Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2)

by C. M. Gray

  'Magic is wonderful, isn't it?' Loras mumbled. His attention had returned to the cloth which he was back to fumbling with, a blue glow surrounding it faintly, then he glanced up again. 'The magic in the barrier is directed outwards. The Sultan's Magician is really very good, it's a huge spell.' He gazed out thoughtfully, and then pushed his hand out through the barrier - the tiniest ring of white sparks surrounded his arm, dancing in a circle where it broke the magical shield.

  'Loras!'

  'It's okay. It won't affect anything coming from this side.' He wiggled his fingers about and then waved at the group with the huge beast, but they were distracted. It had just dragged one of its riders off with its long nose and was now using the tormentor as a club to swing at everyone as it stamped its huge feet and danced about, the vibrations reaching them up on the wall. The man was screaming hysterically as he was swung around in huge circles, arms flapping and legs kicking as all those surrounding scattered. Loras pulled his hand back in, sniffed at it experimentally, and then returned his attention back to the cloth. 'We're ready.'

  'You know where we're going?'

  'No… but the cloth does.'

  'The cloth does?'

  'Yes, the cloth does.' Loras glanced up as a shadow crossed above them. 'Ahh, perfect timing.'

  'Do we need anything else? Provisions… potions… help?'

  'No, let's go.'

  Tarent watched as The Griffin flared her wings and came down to land heavily a little further along the battlement. She appeared distressed, shaking its head from side to side, huffing and coughing, her huge chest heaving as she sought for breath, and she was stumbling drunkenly, her clawed feet scratching at the stonework.

  'Here's something else that doesn't like the barrier, and she knows where to fly through at the weakest point.' Loras walked calmly forwards, ducking nimbly under a flapping wing, placed his hand upon the side of The Griffin's head and then closed his eyes. Within moments, the shuffling stopped, and her breathing calmed perceptibly, the huge head turned towards Loras and nudged him in thanks. He rubbed her beak then turned to Tarent. 'Ready?'

  Despite Tarent's misgivings, there was no sickening, lurching feeling as they flew out. They cleared the battlements and soared down from the city wall and over the head of the huge angry beast still wildly swinging its captive. As Loras had predicted there was no effect on anything that moved through the barrier from the inside, however, coming back, Tarent knew, would be a different experience. He held on behind Loras as the small Magician steered The Griffin low over the enemy camp, giving them a swift but tantalising glimpse of the invaders, leaving a wake of cries and arrows behind them. Once past the horde and out into the open desert, Loras held out the red cloth, so thoughtfully left as a clue by Matheus Hawk and muttered a spell. As the last words left his lips he let go of the cloth and it flew ahead of them, fluttering like a bird in flight before banking around towards the distant mountains.

  They coasted for some time, scarves tied about their mouths so they chewed less sand and a Dhurbar idea of a headdress covering their eyes with slits cut to see through. It filtered out enough of the sun's glare to be a comfort, yet allowed them to see at least some of their surroundings. The warm desert wind at their low altitude didn't help much as it tugged at the material, but it was a pleasure after the stifling heat of the city. Below them, the sand could easily be mistaken for waves frozen mid flow - gazing down was mesmerizing taking Tarent's attention for some time. After a while, he leant forward and shouted to be heard over the noise of flight.

  'Don't you think it's a bit strange that the Hawk left that red cloth for you to find, Loras?'

  Loras turned his head slightly and shouted back. 'No, it's not strange. It was an invitation. Taking the Princess and leaving the cloth were both done so he could get me away from everyone else. He knows were coming, he wants a fight, a showdown, a magical duel, whatever you want to call it.'

  'And we're just going to walk into it?'

  'What else can we do? We have to rescue the Princess and at some point we have to face down the Hawk. He's been a stone in our shoe for too long. We may as well see what he's up to and deal with whatever he has waiting for us as best we can.'

