Fifthwind (16 page)

Jord
reluctantly moved to the side of his cart and started loosening the
tie-downs holding the canvas covering in place. Once untied, he
lifted it, revealing the body of the creature that lay beneath. The
crowd pushed forward for a better look.

Ben
and Mason had managed to stay close to Vincent and were next to the
cart for an up-close view. The description Jord had given was very
much accurate.

The
creature was not large, only the size of a typical rock cat, which
sometimes had difficulty taking down a mountain goat. These animals
primarily preyed on the small rabbits and rodents that moved through
the rocks higher on the Kreggorian slopes. But, what was before them
was no cat.

Most
of the creature's body was indistinguishable from a typical cat, a
tawny-brown short coat and large, padded paws, except that this one
did indeed possess a head and front limbs that were distinctly
hawk-like. The front quarter of the animal was covered by dark brown
feathers that faded gradually to the fur of the feline body and rear
legs. It possessed a heavy, curved beak, large dark eyes, and razor
sharp talons. Protruding from the beast's beak was a long, blue
tongue that was forked like that of a serpent.

Vincent
ran his hands over every inch of the creature, feeling the bone
structure and marveling at the overall composition and melding of
bird and cat. He could not contain his excitement as he exclaimed,
"This is remarkable."

Like
everyone else looking on, Ben had never seen anything like it. "What
is it, Vincent?"

"It's
small," Vincent answered to no one in particular, rubbing his chin
between thumb and forefinger. "Maybe too small to be of the
legendary variety..."

"What
is it?" Mason repeated more forcefully.

Vincent
stepped back and turned to the crowd. All eyes were on him and they
patiently awaited his answer. He cleared his throat and ran a hand
over his balding crown as if to straighten the hair that wasn't
there. He finally clasped his hands together and announced, "I
think it must be some type of Griffin. A fabled creature of
folklore."

Some
of those gathered nodded appreciatively, while most snickered at the
conclusion Vincent had drawn, but soon the laughter was suppressed by
the realization that the creature was real and was on display before
their own eyes. From person to person, the gradual murmur of
amazement soon began to spread.

Vincent
turned to Jord. "Were there any more?"

"I
don't think so," Jord answered, "At least I didn't see any."

Vincent
swatted Jord across the back of the head, "This is the only one,
and you just had to kill it?"

Jord
threw up his hands defensively and ducked down to avoid another slap.
"It tried to eat me!"

Ben
stepped between Vincent and the hunter. It took a little effort and
some help from Mason to settle down the old scholar, who tried
fervently to get around Ben and continue his thrashing of Jord.

"Do
you have any idea how important of a creature this is?" Vincent was
clearly upset.

"I
had to protect myself!"

"You
didn't have to kill it!" Vincent said, still pressing forward
against Ben's hold.

Jord
sternly repeated his objection, "It was trying to kill me! What did
you expect me to do, let it peck my eyes out and feast on my
innards?"

Vincent
surged forward, trying to get through Ben, who managed to keep him
under control and away from Jord.

"Now,
hold on, Vincent," Ben said, keeping himself between the two men,
"He's right. His injuries are real enough, I'm sure he did what he
had to do."

"It
may have been the first of its kind—"
Vincent started.

"Look,
I've seen the paintings all over the palace walls in Arden City, and
I know that if they exist, Griffins are supposed to be a much bigger
animal."

Vincent
pulled himself free from Ben and ran his hands over his shirt to
smooth out the wrinkles. "I'd hardly call them animals. According
to legend that are probably as smart as we are. This is obviously
either a juvenile or a smaller sub-species, but I'm certain that it
is a griffin."

Mason
asked, "Are they dangerous?"

Vincent
rolled his eyes sarcastically and pointed at the dead beast. "Well,
that one sure isn't!"

Jord
moved around Mason to stand before Vincent. "Smart like us?"

Vincent
nodded, "In your case, maybe smarter."

