Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2)

by C. M. Gray

  'The skull is in the palace, it's safe. First chance we get, then someone has to get it back to Sterling Port and put it with the other two, but for now it's safe. So…' he nodded towards the Emperor, 'what do you think he's doing?' They both gazed down at the strange little man standing in front of the city wall as he flung his arms about in a display of quite baffling complexity, with bolts of crackling red energy leaping from his outstretched hands flickering all over the battlefield. What they couldn't work out was why? Not one streak of dancing lightning had entered the city, nor was it hitting anyone up on the wall. There seemed neither reason nor intent behind anything the Emperor was doing.

  'The crystal is just behind him, look… with lots of guards around it,' said Quint.

  'Yes, I saw it.' Pardigan leant down, put his head on his arms and continued to watch the weird and strangely wonderful display. 'Do you think he's doing something to the shield? He did say he would arrive at sunset and remove the city's defences, he's up to something.' And then, as his eyes focus changed from the crystal back to the Emperor, he saw what was happening. 'Oh Source, he's taking the souls of the dead and dragging them into the crystal, look.'

  Quint narrowed his eyes and tried to see whatever Pardigan could see. By now a massive, dancing web of crackling red energy was spread out from the little man's hands, jumping and weaving transforming the battlefield to a deep crimson. Dancing shadows stretched up the city walls and out into the growing darkness of the enemy camp. The elephant didn't look happy. It was swinging its trunk and shuffling as if deciding when it should make a break and run for the mountains. To either side of the great beast the handlers were struggling, leaning back on their restraining ropes, trying to use their weight to control the animal, four of them on each side, but it looked to Quint as if they would be dragged away as soon as the elephant finally made its mind up that humans were far too strange. Behind the Emperor, about fifty paces back, stood hundreds of warriors, patiently watching and waiting. Alongside them were the stooped, shuffling figures of the remaining wraiths, the hoods of their cloaks covering them, protecting them from the blinding red light. From up on the wall they couldn't see the wraiths' features beneath their cloaks, but Quint knew it was them because they were making that awful high-pitched squealing noise.

  'Can you see what he's doing yet?' asked Pardigan, 'He's dragging the souls of the dead back into that crystal. It's where his magic comes from, I saw it happen in the palace.'

  Quint shook his head, 'It makes a nice display, but as magic goes, I think I preferred the butterflies. This is impressive of course, Loras would be enjoying it, but the butterflies were really good. I can't see them Pardigan, but whatever he's doing I don't think it will be over any time soon, so it gives us a chance to rest, I need it,' he sighed. 'Come on, let's go find something to eat.' He tugged on Pardigan's jerkin pulling his friend up. 'Mahra might have come in by now, and if she's back, she's going to be in the kitchens. There's nothing we can do here, I'm too tired even to watch.' The two friends walked off, carefully descending the gloomy ramparts by an open stone stairway and into the shadows of the city, for now still sitting safely behind its magical shield.

  The narrow, night-time streets of Dhurban were lit by flickering torches, the air heavily scented with cooking food and burning incense. Excited chatter echoed along the narrow alleys as the Dhurbars debated the day's events. Stories of the Emperor's display and rumours that King Hugo's army was approaching the city were everywhere, but for Quint and Pardigan it wasn't long before all thoughts of the Emperor and battle were forgotten in favour of Mahra's company and a bowl of spicy Dhurbar stew.

  Dawn brought confirmation that some of the rumours had been true. Having marched through the hours of darkness, King Hugo's forces had finally launched their attack to the rear of the enemy positions at first light. The news was being carried back into the city by criers shouting at the tops of their voices from every street corner, the sound of their ringing bells bringing people out onto the streets and flinging open their windows to hear and spread word of the cities salvation. As Quint, Pardigan and Mahra made their way through the streets to the wall, the story they were hearing seemed to change and grow, the details often contradicting each other as fresh debates and arguments broke out from a population that shifted from despair to celebration and then back again to fear as the story ebbed and flowed with the telling of it.

