The House of the Griffin

Chapter 4

It would take most people one day to go from the Griffin's Roost to the city of Grieves. The foliage surrounding the base of the mountain and the species of blood thirsty monsters living in it made sure of it. It was Cal's good luck that he had not encountered anything too dangerous. He was returning back to his home, heart in hand. He felt as if he had failed everyone, not being able to complete the trial. He had the book with him, tied to his belt. He had decided to start learning from the book from the next day onwards so that he could attempt the test again, if his father gave him another chance.

In the distance, the city was bright in celebration, Cal thought. He had decided to tell his father what had happened in the cave and let him pass the judgement as to whether Fria was worthy. Cal knew that it was up to his father to pass judgement and that he couldn't do that without knowing all the facts.

The farther he got from the cool forest and closer to the city, the hotter it got. Abnormally hot, as a matter of fact. He had never known the city to get this hot. Forgetting his fatigue, his pace got faster. He was sweating hard and his breaths were heavy. He sensed that something was very wrong when the smell of smoke hit his nostrils. He started running.

An hour later he reached the city itself. It was now way past the deadline for the trial, and the whole city was ablaze. People were running around in utter chaos, trying to get away from the fire. Cal watched as a burning pillar fell on top of a man. He rushed to his aid but the hunger and the fatigue from the five days in the wilds had weakened him. The man could not be saved. He burned in front of Cal. He did not know why this was happening. Cal had assumed that the lights in the city was from the celebration of his sister's victory. He stopped one man and asked him what happened. Why was the city burning?

The man had no time for Cal. He had to find his family and then escape the city. He shoved him aside without a word and ran away, looking for his loved ones. Cal did not wish to give up. He tied a cloth around his mouth and nose and hurried towards his own home. He prayed that nothing had happened to his own family. He was met with many sights of people with various degrees of burns, broken bones, and cuts on various parts of their bodies. People called for help, but he stopped for no one.

As he neared his house, he heard shouting and the sound of metal striking against metal. The soldiers of House Grieves were fighting against a battalion of elite warriors. And they were losing. Cal avoided the fight as much as he could, and no soldier paid him much attention. Who would? He was at the moment a weak and helpless child who did not pose a threat, and the soldiers had a battle to fight.

Cal, narrowly avoiding the blades, arrows and whatnot, arrived at the front of his house. He pushed the iron gates and entered the courtyard. The lawn used to be maintained daily, but now lay in shambles. Mud splattered everywhere, bodies lay on the well kept flower beds, and the red of the blood provided a good contrast against the green grass. Cal proceeded further.

He pushed open the main doors and rushed towards the throne room. Under normal conditions the throne room was supposed to be empty, for his father would have retired for the night. Now, the room lay in shambles. Avart Grieve's throne was toppled over and there were signs of fighting all over the room. The second in command to Avart, Velor Viker lay dead, sword in hand. Worried, Cal took out his knife and ran to his father's study on the first floor. There were very few times that he had been here, and he didn't think that he would be here in such a condition. The study was burnt down to its last molecule. On a chair behind a giant table sat a corpse. Cal approached it slowly, his anxiety peaking. He knew the corpse, even before he came close. Burnt to a crisp, was Semola Grieves. Cal came close and took its hand in his own, his anger at her disappearing. Nobody deserved such an end.

He put her hands to his forehead and said a prayer for her. He looked at her face, grief spreading through him and wondering where his father was. He noticed that the gaze from her empty eye sockets was fixed on a drawer on the giant table. He pulled out the drawer and saw that its lock was broken, probably because of the heat. The drawer contained a bronze key and an old letter that was dated more than a decade ago. He opened the note and read -