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Mythical Creatures: The Gryse |
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Created: November 3rd, 2008 at 10:38am
Modified: November 3rd, 2008 at 11:17am
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No Restrictions The Gryse
Durra stood silent and still, watching his mistress as she walked towards him. Sipping her wine the ruler of Hypernium, the immortal Clane moved gracefully towards the huge oval mirror set cunningly into the curve of the wall. The plain, red linen gown she wore, tied snugly beneath her breasts, emphasised her tiny waist and the sensual curve of her hips. Although the straps above the swell of her breast were hardly thick enough to cover his thumb, the dress was long, and trailed through the dust on the floor. The ends of the long narrow ribbons sewn into the band beneath her breasts, fluttered languidly as she walked.
"Who did you send north?" she asked she took up her position opposite her first minister, Hypernium’s Lord Watcher.
"Shabeen," he replied quickly. "He should be there by now. Do you wish to speak to him?"
She nodded wearily, obviously she did not want to speak to him. In response Durra rested his hand on the huge yellow moonstone mounted in the middle of the mirror's frame. He stood motionless, watching their reflections in its highly polished surface. With the patience of mountains, they stood either side of the mirror, waiting. This particular routine had been repeated many times before and he knew from experience that filling the silence with talk was frowned upon by the woman opposite.
For centuries a succession of Lord Watchers had spied on Hypernium’s neighbours, trying to stay abreast of the games of intrigue and deception played out in the world beyond their city’s walls. To that end they employed an army of agents called the League of Watchers. It was a matter of pride that within days of any alliance being struck within the empire, he could expect a written report about it to appear on his desk.
For those special occasions where an immediate accounting was required, he had access to a select group of Watchers known as Stone Bearers. They carried precious moonstones magically linked to the one in the mirror's frame. Watcher’s would be instructed to make their reports at sunset and on those days he would make a pilgrimage to the mirror to see if there was any news. Most days the sun would disappear beyond the horizon, and the mirror would reflect only its red-gold valediction. Tonight however, since his mistress had stirred herself to join him, he was warned that something unusual was about to happen.
For all the years he had worked at the beck and call of this enigmatic woman, he had yet to fathom her true nature. She looked as young today as she had the first time he had seen her more than thirty five years ago. Rarely venturing outside the Palatine, she spent her days, even months at a time, shut up in her rooms. What she did for sustenance, he had no idea as she was rarely seen to eat, and food was never called for.
As the shadows lengthened and the light began to dim, their reflection in the huge mirror suddenly shimmered, flickered and changed. Within its wooden frame, they could now see a man standing with his back to them on a small, vetch-covered rise. The gleam from the silent image threw light into the furthest corners of the room. They saw him hold up a clenched fist as he stared out at a long desolate beach. Strong winds whipped at his brown, hooded cloak. The same winds that drove massive waves crashing soundlessly into the boiling surf. Beyond the spray at the water's edge, a thin spit of land could be seen pointing out to sea, tapering to a slender line of boulders before being swamped by the angry, boiling waves. Farther out, the presence of the submerged isthmus was marked by a line of seething spume.
From their viewpoint behind the watcher’s shoulder, they could see what looked like a pack of dogs racing along the seashore, heading directly towards their man. It didn't take Durra long to realise that his first impressions had been wrong. The shapes that sped towards Shabeen were indeed animals but not a species he had every seen before. With their hooked foreclaws, rounded snouts and long, slender, hair-covered limbs, they looked more like tree-climbing sloths than dogs. But no sloth that he had ever seen could run as fast as a horse. He had been so intent on their unusual shape that he almost missed the fact that the creatures were swiftly making up the distance between themselves and his Watcher.
"Get out of there Shabeen!" he hissed at the figure in the mirror.
Knowing that his agent couldn’t hear him didn't stop Durra trying to warn him of the danger. Instead of running or drawing his sword, Shabeen stood motionless on that god-forsaken spot, almost as if he was waiting for the creatures to reach him. Suddenly Durra feared the worst. As the creatures raced furiously across the pebbles towards his man, Durra found himself holding his breath and fearing the worst.
"Take your hand from the stone," the Clane ordered him quietly. "You cannot help him now."
"Shabeen you fool, get out of there," Durra snarled out his frustration through gritted teeth as he pushed angrily against the stone as if that could somehow alert his doomed agent to his peril. Powerless to do anything else, he watched mutely as the lead animal, its pelt a metallic shade of green, crest the small rise and raced red-eyed and slavering towards the stationary figure. Couldn’t Shabeen see what was rushing towards him? Why didn’t he flee? Couldn’t he see the danger he was in?
A small hand gripped his wrist as it was gently but firmly pulled from the moonstone. Durra almost snatched it back, until he saw the stone in the frame glowing with a red, malevolent fire. Without his hand on the stone to activate it, the scene in the mirror should have faded, to be instantly replaced by an ordinary reflection, but that hadn't happened. Discarding that as a puzzle for later, his attention was once more fixed on the scene in the mirror. As the first of the creatures reached the doomed man it leapt at his chest. Durra saw the curved talons bite deep into the man's shoulders as the teeth took him in the fleshy part of his neck. Soundlessly, with his clenched fist still raised high, Shabeen was thrown backwards onto the grass, the rest of the pack quickly surrounding him. Savagely, they tore into the shape on the ground, snarling and nuzzling into the bloody mass, wolfing down whatever flesh they could tear from his bones, fighting over the scraps, until all that was left was a nest of bloodied and shredded clothing.
In a darkened room, more than four hundred leagues away, a horrified Durra watched his agent's final moments with a sinking heart. He saw blood soak the ground as the pack swarmed over the body in a feeding frenzy. He watched in disbelieving silence as they tore Shabeen apart, sliver by bloody sliver, furiously fighting over and devouring whatever morsel they could snatch up in their massive jaws. The light had almost gone when he saw one of the creatures tossed up a bloody scrap, before opening its massive jaws and snapping them shut over the grisly morsel. In the blink of an eye the scene in the mirror disappeared, to be instantly replaced by subdued shadows and the feverish flicking of light from the small oil lamp behind them.
Tight-lipped Durra turned to his mistress to find the goblet of wine being brought to ruby lips with a steady hand. He had known Shabeen for most of his time as Lord Watcher. As a grinning, smooth-cheeked youth, Shabeen had once bowed before him, begging for the opportunity to serve. After being accepted into the League, his training, mostly in weapons and the arts of subterfuge had taken almost a year. Then he had been sent out into the world to justify his teacher's expectations of him. His engaging smile, smooth tongue and nimble feet had all seen good use in his work for the League. As one of their most daring agents, he had got himself in and out of more tight places than a rat. Durra still couldn't understand how he could have just stood there and let those creatures take him.
"The Gryse were attracted to the magic of the stone he was using," he realised the Clane was telling him. "They are able to enthral their victims, holding them mesmerised from some distance away until they can reach and kill them." She turned away from the mirror and moved towards the open doors. "I understand that wearing a steel helm is proof against their enchantments," she added almost carelessly. "You should advise your people."
Then she left.
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