by P B Hughes
The bounty hunter had been at Jude’s mercy—with a twirl of his wrist he could have closed a vine around his neck. Death by strangulation; a fitting sentence, to be sure. But who was Jude to decide a man’s fate? He was no executioner. Instead he let chance decide—tying the villain to his beast’s leg and sending him into the sky. But that had been a foolish decision, he concluded. The man wanted Jude dead; clemency was not in the thug’s vocabulary. If the tables were turned, Jude would be nothing more than a bloody corpse on the ground—a pile of carrion for the fellow’s pet. No, Jude was not an executioner, but neither was the bounty hunter. The man chose his lot—to kill for profit and without hesitation; deeming himself the author of other men’s lives, his weapon a quill permanently penning a tragedy. If that was the case, then Jude would fight back. Next time, he would kill without hesitation.
The thought scorched his conscience like a blazing hot iron, his fear melting away as he came to terms with his decision. An arid peace was left in place of his fear, dry and without beauty. But it was peace nonetheless. He gripped his staff and plunged ahead though the underbrush, keeping to the shadows and off the main road.
As irritated as Jude had been over adding the gryphon to their party, she turned out to be of little burden; she moved behind them as quietly as the wind—sleek and catlike on silent padded paws. She was like a living shadow, Jude thought. Once he relented and studied her, he had to admit she was a beautiful creature. Shade was an appropriate name.
Relief washed over Jude as they finally approached the hatch, the cliff’s edge giving way to blue sky. If the bounty hunter had planned an attack, he missed his chance. Jude cast one last look over his shoulder before lifting the door. Gregory was the first to climb in, followed by Daniel. Shade halted behind.
Jude looked at her expectantly, impatience rising. “Come on, we haven’t got all day.”
Shade took a step backward.
“Daniel, your new pet refuses to cooperate.”
Daniel stuck his head out from the hatch.
“Here, Shade—come on, girl.”
She backed away, clucking nervously.
Jude watched as Daniel climbed out of the hole, looking exasperated.
“What’s wrong?” Daniel asked. “It’s not that bad, really.” He grabbed her by the collar and pulled her toward the hatch.
Shade dug in her heels and tossed her head.
“What’s gotten into you?” said Daniel as Shade began tugging him to the edge of the cliff. Daniel released his grip. She crouched, neck outstretched, gawking at the world below, ears twitching.
Jude chuckled at the sight and sauntered over to them. He peered over the edge. The sight was a carpet of green; red rooftops checkered the land below. There were people outside, moving about like insects, but he couldn’t make out whom.
“Right,” said Jude with a pat on Daniel’s shoulder. “While the two of you sort this out, I’ll be on my way down using the stairs.”
“So you’re not going to help me?” Daniel asked after him.
Jude gave Daniel a sardonic smile as he stepped into the stairwell, enjoying Daniel’s distress. “I’m sure you can handle it without me, Gryphon Whisperer.”
It serves him right, thought Jude as he descended. Maybe he’ll learn to quit sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Two pairs of yellow-green eyes peered up at Jude like tiny lanterns from the bottom of the stairwell. Cats. Yet another remnant of Daniel’s bleeding heart. There were cats all over Littleton’s campus—all because Daniel had deemed it his mission to rescue a litter of kittens from a rising creek during a flood when they were young. He convinced Mordecai they would help eliminate their rat problem. Rat problem or cat problem, Jude wasn’t sure which was worse. And now Daniel’s pets were growing bigger.
The bigger the pet, Jude thought, aiming a kick at one of the cats, the bigger the troubles they bring.
Jude left the stairwell behind, leaving the gate ajar. Tugging that gryphon all the way down those stairs might prove difficult for Daniel, and opening the gate even more so, if he had to do it one-handed. It was the least he could do.
In front of the dormitories were two covered wagons laden with supplies. His classmates milled about them, carrying this and that in their arms. Mordecai stood at the back of one, stuffing sacks inside, his leg entirely healed. On the lip of the other wagon sat a rather squat old woman wearing a yellow pointed hat. She had a curious, owl-like look, and stood about as tall as a tree stump.
“Home again, home again,” she said to Jude, flashing him a smile as she peered out beneath the wide brim of her hat with a pair of faded blue eyes.
