The Flight of the Griffin (6 page)

Pardigan slowly read the rhyme through again, but still couldn't make much sense of it. It seemed to describe the crew of
The
Griffin,
and that they all had to decide to make some journey together. What the guide - if that’s what it was - didn’t reveal, was
why
they should make the journey; a journey that promised to be both dangerous and perilous - as if they weren’t in enough trouble as it was. He turned the page and found a clean white sheet staring back at him, as was the next one, then the next one. All the pages were blank except for the page of introduction. Maybe the knife has to touch each page? He touched the blank pages with first the blade and then the gem in the pommel, but nothing happened. He tried several other pages with the same result.

‘Well that sorts that,’ said Pardigan aloud. ‘No more book. I guess he didn’t finish it.’ It had all been exciting until the book turned out to be a collection of pages never finished. ‘What a waste of a magic book,’ he murmured in disgust, and was about to throw it into a corner.

The cat leapt up screeching, forcing him to step back.

‘Wohhhh, cat, I’m sorry. I won’t harm your book, honest, here, you take it.’ Pardigan held it out to the cat and the cat jumped up onto the table and placed its paw on top of it. Its eyes flashed bright blue, unsettling him further.

‘Foolish boy,’ purred the cat. ‘Did you read the first page or were you just looking at the pretty squiggles hoping one day to understand?’ Pardigan had never been insulted by a cat before but thought that this was indeed an insult.

‘Of course I read it, but it finishes there. It’s blank after the first page and anyhow, it doesn’t make much sense…Hey! How come you can talk?’ he added as an afterthought.

‘Magician Pew never made large amounts of sense when he was alive, so I think it’s asking a bit much for him to make sense now, don’t you?’ The cat purred and lay down across the book. ‘If you read the introduction, there’s a line that reads, ‘A journey’s choice you all must make.’ It licked a paw and started washing itself. ‘You will note by this that you must all decide to make the journey together, only then will the book reveal more to you.’ It glanced up from its washing to stare into his eyes. ‘So no throwing the book around, I’ve taken care of it for too long and will not let you destroy it now.’ 

All Pardigan could think to reply to all this was to repeat again, ‘So, how come you can talk?’

The cat turned it’s head to one side questioningly. ‘I’m a cat. Cats can’t talk. Maybe you’re going mad?’ It went back to its cleaning then curled up and fell asleep on the book without speaking again. Pardigan stared at it open-mouthed, unsure what he could say or do.

By the time Quint returned, Pardigan had recovered from his chat with the cat. He’d tried several times to engage it in conversation and was doing so again when Quint dropped down the hatchway.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Quint, grinning. ‘Loras will chat to anything, especially a cat, but surely not you, Pardigan?’

‘But it spoke to me,’ objected Pardigan. ‘I was reading the book, well the first page, and it started talking to me.’ He sat down at the table. ‘It was actually quite insulting,’ he added dejectedly. ‘Only now I can’t get it to talk again.’

Quint laughed. ‘Pardigan it’s a cat! Cats can’t talk.’

‘I did tell him that,’ said the cat lifting its head. ‘But he just wouldn’t listen.’

‘There you are, I told you,’ said Pardigan laughing in relief as Quint stared in shock at the cat.

‘It talked!’ spluttered Quint.

‘Yes, I know,’ said Pardigan. ‘Just don’t get on its bad side, it can be
very
rude.’ He told Quint what it had said and after carefully retrieving the book, Quint read the page while still keeping a wary eye on the cat.

‘Well, we’ll have to wait until we’re back at the moorings and discuss this with the others. It does sound like fun though, eh, Pardigan? Challenges, danger and gifts, I wonder what the gifts are?’ He skipped up the ladder whistling and Pardigan hurried after him.

The cat slept, and if a cat could smile, which they can, then the cat was smiling, happily.

****

Up on deck Quint was coiling rope and putting the loose objects into lockers making preparations to go to sea.

