8: The Griffin's Talon

8

THE GRIFFIN’S TALON

 

 

“Difference of opinion leads to enquiry, and enquiry to truth.”
-Thomas Jefferson

 

 

 

It had been four months since they set off from Tanackniatah, eleven since the burning of Ujin Hra. The three companions were an unlikely band: A queen, an orphan, and a captured Spirit. They drew stares where they rode, but not one of them noticed. Immersed in their own thoughts they traveled quietly, heading toward an Inn called the Griffin’s Talon.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Ira Banning stared wide-eyed at the wrecked carts and the dead bodies. His family was dead. He knew that. He knew that.

“Come,” said the eagle, “we must fly away from here. The humans will return, and they will find you, little one.”

She had a very French accent. “I have no where to go.” He told her.

“Don’t be silly, hatchling! A whole realm waits behind you! Do you think we will let harm come to you? Do you think we will not raise you as our own? Come, follow me. I know who can be your pack.”  And she began to fly into the forest.

“Wait!” Ira called. “I want my things…”

          He carefully picked his way through the debris until he found his bag. Unfortunately he turned around and found his mother staring at him.

          What seemed like all he had eaten in the past three weeks came up in one go. Suddenly there was a marmot, a skunk, and a rabbit at his feet, rubbing their soft little bodies against his legs and comforting him.

          Ira was sobbing now, even though he knew it wouldn’t do him any good.  He reached out and closed his mother’s eyes, then went around to every dead friend and closed their eyes, too. It seemed right, and he didn’t know what else to do. He knew there was a spell to say, and he knew you were supposed to burn the bodies while you said it, but he had never been able to do any spells. None.

I must be the worst Mati ever.  He thought.

“Kitten,” said the rabbit, “You mustn’t think such things! It is well known among our kind that licked ones cast no other spells.”

“Licked?” asked Ira.

“Of, course, kitten. Only those who have been licked by the Wolf-King can hear the voices of the Earth.”

 

* * * * * * *

 

 

“There is a very old legend, Emma, about a griffin’s talons. It is said that long ago a maiden was captured by a young griffin. The griffin told her that he would not harm her but that he was lonely, and he wished for her to talk to him, to tell him stories. The maiden told the Animyth that she could not stay, and that she must return to her family. The poor creature was so upset that she felt sorry for it, and pulled its paws into her lap.

‘Here,’ she said, ‘let me help you’. The maiden cast a spell on the griffin’s talons that filled them with stories, and whenever he wanted one all he had to do was draw it from a talon. Ever since then no griffin has ever been lonely and without a story. It is even said that if you hold a griffin’s talon and wish for a story, one will pop into your head.”

* * * * * * *

 

 

“I’d never heard that tale.” Emma told Telliandra when she’d finished. “I like it.”

“How much longer till we get to this place?” Rishka asked.

“Just a little ways around this corner.”

“Do you think those kids will be okay?”

“They’ll be fine, Emma. Those traders were heavily armed and headed towards Tanackniatah. Don’t worry. Ah! There it is!”

          The Griffin’s Talon was just ahead, a welcome sight after weeks of sleeping on the ground. It had been a castle, long ago. But its owners had abandoned it, and the innkeeper and his wife had turned it into a haven for weary travelers.

          A stable hand took their horses from them and promised to take good care of them. Telliandra gave him a few silver coins for his service.

“Telli,” Emma whispered. “Why didn’t he recognize you?”

“There are ways of going unrecognized, Emma. I will teach you these spells later. But can you imagine the chaos it would cause if the innkeepers knew they were housing the queen of Mati?” And Telliandra almost giggled. Bregia licked her hand, the shielding spell gone now that they were with other Mati.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Ira tried hard to fall asleep, but the ground was so hard and so cold. The animals felt his discomfort and found some leaves for him to lay his head on. Then the same three creatures, the rabbit the skunk and the marmot, curled up around him in an attempt to keep him warm. But the greatest comfort of all was the eagle, Dehelu, high in the tree above him, keeping watch.

