The Phoenix Ring(36)

The young mage was sitting dejectedly in the courtyard, wondering if it  would be acceptable to steal a griffin to save the kingdom, when two men  in green cloaks approached him.

"I thought we were the only representatives of the King in Argentah.  What brings you here, mage?" Timothy looked up. The man who had  addressed him had scars running along his face, and both carried bows on  their backs. "Name's Brutus. King's Ranger," he said, sticking out his  hand.

Relieved, Timothy took it and shook it fast and hard. He immediately  related all that he could to the two, stopping to breathe only twice.

"Did you say Aidan Rune?" Brutus asked.                       
       
           



       

"Yes, why? Do you know him?" Timothy asked

"He was almost my apprentice. Instead, I got this useless farm brat,"  Brutus said, playfully punching his partner in the shoulder. "This  merchant may not be interested in letting you take a griffin by  yourself, but I'm sure that with some persuasion, two Rangers and a mage  can weasel a deal out of him."

And so, after a little persuasion in the form of a sharp arrow held  inches from his face, the griffin dealer was only too happy to provide  an incredibly fast beast to Timothy.

"We'll update the rest of the Rangers and the council as to what's going  on. Anything we should let them know in particular?" Brutus asked as  Timothy mounted the beast.

"Yes," the mage said, "Tell them to prepare for war." Then he took off  into the sky, flying towards the Phoenix Isle as the storm vented its  fury around him.





Aidan was lying against the soaked griffin's back, his consciousness  fading fast. The lifeline that secured him and Aaliyah had nearly killed  both of them, but at least she was still alive. They had been flying  with the storm all day, and both the boy and the beast were barely  awake. The only thing that kept Aidan going was the thought of Aaliyah,  dying, and his mother, and his master, who still needed him.

Lightning flashed, near them followed almost instantly by the deafening  roar of thunder. Aidan was surprised to feel a decent amount of magic  come from the bolt, enough to give him the strength to sit up. What he  saw gave him the first bit of hope he had possessed that day. There was a  group of lanterns directly below him. He immediately pulled the Griffin  into a downward spiral. As they neared the ground, Aidan realized that  they were moving far too fast.

They hit the turf hard, dirt spraying into the air. The griffin flipped  once, dumping Aidan and Aaliyah on the ground, and then rolled into  stillness.

Aidan heard a yell and saw long legs running towards him. As lighting  flashed one more time he saw a tall figure, arms crossed, standing over  him.

Then his world descended into darkness.





17





Timothy's Griffin landed by the seashore, where the storm had left wood  and rocks strewn amongst the sand. They had already flown above the  isle, but it was completely devoid of any sign of Aidan. Timothy  dismounted and led the beast into the forest. They had barely broken the  tree line when the griffin gave an anguished cry and jerked the line  away from Timothy's hand, dashing away.

Swearing under his breath, the young mage trudged through the woods, his  robes becoming tangled and ensnared on thorns and branches. As he  followed the beast, who left a very noticeable trail, he began to smell  something rotting.

He came into a clearing, where the rotting smell was so strong it made  his eyes water. It had once been Aidan's campsite, Timothy knew. There  was one hammock hanging on a tree, now full of water, and another that  had been pulled down by the storm. Most of the contents of Aidan's and  Aaliyah's packs were strewn on the ground, including all of their food  supplies. And tethered to a tree lay a dead griffin, the source of the  horrible smell.

Timothy's griffin was desperately trying to cut the rope that held its  brethren to the tree, as if that could somehow save the dead beast.

The boy turned around, despair beginning to fill his chest. Then, he saw  a broken branch, and another. Timothy was no expert tracker, but he was  still able to make out a path where someone had charged through the  woods.

After following it for just a little, he found the remains of a man that  had been scavenged by some type of animal. He kept walking before his  stomach forced him to vomit.