  As best we can… Tarent was silent for a while, thinking about what Loras had said, and for the first time in quite a while felt his faith in his small magical friend waver. This didn't feel like a good idea at all. To be flying right into what was obviously a trap, without any plan or any idea of what lay ahead for them, now felt absurd. Tarent felt the rise of worry quickly begin to verge on panic. He tried to calm himself and think it out rationally. Glancing down at the sea of sand dunes passing beneath them he shook his head then reached back to check his staff was secure and then looked up to see how close to the mountains, they were… close, they were getting really close. He could feel his heart thumping, his breathing becoming laboured. He took another deep breath and tried to shake the feeling. Loras wasn't stupid - he should have faith in his friend's abilities… but as a priest of the Source, surely he should also follow his own intuition, and right now his intuition was telling him, in fact, screaming at him that this was wrong, very, very wrong…

  'Loras… Loras. We have to go back… or head up into the mountains away from where the Hawk wants us… it's…' They suddenly pitched upwards as The Griffin hit a rising current of warm air, the shock of the movement causing Tarent to stop speaking and both riders to grip on with hands and legs, burying their heads down as the great beast manoeuvred beneath them seeking level flight.

  'Loras!' Tarent was shouting now, shaking his friend by the shoulder. 'Loras, I don't like this, I have a bad feeling… we have to…' But he didn't have time to finish his sentence as a violent flash and deafening explosion sent him into a world beyond reason. Roaring wind filled his ears, his body was spinning… falling. He was vaguely aware of losing contact with Loras, felt his friend torn away from him and his hold with the warm, vital body of The Griffin dissolve, it was just gone… and then came a sickening, awful impact, once… twice… sand forcing its way into his mouth and nose… pain filled his body as it was twisted and contorted… his screams barely audible beneath the deafening, crashing, splintering sound of timber, heavy impact… pain… and then… abruptly… stillness and the very real heat of the sun burning hot upon his face, and then… nothing.

  'What…' His consciousness swam back into awareness… must have slipped away. 'Oh Source, what's happened?' Images floated through blurred vision of yellow sand, blue sky and searing, bright sunlight. He tried to rub at his eyes, but his arm wouldn't move… wouldn't respond and move up to his face. Oh, Source, his head hurt… he cast about trying to focus.

  'Loras… Loras.' There was no response beyond the high-pitched ringing that filled his ears. He blinked and tried to focus. Broken wooden planks, ropes and canvas, filled his blurry vision. Tarent's mind caught up with him, and the jolt of realisation hit him, it was bits of the boat… The Griffin was down.

  * * *

  'Here we go to play our game of war… here we go to gather souls.' The Emperor, Djinn Tsai, hummed a soft tune and shuffled slowly along the tiled corridor of his palace. The doorway ahead of him would open within the giant palanquin on the back of his largest war elephant, which now stood at the head of his army besieging the desert city of Dhurban. He realised he was experiencing the very human emotion of pleasure, and he studied the sensation with interest, his head cocking from one side to the other, a small smile upon his face.

  Gentle sunlight filtered through plants and flowers draping down from an upper balcony to his right hand side, lending his path a dappled, ethereal light. The sharp click of his wooden soled shoes contacting with the mosaic floor was a pleasing accompaniment to sounds of tinkling water drifting upon the soft breeze from a nearby fountain - all of these small things a delight to his senses, his slow pace reflecting joy in the combined experiences of his surroundings. He was also aware of how annoying his slow progress would be t
o the two senior generals trailing him by some three paces.

  Head tilted to one side, he continued to murmur to himself and then stopped to watch as a large yellow and blue butterfly entered the passageway ahead of them, flitting amongst the rays of sunlight, silently moving in an erratic dance that, surely, could only make sense to the delicate creature itself. As it neared, the Emperor gently raised his right hand, and it came to rest upon his finger, slowly opening and closing its shimmering painted wings. Behind the Emperor, the generals remained still, accustomed to their Emperor's often erratic behaviour, they waited patiently as he gently brought the small creature close to his face to study it in a ray of sunlight. The butterfly continued to move its wings as if basking in the warm light and appeared quite content upon its perch; ignorant of any danger it may be in.