Jude replied with a nod. “Mrs. Doppledodger.”
“Gregory tells me you three had quite an adventure,” Mrs. Doppledodger said with a raised eyebrow. “By the look of your cloak he wasn’t lying.”
Jude had been too preoccupied to notice before, but his clothes were filthy and the hem of his cloak torn. By branch or claw he did not know. A sour taste filled his mouth over his appearance. If he was to be taken seriously, he must appear presentable.
Suddenly, an eagle-like cry pierced the air. Jude whirled around, shielding his eyes against the sun as he looked up to where he had left Daniel. He could hardly believe his eyes. Shade hurtled off the edge of the cliff, Daniel clinging to her back like a baby opossum. She soared higher and higher, stopped in mid air, tucked her wings to her side, and then reversed into a nosedive.
Down they sped, a dark blur against the red-brown cliff-side.
The children spotted them and pointed, mouths gaping in awe. Just before they crashed into the rooftops, Shade spread her wings, rocketed through the crowd, and released another piercing cry. She rounded the campus and landed, perched on top of the dormitory chimney.
“Daniel!” boomed a red-faced Mordecai, arms laden with heavy sacks. “What in the world are you doing? Come down from there at once!”
Daniel was clearly in no condition to do anything, his face green, body swaying. Suddenly, he vomited and fell off of Shade’s back, landing onto the roof with a thud. Shade nimbly hopped down from chimney to the grass, panting like a pleased puppy.
“That was a wicked show, Daniel!” cried Gregory. “I didn’t know you knew how to ride!”
Mordecai set down a sack of potatoes next to the wagon, picked up his staff, and raised it into the air. The ground rumbled, and a staircase of soil pushed up from the earth to the roof where Daniel lay.
“Today, Daniel!”
Daniel rolled over, stood, and wobbled down the earthen staircase in front of Mordecai. Next to Mordecai stood a thin, bald-headed man clothed in brown; he had an austere expression across his drawn face.
“Nice riding,” said Mrs. Doppledodger. “He’s a talented boy, Mordecai.” She hopped down from the wagon, shuffled over to Daniel and peered up at him. “My, how you’ve grown.”
“Boys, you remember Dorothy Doppledodger,” said Mordecai, “She’ll be joining us on our journey. And this gentleman is Geraldo Brown, her butler. He’ll be taking care of the place while we’re away.”
The man took a steep bow, and then shot back up.
Gregory’s mouth dropped open. “Mrs. Doppledodger is coming? How’s she going to make it all the way there? She’s almost a million years old.”
“Two-hundred-and-thirteen, to be exact,” said Mrs. Doppledodger, sticking her staff into Gregory’s ribs, “and still twice as spry as you!”
“First things first: did you get the mana-crystals?” Mordecai asked.
“Sure did,” said Gregory, lifting the bag of crystals with both hands.
Mordecai let out a sigh of relief. “Good.” He picked up the bag, walked to the back of the already jammed wagon and stuffed it inside. “I was afraid you traded them in for that gryphon.”
Shade let out a happy squawk.
“Now, one at a time,” Mordecai raised his eyebrow and glanced from each of the boys, “tell me what happened.”
Jude, Dan
iel, and Gregory all began chattering at once, recounting their trip from beginning to end with a good deal of interrupting from Gregory.
“And you should have seen me, Mordecai,” said Gregory, “I was incredible. I threw a fireball right into the beast’s mouth!” And “I knew that thing was a gryphon—didn’t I say all along it was a gryphon?” And, flexing his skinny arms, “Don’t you worry, Martha, we’ve seen the last of that bounty hunter. I taught him a lesson he won’t forget.”
When they had finished, Mordecai fell silent for a moment, then shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let you go alone. I knew it was too dangerous!”
“Now, Mordecai,” said Mrs. Doppledodger, “you shouldn’t blame yourself. There was no telling what would happen. There was no alternative with you being injured.”
“Besides, we took care of ourselves,” said Jude. “There’s not a scratch on any of us.”
“You’re lucky to be alive, boy,” said Mrs. Doppledodger. “That bounty hunter was Rasta Murk, the most ruthless bounty hunter in the empire.”
