Free The Flight of the Griffin by C.M. Gray Page B

thick air and the energy in the room grew until every hair on his body was standing on end. Even the dust on the floor was dancing, drawn along the patterns as the energy crackled and glowed. It was becoming less and less blue, and more and more the deep crimson red of Chaos, as the spell’s energy sank through the layers of awareness and into the realms of darkness. Down and down, sinking lower and lower, Matheus moved through the darkening mists, seeing strange beings and spirits. Some noticed him but most did not, each caught up in their own private nightmares. The chant no longer resembled a collection of words, but had become a vibrating mixture of energy and sound that twisted together controlling the spell. Window shutters, that had been carefully closed and bolted before he’d begun, now rattled and banged with an urgent fury.
    Drawn by the noises and the strange glow coming from the room, the landlady of the hostel was trying to force her way in, but the normally flimsy door wasn’t budging. It now seemed fixed as if made from iron. A mixture of concern for her room and fear of the strange noises, smells and lights from within lent her a reckless courage as she tried with all her might to gain entry. After a particularly loud ripping noise and a further shaking of the building, which sent plaster and dust raining down over her head, she finally gave up and ran shrieking down the stairs. In her wake she passed several guests peeking round their doors with white scared faces and large fearful eyes. Violent crackling and rumbling sounded like thunder throughout the building, as if a violent storm were confined and dancing within the small upstairs room. Cracks began appearing in the walls and roof tiles were now raining down, smashing onto the street below.
    Completely unaware of his surroundings or his slumped body, Matheus had become one with the spell as he continued down through the ever-spiralling levels of spirit, seeking the lowest realms of darkness - the place where the demons dwelt.
    ****
    Water washed back over the deck, as another wave was met head on. The Griffin seemed to come alive at times like this, attacking each new wave with a crash and a slap that sent water spraying over the delighted crew as the deck bucked and fell beneath them.
    Quint was standing at the wheel teasing every bit of speed from the old boat, while Loras, who had been sent forward to stand on the bowsprit, kept watch for any logs that could still be a hazard to them this near to the coast. Loras didn’t like this duty much and was holding on in fear; his cold wet fingers locked around the safety rope as the bucking boat nearly tossed him overboard for the umpteenth time.
    Pardigan and Tarent were perched along the topside of the boat adding their weight to allow her all the speed she could muster. They hung over the side, leaning back with outstretched fingers competing to touch the rushing waters that sped past beneath them.  Free from the cares and worries that life had recently brought them, the crew of The Griffin sailed on in search of a magical island.
    When Loras crawled back into the wheelhouse, Quint could see how green he was so sent him below to change into something dry. The rest of the crew were enjoying themselves, feeling free for the first time in days. Thoughts of people following them, new magical abilities and mysterious challenges were thankfully forgotten for a time as they busied themselves with the familiar tasks of helping to keep The Griffin sailing hard. The land was soon lost behind them and after several turns of the glass the last of the gulls that had been following also departed.
    Open water was a terribly lonely place and Quint felt himself fighting down the worries that came bubbling up, doubting his ability to navigate and never finding land again. On this heading he had no idea when land may be reached and had the worry that if it was a small island, they might miss it altogether, especially if