Chapter 36
Tyuriuk was terrified. Fear tore at him as he headed across the camp
towards the Demon’s tent. He had always
considered himself a brave man. Perhaps
he was a murderer and thief, but he had always thought of himself as a brave
one. Yet now there was not an ounce of
courage within him. It was all he could
do to force his legs to move forward. Of
course he was always frightened by the Demon’s power and his savageness, but it
had not been directed at him, since he agreed to serve his abominable
master. But now, for the first time,
Tyuriuk had to bring the Demon, bad news.
He paused outside the fiend’s tent.
“Master, it is I Tyuriuk.”
There was a momentary silence.
“Come in,” the Demon hissed.
Tyuriuk trembled as he entered.
The Demon was sitting cross-legged on
the floor of his tent, his black eyes fastened on to his general.
“Ah, Tyuriuk,” he whispered with
sadistic calmness, “What is it that I can do for you? Everything is well with our army I trust?”
“Oh, ah, yes,” the shaking general
answered, “There are no problems with our troops.”
“Surely that is a good thing,”
replied the Demon, still in his sinister whisper. “Why then do you come before me so upset?”
Tyuriurk took a deep breath, hoping
to calm his faltering voice, “Rwiordes has not returned, nor have those sent to
escort him.”
He closed his eyes and waited. He did not know what exactly to expect from
the Demon, but he knew that he would not be pleased.
The Demon said nothing. Tyuriuk just stood there, a terrible
anxiousness shaking his whole body. He
wished he was anywhere right then but there in that tent. He waited.
Not a sound. He cautiously opened
his eyes. The Demon held his
cross-legged position on the floor. He
seemed surprisingly unperturbed.
“D-d-do you want me to send out a
search party, Master?”
“There is no need,” replied the
Demon. “Rwiordes is on his way to Lorm
to warn this Druidic Champion about the impending invasion of that country.”
Tyuriuk was confused, “Should we try
and stop him, my Lord?”
Rwiordes stood in the field outside
of Hurndel Manor. He had his doubts
about both the Baron and Krin Gul. They
assured him that help would arrive quite soon.
Yet it had only been a few hours since the smoke signals they sent were
answered from the mountains which stood blue on the horizon. How they expected help from such a distance
in so short an amount of time they did not explain. He thought that he had waited in great
patience without a word or satisfactory explanation. Finally his curiosity grew too strong for him
to resist asking some questions.
“Are we expecting aid from yon
mountain?” he asked of Krin Gul.
“Indeed,” replied the antlered old
pilgrim. “As the Baron assured you they
shall be here presently.”
“Who shall be here, and how could
they get here so quickly?”
“They are an ancient people, you have
probably heard of them, the Gerdoans.”
“The Gerdoans? You can’t be serious. Surely they’re mythical?”
“Mythical? I should think not. Why, look yonder...,” the old man pointed into
the sky. A dozen tiny objects could be
seen high above in the air. They took shape as they neared. It was true then, the legends that he had heard as a boy about
the Gerdoans. He gasped in wonder as the
Griffin-Riders descended from the sky, resplendent in their golden armor. Their griffins were mighty winged beasts,
fierce but, well trained. For some reason
Rwiordes had always doubted the reality of such creatures. Half lion, half eagle. Balderdash.
Or so he had thought.
The Riders quickly dismounted their
unusual steeds and approached the Baron, saluting him. The evident chief of the riders spoke with
the Lord of Hurndel, but Rwiordes could not
quite make out their words. The Baron
led the Gerdoan towards Rwiordes.
“This is the fellow,” he said,
indicating Rwiordes, “that we need to get to Lorm as quickly as possible. Can you dispatch some of your men to take
him?”
The legendary chieftain examined
Rwiordes then spoke in a heavy accent, “Noh pablem. It zhall be dun.”
“Good,” replied the Baron. “Then, you and I should have a conversation
about the coming war.”
The Griffin-Rider nodded. He called over to four of his men in their
own language.
Then everything happened so quickly
Rwiordes could hardly believe it. Krin
Gul was shaking his hand and wishing him well as he was set before one of the
riders on their fearsome mounts. The
next thing he knew he was lifting up into the air as the Griffin spread its
powerful wings.
Copyright 2002, 2015 Diana Hignutt
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