  'Such exquisite beauty, such grace and yet…' Pushing his hand outwards to return the butterfly to flight, the Emperor, Djinn Tsai, clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and loud in the confined passage, snuffing the tiny creature's life in an instant. For a moment, the Emperor remained unmoving, his hands clasped as if in prayer, still holding the now broken form. 'Yet so fleeting and fragile, this thing we call life…' He opened his hands and slowly licked the crumpled insect from his palms, savouring its essence without sign of distaste. Once finished, he wiped his mouth with a silk cloth extracted from his sleeve, and slowly turned to regard the two generals. 'Shall we now go to war? Shall we see what this desert city has to offer in the way of souls and amusement?' Without waiting for an answer, for he required none, he spun on his heels and continued his slow dreamlike walk to the portal door, gestured with his hand for it to open, which it did accompanied by a hiss and gust of hot dry air, and then stepped through into a far hotter, dryer place.

  * * *

  'I know we have to go down there, but when we're wandering around dancing with wraiths… where do you think they might have hidden the last crystal skull? I really don't see any likely spots, do you?' Pardigan continued to stare at the incredible diversity of tents and people that comprised the invading army, aware that it stretched completely around the city. 'Bartholomew said they were called the Soul Eaters. I don't think I really like the sound of that.' A scowl creased his face as his attention was drawn to a huge beast, the biggest they had seen, ears flapping, long nose swaying, being slowly driven forward with its handlers pushing through the ranks of bustling warriors. It had a building constructed upon its back that rivalled the size of any merchant's house back in Freya. 'I wonder what they're planning to do with that?' asked Pardigan in awe of the enormous beast.

  Beside him, Quint was silent as he took in the full might of the invading force and the monstrous animal coming towards them. 'I don't know, Pardigan. I really don't know.'

  They had spent most of the morning walking the walls, inspecting the defences prepared by the Sultan's men. It was gratifying to see that the Dhurbars weren't relying solely upon the Magician's shield, but had catapults with cache piles of rocks and various other strange weapons ready to use when the enemy finally made its move. They had also made preparations to fall back into the city's inner defence system should the enemy break through the outer wall.

  'Well, I don't think a cat would be very welcome down there,' said Mahra, 'but if I can get back in as an owl without having to go through that horrible shield again I could take a look tonight. I suppose we have to try and find out what they're planning. I think you should go Pardigan. If the skull is down there you might want to start by taking a look in that strange house.' She nodded towards the strange lumbering beast and its colossal burden, and then glanced across hopefully to where Pardigan was still scowling.

  'Those are wraiths, aren't they?' He pointed to a group some distance to their left that were shuffling and moving erratically around by the shaded edge of a large dark awning. They were all trying to get position beneath the cover, and its promise of protection from the glare of the sun, but there were too many of them. It was impossible to see what they actually looked like as each had its own personal cloak that completely covered them, a dirty mottled sacking which, to Pardigan's eyes, made them look like mobile dung heaps, the clouds of flies surrounding them merely adding to the effect.

  Further along the wall, the Sultan appeared, climbing to the top of a stone staircase with several of his advisors trailing him and, as always, the ever-present Magician. As soon as he saw them the Magician turned to glare, even as the Sultan and the others began pointing and discussing the enemy.

  'I thought it was Loras he didn't like,' muttered Pardigan. He waved at the Magician who just scowled back then turned away to answer something the Sultan had asked.

  'Pardigan, don't start annoying him. You're going to need him if you want to get back in later.' Quint pointed to the huge animal with the building on its back. 'Something's happening, look.' A silent hush came over the enemy camp as every soldier, handler and wraith in sight dropped to their knees and put their heads to the desert sand. There was the occasional call in the distance from a camel and barking of a few dogs, but other than that it was only the hiss of the sand driven by a soft desert wind that broke the silence. The beast had stopped moving and what appeared to be a trailing staircase was being lowered from the back of the strange building, the creaking, squeaking sound from the lowering ropes, loud across the short distance.

  'Maybe they brought dancing girls to entertain us,' murmured Pardigan glancing round with a grin, but they were all ignoring him.