 

* * * * * * *

 

Emma lay awake in her bed in the Griffin’s Talon for quite some time. She wasn’t sure why she couldn’t sleep, why she couldn’t lock her thoughts of Ty away like she had on so many other nights. Why this night? Why did they take her now when there was a bed to sleep on?

          But none of these idle complaints helped what she was feeling, the visions that plagued her. Guilt has a way of burrowing into one’s heart and not letting go.

          Here I am, lying in a soft bed when Ty’s probably being whipped! She thought, and the tears began to roll down her face.

Sleep, Emma.  The voice said. She could not deny that voice. She slept.

 

 

* * * * * * *

“What is your name, kitten?”  The skunk asked him.

“Ira Niklaren Banning, of Niko’s Tanning Train.” He said with pride. He was proud of his heritage. His father’s train had made the best furs in Great Britain. 

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“Of course I have a name!” The skunk giggled, and she began to tell him the names of his companions.

“My name is Raahoo. She is Shishlay.” She swished her tail towards the little marmot. “And he is Matogi.” And she swished towards the rabbit.

Ira took note of all their names, saying them to himself several times.

“Can you do magic, Raahoo?”

Raahoo giggled again, and Shishlay rolled around on the ground laughing. Matogi rolled his eyes at the females.

“No, silly! Only Mythics do magic! We are Naturells.”

“Oh,” Ira said. “And which kingdom do Naturells belong to?”

Raahoo thought about this for a second. “I’m not sure. You’ll have to ask Dehelu. We’re only kittens ourselves, you see.”

“I am no kitten!” Matogi corrected her. “I am a intelligent, mature buck.”

“Oh, really?” Raahoo said. “Then why did your mother push you out of your warren just three days ago? Hm?”

“Yeah, why?”  Shishlay piped up. (Ira was beginning to think that Marmots were not as smart as rabbits and skunks.)

“That is none of your business.” The rabbit said, and turned his back to her,

 

* * * * * * *

 

“When are you going to tell her, Telli? She has a right to know.” Rishka asked, and climbed into the bed beside her.

“Soon. Rishka,” she said quietly, “do you think I should’ve let that man go?”

The spirit shrugged. “He deserved what he got.”

Telliandra turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. “But did he? It’s not like it was his idea. Merlin is behind all this. Merlin is the one that’s making them this way.”

“Then why don’t you kill Merlin?”

“Because I’m afraid, Rishka.” Telliandra whispered. “I’m afraid of what he could do if he got hold of me. I’m shaking in my boots and Emma’s not, and she’s twenty nine years younger than I am!” She said, and brought her fist down on the bed.

“Rishka,” she said after some time, “even if we did kill Merlin, he would live on. In the hearts of all humans. I can feel the kind of enchantment, the kind of shadow he weaves around them. It’s like a poison. Things can never go back to the way they were.”

 

* * * * * *

         

Telliandra spoke the truth. There was no way to turn back time, no way to get back what had been lost. Earth was no longer safe for the Mythics, nor would it ever be. And all over the globe, from England, to North America, to Africa, a silence fell over the first kingdom of Earth, a silence filled with sorrow, a silence filled with unwept tears, a silence filled with broken hearts.

But hope has a way of shining through the darkest shadows. And hope came that night in the form of the Sight of a young Seer.

A young girl, beautiful and strong, kneels in a large clearing. Surrounded by Mythics, she leans against a long sword, which has been thrust into the ground. The sun glints off its sharp blade, and off the emerald in its hilt. And in the distance the cry of a lone wolf can be heard. 

It is a hopeful Sight, one that makes the young Seer smile in his sleep. But all Seers know that Sights are not dependable, because unless everything happens exactly the way it was predicted, the outcome will be different. One wrong choice, one wrong word, even one step in the wrong direction, and that future is lost. Forever.