‘I walked round the town for the last three hours,’ he said re-tying a sail. ‘I’m telling you there’s no talk about a big theft,’ he glanced at Pardigan. ‘Nothing...maybe he doesn’t know he was robbed?’

‘Well maybe. I just can’t believe our luck would be that good, but if he does discover it in a few days, and we’re not even here, then we won’t be suspected at all!’

‘My thoughts exactly, so we’re leaving on the morning tide. I’m off to pay our dues to the Harbourmaster, then we can take another walk around town to get another feel for things.’

They locked the hatchway and after paying the harbourmaster for their stay, they walked through the port and into the bustling town of Freya. The only gossip they heard about the merchant was close to his house, where they’d heard that he’d fired his maid that very morning and had been seen screaming at her from his window.

‘Maybe he thinks it was her,’ said Pardigan.

‘Maybe,’ Quint replied. ‘Let’s just keep moving and see what else is happening.’

They walked and walked, and listened to all types of gossip. There was much about the merchants and about the King and his troubles in the northern realms, but nothing more about Merchant Bask or his maid. They ate fried fish and shared a drink of lemon fizz from a bottle, all bought from a stall in
Market Square, then headed back down to the port.

As they approached
The
Griffin,
they got the impression that something wasn’t right, so sprinted the last short distance, coming to a stop in front of the boat. The hatchway was open.

‘We’re being robbed,’ hissed Pardigan as they crept up the gangplank. Nothing unusual could be heard from below decks, only the normal creaking of the ropes and a few groans from the old timbers - the normal sounds of
The Griffin
sleeping. The lock was still set but strangely the hatch was open, pushed to the side. Quint dropped down inside, quickly followed by Pardigan.

It was a mess with things thrown everywhere - crates upturned, bottles smashed, the contents of lockers all over the floor - and the cabin doors were all open showing similar scenes within. Someone had been searching for something.

‘I think our secret’s out,’ hissed Pardigan. ‘They got the book and knife by the look of it,’ he muttered unhappily as he set the table back the right way round. ‘Let’s just get out of here while we still can. Whoever was here could come back.’

They spent some time despondently clearing up the mess and set the hold back as it had been, then got food ready for an evening meal. They had decided to eat up on deck and Pardigan was still below cutting bread, when he noticed the table. There, sleeping as if nothing had happened was the cat - her head propped on the book.

‘Where did you come from?’ he gasped.

The cat lifted its head and regarded him sleepily. ‘Oh, you’re back. You’ve had a visitor,’ it purred. ‘Not a very nice man at all. I’m glad to see you had a tidy up.’ It rose and stretched as if it had spent the afternoon sleeping in the same position. ‘He was looking for…things, but didn’t find anything, he got very upset. I think you’ll find his calling card on the back of the mast there.’

Pardigan turned to look at the mast and at first couldn’t see anything. Then at the top, near where it went through the roof, he saw a black mark. He clambered up onto a chair to get a better look.

‘It’s a spell,’ purred the cat. Pardigan froze.

‘It’s a listening spell, really quite clever. It lets whoever set it know when you return, so he can listen to what you’re saying.’ Pardigan crouched on the chair, not daring to move, and stared at the cat. The cat stared back at him. ‘Don’t worry, I stopped it working. He’ll think the boat is empty and you’re still away.’

‘You...stopped it working?’ said Pardigan.

‘I did,’ purred the cat and went back to sleep.

A little uncertainly, Pardigan decided to look at the spell mark a little closer. It was the outline of a hawk burnt into the wood - he reached out to touch it.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ the cat purred, opening an eye. ‘He may have left traces of something very nasty for you to touch…I would have.’

Pardigan slowly pulled his hand back and got down. ‘I bet you would have,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘There’s a good boy,’ purred the cat.

‘Where did you go during all this?’ asked Pardigan.

‘I went…away, you wouldn’t understand, so don’t even try.’ She curled back down, returning to sleep.

