Darkness Rising 1: Chained

by Ross Kitson

  ***

  The wind had turned by morning to favour flight in a westerly direction and soon after dawn the camp was packed and strapped to the huge flanks of the griffons. Emelia was seated behind Sir Unhert, the knight who had watched them the prior evening. Her wrists were secured to a small mount on the saddle such that she had little ability to move. In addition, any abrupt attempts to disturb the knight were likely to result in her tumbling off the saddle and being suspended from the flank of the griffon. That prospect did not seem appealing. They soared hundreds of feet above the craggy south coast of Azagunta and Emelia gripped the saddle with her thighs almost continually.

  The knights flew in a wedge with Lady Orla at the apex, her maneuverability improved by the absence of any captive on her saddle. Despite her dislike for the uppity knight Emelia could not help but be impressed by the magnificent sight of the glittering armour and the golden wings of the griffon. As a girl she had stood each morning peering through the tiny window in the dormitory, at first on tip toes as she had pushed her little face to the cold windowsill. Perhaps she had seen Lady Orla and these other knights embarking on dawn patrol; the irony of returning with them as a prisoner was not lost on her.

  At Orla’s side flew the Air-mage, his robes fluttering in the wind like the wings of a misshapen bird.

  Jem was secured to the saddle of Sir Robert, an ox of a man with bristling sideburns and a slim scar that ran across his cheek. He wore a helmet with a lowered visor whilst flying, to shield him from the incessant impact of small insects. Robert gave an air of intense boredom with this assignment and appeared to spend his days dreaming about more glorious missions than the current one. To his credit he had dressed Jem’s lightning burn with a clean cloth and salve, muttering that if they were going to fly half way around Nurolia he wanted a live prisoner at the end to show for it.

  Of the three of them Hunor had drawn the shortest straw. He was secured, perhaps more restrictively and uncomfortably than was necessary, to the saddle of Sir Minrik. The saturnine knight’s dislike of the thief was evident in his every action. When the griffons put down for lunch atop some cliffs he deliberately twisted Hunor’s arms as he untied the securing knot from the saddle causing the thief to grimace.

  By dusk they had flown a good distance and Hunor commented to Emelia that they must be near Bomor. They made camp on a hill overlooking a tiny cove and Hunor was untied, to be allowed to feed the other two with a thick porridge. Minrik loomed over him with his hand on his sword, looking for an excuse to draw his weapon. Ekra-Hurr sat consulting a spell book, slightly apart from the knights. Sir Unhert tended to the griffons and then cooked a delicious smelling rabbit stew for the knights that set Emelia’s stomach roaring.

  The opportunity to talk was curtailed that evening by the presence of Sir Minrik standing watch. He took great delight in cuffing Hunor at every attempt he made to speak such that after an hour even the thief’s usual stubbornness had diminished and he accepted that he must sit in silence. Emelia was still conscious that there was more to be said between the three of them, but clearly these unresolved issues would have to wait. Hunor often tried to catch her eye and smile, like a small child trying to gain approval. Despite his efforts she still felt angry and avoided his gaze.

  Emelia slept better that night, dreaming once more of running through a purple stone city. Jem slept fitfully, the pain from his burn precluding a good night’s sleep, and his restlessness disturbed Hunor also.

  At perhaps an hour past high moon Hunor awoke, his blanket having worked off him and his bound wrists numb from being trapped under his chest. The waning green Orion moon to the west provided poor light but the northern Aquatonian blue moon was full and the hillside was lit by a cold glow.

  Lady Orla sat on a small boulder staring at Emelia. The blue light made her appear cool and distant. Hunor tried to read her expression but one may as well have tried to guess the boulder’s emotions.

  Orla sensed Hunor’s gaze and turned her head to look at him. Her humourless stare met his twinkling eyes and for a whole minute they looked at each other, neither willing to break away. Finally Hunor winked and rolled over onto his side.