The Flight of the Griffin (8 page)

Outside, the moon was up, its reflection dancing upon the water. Pardigan felt something within him leap forwards and before he knew it, he was over the water and on the jetty opposite, looking back at
The Griffin
as it lay by the harbour wall some thirty spans away.

What by the Source was that? He swayed on his feet and the answer came to him as if whispered in his ear: ‘place shifting.’ He glanced across at
The
Griffin
again and imagined himself in the hold with his friends, and then with a whoosh and a rushing of air, he was there. The worried looks on his friends' faces made him smile. ‘Well that’s going to take some getting used to!’ and he explained what had happened.

Mahra raised her head. ‘I’ll help you all to understand your gifts, they were all explained to me such a very long time ago, but I do remember.’ She yawned. ‘Think, hide.’ He did so and vanished from their sight.

‘Oh Source, that’s incredible,’ came a voice from roughly where Pardigan had been standing. He reappeared, grinning at everybody.

‘Those are your working gifts but you also have gifts of defence,’ purred Mahra. ‘If I remember correctly you should be able to find one if you point at that cup and think burn.’ She indicated a cup near her then moved out of the way.

Pardigan pointed at the cup and mumbled ‘Burn,’ a needle of white energy leapt from his finger and struck the cup, which cracked in two, each piece flying in different directions.

‘I’m starting to like this,’ said Pardigan, staring intently at his finger.

‘The lightning is only mild; you’ll have to work on it. At the moment it would scare someone but you’re a long way from inflicting any real harm on anything…unless you take a serious dislike to cups, I suppose.’ Mahra resumed her place. She seemed to think for a moment. ‘Just as well really, maybe Pew wasn’t as crazy as I thought. Your weapon of choice is the knife - try throwing one.’ Pardigan produced a knife from the collar of his cloak and with one fluid motion sent it spinning with a
thunk
into a cabin door. He smiled.

‘Who’s next?’ said Mahra. ‘Come on step up; let’s get this over with so we can get on with the next bit.’

‘Next bit?’ questioned Quint.

‘Yes, dear, the bit after this bit, now be a good boy and read the next page.’

They peered down at the book again; Tarent turned the page with trembling fingers. The next page was now visible.

‘That, my friend is you,’ said Tarent, looking with some relief at Quint.

They all turned their backs on Quint and the book, and heard the hesitant movements of their friend. The flash came and they slowly turned to see what had happened. Quint was standing quite still. Like Pardigan his clothing had changed. He was dressed in steel grey cloth with a hooded cape that fell from his shoulders to below his knees. A long black bow glimmered at his side in the flickering light of the lanterns.

‘Quint…you all right?’ Pardigan made to place a hand on Quint's arm.

‘I’m…yeah, I’m all right…really,’ murmured Quint. The others waited silently, giving their friend and leader time to come to terms with whatever changes he’d experienced. A moth flitted around the room and in one swift movement Quint drew an arrow, spun around and let loose, pinning the moth to the side of the ship. The whole action a blur, taking less time to complete than his friends’ eyes could follow. Quint seemed surprised then glanced down and opened his cape; a sword hung upon his belt with a dagger to balance it on the other side.

‘I love magic,’ whispered Loras. He walked to the far wall and eased the arrow from the wood. The moth dropped into his outstretched hand and fluttered feebly. He cupped both hands around it and a blue glow shone from between his fingers. Opening his hands, the moth fluttered free, unhurt from the experience and sensible enough to head straight for the porthole. The boys all faced Tarent.

He studied his friends; all changed but still the same. Friends he had known for such a short time, yet felt he had known forever. He turned to the new page and, sure enough, the text was there. He read aloud in a steady voice:

With a hand that shook, Tarent reached out and felt a warm blue mist enfold him as energy coursed through his body. Understanding dawned upon him as if a veil had been drawn from his mind and a smile lit up his face.

He knew himself to be in the Source, the source of all light and love. He was part of the Source and as one with the Source. A feeling of completion and belonging enveloped him and he understood the direction he must travel. After what felt like an age later, he opened his eyes to see his friends staring at him. Glancing down he saw brown robes and a long cape and was holding a wooden staff gripped in both hands. He twisted it and the two halves separated, twin blades flashed into the room. He replaced them expertly and returned the smiles of his friends.

The cat stood and stretched, then changed into the girl they had seen before. She smiled around at them. ‘I have been waiting nearly a thousand years to meet you all and it is a real pleasure to do so at last. Magician, Fighter, Thief and Priest of the Source; it is such a thrill to see you. Magician Pew described you so well. Let me try to give some small explanation of what is happening to you.’

