Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) Read online

  Royal Deniah was a marvellous place despite the recent spate of rainy weather, and Quint and Pardigan were soon lost in its dark, twisting streets and tiny damp squares as they tried to make some sense of the place. They knew there were four gates into the walled city leading into different districts. The Lion's gate where they'd first entered, then Dragon's gate, King's gate and finally The Gate of Sorrows, which was by the infirmary in the poor quarter. The Royal palace was accessible from outside the city by the Kings gate, or by two entrances within the city. After meandering for some time, Pardigan and Quint joined a crowd clustered by one of the city entrances to the palace. The crowd was held back behind a rope, with everyone trying to peer past the guards and sneak a look inside.

  'This is boring,' said Pardigan as he glimpsed red carpet through the doorway that a uniformed servant had just pushed open. 'I can't see anything!'

  'So what did you expect? To see the King popping his head around the door and waving at you,' said Quint, laughing.

  There was a lot of activity around the gate with people coming and going all the time, the guards at the door carefully checking the credentials of anyone attempting to gain admittance. Appointments were confirmed in a large register while anyone unexpected was forced to wait as a runner was sent inside to obtain the necessary permission.

  'Come on,' muttered Quint, 'you're right this is boring. We're not going to see much, not with all this talk of war around here. Parish told me that this time last year, there were tours to look around parts of the palace, but they've stopped now. They think just about anyone could be a spy or even Queen Morgasta herself dressed up in disguise, hardly anyone's getting in.'

  'Bet I could get in,' murmured Pardigan. Thunder rumbled, and the first drops of rain started to break up the crowd.

  'Don't you even think about it, Pardigan,' said Quint, angrily pulling on Pardigan's sleeve. 'Come on, let's find something to eat, I'm famished.'

  They set off down one of the busier streets making sure to keep to the side to stay as dry as possible. It wasn't long before they found a brew shop and were sitting inside drinking from steaming mugs and sharing a plate of sweet cakes. Staring out of the window, they watched the world and his wife traipse by in the thin drizzle, heads bowed, impatient to be on their way. It was cosy in the brew shop, it smelt of brew and bread and pastries. The muted sounds of conversation from other customers drifting around them, they were in no hurry to move on.

  'That's the second time someone's mentioned the guild of thieves and something called the golden rose,' said Quint. 'It's hard to believe there are any thieves left when they hang them up by the gates like those we saw on the way in.'

  'Thieves take some scaring,' said Pardigan as he scanned the tables around them. 'The hangings would just make them more cautious. I wonder what it's really all about.' He turned to the man at the next table who moments before had been talking about the golden rose to his companion, an older woman hugging a tattered shawl about her thin shoulders.

  'Excuse me… I'm sorry to bother you, but could you tell us what's with all the talk about a golden rose? We've been hearing it everywhere since we first got here.' The man swung towards him, a sour expression on his face. He said nothing, then picked up his cup of brew and drank the last down. Standing up, he glared down at Pardigan, weighing him carefully.

  'Well firstly, youngster, dint your mummy ever tell yer it's not nice ter be listening to folks having a private conversation? But… there…' he leaned over, pulled a parchment from the wall, and dropped it on the table in front of Pardigan. 'You'll find these all over the city.' With a nod to the old woman, he strode out, slamming the door behind him. The woman sighed and leaned across, putting a bony hand on Quint's sleeve.

  'Fraid Jeb's a bit low. That's his brother swinging out by Lion's gate, and all because of that Source cursed rose.' She hawked and spat noisily on the floor, ignoring the exclamations of disgust from a couple at the next table. 'King's way of cleaning the city of thieves is all it is, and they're all so stupid, or so proud that they fall for it. The guild, Source rot em, is even offering its own reward.'

  Pardigan turned the parchment around so he could read it. A black, penned picture of a rose was at the top and below that was a flowing script in low speak -

  To the thieves and guild of our Royal Deniah.

  I, your King, hereby set you a challenge.

