Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) (30 page)

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.

* * *

'Please don't touch that… no, nor that… Mr Elisop, please…' Magician Falk let out a sigh of frustration. 'I have tried to explain several times that this machine is very delicate. If you fiddle with things, pull things, untie ropes or change the settings of my instruments, there is a very good chance that…'

'Fiddle with things!' I shall have you know that I am an expert in… in… ' the little spy waved absently around him at the contraption they were in, flying several hundred spans above the city of Sterling Port.

Magician Falk slapped Elisop's hand as it reached for a rope holding a bag of sand to the side of the basket.

'Oww!' There is no need to resort to physical violence. You, sir, are as bad as those horrible children in the way that you treat King Hugo's most trusted and most senior agent and spy.'

'Hmmm, well that is a matter of opinion, but you are not expert in the art of ballooning. It was I who built this very singular machination and I have taught you nothing, nor indeed shall I ever teach you anything of its design or operation, you are a horrid little man. Now sit down and keep your hands to yourself or the next ballast bag that I shall throw over the side shall be you!' the Magician glared at Elisop. 'Behave and I shall make us some brew to chase the chills away.'

Elisop returned the angry look but decided not to reply, turning instead to look over the side, but then felt his guts churn and his knees weaken at the awful sight of houses, roads and tiny people passing beneath them, such a long, long way down. He quickly glanced up and fixed his attention on the far distant mountains instead.

'A brew would be most welcome and go some way towards your apology. When King Hugo placed me in charge…'

'He did not place you in charge! He… wooooh!' The balloon surged upwards spilling both men to the floor and the contents of brew pot down the Magician's robes. They both scrambled to their feet, spluttering. 'What did you do? What did you touch?' The Magician's eyes glanced over the instruments and then to the side of the basket. 'Aha!'

'It wasn't me, I did nothing.' Elisop stood, hands outstretched in denial, shocked that he should be accused.

'You undid the rope, there is a sandbag missing! Mr Elisop, sit down and touch nothing else or I shall be forced to use magic upon you.'

Elisop glowered. 'You would not dare to…'

'Do you want to take that risk? Now sit down and be a good spy. If you wish to be useful then sit at the propulsion drive and turn the wheel.' Elisop slunk down into the canvas chair and placed his feet onto the metal pedals. He slowly and grudgingly began pushing them round, and a loud whirring sound could be heard coming from the rear, his eyes flickered from side to side in trepidation as vibration shook the basket. It had all been explained to him before they took flight, but every time he sat to drive the huge propeller, fear over took him, and he felt certain the Source damned thing would shake the whole contraption to pieces.

'This infernal machine of yours is… is…' Elisop's feet began to move faster and faster and the whirring grew to a strong steady hum sending even more vibrations through the basket. 'There is nothing natural about any of it.' Glancing up at the huge grey balloon floating above them, the little spy shuddered, and then looked back to Magician Falk who was back to setting up his brew pot.

'Are we there yet? I want to go down.' Elisop gave a sulky look but kept peddling.

'No, we are not there yet. We have only just entered the desert.' Magician Falk peered over the side to get a bearing on their position. 'However, with you propelling us and a good wind behind, we may reach our destination sometime late tomorrow. We will fly through the night, and it is going to get rather cold so a brew will do us good. I shall try once again.' Magician Falk rubbed his hands together then held them out to the balloon's flaming burner with the little brew pot perched on the side. He gave a tug on a small chain and a huge flame erupted from the burner, shooting up into the cavernous mouth of the balloon with a roar. The basket lurched, and they felt it rise.

'Oh, I do enjoy flying, don't you?'

Elisop glared but kept up his steady, pedalling rhythm.

* * *

The shield to the city was holding, just. The Magician and his aides were a flurry of activity, constantly dashing from point to point, day and night, re-tying the weaves to the spell, charging the essence of the magic and focusing the protection towards areas of the city that needed it most.