"I
didn't know." Jord hung his head and stepped back. "But I had
every right to defend my own life, I take nothing back."

By
now, Vincent had calmed down. He lowered his voice and reluctantly
said, "I know. I'm sorry for lashing out at you."

"I
was going to have it stuffed and put it on display in my tannery,"
Jord looked from face to face in the crowd. "Now, after what you've
said, it just doesn't seem right to do that. I'll bury it instead."

"No,
you should do everything you can to preserve it. Just make sure you
do so respectfully, and don't turn it into a cheap attraction.
Promise me that."

"You
have my word."

Soon,
the crowd departed with eyewitness accounts tucked away into their
memories that would serve as fodder for a new era of tales to be told
around evening fires to wide-eyed children. Vincent made his peace
with the local huntsman, and before long, the street in front of the
tiny tannery was vacant. The excitement was over, but would not soon
be forgotten.

As
Ben and Mason followed Vincent back to the Masked Pig, they both
mulled over the implications of the most recent episode of
strangeness to appear in Kishell Springs. First, were creatures of
the night that were only supposed to exist in tales of terror, then
it was the fabled and legendary mythical beast of ancient folklore.

"Aren't
griffins supposed to have wings?" Mason asked.

Vincent
turned and almost snapped at the soldier. "Look, all I know is what
the old legends say. If I remember right, they don't get their wings
until late into adulthood."

He
turned back and continued walking, not waiting for a response. He
reached into a small pouch on his belt and pulled out several crushed
walnuts. As he ate, he started to mutter to himself again.

Ben
shrugged and offered Mason a quick wink. "I hope we don't come
across dragons next."

"Keep
your eyes open," Vincent answered without looking back. "The
Fifthwind is growing in strength faster than I expected. Kyla has
felt it, and the appearance of the griffin proves it."

"It
was a joke, Vincent." Ben ventured cautiously, "There aren't
going to be dragons... are there?"

"Probably
not. As far as I know those actually are only myths. But, things are
changing fast and nothing would surprise me at this point. Surely
you've noticed it too."

"Noticed
what?"

"This!"
Vincent spun unexpectedly and flicked a walnut at Ben who, without
thinking, caught it only inches from his nose. "Haven't you noticed
how your awareness and reflexes have increased to abnormal levels?"

Mason
said, "That
was
fast, Ben. I can't imagine anyone faster,
and you didn't have any warning to see it coming."

"Bah!
He didn't need to see it. He could have caught it with both eyes
removed."

"That's
not a very pleasant thought," Ben said. "I hadn't noticed, but
I'm not going to argue this time. It seems that maybe you're right."

"Of
course I am," Vincent said. "You should start taking some time to
practice your new skill. It'll serve you well."

They
arrived back at the Masked Pig and Vincent excused himself, saying
that he needed to do some reading. Mason stopped on The Step when he
noticed the men assembled to greet them.

"Sergeant
Corde," Greggor said stepping forward from the others. "We've
been talking, the men and I, and we don't see any reason for us to
sit still any longer. We're well aware of what awaits us out on those
roads and in the forest, but we're ready to get out there and finish
what we started."

Mason
nodded and looked to the other men. "Is everyone in agreement on
this?"

There
was a clear consensus from the group of anxious men. Like the night
prior to battle, there was an itch in these men that needed
scratching. Keeping them idle would only wear on their nerves.

Ben
also knew the time had come for action. "Make your preparations
Mason. But only a scouting mission. We're not ready to engage this
enemy directly. Not yet."

Mason
said without hesitation, "Yes Sir, we'll head out in the morning
and see what we can find out."

Ben
looked at Mason's wounds which could use another few weeks of
healing. "Are you sure you're ready?"

"I'm
not going to just sit here and wait for things to get any stranger.
All this talk about sorcery and monsters is too much for a simple
mind like mine."