It wasn't long before the broken twigs and branches led the mage to a  clearing, in the center of which lay the remains of the other amogh.  There was nothing left but some beat down grass, evidence of a griffin's  hurried departure.

Timothy sat down on the ground, defeated. He had no idea where Aidan was, or even if his friend was still alive.

"What am I supposed to do?" Timothy said.

"You can start by turning around," said a voice from behind the boy.

Timothy whipped around, staff in hand. Before him stood an old man,  wearing a warlock's robe, with a dragon etched into his forehead.

"Bartemus! I mean, Master!" Timothy sputtered, jumping to his feet.

"Greetings, Timothy. I understand you had an encounter with a goblin?"

Timothy flinched. "Yes sir, I did."

"Then I'm assuming you don't know where my apprentice is now?"

"No sir," Timothy said, hanging his head.

"Very well. How fast can your beast fly?" Bartemus said.

"What beast?" Timothy asked.                       
       
           



       

"Your griffin, lad. Try to keep up. Can you make it to Fort Phoenix in two days?"

Timothy hesitantly nodded. "I believe so. Why?"

"I need you to deliver this message to your master," the warlock said,  handing the mage an envelope, sealed with a rune far too complex to be  created by anything but magic.

"Why don't you just use a communication crystal?" Timothy asked.

"Mine hasn't been working. I believe that our enemy is somehow using a  curse to cancel exact magical frequencies of our crystals, but not their  own." Bartemus said.

"The magical what?"

"Never mind. Just go, Timothy. Deliver that letter, and god speed." The warlock turned and walked towards the shore.

"Wait, master Bartemus!" Timothy called after him. "If you see, Aidan, please don't tell him you saw me."

The old man nodded slowly, and then disappeared into the woods.





"Firebird. Firebird, the time has come. Awake."

Aidan slowly opened one eye, then another. He was laying on a mat of  deer skin, with a pillow of the same material propping up his head. The  mat was situated on the edge of a small, round room that smelled faintly  of mint and some other herbs that Aidan couldn't identify. The only  light was provided by a large hole in the roof, under which sat a fire  pit. All along the edges of the room lay more deerskin mats.

A few feet from Aidan sat a thin man, his ears ending in sharp points.

No, Aidan corrected himself, not a man. An elf.

Had he been a human, Aidan would have estimated the elf to be at least  fifty years old, though the only indications of his age were his  wrinkles and the color of his long, braided hair. He wore no beard, and  carried no cane. He appeared to be as healthy as a young man, his bright  amber eyes alert, and his posture ready to leap into the air at a  moment's notice.

"Greetings, Firebird. Welcome to our humble encampment," the elf said,  his voice as deep and ancient as the ocean and at the same time as soft  as a cloud.

"Who are you? Where am I?" Aidan asked. He was still a little dazed, but  not in any pain. His body felt stronger than it had since he left Fort  Phoenix.

"My name is Aeron, chieftain of the elven folk of Gurvinite. You are  resting inside my tent, which lies in the center of our encampment."

Aidan slowly sat up. He instinctively moved his right hand to his left wrist and was surprised to feel no pain.

The elf smiled "Your arm was easy to fix. Your friend was a different story."

Aaliyah!

"Is she okay?" Aidan asked, quickly sitting up.

The elf laughed. "Yes, your friend is recovering more quickly than I  could have possible hoped. She is strong. Would you like to see her?"

Aidan nodded and stood. As he did, he noticed that he was wearing a tunic made of deerskin.

"Your cloak has been repaired. All of your possessions are packed with  your griffin. We knew that you may have to make a hasty departure."

Aidan wondered at the hospitality of the elves. He knew he had never  done anything to deserve their compassion. He silently vowed that if he  ever found a way to repay them, he would.

"Here is your staff," Aeron said.

The elf stood and held out the obsidian scepter, and Aidan suddenly  realized that the chieftain towered over him by more than a foot. Aeron  pushed open a skin in the side of the tent, and both stepped into the  sunlight.