  As they walked the final few streets and alleys and got nearer the wall, the sounds of clashing metal, shouting and screaming got louder and louder, this time, however, the sounds weren't from attacks on the wall itself but from the battle in the distant desert.

  'I hope Tarent and Loras are okay.' Mahra glanced up between the buildings towards the narrow strip of blue sky as if hoping she might see The Griffin circling overhead.

  'They'll be fine. Loras is more than a match for The Hawk and Tarent can deal with anything else that they get into.' Quint was trying to sound confident, but truth be told he was as worried as Mahra. They ran up the worn stone stairs to the wall, eager for their first glimpse of what might be happening.

  The first thing that greeted them wasn't the battle, which was clearly raging in the distance, but the unmistakable figure of Elisop standing up on the ramparts, leggings around his ankles shaking his bare bottom at the Emperor and his army. Arrows were bouncing off the shield all around him, but of course none of them were getting through to hit his proffered target.

  The little spy was wiggling his naked buttocks from side to side with his head turned so he could also shout at the same time. 'You cannot touch me, stupid Soul munchers. I am Elisop the…' Turning back, he noticed the three friends staring at him, hastily pulled up his trews and jumped down. 'What are you stupid children doing here? Go and fight those evil invaders. I suggest you shoot their giant beast, the one with the suspiciously long nose… I do not trust it.' He ran over to Pardigan and tugged on his sleeve until Pardigan bent down so the little spy could whisper in his ear. 'The big beast is watching me in a most peculiar way, and I don't trust that nose thing, it isn't… natural. It may be some secret weapon. I think it is a common mouse made grossly fat and large by the use of magics… I don't like magics. The nose is the key to its magical powers. Shoot it with an arrow and it will return to the shape of a mouse, you will see.'

  Pardigan grinned, ignoring Elisop's ramblings about the elephant. 'Where did you come from? I thought we left you back in Deniah,' he pulled the little spy around to face him, 'and why were you wiggling your bottom over the wall like that?'

  'I was doing no such thing!' said Elisop indignantly. 'I was merely sending a message to their Emperor. It is far too technical for you to understand.'

  'Well the Emperor looks to have taken it a bit personally,' said Quint. 'He's up to something else… look.'

  Eyes glowing red, the Emperor, Djinn Tsai, Lord of Shadows, was now swinging his arms around in circles as fast as he could. Gone was the web of crackling red energy harvesting souls, now it was just sand that was flying about, a cloud of dust and debris forming to spin around the strange little figure.

  Emitting a loud squeal of distress, the elephant abruptly decided it had finally seen enough and began backing away, ears flapping, and trunk raised. With a last shrieking cry, it turned and fled, dragging its screaming handlers with it through the camp, the wooden palace upon its back swaying precariously from side to side. Oblivious to anything in its path, the huge animal trampled wraiths and flattened several of the buildings as it went, finally leaving the camp for the open desert, trailing ropes, tents and one last handler still holding onto his rope bouncing along behind it.

  The last of the Emperor's troops were also edging back, shielding their faces from the sand as it rapidly expanded to become a spinning storm, swirling about the Emperor.

  'This is it,' shouted Quint over the hissing roar, 'I wish Loras was here.'

  'I certainly wish I was on the back of that elephant,' replied Pardigan, 'it seems to have t
he right idea, it's out of the camp and already heading for the mountains.'

  Mahra pointed past the Emperor, 'Look at the desert… the sand is moving.'

  The desert was indeed moving; in fact it was writhing and flowing. The dunes, both big and small now appearing more like waves in the sea, undulating, rising up and down, shaking the enemy camp to disruption with tents and the makeshift shelters collapsing as the distant battle became a confusion of disorder, the ground beneath bucking and heaving so warriors on both sides could do no more than lay flat and hope the desert wouldn't swallow them whole. And still, below the walls, the Emperor stood alone swirling his arms, driving the desert into a fury that darkened the sky and sent the hissing sands up in twisting spirals crackling with sharp bolts of red Chaos energy.