Jude felt a twinge of worry. His concerns were justified, it seemed. He would be watching the skies this journey.
“If he’s the most ruthless,” Gregory replied, “we’ve little to worry about.”
“There’s plenty to worry about,” snapped Mordecai. “Fortunately, we’re heading to the city, and the three of you will be out of harm’s way. Now, where is that scroll you spoke of?”
“Oh!” said Daniel as he took it out of his pack. “Here it is. Looks pretty official if you ask me.”
Mordecai took it and examined it a moment. “Not the royal seal,” he said, pensively. “In fact, I don’t recognize it at all.” He broke the seal and unraveled the scroll. His eyes narrowed, a puzzled look spread across his face. “It’s blank,” he said, examining it front to back. There was nothing on it—not even a blotch of ink. He handed the scroll to Mrs. Doppledodger.
Mrs. Doppledodger held it up to the light, perplexed. “Perhaps it’s a diversion,” she said. “Could be that it was sent with the gryphon as a decoy to throw Rasta off track of the real treasure.” She rolled the scroll back up and handed it to Daniel. Daniel stuffed it in his pack.
“So the gryphon didn’t have a rider?” asked Mordecai.
Daniel shook his head. “Dead.”
Mordecai shook his head slowly, stroking his chin. “I suppose that’s no surprise. Murk’s a born killer.”
Again Jude felt the sting of his inaction. A man born to kill? Such men deserve the same fate they bestow upon others, he thought bitterly.
Mordecai turned and nodded toward Shade. “She deserves a bite to eat, don’t you think?”
Martha’s eyes lit up. “I have just the thing!” she said, and ran toward the barn.
“What a fool Rasta Murk would feel if he knew the scroll was blank,” said Jude softly as he eyed its new hiding place inside Daniel’s pack. “He risked his life for nothing more than a useless sheet of paper.”
“And the chance at a black gryphon’s pelt,” Daniel added.
A moment later, Martha came hobbling back from the barn lugging a bucket of birdseed.
“Geraldo, help her,” directed Mrs. Doppledodger.
The butler sprang forward, snatched the bucket from Martha, and set it down in front of Shade. She dunked her head inside the bucket and began crunching hungrily.
“She likes it!” exclaimed Martha.
“Of course she does,” said Mrs. Doppledodger. “Gryphon’s are omnivorous. They’ll eat anything from birdseed to fish.”
They watched Shade until she emptied the entire bucket. When she finished, she lay down and stretched out in the sunshine.
“So, what do we do with her now?” asked Daniel.
“She will come with us to the Imperial City,” replied Mordecai. “Since her rider is dead, she may belong to the state. If not, I suppose we’ll sell her to another gryphon rider.”
“We can’t sell her,” said Daniel.
Mordecai raised an eyebrow. “And why not?”
“Because I want to keep her.”
“You want to keep her? You couldn’t possibly know how to take care of her. Besides, what use do you have for a gryphon?”
“Oh, you know,” said Daniel as he stared at the ground. “I miss riding.”
“Really? I never taught you to ride. Where did you learn?”
“Um, a-at the camp you sent me to when I was nine,” Daniel said. “They taught me all about gryphons—how to feed and take care of them. I rode scores of gryphons—dozens and dozens. I even won first place in the riding show. I got a first place ribbon!”
Jude knew when Daniel was lying, the way he stuttered and exaggerated—the signs that always betrayed him. True, they had gone to a camp sponsored by the state many years ago, but Jude did not remember any gryphons; only horses and a mutt or two. Jude narrowed his eyes. “There was no riding show, Daniel. I was there.”
“You don’t remember,” countered Daniel, “because you were in your cabin with your nose in a book.”
“Don’t you ever stop reading, Jude?” asked Gregory. “You never join the fun.”
“So, where’s the first place ribbon, Daniel?” pressed Jude.
“I lost it—hid it away in some trunk, I suppose.”
“All right, that’s enough,” said Mordecai.
Jude noticed Mrs. Doppledodger eyeing Daniel with a suspicious look from the corner of her eye. Nothing could fool that woman. She’d been around far too long and was as perceptive as she was old.