Watching from high on one of the many turrets, Quint and Mahra gazed down through a storm of impacts that was turning the night sky into an impressive rainbow of ear-splitting crackling energy - the shield was holding, but it was under considerable strain. The stones and arrows of the invading Soul Eater army were being vaporised by the shield; however, the city's defences being unleashed upon the invaders were passing through and inflicting death and awful carnage. Yet the Soul Eaters appeared to have no fear. Thousands were dying under the rain of rocks from the city's catapults, but still more attackers continued to come, throwing themselves forward at the city walls, seemingly oblivious to the rain of projectiles killing those around them. It seemed incredible to Quint that they would keep on coming as the crunching impact of skulls and bones being broken by the rocks and the screams and wailing of the dying filled the night air, yet still they came, piling their dead against the walls. What could be driving them on that was so much worse than a certain death upon the walls of a foreign city, wondered Quint?

He drew his sword a small way and slammed it home, drew it again, slammed it home again, repeating and repeating the action as he had for several turns of the glass while he had watched the horror of the attack unfold. 'If they break through, it's going to be here. Mahra, go and find Pardigan. When you return, come in through one of the quieter parts of the city where the shield is weakest, maybe Pardigan can place-shift. We each have to do what we're best at, and there's nothing for you here, you need to find and help Pardigan, I'm sure of it.' Quint took a deep breath then turned and looked into Mahra's eyes. 'All I can do is stay here and fight wherever I'm needed… it's what the Source made of me, it's all I'm good for.' He fingered the sword at his belt, the pent up frustration of being unable to do anything other than that and the need to witness the horror unfolding in front of the walls almost too much to bear.

'You're more than that Quint. The Source gave you great power and skill, but it didn't turn you into a mindless killer, there is a huge difference. The skulls not being present in Sterling are causing a lot of the emotions you're going through. Their power was returning the balance to the world, but, with them gone, it has been slipping back the other way again, towards chaos. What you see out there is the force of Chaos; this is the Chaos storm that we knew could rise if the skulls weren't in place. We have to find the third skull and return it. Hold on to whom you are Quint, don't let Chaos into your heart.' She reached out and squeezed his shoulder, feeling tears welling up inside her. Choking them back down, she tried to smile, then turned inwards towards the centre of the city and threw herself from the wall, the incredible rush of air quickly taken up by soft white snowy wings. She soared across the rooftops and then turned back to look at the boy standing alone on the tower… Source be with you Quint. Source be with us all…

* * *

The moment Pardigan had arrived amongst the army of the Soul Eaters he had cursed his own stupid impetuousness. Typical, he fumed. I can't believe I just did that. Not only was he standing amongst a whole bunch of screaming angry warriors, but also his mind was already contemplating the thought of returning through that awful shield. He blinked invisible and stepped several paces to the right as a very surprised looking warrior slashed at the now empty space with a spear. The man frowned in confusion but said nothing, swishing the air from side to side with his spear a few times before glancing around as if looking for someone else to confirm that a boy had materialised, and then, just as suddenly disappeared. Pardigan grinned then jumped back as another warrior almost collided with him in his haste to get to the wall. Time to get away from the crush of battle. He glanced round then moved off and ducked into a large tent, checked around to make sure it was empty and then became visible. It was still incredibly hot, but a relief to get out of the direct sun. He looked over the collection of sacks and broken boxes and decided the skull wouldn't be amongst whatever was here; it was just discarded supplies and empty containers. Peaking outside again, he blinked invisible and slipped out.

As he moved further away from the city wall it became less crowded, and he had a chance to look around. He slowed as he came to a roped off paddock, home to one of the huge grey beasts with the four long downturned horns, he stopped and stared in open mouthed curiosity at the immense size and strangeness of the creature, then stepped back hurriedly as it reached out to touch him with its long, grey and very wrinkled nose - a little disturbed that it could so obviously see him. He watched in awe as the end of the nose gently lifted then reached out towards him. It was like a small mouth, opening and closing, the inside of the two nostril tubes bright pink and wet and surrounded with bristly hairs. The animal snorted softly, and a wash of warm air blew into his face smelling of sweet hay. The nose moved up and tapped him on the head, and he almost dropped his spell in surprise, and then it turned and went back to grabbing more tufts of hay from a great sack - its interest in invisible boys satisfied. Pardigan smiled and moved on, quite delighted with the exchange, he liked it and wondered what it was called.