  I have placed a rose of the purest gold,

  -valued at more than 100 sovereigns in weight alone-

  Somewhere in clear sight, in the western tower of the palace.

  Should any of you successfully remove the rose from the palace,

  not only will you keep it, but I shall allow 10 of my guests -

  currently residing in the dungeons - to go free.

  However, be aware:

  Any who are caught shall be hung by the neck in sight of one of the four gates of our fair city.

  King Hugo Payne

  'That's madness,' said Quint, reading over Pardigan's shoulder. 'Why would anyone try and break into the palace? It's such an obvious set up!' He looked at Pardigan then the old woman, who shrugged.

  'For the first few weeks that those parchments were being placed over the city, that was what everyone was saying. Who would be stupid enough or desperate enough to break into the palace?' The old woman scratched her head noisily. 'But then the hangings started. Thieves were trying to get the rose, either because they had friends or family in the King's dungeon that they wanted to get free, or out of some wish to prove their ability as thieves.'

  'I still can't believe the thieves chance it, or that the guild lets them,' said Quint frowning.

  'The guild! Why the guild has only been fanning the flames by offering an additional reward on top of the King's offer, in exchange for them being able to name five of the people to be freed of course. They caught Jeb's brother a few weeks ago. Apparently, he'd got as far as seeing the rose, least that's what he shouted before he was hung. He tried to tell more, but they didn't let him, strung him up real quick they did.'

  'They must be used to getting in the palace,' mused Pardigan. 'Otherwise none would try it.'

  'Oh yes dear, the thieves made a good living until recently, both in the merchants' houses and in parts of the palace, as well. Probably what peeved King Hugo. With most of his troops moved up to the war fronts, there's not so many guards see, the thieves have been all over it for weeks.'

  'And now?' asked Pardigan.

  'Thing is, no one really knows. Those that do are hung.' She got up shaking her head. 'Look, you boys don't need worry about that old rose, just enjoy our lovely Deniah.' She shuffled out into the rain, hugging her thin shawl tightly about her.

  'No we won't worry about that rose at all, will we, Pardigan… Pardigan?'

  'What? No… don't worry I'm not going to get myself hung, Quint. I'm brave, but not stupid.' He grinned at his friend and they stood and made their way out into the street.

  'Course none of the other thieves can place-shift or go invisible can they,' mumbled Pardigan thoughtfully as he pulled his cape around him.

  When they all met up back at The Owl that evening, there was a lot to talk about. Sitting around a large table in the busy drinking room, close to the crackling fire, they drank warm apple juice and munched on hot pies. When Tarent heard about the golden rose and read the parchment, he sighed. Putting down his glass, he looked at Pardigan, screwed the King's proclamation into a ball, and threw it into the fire.

  'Pardigan… don't do it.'

  'Do what?' asked Pardigan offering Tarent a look of innocent bewilderment. 'Do you really think I'm daft enough to risk my neck trying to get that dumb rose?'

  'Yes, Pardigan, unfortunately I do,' said Tarent. 'And if you do try, you'll get caught, and we aren't going to be able to help you, not here, not in the palace, so just don't do it, all right.'

  Quint placed a hand on Tarent's shoulder. 'He's not going to, don't worry.'

  Tarent shook
his head. 'Of course he will. Think who we're talking about.' He locked eyes with Pardigan. 'Just don't… prove me wrong, if you can.' Pardigan glared back without answering.

  'Well, we had a great afternoon,' smiled Loras breaking the tension. 'We found some wonderful bookshops. I got An Examination of Magics and, An Encyclopaedia of Transfiguration.' The one on transfiguration is something I've wanted to look into for ages.

  'Trans-finger what?' asked Pardigan with a frown.

  'Transfiguration, it's the magic of changing shape… like Mahra. I'm hoping that one day I'll be able to change into a panther or something! Can you imagine?' He grinned around happily at his friends.

  Pardigan shook his head. 'I think we need to talk to Parish, Loras is going to need his own room, or he's going to end up transfingerizing one of us into a worm or something!'

