by C. M. Gray
Two things became immediately apparent once the lid was raised, firstly, the chest was empty and coming a close second, was that someone had just drawn a sword. The sound of metal sliding against metal had rung loudly into the darkness. Pardigan sighed and slowly lowered the lid, then turned around and gazed up into the shadow of a priest's hood. Behind the priest, five others remained motionless, still crouched down, their work with the chalk pattern halted as they followed the distraction unfolding.
The priest's sword sliced the air above Pardigan's head, it was badly aimed, and he only had to duck a little, feeling it swing harmlessly over him, it then stabbed out to skewer him, but he stepped neatly to the side trying to work out what was happening. The priest cut the air several more times, his blade searching the shadows and then turned away… Pardigan realised that the priest might suspect he was there, but couldn't actually see him. When it was apparent his sword hadn't connected with anything, a skeletal hand slowly drew back the hood revealing the priest's face set in a scowl, his dark eyes flickering about, searching.
'I sense you…' the priest's voice was soft but rasping as if he had inhaled too much of the smoke and incense. 'Who are you that desecrates this Holy Temple of Chaos?' The sword flicked forward once again and the priest frowned as once again it touched nothing more than empty air. 'Brothers,' his voice remained low, but three of the other priests rose and drew swords. 'We have an intruder.' Once again the sword flashed out, and this time the priest was rewarded with a cry as the blade cut into Pardigan's arm forcing the thief to drop his spell and become visible, clutching at his arm, blood seeping through his fingers - four of the priests now converged on him.
'That hurt,' spat Pardigan and flung his smaller knife backhand at his grinning attacker. The blade found its way past the raised sword and into the priest's neck. With a sudden look of shock and surprise, the priest dropped the sword and fell to his knees uttering a strange gurgling cry as he fumbled at the deeply embedded knife trying to stifle the rapid flow of blood. Without a second thought, Pardigan scooped up the sword and tossed it through the air to Quint, who had leapt up onto the platform brandishing only his knife. The fighter caught it in time to meet with two of the other priests as they ran in.
The temple sang with the sounds of metal clashing upon metal. Despite the priests now fighting, the chanting continued to echo about the chamber becoming faster and faster, driving the fighting priests to greater efforts. An angry banging came from the back of the temple adding to the confusion, the noise of fighting was rousing more priests from their chambers, but their doors, of course, were locked.
Mahra glanced from her two friends and Elisop, who was doing little more than hanging around the edge of the fighting, and then to the two remaining priests who had remained sitting in a state of chanting meditation. She approached them slowly, still in her human form, expecting them to rise and attack her at any moment, yet as she got closer, it dawned upon her that what she was seeing wasn't quite right. Reaching out hesitantly, she pulled the hood back from the closest priest. There, on a frame of wood, sat one of the crystal skulls. Strange symbols and markings had been drawn upon it, but, through whatever ordeals it had recently travelled, it did still appear to be whole. She snatched it up and placed it in a leather sack, deliberately rubbing the skull to smear the symbols and then retrieved the second skull, wrapping it separately to protect it before placing it with the other.
Up on the platform, Quint parried a wild cut to his head and countered with a stab that he felt slide home into the Chaos priest's chest. However, rather than fall to the floor, the priest took a further swing at Quint, sliding his body further along Quint's blade as he did so.
'You will find it takes much to kill a priest of Chaos,' spat the priest through clenched jaws. Blood ran between his teeth and his eyes were wide and crazed as they reflected the red glow of the Temple. Quint heaved the priest around and kicked him off his blade into the fiery pit, covering his eyes as both the priest and his high-pitched shriek died in a roar of flames.
'Well, it didn't take that much really,' muttered Quint as he watched Elisop stab at the last remaining priest. He jumped in to help and wondered for a moment where Pardigan had gone. The priest was fighting with a grim determination, slashing and hacking with huge blows that had been pushing the smaller Elisop back. When Quint joined in and forced the priest to retreat, Elisop stood to the side out of breath, gasping.