‘There you go insulting me again,’ muttered Pardigan and he went off to tell Quint.

They cast off at daybreak and slipped out of port into open sea, both boys feeling that they were being watched, but both very glad to have some water between them and whoever their uninvited guest had been.

****

Chapter 4

A Hunter's M
oon

The trip up the coast to
Sterling Port took the boys three days, during which they were blessed with good weather and good winds all the way. Sailing gave immense pleasure to all of them, but it was Quint who truly revelled in it. As the wind became stronger he made his way to the very front of the boat and stood on the bowsprit, where he indulged himself in shouting and laughing into the face of the sea.

Spray covered him, bursting in a rainbow of colours time and time again as he held on, bracing himself against the pounding of the waves that tried to dislodge him. Several times he had to grab for the safety rope to stop being washed over by a particularly big wave but simply laughed, loving every moment. Eventually, he dripped his way back to Pardigan at the helm.

‘Oh, Pardigan, you just have to try it, it makes you feel so…so…alive!’

Pardigan excused himself from the fun on the grounds that he didn’t want to be speaking with the fish anytime soon.

On the second night of the journey they entered a protected anchorage to rest and get a good night’s sleep. They caught some fish for their supper and slow roasted them above glowing coals. The mouth-watering smell made their stomachs rumble and they ended up eating them while they were still hot enough to burn their fingers, cramming bits of fish into their mouths as they laughed at each other's efforts. After eating, they sat back contented, gazing up as the stars began to appear.

Quint was thrilled to spot ‘sea fairies’ in the water as every wave that formed a crest glowed an eerie greeny blue in the starlit night.

‘Its small creatures caught in the tide,’ he explained excitedly. ‘For some reason, when they’re moved they glow like that - sailors call them sea fairies, Tarent calls it phosphorescence. Watch this.’ He stood up, pulled off his clothes, and dived over the side. As he entered the water, his trail was lit by thousands of bright lights as the creatures glowed. He came to the surface grinning and shouting. ‘Come on Pardigan, come and play with the fairies.’ He slapped his hands about in the water and laughed as it all glowed back at him, lighting his face a greeny blue.

‘Do they hurt?’ questioned Pardigan, standing on the edge of the boat, unsure if he wanted to be in the water with a million angry fairies.

‘Course not,’ said Quint, splashing water up at him. ‘Come in and stop being a baby.’

Pardigan held his nose and jumped into the water, keeping his eyes closed until he surfaced. Opening them, he saw the bubbles around him hissing and glowing brightly. He splashed about, delighted as the water lit up around him.  

‘Well, it doesn’t hurt me, but what about the fairies?’ he shouted to Quint.

‘I’ve not heard any of them complain yet,’ replied Quint. They swam about for a while, playing with the unusual show of colours, then lay floating on their backs, gazing up at the night sky.

Climbing out, they lay on the deck to continue their star watching, each trying to see the next one that would shoot on its journey across the heavens.

Unseen by the boys, the cat leapt from the boat, and flew away across the moonlit water on soft, silent white wings.

****

The next morning they were away early. Pardigan made a brew before they left and they munched on the last of the cinnamon buns as they returned to open water.

‘We’ve had a good run up until now, so we may make Sterling Port by early afternoon,’ said Quint scanning the horizon. ‘That's if nothing nasty happens with the weather,’ he added. Pardigan was also watching the skies but not merely for the sight of black clouds gathering. The mysterious intruder back in Freya still had him unnerved, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were not only being followed, but were being watched as well.

They sighted
Sterling Port late in the afternoon after an exciting passage.
The
Griffin
had sped along with its sails straining to drag the ungainly hull through the water. Porpoises had led the last part of the voyage, ducking and diving in front of the boat, their antics causing the boys great delight. However, by the time they could make out the Towers on Sterling’s harbour walls, they were ready to feel solid ground under their feet and to catch up with their friends.