his head like a frequency—the way you know a television set is turned on when you enter a room, even if it’s muted.
Of course I can. Now, finish your work. The chest rose and fell. Gordie stared at it. He held his arm up, cocked and poised to strike the life from the gryphon. The brilliant light of the moon shone off the black blade.
No. Gordie absorbed the blade and turned away. He walked over and grabbed his bat, put it in its sheath, and started for the passage in the back of the cave. A shifting, rustling noise came from behind him as the gryphon rose.
You will fail your task, then, the voice told him. Gordie stopped and looked over his shoulder.
That’s okay. I won’t kill you. I’m sorry if I hurt you. He put his head down and started forward. He knew he failed the task, but he ignored the consequences. The gryphon was such a majestic creature—he had known from the second he laid eyes on it that he would not be able to kill it. It wouldn’t be right. He could ask for another task. Maybe he wouldn’t get it, but he didn’t care. He was not a murderer.
Stop, the voice commanded. Gordie turned to look into the eternal face of the gryphon. It walked over to him, brought its head to his level and turned its face so it could regard him with one eye. You are no hunter, the voice paused. I do not like hunters. Discretion is indeed the better part of valor. You have proven yourself both powerful and compassionate. Very few of your kind show such qualities.
Thank you, Gordie responded silently. The gryphon watched him.
Take my egg. It lifted its head and pointed its beak towards the nest. Gordie looked over at the lone egg in surprise. It rested peacefully in its nest.
I couldn’t. I mean, I shouldn’t. He backed away.
You will. Perhaps the goddess Artemis will accept it as payment. Take it now. The ma
ssive head turned back to him, and Gordie looked up at it, his mouth hanging open. It watched him unflinchingly. He closed his mouth, looked over at the egg, and sighed. Striding over to it, he squatted in the straw around it. He placed his hand on its smooth surface—felt heat emanating from it. He couldn’t explain it, but he could feel intelligent life within, and had an overwhelming desire to protect it. Lifting it with both hands, he tucked it into the crook of his arm.
I promise I’ll keep it safe. He looked the gryphon in the eye.
I trust you will. It blinked. That path will lead you through the mountain. I suggest you go quickly. The gryphon walked over to the nest and gingerly lay down. The long tail curled around the body and the eagle head began to prune its wings. The feathers on the right side looked mangled—Gordie felt a stab of guilt.
Thank you, he thought towards the gryphon. It lifted its head.
You needn’t thank me, child. I see hope for you. You will do great things. Just remember those qualities which define you. The gryphon blinked slowly. Go now.
Gordie smiled before he turned and stepped out of the silver moonlight into the dark passage.
***
The passage was narrow. He walked through the darkness with the egg tucked in one arm, his free hand gliding along the wall. The warmth emanating from the egg was calming, easing. Looking down, he realized the egg was visible in the dark. It did not put out light like a torch: it was its own light source, lit from within. He couldn’t even see his fingers clutching the egg, but saw the deep golds and reds pulsating inside the shell.
Despite his trek through near total darkness, Gordie felt at peace. In the back of his mind he still felt the presence of the gryphon, and he thought that, too, guided him through the darkness. The path wound and curved, always sloping downward. The minutes ticked away, and soon he was certain he had been walking for an hour, but he marched on unconcerned.
Eventually, the path began to lighten. White light was yawning into the dark passage until he turned a corner and froze in the brilliance.
Crystals glittered everywhere: giant ones, small ones—they lined the walls; stalactites threatened to come raining down, while spears jutted from the sides of the cavern. The tunnel opened onto a great cavern with walls that rose hundreds of feet to the distant ceiling. He could see holes in the rock high above and realized, with amazement, that the moon lit this cave. The crystals refracted the light off every surface—even the path laid out before him glowed silver. Then he looked down.
The path remained thin, only wide enough for two, but there were no walls to contain prospective hikers. Nothingness opened up on either side, displaying a series of paths far below. Across the expanse the trail led back into the mountain where it disappeared into darkness once again. Presumably the path curved around and down, coming out onto one of the tracks below. He wondered who might have mined these catwalks, but his primary focus was on crossing the narrow path with steadiness. After a deep breath, he stepped onto the crystal walkway.
His feet kicked out and he landed on his butt. He didn’t even have time to scream before he started sliding downward. The slide curved and weaved through the thin air. He leaned left and right like a bobsledder to avoid falling off the side. As he neared the opening leading back into darkness, he started to question his aim, and hugged the egg. He was right on the edge of the path with one cheek momentarily hanging over nothingness as the portal rushed toward him.
“OH SHHH—” Thud! He smacked into the rock wall inside the passage, and lay on his back, blinking up at the light and breathing rapidly, his bat digging into him. After a moment, he sat up and looked down into the dark passage, deciding he preferred it by far over the bright slide-of-death. He clambered to his feet and stood on wobbly knees. Patting his butt, he found that it curiously wasn’t wet. Some part of him had wondered if the slide was ice, but it seemed that it was pure crystal. He shrugged and walked into the darkness.
