The Unwilling Pupil

The Unwilling Pupil, by Jenn L. Sullivan
Previously published on Writers Hood


Cedric wiped the beads of perspiration from his forehead, swallowing nervously as he crept, silent as a cat, through the stand of ancient trees. Dim light filtered down through the thick foliage, faintly illuminating the narrow gametrail that the young man was trying to follow with a soft red light. Branches stuck out in all directions, severely hampering his progress, and the shiny metal shield that he carried on his back was growing heavy as the hours passed. Not to mention that his sword kept banging into his knees.

He was also growing hungry. The midday meal had been served well over an hour ago, but Cedric had been wandering around the Old Forest since just after breakfast. He'd foolishly assumed that he'd have his task completed before the sun reached the top of this sky, but after stumbling around the massive wood for several hours, he was beginning to realize his folly. If only he'd had the foresight to pack a bit of bread along with everything else the villagers had insisted he carry. And perhaps a jug of mead, as well-

With a loud cry, Cedric tripped and fell through a group of saplings, landing hard on his side in the dirt. As he was rolling around, trying to catch his breath and climb to his feet, a deep laugh exploded through the muggy air around him. A flock of crimson-eyed black birds burst from the underbrush and disappeared into the sky.

"Well, well," the voice rumbled. "Your village thinks so little of me that they send a mere boy."

Having finally rolled to a position from which Cedric could see the speaker, he whimpered and tried clumsily to scramble away.

The griffon was massive; the elders had told Cedric of it's wickedly-curved beak and razor-sharp talons, but they'd forgotten to mention the size of the creature, whose head reached the middle branches of the tallest trees. It towered over him like a small mountain, protected by the thick red mane that flowed down its neck and over its muscular shoulders, at which point the fur melted into sharp black feathers. Its large, delicate wings were spread, as if it was prepared to take flight at any moment, but its rear legs, the legs of a bird of prey, remained firmly on the ground.

"To defeat ME!" the griffon roared, ignoring Cedric's obvious terror as he continued his rampage. "Me! Scytheclaw! Master of the skies! Terror of the forests!" The earth shook with each lumbering step; leaves that had been jarred loose from the trees drifted down into the clearing. "Slayer of man and beast! Ruler of the great Dira Mountain!"

A whimper escaped Cedric's throat. He tried to reach for his sword, but found that his arm refused to move.

The griffon sighed. "I suppose I am getting a bit old, though," he said, sending a cloud of dirt flying as he collapsed to the ground. "And I really don't enjoy slaying men so much anymore. They tend to taste funny." With a yawn that revealed a slender, crimson tongue that was forked at the business end, the griffon stretched his tawny legs. The tips of his gnarled claws poked out of their furry sheaths and scraped small furrows into the dirt.

He relaxed, flopping onto his side. His gleaming black eyes followed Cedric's movements. "Say," he said, leaning closer to get a better look, "are you all right?"

Cedric, who was shaking so hard that his armor rattled, took a deep breath and, after several tries, managed to push himself to his feet. "S-s-stand and f-fight, b-beast!" His grasping fingers searched for his sword, but the leather scabbard was empty.

"Oh, its over there," the griffon said, nodding towards the saplings. "I think you lost it during your, uh, arrival." He tilted his head to the side, looking closely at Cedric. "Did you know that you've got that thing on wrong?" he asked curiously, motioning to the scabbard. "Looks as if you tied it on backwards. No, not that strap- yes, that's the one. Tuck it under there, now-"

Cedric, apparently realizing that it wasn't a good idea to be fumbling with his belt while a griffon looked on, stopped abruptly and pulled the shield from his back, holding it before him. "Do not try to distract me, foul creature!" he cried, inching closer to his sword.

"Sorry," the griffon said, casually adjusting his massive wings until they were comfortably folded along his back. "But you don't look too, well, experienced. And I have seen quite a few swords in my time. Who taught you to fight, lad? To be perfectly honest, I don't think they-"

"I fight for my village!" Cedric cried, reaching down and grabbing the hilt of his sword. "I may not be a great warrior, but I will vanquish you, o mighty beast!" He waved his sword back and forth in what he hoped was an intimidating manner. "Now prepare to be, uh, vanquished!"

With a sigh that ruffled Cedric's thin blond hair, the griffon's head snaked forward. He deftly snatched the sword from the boy's hands and tossed it sharply to the side. Before Cedric could stutter out any protest, the sword was jutting from the nearest tree trunk, still quivering from the force of the throw.

"You really ought to learn to use that thing properly," the griffon said in a condescending tone. "What are you going to do if a dragon attacks your village? They're much worse, you know, with the fire-breathing and all that. And it really is hard to slay a dragon properly if you're dropping your sword left and right."

With a loud battle cry, Cedric reached behind him and drew out his bow and a single arrow. He spent several seconds fitting it against the string, then raised the contraption and took aim.

"At least they armed you well." The griffon sounded surprised. "Of course, it would help if you actually knew how to use some of it. Now the bow, for example, is an extremely versatile weapon, and in the right hands, it can- OW!"

He looked down at the arrow jutting from his toe. It had barely pricked the first layer of skin, and fell to the ground once he moved, but it had hurt nonetheless. "Now say," he said crossly, "that was a bit uncalled for. I detest the taste of humans, but if you persist, I'll really have no other recourse."

It was at that point that Cedric pulled out his mace.

***

Upon later reflection, the griffon decided that it really hadn't been necessary to eat the boy; however, getting clunked upside the head with the heavy steel ball had hurt quite a bit, and the lad hadn't acted as if he were going to leave anytime soon. It was a shame, really; if only he hadn't been so dull, the griffon might have been able to teach him a thing or two. Like George, he remembered fondly, who'd turned to slaying dragons after their bi-weekly swordfighting lessons. Pesky creatures, dragons. Horribly arrogant, and they all reeked of brimstone.

With a single mighty leap and a flap of his large wings, the griffon was airborne. He soared towards the village, searching the empty fields for a herd of plump, tasty sheep. The flight back to Dira mountain was a long one, and he was still hungry.