With the sounds of battle fading into the background, he spent what remained of the day searching through tents and hastily constructed buildings, sheltering from the sun and seeking somewhere that was splendid enough that the invaders might have placed the skull. There were a few better-appointed tents; obviously the quarters of higher-ranking officials, but after a cursory search of each Pardigan had quickly dismissed them.

The sun had set, and fires and torches lit around the huge camp when he made the decision to return and finally follow Mahra's advice. The huge building that the butterfly man had emerged from was an obvious choice, and if the skull wasn't there, then maybe it wasn't in the camp at all. The closer he got the more difficult it was to remain hidden. A mixture of place-shifting and being invisible was getting him closer, the huge beast and its building were easy enough to see. It had been moved back out of the range of the city's catapults, but it was still surrounded by troops and the wraiths that Pardigan had been trying so hard to avoid. He was pretty sure they couldn't see him, but they gave him the creeps all the same.

Slipping into the building closest to the massive beast he tried to relax, but that turned out to be a little difficult. It appeared to be unoccupied, but it smelled awful… in fact, it stank really… really badly, more than any other building he had been in, and he had been in a few smelly buildings in the camp already. Holding his nose, he had a quick look around. It was a long building thrown together using oddments of scrap lumber, palm fronds and pieces of old canvas. Inside, heavy crates were lined up along one side, built up onto a low platform. He had no desire to see what was in for them to smell like that, maybe it was food for the big creatures. Anyway, he was pretty sure they wouldn't be hiding the skull here. There were a lot of flies buzzing lazily through the thick fetid air, he swatted one away from his face and returned his attention back outside to the beast and its building. The only way to get in was to place-shift, he could reach it from here, but he was all too aware that there would be a moment when he would become visible for all to see before he could switch spells. There were no windows, the only entry to the building was the door at the top of the stairs, and therefore, the only place to shift to was right next to it. There were guards at the bottom, but they were facing outwards and wouldn't see him. Pardigan drew a deep breath, and instantly regretted it as the smell filled his lungs, and he felt the need to vomit… what was that awful stink? He tried to still his beating heart and felt a bead of sweat trickle slowly down his back. He had to get out of here, he was ready, but was still hesitating… this was ridiculous, what if the door was locked? … He supposed he'd just have to shift out again.

He was still just sorting it out in his head when, without any warning, a warrior pushed into the tent and bumped into him roughly - he blinked invisible and stifled a gasp as he fell to the floor. The warrior glanced down at where he lay, but seeing nobody there, moved to one of the crates and lifted the lid. He peered in, slammed the top back down and moved to the next. Pardigan watched with interest, then pulled the cloth of his shirt up to breathe through because, with the crates opening, the smell was getting even worse. At the fourth crate, the warrior grunted in satisfaction, turned his back to it, dropped his leggings, hitched up his jerkin and sword belt and sat down. Pulling out a knife and a bit of stick, he started to sharpen it, whistling softly and farted. Pardigan didn't know whether to laugh or throw up, he was in a privy! Crawling to his knees he turned, sighted through the gap by the door, and place-shifted.

The experience of place-shifting was always traumatic. It was like being squeezed through a tube, forcing his way in before coming whooshing out the other side. He landed with an audible thump on the top step and fell forward, banging into the door. Rubbing his head, he cursed softly and blinked invisible at the same time. A quick glance down to the guards revealed he hadn't been spotted, and he turned ready to work on the lock, however, his first experimental try at turning the doorknob found nobody had thought it necessary to lock it. The door opened, and he slipped inside.

* * *

The wailing sound of a horn cut through the roar of battle, Quint snapped his head round to scan the wall to his right, trying to see through the smoke and chaos of battle and spot where the problem was. There… close to the next tower, the shield had failed, the third time it had happened in this section. A large crackling hole about the size of a carriage outlined in dancing blue energy was rapidly filling with warriors from the Soul Eater army, clambering over the battlements, already fighting a pitched battle with the Sultan's men. He watched as the dragon dropped down out of the night sky its shrieking roar deafening. As it passed the breach, it bathed everything with fire, torching both attackers and defenders indiscriminately.