'Quint we have to get out of here! We have the skulls,' the cry came from Mahra, and Quint did his best to finish the fight, but the priest hung on.
He turned to Elisop. 'Go! I'm right behind you.' The little spy scuttled off the platform and was immediately swallowed by the darkness. Quint, forced to step back by a stinging attack, saw his opponent's determined posture crumple as a knife entered his temple with a hollow crack. The man's eyes rolled up, and he crumpled to the floor.
'Come on Quint, the other priests are getting in, we have to go!' Pardigan was nursing his arm, looking up at Quint on the platform above him.
'Thanks for the knife,' said Quint, smiling down at his friend. The sounds of splintering wood came from somewhere close and Quint jumped down, running to his friend's side.
'Come on, let's go!'
Pardigan guided his friend over to where Mahra and Elisop were standing in the gloomy outlines of a doorway, and they hurried through. The door banged closed behind them, and Elisop pushed two heavy bolts home. They were in a stairway.
'More priests were trying to come in through the main door, we had to come in here, but now we're trapped,' explained Mahra. 'These stairs are our only way out.' They all flinched as something heavy banged into the door and then started a regular pounding. 'We can only go up, come on.'
'Lead the way,' said Quint, waving her on. He watched as they disappeared into the darkness, led by a small glowing globe. Forcing his tired legs into action, he followed with sounds of banging getting louder behind him.
The stairs wound upwards, sapping their strength as they drove themselves on. However, the sound of the door splintering and a roar as the Chaos priests broke through spurred them on.
They climbed and climbed, and just when they were beginning to think the stairs would never end, they gave out onto a long dark passage leading to a door at the far end. Rushing forward, Mahra shoved it open and was rewarded with a rush of cold wet air. The others pushed her out further, and they emerged onto a wide walkway that circled the temple roof.
A howling wind was driving heavy rain across the rooftop, forcing them to pull their cloaks up to protect their eyes. Above them, the sky was tainted a glowing red as the spike of the temple's central dome pierced the boiling clouds that rotated about it drawing energy from the violent storm.
'Griffin, Griffin, Griffin!' screamed Quint, his cloak flapping wildly in the torrential gale, he wiped his hand across his wet face, trying to clear his eyes before turning to meet whatever was coming out to join them.
As the first of the Chaos Priests slammed through the door, Pardigan and Quint met them, Quint using the momentum of the first to turn and throw him screaming over the edge. This checked the others who had probably not been expecting quite such a reception; they certainly weren't expecting a large angry black panther to leap into them sending the whole group scattering. Several retreated down the passage, falling over each other in their haste to get back down the stairs – Mahra followed.
Quint and Pardigan dealt with the few that had managed to get out and then waited for Mahra to return. They didn't have to wait long as a few moments later she limped out whimpering, blood covering her, streaming from some unseen wound. More priests pursued her, these were better armed having had time to gather weapons before climbing to the roof. She staggered to Quint's side and looked up at him as they edged back to where Elisop waited at the furthest edge. The Chaos priests slowly spread out to either side, each clearly unwilling to be the first to attack, but their numbers were growing along with their courage a
s more continued to emerge onto the rainy, windswept rooftop, hoods blown back and robes flapping around skinny white ankles.
A raucous, ear-splitting screech signalled that The Griffin had arrived. She swooped down shrieking angrily, scattering the priests and lashing about her in the confined space. She gripped priest after priest in her golden claws and hurled them, broken and screaming, from the side of the temple. Her razor sharp beak snapping out, swinging from side to side to claim even more shrieking victims as the priests panicked trying desperately to get to the door, bunching up, fighting each other in their haste to escape back inside. As Quint helped send the last on their way, the others clambered up onto The Griffin's back, Elisop scrambling up behind Pardigan keeping a fearful eye on The Griffin as it snorted and tossed its great beaked head. Wrapping his arms about Pardigan's waist, he buried his face in Pardigan's neck and proceeded to make strange whining sounds of distress.