Ben
said, "I'm getting restless too. Get with me before you head out, I
want to know where you will be and when. You've got two weeks, no
more. Then get back safely with a full report. I'll do what I can in
town until you get back."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Snow
fell from a pallid sky and dusted the valley floor in a pristine
white. It was the first snowfall of the season and Ben was concerned
about Mason and the men. They were several days late getting back. He
listened to the rhythmic creaking of wheel axles as he walked the
southern road out of Kishell Springs. The ground was ankle deep with
snow and the heavy trade wagons left behind telling tracks that ran
back miles to the stockyard behind Holton House.

Though
Holton House and the Masked Pig had become like a new home to him, he
was beginning to feel closed in. Since his arrival, he had enjoyed
spending his mornings out on The Step where he could look out east
toward the North Torn forest, but he found that he could no longer
just sit and look. Kyla and William had both been up early and the
three of them had decided to enjoy a short walk out of town.

"There
have been two more attacks this week," said Babbitt. "That makes
nine more dead and not a single surviving witness."

Ben
watched a small group of three wagons slowly pull away and noted that
there were only two armed men escorting the train, and the drivers
were older men whose sword arms had seen better days. He shook his
head, "They should learn to move in larger groups."

Kyla
walked quietly at his side with her head toward the sky, enjoying the
delicate flakes of cold on her face, not the least bit uncomfortable
in the cool morning air. Lost in her own thoughts, she either did not
hear Ben, or she did not care.

William
Babbitt, on the other hand, looked uncomfortably chilled and
comically overdressed. He was bundled up in a robe pulled tight
around his neck, with heavy gloves, earmuffs and a thick wool scarf
wrapped so high on his cheeks, only his eyes peeked through from
under his hood. Beneath his cloak, he undoubtedly wore several layers
of clothing judging by the awkward waddling motion he made as he
walked.

Ben
had grown accustomed to seeing the overreactions of Brother Babbitt.
The man was obsessive about all things and was often the butt of
jokes about his manner, but despite his peculiarities, the chubby
holy man had become a trusted friend and always seemed to offer
encouraging words when Ben needed them.

Babbitt
said, "You've got some good men, but it must be frustrating to
prepare for an enemy that won't show itself."

Kyla
indicated the trees ahead. "Mason should have been back by now."

Ben
kept his eyes turned forward, looking deep into the distant trees.
Inside, he was worried, but he knew he couldn't show William or Kyla
an ounce of doubt. With as much conviction as he could muster, he
said, "The snow mighht be the break we've been needing. Those
things are sure to leave tracks in the snow. Mason will leave no
stone unturned. If there are Murg to be found in those woods, He'll
flush them out, expose their weaknesses and have them running for
their lives."

Babbitt
looked at the trees on the not-so-distant horizon. He nervously said,
"I know it's the middle of the day and we are still a bit away from
those trees, but if there's any chance he'd have those things running
in this direction, I'd feel much better back in town." Babbitt
quickly excused himself and peeled away back toward Kishell Springs.
"I think maybe you two should head back as well."

Kyla
smiled and answered for Ben, "Thank you for your concern Brother
Babbitt, but we don't intend to go much further."

Ben
and Kyla watched him scurry away like an overstuffed child's toy and
before long, he was just a distant dark speck on the white fields
leading back to town.

"Funny
little man," Kyla said, "but it's been a comfort to have him
around."

"How's
that? He's constantly worried about everything and he's afraid of his
own shadow," Ben smirked.

"He
makes me laugh and forget that maybe we have a reason to be worried."

"True."

Ben
moved to an outcropping of rocks at the edge of the road and cleared
away the snow to make a place for Kyla to sit. He indicated that Kyla
should do so and then joined her on an adjacent perch. For a moment,
he sat staring at the mountains. The icy cold grip of winter hung
locked away on the craggy peaks above, ready to make its way down to
the valley in only a matter of weeks. He knew there would be no
warning, no gradual ease into winter for this valley.

He
said, "We're running out of time."

Kyla
pulled back her hood and smiled. "Mason will come through for us.
Like you said, the snow might be a blessing."