  Quint smiled and turned to Tarent. 'And you?' What did you find?' Tarent leaned under the table and brought up a huge book wrapped in sacking and thumped it onto the table.

  'Oh, I found two things. I found this book, Prayers and rituals to the Source, which I'm hoping will explain more of what I'm meant to be doing as a warrior priest. And I also found something else today. He leaned forward, careful to keep his voice low, 'I also found out that the skulls have been stolen from Sterling Temple.'

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  Patterns in the Rain

  'For the love of the Source man, will yeh keep still. I've enough trouble on me plate dealing with this damnable ship without watching you pacing up and down, glaring at everyone and everything all the time.' Bartholomew scuttled back as the Hawk spun around and scowled at him.

  'Hush yeh prattle, Mr. Bask, just you concentrate on taking us north. I'm as eager as you to finish our negotiations and move on. Thankfully, our partnership will soon end, so if you wish to stay alive until that end, just you deal with your boat and leave me to my thoughts and my pacing.' He spun on his heels, black cloak billowing and strode to the side of the ship where he stood staring out through sheeting rain at the turbulent horizon. The little black demon scuttled from his shoulder and up into the rigging, careful not to stray too far from the hunter. The Hawk frowned at it.

  'Don't wander off, Nhasic, you know what will happen if you do.' The demon moved down a little closer to the Hawk, and then with obvious reluctance leapt back onto his shoulder, hissing and chattering its teeth. 'I know you hate me Nhasic, but I really don't care.' He reached up and patted the little demon on the head, then flicked its ear with his finger making a leathery thwack. The demon hissed angrily shaking its head, which only served to bring a rare smile to the hunter's face. 'Life's tough in the realm of man isn't it, my little friend eh?'

  The Esmerelda sailed on, passing the great northern mountains of the Massif range and the treacherous reefs that guarded them, and on towards the land of the Warrior Queen, Morgasta.

  The weather this far north, was foul at any time of year but now, as winter closed in, the seas were colossal, driven by hurricane force winds that battered the great ship incessantly, straining both boat and crew to their limits. As the ship rose to breach each great wave, those on deck were exposed to the constant misery of wind-driven, icy rain and sleet that numbed any skin left bare and made rags of coats and clothing. Once the ship had broken through the top of each colossal wave, it would abruptly drop away sending the ship surging down into the depths in an explosion of spray that washed across the decks seeking to claim anything and anyone for the sirens of the deep.

  Bartholomew Bask, now reluctantly captaining his own vessel after the previous holder of the position had deserted was making up for his lack of nautical knowledge by being as hard as the weather. The merchant was exhibiting qualities of stamina and command previously undiscovered, pushing his crew on into the very teeth of each new storm.

  The skulls had cost him plenty, but now they would make him rich for they were the key to the Kingdom and the Barbarian Queen's agents had promised she would pay handsomely for their safe delivery. Bartholomew held no allegiance to King Hugo Payne and the Kingdom; his only allegiance was to himself and to a profit, a profit that so far he considered long overdue on these skulls. He stared at the Hawk who was standing oblivious to the elements, the little black demon holding onto his shoulder trying to stay balanced as the ship and the weather sought to claim it.

  Soon we shall part, Mr. 'awk, and good riddance it shall be, thought Bartholomew. I don't like a man so cold that money cannot warm his heart. He was well aware that the Hawk wasn't doing this out of any thought of riches; power and revenge were all that drove that evil soul. Since he'd returned from his journey across the Great Expanse, the man was changed, changed into something altogether more evil and powerful, and Bartholomew was eager to see the last of him. He shivered, and it wasn't just from the cold.

  'Soon be rid of him and his nasty demon, then I can get back to me own life instead of sailing to his beck and call' he muttered, the wind stealing the words from his mouth. He spat downwind then glanced up at the sheets of straining canvas driving the ship on.

  'Sail… Sail ahead, sail ahead!' the cry came down from the crows-nest, and Bartholomew scrambled to find his telescope.