Quint took one last look down the passage and then dashed over to his waiting friends. He hauled himself up, and The Griffin stood, everyone took a firm hold and the strange noises coming from Elisop became more intense. Unfurling her great wings, The Griffin took two steps, turned towards the edge of the building and leapt out into the dark void of the city night; its passengers immediately assaulted by driven rain and bitter cold.
Fighting for height with lumbering beats of her wings, The Griffin circled the rooftops of Mayhem - her passengers too cold and tired to gaze down at the twinkling lights from lanterns and fires of the city - they were exhausted, but they had the skulls.
* * *
Chapter 19
Bartholomew's Stores
We had a few problems,
but we're now on our way
back to the ship. Should take
about two days…
Meet us there.
Tarent
The Flight back to The Esmerelda had been bitterly cold, exhausting and at times terrifying. They had stopped to wrap and tend wounds. Mahra's injuries weren't as bad as they had first feared, most of the blood having come from those she had bitten. Finding nowhere suitable to rest they had flown on despite their exhaustion. It was always a little alarming flying on the back of the great mythical beast, but after their run through Bedlam and Mayhem and the subsequent nerve wracking experiences at the Chaos Temple, there a real danger was of one of them simply falling asleep and then dropping to their deaths. By the time they had returned and Quint got around to picking up the 'Book of Challenges,' they had slept for nearly six turns of the glass and had just eaten their first decent meal in days. The crew of The Esmerelda hadn't received any word from Bartholomew and seemed delighted that their captain was still absent and possibly, or even hopefully, was lost or had been captured.
'Longer he's gone the better,' one sailor mumbled as he cleared their plates away. 'Miserable old bugger can freeze his fat arse off for all we care. Pig of a man 'e is!' He grinned nervously then shrugged his shoulders, 'Well he is. You've met him… not like it's a secret is it.'
Pardigan thought this was funny and started to perform a few well-practised Bartholomew Bask impersonations. This entailed stuffing a cushion up his jerkin then waddling up and down whilst filling his mouth with bread as fast as he could and making strange 'Harrumphing' sounds. Bartholomew's crew loved it, and he was requested to repeat it several times, which he did with various different arrangements on the theme.
It was while a grinning Quint was sipping at his after dinner brew that he remembered to fumble the 'Book of Challenges' from his jerkin. The moment he flipped it open, he saw the hastily scrawled message from Tarent and jumped up spilling his brew as his hand came down on the table with a bang to stop the noise and general hilarity in the room.
'Pardigan… Pardigan… quiet! They made it! They're on their way back. We'll be leaving here soon now, in a couple of days.' Then he remembered Bartholomew's crew and stood up. He gazed about at their startled and in some cases stricken faces. 'Oh, right… well, I'm sorry to say it but your Captain is coming back.' There were sounds of annoyance and several suggestions that they just cast off and leave before he showed his face on deck, but they had shipmates with him that they wouldn't abandon, so it was all just empty threats.
'Well,' said Pardigan, 'I think that ol' Bartholomew would be so incredibly grateful you decided to wait for him, that he would want you to open the ships stores and have a party to celebrate his return.' A big smile appeared on his face. He stood, readjusted the cushion and started munching furiously on a bread roll. The crew perked up ready for a new performance.
'Now then lads… me lovely, wonderful crew!' pieces of bread sprayed out of Pardigan's mouth as he bellowed, transformed once more into Bartholomew Bask, Merchant and ship's Captain.
'I be's so delighted that you loyal scum decided not to go prancing off with me big fat ship, so's I am, that I wants yer all ter help yerselves to anything in me own personal and very private stores.' The crew were rolling about in hysterics as Pardigan marched up and down wobbling his huge belly.
'What, even yer special stores with yer preserves n sweet meats, Captain?' called a seaman as he stood up to offer a very mocking salute.
