The Griffin's Boy

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: DEMON'S DELIGHT.

  Outrage overcame Neb's paralysis and he shouted: 'Balkind won't be fooled – he's the cleverest griffin – '

  Kattin struck his mouth and his head slammed against the chair's backrest.

  'It's a gryffant, not a griffin, and one that's barely controllable too,' she spat and stooped to pick up the incense burner. 'There is nought to worry over, yet we should make haste.'

  The demon/Vander's head twisted to Father Thomas. 'Yes – make haste. You promised me the boy's body. Fail, and I shall claim take your soul in forfeit.'

  With jerky movements, the demon/Vander's hands rose and its fingers gripped Neb's shoulders hard. A little too hard. With a cluster of snaps, the dead man's finger bones broke. But then the Black Robes pounced on Neb, lifted him forcibly from the chair and threw him down on the table. Neb caught a whiff of decay, then once again a mind stupefying incense filled his senses.

  A black robed "brother" plumped down on Neb's chest, puffing the air from his lungs, another sat on his knees. Winded, Neb stared upwards; into Father Thomas' florid face and watched his fleshy lips moving as he intoned the ritual.

  Pressed against the small of his back, his hands began to lose sensation. Unwillingly, he became hypnotised by the to and fro movement of the silver incense ball; embers glowed between the pierced metal. Father Thomas' voice droned on and on, fingers clutched at Neb's shoulders, the rope around his wrists burned. With a lead weight on his chest, he could take only shallow breaths and his mind drifted away. It floated up out of his body and Neb embraced the lightness. He hovered above everyone. He gazed down at his own body; it looked like a life-sized child's doll. Its dark brown limbs were well proportioned and seemed well made, but having never seen himself in a mirror, he was fascinated by the smaller details. He'd been told his eyes were blue, but he hadn't realised they were the deepest blue imaginable. A good body, he should have been prouder of it and certainly he should have taken better care of it. Now it was too late. Vander's corpse slumped to the floor, his mouth hung open, and a small cloud of vapour spiralled upwards: towards Neb's body.

  In a flurry of red fury Samara darted forwards, snatched up a candle with both hands, upended it and poured molten wax over Neb's bare feet. A small remnant of Neb remained; enough to gasp and instinctively knife-jack his feet away from the source of pain. His knees jerked up to his chest and he sat up. With surprised yelps, the two Black Robes lost their balance and tumbled to the floor. Neb's wonderful feeling of lightness vanished. He glared at Samara and tensed his muscles. The ropes around his wrists slid over the heels of his hands, and he was free. Neb sat on the table with his legs dangling over the edge, rubbed at his wrists and frowned at Alfred who appeared to be embracing Kattin. With his arms literally full, the older man shrugged as though apologising for both his and Kattin's behaviour. Swaying gently, Neb stared at Samara, wondering whether to kiss her or curse her. Samara scowled and shouted: 'Look-out!'

  Neb's arms were grabbed and twisted outwards and upwards. He screamed; the Black Robes held him in a bone-breaking arm lock. A thousand red hot needles pierced his scalp, forcing his head up and backwards. Father Thomas' hands grasped fistfuls of his hair and he leaned forwards to spit into Neb's face.

  'It's almost moon rise! Too late to start the ceremony again – you've condemned my soul to a demon's care!' he screeched. He released his grip and Neb's head slumped forwards. He caught a glimpse of Samara's red dress engulfed amongst the folds of a Black Robe and heard her wail of despair.

  'Hold him there, hold him!' Father Thomas bawled and then the red hot needles were back, as Father Thomas yanked at his hair again with one hand. The other wielded a dagger towards Neb's exposed throat. Holding the dagger against Neb's throat, Father Thomas paused to whisper 'The demon will take my soul, but I will take your life's blood!'

  Pain seared through Neb's scalp, but he managed to jerk his head away; only to be instantly recaptured by Father Thomas. He wielded the dagger again. Nearby the demon cackled with glee – it would gain two souls tonight. Then it howled with rage. Neb sensed it scrabbling to reanimate Vander's corpse, desperate for concealment. Bewildered stutters came from Father Thomas and the black robed figures behind him; but gradually all movement stilled and a deathly silence surrounded the rooftop.

  Then a bellow filled the night sky. A thousand thunder claps one immediately after the other created a wind that rocked the bell tower. Another bellow sounded, deep and filled with threat. Hope began to rise in Neb's chest, he strained to see into the darkness. Sheets of lightning flashed through the night sky. A third bellow almost deafened him. Behind him, the moon rose at last. Its beams revealed the lightning to be a beast; a giant beast with eyes of emerald green and lips snarled back over long sharp teeth. Its forelegs stretched and its talons gleamed like pearl handled daggers. It glided towards the rooftop on silver wings.

  Joy exploded through Neb and he shouted his griffin's name: 'BALKIND!'

  At Neb's feet, Vander's corpse tried to scrabble under the table. Jerking free from her captors, Samara placed a small grimy foot on its chest, which immediately caved in. Samara stamped down harder and when the demon whimpered, she smiled.