‘Long ago, in a time now known as the Great Age, a future was foreseen by several of the leading magicians. They saw a day when the world would be at the very tip of all that was good and on the first slippery slopes of decline. For this world as we know it to exist, there has to be a balance, think of it as good and evil, positive and negative, or Order and Chaos. All are similar and related, yet each is completely different. There is the necessity for a little Chaos in the world to complete a balance, but no room for evil in the hearts of man. What the magicians of old foresaw was a point of balance between Order and Chaos, the forces of nature. That point of balance, if allowed to pass, would mean Chaos becoming greater and greater, gradually leaving no room for Order. However, if the battle between the two could be halted at the right time, then a period of perfect balance, of peace and plenty, could continue indefinitely.’

‘To accomplish this, a great spell was needed. This spell was conceived by my master, Magician Pew, one of the greatest magicians of all time.’

‘And you were there to see all this, a thousand years ago?’ asked Loras.

‘Oh yes, I was there,’ Mahra confirmed. ‘Many years of work went into the spells casting and placing into three crystal skulls, but to complete it, someone had to wait for the right time to unite the skulls. That time, it would seem…is now.
The Book of Challenges
was created and heroes plucked from the future to use it. You are those heroes. You are the soldiers for Order, you must complete the challenges to finish the spell and stop the world from slipping further and further into the control of Chaos and the dark days of true evil.’

‘We already have a mystery soldier recruited to Chaos, although he may not even realise it. I believe he is the one who now tracks you, and Chaos will be aiding him in every way that it can. For now at least, it would seem the balance remains.’

The stars shone down brightly and an orange moon hung large and low on the horizon, its glow scattered on the water’s surface. Tarent was leaning back against the mast; he shivered as he sought the omen in his head -
A Hunter’s Moon
. He instinctively knew this omen prophesised trouble and, more to the point, that a demon would walk the earth. Well isn’t that wonderful, he thought. Just what I needed to know; magic, danger, and now demons, what joy knowledge can sometimes bring.

****

Matheus Hawk was not a happy man. He’d tracked the thief easily enough to a boat anchored in the harbour. A simple ‘find’ spell had allowed him to trace the boy who had been in the merchant’s room and a morning’s vigil had singled out the old hulk, hiding in the corner with several youngsters living on board. Matheus had a horrible reputation, which he was always careful to nurture. It paid to have people fear him in his line of work; however, setting himself and his methods loose upon children was lower than even he had been prepared to go. He had decided to wait until the boat was empty, search it, retrieve whatever was the merchant’s and leave. If the merchant didn’t like it, then so be it; they were, after all, only youngsters.

It had started to go wrong when nothing of the merchant’s could be found on the boat. Magic didn’t seem to work and even the listening spell he’d placed had failed to perform, which was strange. The final thing to take the edge from his humour had been the sight of the boat slipping out to sea early the next morning. He’d learned a valuable lesson in underestimating the thieves simply because they were children. Had they been adults he would have confronted them from the moment he’d traced them and slaughtered them without a regret, thought or prayer. He vowed to chase them down and children or not, he would show the world once more that being tracked by Matheus Hawk meant you should live what little remained of your life in absolute terror.

****

Chapter 5

Set Course F
or ‘The Isle of Skulls’

The book was now starting to fill, and each of the boys spent time reading through it. The fifth page after the introduction was now visible and c
ausing much heated discussion.

Pardigan looked over at Mahra. ‘Well, what does it mean?’

‘You can’t need my help already surely?’ she purred. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she began to lick it, then remembered that she wasn’t in cat but human form and frowned. ‘It means my little group of heroes that the first challenge is to get yourselves to the Isle of Skulls and find the…skull that…’ She waved her hands in the air absently. ‘...that it links to Magician Pew...somehow. Listen, I don’t pretend to understand everything that you’re supposed to do,’ she added in an irritated tone. ‘Magician Pew was never the clearest person with his language. And apparently, for some reason known only to himself, he decided that he had to write your instructions in rhyme. This, remember, was all conceived over a thousand years ago and was probably necessary for the spell...I don’t know!’

The boys glanced at one another and Tarent shrugged. ‘Mahra, we’re not asking you to know everything, just to help us as much as you can. How far is this island? I don’t think it’s on the charts, and have you any idea what we can expect when we get there?’

‘It’s not on your charts for the same reason that the next page isn’t in the book before it’s meant to be read. Simply sail north-east and after a day or two I’m sure we’ll find it.’