“Taking care of a gryphon is a huge responsibility. But if you’ve been adequately trained I suppose...” Mordecai stroked his chin, thinking it over. “If you can sort it out with the University I don’t see why you can’t keep her.”
“Oh, thank you!”
Jude gave a disapproving look but kept silent. Daniel may have been lying, that much he knew. But it was Daniel’s business, he decided, truth or lie. And Jude was no snitch. If Daniel wanted to keep the beast, it was no concern of his. Unless I have to come to his rescue again. Jude cast a gaze to the gryphon as she basked, her coat glossy in the sunlight.
“It’s time to get going!” said Mordecai as he clapped his hands together. “It’s nearly a month long ride to the Imperial City, and we don’t want to be late! Daniel, go fetch some extra birdseed for the gryphon—put it in the supply wagon. Jude, Gregory, you two will rotate driving the supplies. I’ll take the children. Dorothy, you can keep me company.”
“What about me?” Daniel questioned.
“Daniel, you’ll be our scout! You’ll ride the gryphon in a circular perimeter around us at all times. Wouldn’t want to be ambushed or attacked by predators. But wait until we’re on the west road. The trees are too thick and I want to be able to see you.”
Daniel looked worriedly at Shade. “Well, you see I’m not quite sure...”
Mordecai raised his heavy white eyebrows expectantly.
“Okay, yes, scouting it is.”
With that, all of the Littleton students climbed aboard the wagons, except Daniel, who took Shade by the collar and led her behind them. They rolled out through the front gate and out onto the road. Geraldo stood behind, rigid, watching them disappear.
Jude smiled. Daniel, the perfect student, was about to be caught in his lie.
Chapter 11
The little caravan rumbled and bounced down the unkempt, narrow brick road as their wagon wheels met patches of missing blocks. Clumps of crabgrass and dandelions paid no credence to what remained of the russet pathway, pushing and shoving their way between cracks and crevices, groping toward the sapphire sky.
Daniel trod behind the wagons on aching lead feet, Shade at his side, thick blisters forming on his soles and heels from the repetitive hiking. Like a starved pup, he cast a longing eye at the swaying cart. At that moment he wished for nothing more than to crawl up, sit on the lip of the wagon, and let his legs dangle over the side. But he fought to extinguish the idea.
If he wanted to keep Shade, he mused, he must appear responsible to Mordecai. A few blisters were a small price to pay if it meant Shade belonged to him.
“Soon we’ll be rid of this terrible road,” Daniel muttered to Shade as he stepped over a pothole. “If it even qualifies as one. More like a quarry with all these missing stones. I wouldn’t be surprised if we passed a few makeshift brick cottages on the way.” He knew the gryphon couldn’t comprehend a word he said. But it was nice to know he didn’t suffer alone. And yet…the way her eyes met his, such intelligence and depth, it made him feel as though she could understand. At any rate, talking to her made him feel better, even if she possessed only a bead more wit than a cat or dog.
“The Emperor’s Highway is just ahead,” Mordecai called out from the lead wagon. “We will take it all the way to the Imperial City.”
And that’s when Daniel felt it. Water. Warm, light, and quick—so different from the cool lake near Littleton fed by snowfall from the northern mountains. It was nearby.
The brick road soon disappeared entirely from his feet, giving way to a wagon-trail. What Daniel saw ahead was no body of water, but still a welcome sight—The Emperor’s Highway. Elevated and broad, its white pavement stretched over arched culverts, perfectly pristine as it seemed to slide endlessly in either direction. This was Emperor Oran’s grand design—his greatest contribution to Orsidia that he claimed would last for eternity. It was the belt of the Empire, running east to west to join two seas. Upon its completion, this was the road the Emperor traversed just months before his death.
They entered the road from a side ramp, and to their right appeared a serpentine sprawl of sparkling blue—the Willowse River. “And there she is,” said Daniel, his curiosity satisfied. The highway had hidden it from sight, but from atop the road Daniel had a perfect view, watching the shadows of fish as they darted this way and that beneath the surface. He had seen this river once before, he reflected, on his way to Littleton when he was just a boy.
“All right, Daniel,” said Mordecai gruffly as Daniel peered down at a copperhead snake slithering between groves of cattails.