  Faces began to form, looming in the sandstorm, souls of the recently gathered dead warriors driven to the surface of the crystal now forming the tortured energy of the storm front. Agonized, screaming faces, distress and anguish distorting them, loomed hundreds of spans high, towering over the city. Red shrieking bolts of lightning struck out from the centre of the storm into the desert, killing and maiming indiscriminately, driven by the fury of the storm as the Emperor, Djinn Tsai, worked his magic, his arms moving in a blur, screaming out his own euphoric cry as he continued to build his chaos storm.

  * * *

  For some strange and totally unfathomable reason, magic didn't have much effect on dragons. It had taken Magician Falk a number of attempts, and most of the night to come to this conclusion, but as he peddled the balloon back towards the city, puffing and wheezing with the strain, he was now totally and most utterly convinced. Forced by the incredible cold of the desert night to travel at a lower altitude, the hours of darkness had been a constant game of cat and mouse. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the great blue and yellow monster circling once again, making ready to come in for yet another attack. On a positive note, he had found it wasn't the smartest of creatures and so far brains had triumphed over the dragon's fiery heat and anger, but it surely couldn't go on for much longer.

  The flames it breathed weren't so much of a problem, protecting the fragile craft from burning was done with relatively simple spells, the problem was in stopping the claws from damaging the fabric as the dragon sought to grip the balloon in its claws and then rip it to shreds. He was exhausted. The whole journey had turned, quite frankly, into a terrifying series of near death experiences, but thankfully he was close to leaving both balloon and the ghastly creature behind.

  'Go away, you big… horrible… lizard.' Giving the pedals a few last pushes, he stopped, panting from the exertion, and sat up to peer over the side. 'Oh, thank the Source.' He was finally nearing the city. He had decided at some point during the night to give up on an escape to the mountains, the balloon never even managed to get close, the wind always driving him back into the desert. At some early hour, when he reflected that the Source was just playing with him, and he should have been tucked up in a warm bed fast asleep. He had come to the conclusion that reaching the mountains wasn't going to happen and decided that a return to the city was inevitable. To complicate matters, the dragon wasn't leaving him alone, despite all his attempts to dissuade it. In fact, it seemed to become more and more annoyed and even more determined to bring him down after every attempt.

  Waving his hand, he conjured energy in the form of a horse and sent it galloping towards the fast approaching dragon. With an angry screeching roar the great beast veered away to rip the glowing apparition to shreds and, tightening the pack on his back to be sure his dropping bag would be ready when it was needed, the exhausted Magician went back to pedalling.

  * * *

  'Loras, it's all broken. Why do we have to do this? Even if we find The Griffin, its gone… destroyed, I'm sorry, but she's dead, isn't she? I mean, tell me if she isn't?' Tarent shaded his eyes and gazed up into the deep, intense blue of the sky for a moment. 'I would love to see The Griffin coming in to rescue us right now, but I don't think she will.' He returned his attention to Loras who was trying to clean his glasses through the folds of cloth that were wrapped around his head as protection from the sun. Nhasic was trying to help. The little demon was now clearly devoted to Loras after the Hawk had been defeated and had refused to be left behind in the caves. It was chattering soothingly, trying to rub the lenses clean with its little hairy hands while Loras kept pulling his head away, still trying to accomplish the task on his own. Tarent watched, still not trusting the small demon in the slightest. He also noted that Nhasic was the only one of the small group not having any problems with the heat, in fact, it seemed to be happier the hotter it got.

  'I'm sorry Loras, but I just don't understand why we're out here.' Reaching down, he helped his small friend up from where he had crumpled down into the hot sand. Loras didn't reply, he just passed Nhasic the glasses and watched as the little demon licked them, its thin blue tongue flicking all over the glass and metal frames before rubbing them furiously on his hairy belly, all the time chattering happily. Tarent sighed and glanced back, squinting his eyes against the sun's glare and saw that the Princess was still on her feet, still trudging along. She was making her way up the high sand dune some distance below them, following in the footsteps the boys had left behind.