Again the path wove through the mountainside, but not nearly as long as the first leg, much to his dismay. Soon, he found himself facing another glistening walkway. He looked up and saw the bottom of the path he had so precariously crossed minutes ago, scowling at it before looking down over the edge of the new route. There were still many series remaining.
Gordie kept one foot on the solid rock of the dark corridor while he tested the traction of the crystal path with his other. He tapped it a few times—discovered that he could place his foot down without falling. With his free arm stuck out to the side, he placed his other foot on the track. Stability. He stood there for a moment, stock-still, then began to shuffle his feet. Inch by inch he made his way down the path.
As he continued the slow-going, he estimated that the walkway was a hundred feet long. This cautious approach had its pros and cons: While it lacked the utter terror of sliding at breakneck speed with no rails to hold him from falling thousands of feet, it also meant he had to spend a lot more time looking down into the nothingness. His brain screamed at him to run while he tried to keep calm and shuffle on. After an eternity, and one near slip, he made it to the other side. This was his world for a matter of hours.
Down and down he went until he finally stepped out of a dark tunnel, and breathed a sigh of relief when he was not greeted by a Slip ‘N Slide. Above he saw dozens of these pathways sparkling in the crystal cavern.
“Suckers.” He sneered at them, and then looked down to see what the trail had in store for him. His triumphant smile faded. A few hundred feet below waited a field of stalagmites, glittering in the moonlight. One of them held a horned iron helmet on its point. Gordie squinted to see a broad collection of armors scattered amongst the spikes, some of them still containing skeletons, with the spires poking between their ancient ribs. He gulped.
The path led away to the right and hugged the wall as it spiraled downward. It was, of course, as crystalline as those above. He pressed his back against the wall and began to shimmy. The light in the cavern transformed as he went. It had already begun to dim as he made his way across the treacherous paths above, but now it was lightening again—only, instead of the silvery glow of moonlight, the crystals burned with the golden glow of the morning sun.
He realized this as he inched his way down the slippery slope, and started to fear the clock. There was no way for him to know what time it was, but he was certain that morning had begun to dawn, and shortly thereafter, his Herculean blood would cease to burn. He inched faster.
Down and down he went until the horrid spikes reached eye level. The path curved along the wall and led to another passage. Gordie could see sunlight pouring into it.
Looking at the scattered remains of those unfortunate souls who found their demise on the crystal teeth, he felt pity for them. They had been so close. One skull lay inches from his feet, facing straight upwards, its jaw frozen open as it chided the glistening catwalks above. It would denounce them until it crumbled to dust.
Gordie turned towards the next corridor. Starting to feel sleepy, he exhaled sharply. He looked down at his left shoulder and recoiled when he saw that his entire sleeve was soaked with blood. There was a baseball-sized hole in the shoulder of his shirt and a slightly smaller hole in his actual shoulder. Fighting off a wave of nausea, he gently set the egg between his feet, then ripped off his sleeve. The backside of it was drier so he wrapped that around the wound and under his armpit a couple times, cinching it with a knot that sat atop his shoulder like a bow. He nodded at his handiwork, picked up the egg, and stepped into the lightening passage.
The path curved for a moment, but soon he strode out into daylight. He was greeted by the deafening roar of the army below.
19
Escape from Dasos
Gordie stepped out of the cave into the niche left behind by the giant, whose enormous body still lay motionless in the dirt a hundred feet below, its head relocated to the trees. The tree tops of the forest basked in the early morning sunshine, and a few miles down the straight, wooded corridor,
the glimmering ribbon of the river awaited him. But he could not appreciate the beauty of this landscape because he was staring at the bottom of the slope where an angry horde beckoned him to his death.
To this point, Gordie had only been acquainted with two satyrs, and thus assumed that only a small band actually inhabited the plane of Dasos . . . he could not have been more wrong. Hundreds of the goat-men were packed like sardines into the mouth of the forest corridor, spilling out onto the delta that was the mountain. They pounded their hooves and roared incoherently. Gordie thought he could feel the mountain tremble. Unfortunately, these were not the only hostiles.
To their right, a pack of werewolves snarled, foam dripping from their jaws. Some stood tall on two feet, others were on all fours, clawing and scratching at the ground, waiting to charge. On the other side of the satyr party, a line of quadrupeds stamped their many feet. These consisted of large mammals, elephants and rhinoceroses, with the added evolutionary advantage of being comprised of stone. Gordie knew the rhinos on sight: they were the Petrakeri that Chiron had spoken of, but he didn’t know the proper term for their pachyderm counterparts. He wondered if they were there to avenge the loss of the rock-giant. He could only assume the answer was yes. Steam puffed out of the rhinoceros’ nostrils in the morning chill. Their anger was palpable enough: Gordie felt this added display was heavy-handed.
As if this weren’t enough, the tree tops nearest the mountain were splattered with every color of the rainbow, looking like a kindergartner’s finger-painting. The two-tailed chromatic monkeys chittered and chattered as they hopped up and down on the boughs, some making rude faces at Gordie.