  The staircase finally touched the sand and, for a few moments, all was still as the anticipation of some unknown event gripped the attention of the invading army and all those upon the wall. The tap, tap of slow footsteps revealed firstly the feet, and then the unexpected sight of a strange little man trailed by two big warriors.

  'That doesn't look like a dancing girl, and if it is I want my money b…'

  'Shhh,' interrupted Quint, 'shut up, Pardigan.'

  The newcomer was dressed in golden leggings, a shimmering purple robe and a large golden hat that fanned out behind his head like a peacock's tail. His descent was unhurried, taken with small delicate steps until, upon reaching the bottom, he walked some twenty paces towards the city and then stood alone in the sand, hands crossed. Turning a slow full circle, he gazed about, firstly at the city, and then at those watching from the battlements, and then he turned further to regard the troops and handlers about him - each and every one with their faces pushed into the dry sand of the desert. His shoulders began to rock, and faint high-pitched laughter drifted across to those watching from the city.

  'He's laughing! What's he laughing at?' Pardigan looked about at the others, but they seemed to be ignoring him as usual.

  'I don't like this,' said Mahra. 'I don't like this at all…'

  'Let's get back into the city,' said Quint pulling on Pardigan's sleeve, but none of them could move. It was hard to take their eyes from the little man standing alone in front of that colossal army. The laughter abruptly ceased, and the man raised his hands to his mouth and spat… then vomited into his hands, his body convulsed as he brought more up from the depths of his stomach, shoulders rising and falling as his body went into spasm. For a few moments, he remained hunched as if he still might be sick, but then he straightened, looked up at those watching from the city, then brought the cupped hands to his lips… and blew… and from between his fingers came a shimmering blue and yellow cloud of petals… or leaves or… no, realised Pardigan, they were butterflies that flittered and fluttered in a crazy dance through the hot desert air. The cloud grew and swirled above the little man's head causing the huge beast behind him to sway and back away in fear. Two of its handlers leaped up and tried to control it, heaving on the ropes that constrained it. The fluttering cloud moved back and forth, swaying in a hypnotic blaze of colour, blue, yellow and silver as the iridescent wings flashed in the sunlight. It rose and fell, growing then changing shape, joining together, and then breaking apart like a school of
fish until, as one… the cloud of butterflies imploded and a huge beast flew straight at the wall, directly at the Sultan and his advisors, emitting an ear-splitting shriek and a gout of flame that burst against the city shield in an explosion of energy, fire and anger.

  Along the wall, the silence collapsed, and panic broke out into screams, shouts and the roar of the creature as it clashed with the shield. Sparks erupted, and the creature broke off to the left with a howl of fury coming directly towards the crew, huge wings beating and its huge reptilian head thrashing from side to side as they gazed in open-mouthed horror. It flashed past, the wash of wind in its passing heavy with the smell of sulphur and they were able to get a good long look at blue and yellow scales and a thick, leathery hide.

  'Dragon!' screamed Mahra.

  As if it were a command, a hail of arrows and boulders were launched at the city, the booming and crackling of their contact with the shield an ear-splitting cacophony of sound. Within the city, the Sultan's troops returned fire and the air was at once thick with spears, arrows, rocks and the heavy thump of the catapults letting loose.

  'How long can the shield hold?' shouted Quint over the noise, he glanced across to where the Sultan and his group had been standing, but they were no longer there. The dragon was coming in for another pass and he couldn't help but watch transfixed as it dived straight at them.

  'I have no idea how long the shield will hold. Let's get out of here before it collapses and that huge great lizard gets through,' shouted Pardigan. The dragon passed close, spitting out flame as it went in a huge wash of anger. It screeched, dragging its claws along the shield leaving a cascade of sparks on its wake.

  'This is ridiculous. We can't do any good here against that big ugly monster. I need to go down there and look for the skull.' Pardigan stood up, and before Quint could stop him or offer any advice, Pardigan had gone, place-shifting down to somewhere within the camp of the Soul Eaters.