  Balkind landed on the rooftop and without pausing to fold his wings, gambolled over to Vander's corpse. His nostrils flared as he inhaled the demon's putrid scent. Balkind's eyes glinted. Time ground to a halt, Balkind stood menacing and still as an un-earthly light poured from his body. Neb watched in wonder as the light became an entity, independent yet attached to Balkind. Somehow Neb knew it was Balkind's spirit, and it dwarfed the griffin's physical form.

  The demon's exposed soul appeared pitiful; a barely-there smudge of evil vapour, certainly no match for behemoth Balkind. In an instant, yet one that seemed to last forever, the griffin's spirit entombed the demon's and consumed it wholly. Triumph swelled through Neb's chest; the legends were true!

  But Balkind wasn't finished. His head snaked out, his teeth clamped either side of Vander's skull and chomped down with a sideways tearing motion. The griffin had destroyed the demon, body and soul. When the griffin spat out Vander's head, a long thin wail emerged from its mouth as it lolled towards Kattin's feet.

  Balkind cocked his head on one side, flared his nostrils and inhaled deeply, searching for more demons. The vices clamped on Neb's arms vanished. From his almost upside view, Neb watched the Black Robes slouch backwards and then shrivel into rapidly decaying corpses swathed in bundles of rags. Having witnessed Balkind's awesome display of power, the elder demons simply vanished, taking their pair bonded Black Robes' immortality with them.

  The pain peppering Neb's scalp lessened and the dagger dropped harmlessly to the floor from Father Thomas' nerveless hand. Balkind bellowed again, reared up, and bared his teeth at Father Thomas, who gibbered and then plunged beneath the table.

  'Call him off, call him off!' He shouted. Balkind flapped his wings, sending the remaining Black Robes scurrying for the stairs. The griffin lowered his head and overturned the table with his horns. Then he ducked his head again to snarl into Father Thomas' face. Folds of flesh quivered as Father Thomas stared into the griffin's eyes and begged again.

  'Call him off, please call him off, please I beg of you, spare me, save me from the griffin.'

  Neb glanced around. Alfred was covering Vander's body with a blue cloak. Kattin cowered at Samara's feet. Neb's eyes flickered up to Samara's face. She watched Father Thomas begging for his life with a malicious smile. Neb shuddered. This wouldn't do at all. Father Thomas didn't deserve to live, but his griffin didn't deserve to be his executioner. Neb couldn't allow Father Thomas' death to stain Balkind's soul.

  'Enough Balkind, enough,' he said. Still snarling, Balkind lifted his head and before Neb could stop him, darted his teeth into Father Thomas' fleshy upper arm and shook him like a rag doll.

  'Balkind, drop!' Neb shouted. Balkind tossed Father Thomas into the air. Then he shuffled over to Neb and began s
nuffling Neb's hair.

  'Good griffin, good Balkind, good, good griffin,' Neb said with a catch in his voice, petting Balkind's neck. He felt Samara's fingers entwine around his other hand and clasped her hand in his. Then he ducked his head to swipe his eyes on his sleeve.

  'Good griffin, clever griffin,' Samara said in an unsteady voice, standing on tip-toes, so she too could pet at Balkind's neck feathers. Alfred swayed on Balkind's other side, a slow smile spreading over his face as he gazed in wonder at the griffin.

  Balkind hooted with happiness. He snuffled at Neb's hair then nibbled at his ear. Then he started chewing at Neb's tunic, hoping to find a pocket with a few forgotten sweet-berries. Neb pushed Balkind's snout away with a firm 'no' and a conciliatory pat. 'When we get home, you'll have the biggest breakfast of sweet-berries ever,' he promised. Samara laughed and Alfred's smile grew even wider.

  A scream pierced their jubilation.

  Neb spun around, terror clutching at his heart, certain the demon had somehow returned. Alfred also froze, then sprung into action. He hurtled across the table and caught at Kattin's arm. With the strength of a madwoman, she wrestled away from him, and pounced on the ceremonial staff and whirled it around her head. Father Thomas crawled from behind the table. Keeping his eyes fixed on Kattin, he managed to raise an imploring hand. Neb heard a sickening whumph and Father Thomas' head exploded like a rotten marrow. White matter and blood splurged upwards, splattering everything in its path with a strawberry coloured pulp. Kattin's teeth glistened whitely in a bloody mask and she swung the wooden staff up and over her shoulder, preparing to bash at Father Thomas' brains again. Alfred's hands snatched the staff at the top of its swing and yanked it backwards. Caught off balance, Kattin performed an untidy backwards flip and crashed to the ground. Balkind clucked with excitement, but he didn't move. Samara's face was buried in his neck feathers, and her arms clasped the griffin's upper foreleg.

  Finally, Neb's legs obeyed his commands to move. Snatching up the discarded rope from the floor, gingerly skirting the bloody mess that was once Father Thomas, he went to help Alfred subdue the madwoman.

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