  She was slow and had been moaning constantly ever since leaving the caves sometime in the early morning. They hadn't really meant to leave her behind, just put some distance between themselves and her shrill unhappy complaints - her feet hurt, she was tired, she had a blister, it was cold, it was hot, she was thirsty… on and on and on, until the two boys found themselves drawing further and further ahead of her just to escape the sound of her voice. They had now been walking for about four turns of the glass, and while it had been cold in the early morning darkness when they first set out, sunrise had rapidly warmed things up so that it was now blisteringly hot and required exhausting effort just to put one foot in front of the other. What had seemed like a good plan back in the cave; to find the remains of The Griffin, now looked like a stupid idea to Tarent.

  'The wreckage is here… close.' Loras took his glasses back from Nhasic and studied them before putting them back on. He patted the demon on top of its head in thanks as it scampered up and sat on his shoulder rearranging the folds of Loras's head cloth. 'We have to find her, maybe I can put her together again.' He swayed unsteadily on his feet, shading his eyes to scan the horizon. 'We're close, I can feel her, and if I can feel her then some part of her magic still exists. I'm sure that when we get to her I can do something… possibly. The only alternative we have is to keep walking, were going in the right direction, I think…' He stopped and pointed, 'Look, rope!' He ran the last few steps down the face of the dune, fell flat on his face and then rolled over grinning happily with a length of rope clutched in his hand.

  They had to struggle up and over the next massive dune before they found the actual crash site. The desert had already claimed a lot of the wreckage, swallowed down by the constantly shifting dunes. What remained were just a few bits of timber reaching up out of the sand, some rope and a scrap of canvas that would have been flapping in the breeze if there had been a breeze, but there wasn't. It was all just baking, bleaching in the hot, pounding desert sun. Another few days and the desert would have taken it all. Loras began scraping the sand away from the base of the largest beam already muttering an incantation.

  Tarent watched his friend, saw Nhasic jump down to pull on the canvas and then looked back up the dune. The Princess had just reached the top and was standing, shading her eyes gazing off into the distant shimmering horizon.

  'We found The Griffin,' shouted Tarent. 'It's down here, under the sand.' The Princess seemed to be ignoring him, maybe she's upset that we left her behind, he thought, and then shrugged, there wasn't much he could do about it, and he was so hot, tired and uncomfortable that he really didn't care how upset she might be.

  'I can see a sandstorm,' shouted the Princess after a
few moments, she glanced down at him then pointed off into the distance. 'Over this way, there is a huge cloud of dust and sand rising high into the air, maybe it is coming this way, I can't tell. We get sandstorms here in the desert and believe me boys, we do not want to be caught out in one.'

  Tarent glanced up into the deep blue sky and wondered what she was talking about. There wasn't a cloud to be seen, certainly not a storm cloud.

  'Princess says there's a storm coming, Loras.' He knelt down and rearranged his head cloth so it blocked out as much light from the glaring sand as possible, and then rummaged in his pack for his water bottle; there was still about half left. He took a mouthful then replaced it in his pack.

  'The storm is getting bigger. It is most certainly coming this way and… and, I think the sand is moving. I've never seen that happen before, oh my…' The Princess sounded worried.

  Tarent glanced up at her. She was still gazing off into the distance. Her headscarf flapping a little as if there was a breeze, it did it again… there was a breeze.

  'Loras, if you're going to do something really impressive, then now would be a really good time to do it, because this storm thing might actually be coming. Loras… can you hear me… hey, Loras?' As Tarent rose and took a few flowing steps down the dune, everything changed from one moment to the next and his senses started screaming that the world wasn't right, the sand beneath him was moving, churning as if the whole desert had just turned to liquid, and the dunes around him were undulating like waves in a sea. Quite suddenly he was falling on top of Loras, mixed up with his friend in a tangle of heaving sand, wood and ropes and he was sinking down, struggling to keep his head above the surface. He noticed the little demon screeching, desperately hugging the big beam, the Princess was also screaming, tumbling towards them and then it struck him that they were all going to die, it was going to end here, and there was nothing he could do about it.