Free Chaos Storm (The Flight of the Griffin Book 2) by C.M. Gray Page A

chuckled and waved them through opening the gate.
    'Only Inn in town is The Happy Howler. Just keep walking and you'll find it at the crossroads. Didn't happen to see any troops on your way through, did you?'
    'No, why? You been having troubles with bandits?' asked Quint.
    'No, we've no trouble with bandits, nor even howlers, lad. We turned back Morgasta's hordes we did. Thousands of them there were.' The guards on the wall watching the exchange were laughing, but the one talking to Quint was keeping a straight face. 'Thousands, and every last one baying for blood,' he leaned in closer to Quint to emphasise his point. 'Orrible they were!' Quint squeezed past, followed by the others, and they walked into the town of Barnham Bolt with the sounds of the guard's laughter trailing behind them.
    'Well, I'm glad we've made
them
happy anyway,' said Pardigan. 'Let's find this Happy Howler place and get dry.' He stopped short as he took his first real look at the town. 'Oh, yuck! As soon as we're dry, let's just leave.'
    Barnham Bolt was a sorry excuse for a settlement, miserable was too good a word for it. The rains had washed all colour but brown from both the town and its inhabitants. The two main streets were so thick with mud that the crew had to accept the services of a horse and cart, the owner of which was eking out a living ferrying people from one end of town to the other and he looked as sad as the town. He wore a large, soggy black hat that all but hid his whiskered face, and his hands were the only other part of him that emerged from beneath his muddy-patched oilskins.
    'Lovely here in spring it is,' he murmured as they set off, his voice as gloomy as the weather. 'Summer can be hot and there's a problem with mosquitoes, but spring is lovely…' The wagon slowly creaked on, and it started to rain again, 'Autumn can be nice as well, mind,' continued the old driver, apparently not caring if they were listening or not. 'But then it starts raining early in the season this close to The Massif… and then the mud comes… and the howlers come down looking for food… but… spring can be lovely.' Mahra looked over at Pardigan and was relieved to see he was too cold to be poking fun at the old man.
    The wagon eventually came to a stop outside a building at the crossroads. A faded sign creaked in the wind proclaiming it to be, 'The Happy Howler.'
    'Come back in the spring,' said the driver as he turned the cart and set off again. 'Nice here then… in spring.' Pardigan watched him go, the old horse plodding on and slipping every few steps in the thick mud. It started to rain again, and he shivered. 'I wish it was spring,' he muttered and walked inside after the others. 'Meant to be nice here then, or so I'm told.' Thunder rumbled in the distance.
    * * *
    Water erupted around Loras and Tarent as the foredeck of the small trading vessel struck yet another wave head on. It rose up, bursting through, and they clung to the rail, enjoying the sport as the deck reached the top of its rise and fell away from beneath them again, back into the trough. Icy droplets sprayed around them and foaming water washed the decks about their feet before draining back through the sluices with a hiss. The two friends were quite dry, shielded by a wall of air held in place by one of Loras's spells. Magician Falk was holding a similar spell, but his soaking wet robes were evidence that he'd only recently become the spells master.
    The journey so far had been a learning experience for both Magicians. Magician Falk delighting in the simplistic way that Loras formed his magic while Loras in turn had learnt much from the older mage, quickly understanding and performing magic that had taken the old man years to learn. When the frequent storms forced them into their cramped quarters, the pair sat huddled over books and prepared potions as the boat swayed and creaked around them. The new book Loras had purchased on transfiguration was mystifying to Magician Falk