  Staggering over to the side of the rolling ship, he joined the Hawk who was already scanning the waves with his own telescope, searching for sign of the sail on the horizon.

  It wasn't easy to keep focused as The Esmerelda rose and fell, salty spray soon clouded the lens, but Bartholomew could just make out the sail in the distance as they rose to the peak of each new wave.

  'It's a ship of the Queen,' rasped the Hawk still peering through his telescope. 'Let's hope they received your message, Mr. Bask, or we may have to defend ourselves.' He smiled down at Bartholomew. 'We may have to send the Queen's ship to a watery grave. Now that wouldn't do much for our cause, would it?' Bartholomew closed his telescope with a snap and glared at the Hawk saying nothing. It would be just like this fool to sink the Queen's ship and ruin any chance of a profit. He would just see it as some kind of fine entertainment to send it to the bottom of the sea with its crew still aboard and little chance of finding favour with the Queen. Bartholomew turned and shouted at the helmsman who was fighting to keep the wheel from spinning out of control.

  'Bring us two points into the wind and keep her steady… run up our colours so she can identify us.' The sailor responded with a nod and The Esmerelda slowly turned to meet the Barbarian Queen's ship.

  * * *

  Pardigan, for his part, felt both Quint and Tarent were overly concerned about the golden rose and the effect the challenge might be having on him. He was almost sure he had allayed their suspicions concerning his interest, and after a few days they'd at least stopped talking about leaving Deniah.

  'What possible reason could I have for trying to take the rose? I don't know anyone in the dungeons, and we don't need the reward the guild is posting,' he'd argued. 'I would also like to point out that I'm very attached to my neck and don't really like the idea of having it stretched, so stop treating me as if I'm stupid.' Even so, Quint or Tarent had always found some reason to be with him whenever he'd attempted to go out alone.

  It was, therefore, late one night when the opportunity finally presented itself. He had been lying awake for ages listening to the sound of the rain drumming on the window and splashing down on the street outside. The snores and snuffles of his friends finally convinced him that they were all asleep, and he decided it was time to make his move, just to take a look. He smiled at the thought of all the gossip it would cause to take the rose, and the questioning looks he would get from the others.

  I'll just smile and say nothing and let them decide if it really was me. There isn't any need to steal the rose, I'll just move it; put it on the King's pillow or something. That'll show them the King of thieves is about, but nobody will know who it is… except me. He grinned as he crept out of the room, made his way carefully down the creaking stairs and, leaving the Inn, set off
into the rain.

  Parish, the landlord at The Owl, had been a whole mine of information, about both the palace and the challenge of the golden rose.

  'Word is that it's displayed in the library. That's about half way up the western tower. How any fool thief could think to get up there without being seen is beyond me, but try they do and get caught and hung they do as well, a nasty business it all is and that's a fact.'

  On various walks past the palace, Pardigan had already worked out which was the west tower, and been listening eagerly whenever anyone had talked about the rose or the palace. Others in The Owl's drinking room had spoken of the problems the King was having with the war, how it was both a drain on the Royal treasury and the household guards. What nobody could tell Pardigan was what, or who was guarding the rose and making it so difficult to steal.

  Having learned all he could about the palace from the drinkers at The Owl, Pardigan had decided a nocturnal investigation of the palace's defences was called for. He had convinced himself that tonight was just a scouting mission, if he then decided to go after the rose, then he would leave that for another night, tonight he merely needed information.

  The stories he'd heard told that several other thieves had tried posing as deliverymen, or had feigned an appointment with an official in order to get past the guards on the gate. Others had climbed the wall at a point that they'd thought was unobserved, but all had been caught and hung.

  Skirting the puddles and keeping to the shadows, he moved cautiously towards the palace, thanking the Source that, at this late hour, the streets were mostly empty. Whenever the sound of voices or footsteps did sound from ahead, he simply muttered 'Hide,' and became invisible.

  The invisibility spell was becoming much easier to hold. Even when walking he could hold it for about thirty beats of the heart. If he was standing still, then he could almost hold it for as long as he wanted.