Flight (new version)

Chapter 37: Troubles in Clintston

Wild was waiting by the gates as promised the following morning. Griffin pulled his lion clasp cloak in tighter, shivering against the early morning chill. He watched as Wolf cast a wary glance back at the Clintston wall guards, then approached Wild with a quiet greeting. They'd decided to stick with just him and Wolf, which Griffin didn't mind. With Wild leading, we should be able to get in and out of the city quickly.

"This way, everyone." Wild turned and strode down the street.

There were a few humans out yet in this area though none seemed to take any interest in the strangers weaving through the side streets. Griffin kept an eye on them nevertheless, still feeling a prickle of unease crawl up his back. He glanced at Wolf at the front with Wild, ensuring that no feathers could be seen from beneath the cloak. His wings made a hump beneath the fabric—odd, but not condemningly so. Or so he hoped.

A paper boy was standing near one of the intersections shouting out different headlines from his stack of newspapers.

"Strange fire devours Cypress! How to prepare a fancy yet affordable meal in five easy steps! Prime Minister announces that the new obsiterite technology won't be complete until June! C'mon and read all about it!"

June. Lucy's birth month. She would be turning eight years old. A lump formed in Griffin's throat, but he ignored it, trying to shove the sudden ache away. She'll be okay. Hannah will take care of her. Images of his dream arose, but he shoved that aside as well.

The group came to a halt in front of an immense, brown brick building—nearly double the size of the Master's Grand House. The building looked the exact opposite of Griffin's Master's house, however. Instead of smoothed stone and ornate, spotless doors and window frames, this building boasted an exterior of crumbling, stain-spattered brick, shattered windows, and doors that hung awkwardly off their hinge. Through the nearest gap where a window should have been, Griffin could see the supporting beams that sagged wearily at their station, prone to collapse at any moment should their fatigue take over. The stench of rancid trash wafted through the drafty gaps in the building and Griffin had to fight against the urge to cough and gag.

"This is it." Wild glanced down the side street they'd come down. "Looks like we're clear."

"Is this an illusion?" Griffin questioned, his voice raised in a nasally pitch as he plugged his nose.

Wild nodded and strode toward the closest door—a large metal slab that was missing its handle and leaned slightly outward at a crooked angle. He cast one more glance around then motioned to the group and stepped straight through the metal door. If they hadn't gone to the Morvale Elder Haven, Griffin would have gasped.

Though still very impressive. This is a much bigger illusion that the one that covered the entrance to Öama.

Wolf stepped through after Wild and Griffin followed suit. Darkness immediately engulfed him, along with a puff of cold as the space around him suddenly seemed to stretch out in vast stretches in every direction. The rancid odor faded, and as it did, the darkness slid away to reveal a spacious room packed with mismatching chairs, rugs, and beds. Elder of all kinds roamed the wide space, chatted in groups, or gathered at what appeared to be a table stacked with packaged food. Griffin stared at the sturdy support beams in the ceiling and the intact windows and doors.

"Eh! 'Oo are you?" a new voice accosted them.

An elder with skin nearly as brown as Fern's, long white hair, and willow-green eyes stood up from a couch and approached the group. Griffin shifted some magic over his eyes like Wild had taught them. It was blurry and imperfect, but he could just make out a flash of green coming from the elder before he lost his hold on the magic.