'Oh, especially me sweet delights, I insists… and the berry wine, and of course I would be taking it as a deep n personal insult if yers didn't completely empty the ship of Eldar ale afor I returns. Twould be a mighty sad ship that sailed with a storeroom full of me private goodies after yers all been so good n loyal. Off with yer lads, let us party like there's a Barbarian army gunna take it if'n yer don't, now get on wiv yer.' He flapped his arms, shooing them on, then scowled around at everyone, his bottom lip pushed out, bits of soggy bread falling from his chin and his thumbs hooked into imaginary braces as he wobbled his belly, shaking it from side to side… well… go… on then!'
The crew didn't need much more of an invitation, as one they ran from the cabin, cheering and whooping in delight as if Bartholomew really had offered them full access to his private stores.
'Oh, you are going to get into so much trouble Pardigan,' said Mahra, but she was smiling all the same.
'Probably, but never mind, I am a thief and technically it's not me doing the actual thieving this time, is it, eh?' Maybe he had gone a bit too far, but it was Bartholomew and he did so love performing for an audience. 'Oh, well,' he sighed and pulled the cushion from its place. With a smile, he trotted after the crew, to see what Bartholomew had been keeping under lock and key.
* * *
Bartholomew, of course, was furious. It had taken them all of three further days to return to The Esmerelda. By the time the bedraggled travellers had started to settle in and even before the ship had cleared the harbour for open sea, Bartholomew had discovered the desecration of his personal stores and ordered three seamen to the brig, another two for a long stint of watch in the crow's nest at the top of the main mast and given Pardigan the 'evil eye' the moment the two had crossed paths. Pardigan wisely chose to back away and return to his cabin until Bartholomew had calmed down a little.
Once clear of the anchorage and out in open water, the great trading ship was able to raise all sails and make good speed as the prevailing wind was now set firmly to her aft. With the Black Destiny now trailing magically behind, she forged through the waves, leaping and plunging in a spray of white foam, with everyone aboard eager to put as much distance between them and the Barbarian coast as possible.
After two days of sailing, The Esmerelda had travelled sufficiently south to be beyond the mountain barrier of the Massif range, The Griffin was called, and they made ready to depart for Deniah. As they gathered on deck, looking for their first sight of her, a breathless Elisop clambered from the hatchway and tripped, spilling the franticly clutched scrolls and maps he had been carrying across the deck. Mahra and Quint started to pick them up, but he shooed them away irritably.
'I require passage on your beast.' He cast a wary sidelong glance at the sky as if fearing it would descend and drop on him
any second. 'I have vital news for the King's ears only and wish to suffer another flight, I don't particularly want to, but I must.' He shuddered and then made a grab for a piece of paper that was being blown towards the side rail. 'My information has vital implications for the defence of the King's Realm.'
Pardigan stared down at the little agent and then across at Quint who was also trying to grapple with the idea of another flight with Elisop and also what vital information he can possibly have got that they didn't already know. Pardigan stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, then put his index finger to his temple and twirled it. 'He's crazy,' he mouthed silently across to Quint. 'I think he's been drinking seawater!'
Quint coughed to draw Elisop's attention, lest he catch sight of the grinning Pardigan. 'Alright, I suppose you can come, but in Deniah we part company, that's as far as we go together, all right?'
Elisop nodded and then clutched once more at his papers as with great beats of her wings that flapped the sails and made everyone scatter for space, The Griffin descended onto the deck bellowing out a raucous 'kaauw!' as she did.
'The Griffin can't carry us all,' said Mahra as she eyed the scrolls and bags that Elisop wanted to bring, and then shot an anxious look to Magician Falk who was obviously unhappy about flying again.
'I'll fly on my own, it will be good to stretch my wings, and it's going to be cramped enough on The Griffin.'
Led by Quint they clambered up onto the huge beasts back with Magician Falk gripping Quint around the waist in a fierce hug while Tarent held onto the squirming Elisop. Loras and Pardigan were forced to take up the rear positions and immediately began an argument about which should take the last, most precarious spot over The Griffin's tail. It was finally decided that it should be Loras as he was less likely to fall off and best able to do something about it if he did.