The Forgotten World

Call the Clans

Swift darted through the forest, dodging the trees with ease, his six bronze hooves scattering the soil. He had to escape the griffons. He had been stupid to 'appear' so close to the Royal Guards. Unfortunately, since he wasn't fully grown yet he couldn't 'disappear' for long, and he'd misjudged. But his father would be pleased. Very, very, pleased.

Swift had found the griffon's trade list and platoon tactics. They had barely explored their lands from what he'd found. The Bastian King would be most pleased with his son. Swift may even be noticed among his five older brothers now.

Lost in his thoughts, the young Bastian barely registered the sound of wings above his head and the cry of a griffon who had spotted his prey. Panicked, Swift propelled himself through the undergrowth, sharp nettles pricking his leathery skin. He wasn't called Swift for nothing. His deformed wings swayed helplessly in the breeze as his tail flew out in a sprint.

Swift could see the entrance to his lands ahead, and so he added an extra burst of speed to his step and zoomed to safety, hidden away in the cave, unseen from above. Panting, the Bastian trotted down the wide stairs, his ears swivelling and his eyes adjusting quickly to the impenetrable gloom.

With a last clip of his hoof Swift felt the usual slimy ground of where he grew up. He clopped towards what he knew was the main village, leading to the castle. Yanking a lever down to disguise the cave Swift turned into another dank corridor and was confronted by two guards crossing their spears to bar his path.

They looked quite intimidating with large horns curling around their ears and piercing purple eyes. The young Bastian glared at them icily and blinked once. The Bastian guards flinched at the power in his stare and immediately unblocked his path. The guards chosen had the sharpest minds and best memories in the Bastian underground Kingdom, they could tell who was who by a stare.

All Bastians could do this but the chosen guards were especially gifted at it. Swift had never been sure how exactly this worked, although he thought that it had to have something to do with memory. The guards seemed to have recovered from Swifts stare and returned, straight faced, to glaring down the isolated corridor.

As Swift walked past them he was greeted by the bustling trade village. It never ceased to amaze him just how many merchants roamed the village, selling their unique wares to the large population. Swift ached to browse them, it was, after all, Trade Week. The best time of the year for traders. The citizens loved it as well, the new smells and sights that appeared throughout the week, the low prices and just the amount of wares that there were. Swift slowed by a precious gem stall.

A turquoise gem caught his trained eye.

Swift collected gems of all shapes, colours and sizes, Romora gems were his favourite, and that was what had caught his attention. The gem was propped up on a velvet cushion, it sparkled in the faint glowworm lights. Swift admired it circular shape, covered with wisps of white and grey, like the sky above.

The young Bastian picked up the gem and traced its patterns. A slight heat radiated from it and warmed his entire being, immediately making him feel happier. Without a glance at the price tag Swift paid 100 Draftgots to the trader before continuing through the village.

          Eventually Swift came to the castle after passing through the various other villages of Bascanara. Swift strode past some guards who recognised him and clopped to the throne room deep within the murky castle.

He knelt before his father and said " Father I have returned from the Griffon village. I have recovered some useful information. The griffon platoons, their numbers,tactics and patrols hours as well as the entire trade list" King Gonial digested this information, a smile playing on his lips. " Rise my son, you have done well, yes very well" Swift rose as his father muttered a few sentences to himself. Swift studied his sharpened hooves for a moment before glancing at the mirror to his right. He was quite thin with a wispy black mane and a silver coat.

His fuzzy ears continued to swivel, picking up the smallest noises. His father suddenly burst into maniacal laughter and cackled " The griffons will fall and I will rule all!, they can't stop me I'm to powerful now!" Swift grimaced inwardly. His father had a tendency to take a turn at the worst times.

He had been diagnosed with cave drip a while ago and it got more frequent every month.He knew there was no cure except death but the old king refused to die. " I will rule, nothing will stop me, hee hee hee" Swift excused himself and left the room, taking the stairs to reach his own. The dingy staircase was strewn with mould and damp patches but to Swift it smelled like home.

Swift lay down in his stable, rolling in the mangy straw. He loved the soothing feel of damp hay against his aching shoulders. He rose and placed the new gem on his shelf, pride of place in the centre. The gem glowed at him as he lay down once again.One of his brothers snorted sleepily in the next stable.

Grunt, his oldest brother, marched into the stables with his useless leg dragging behind him. Grunt had been crippled in warfare but had recovered some strength in his leg. He was still rarely able to move it but occasionally it could be shifted into a more comfortable position.

Grunt lay down across from Swift and snorted at him. " Your back ?" It was a statement, not a question. Swift met his brothers eyes gingerly, malice glistened in those merciless pits. " Yes, father was pleased with my work " Swift swallowed as Grunt replied " At least you were some use finally, I was worried you were only good at getting in the way " Swift ignored his brothers insults and turned his back to sleep.

------

          Nordic screeched with frustration. The Bastian brat escaped after trespassing into the sacred hall, snatching the platoon details and the trade lists. Nordic clipped his beak signalling his troop to return to the kingdom. Sapphira glided over to him and asked" What are you so upset about?"

Nordic squealed back at her" I thought that I would finally catch something, the Bastians can't be allowed to steal our stuff"

"Nordic, you can't fix everything the king has made wrong with this Kingdom"

" I know Sapphira, I know."

Nordic put on a burst of speed as the perches came into view. Banking sharply left he descended into them, his party following. Each of them landed on their designated perch and took off their protective masks and wing tip guards. Nordic glided to the floor of the perches and squawked for his team to follow him.

Nordic was a large griffon with bold brown plumage flecked with gold. His navy blue eyes strewn with a lighter blue. His golden orange beak clicked in greeting to passing servants of his father. Bit by bit his party dispersed to their lodgings as he made his way to the throne room, finally only Sapphira remained.

" Nordic, are you ok? " she asked softly.

Nordic gave her a look that showed reluctance,fear and sorrow, but instead of answering he left her standing in the corridor and walked to the throne room.Flying the last few feet Nordic confronted his father angrily, hiding his fear " Father, the Bastian got away, with everything "

" WHAT? I was told that he was spotted outside the gates, by the Imperial Guards" the King said, throwing Nordic his usual disapproving look.

" I walked into the holy hall to see the wretched beast memorising our trade lists, and platoon tactics, those useless guards that you sent to protect our records were sleeping on the job, again!" Nordic removed his eye contact to avoid the stare, gulping as he felt the Kings gaze bore into him, as though he could see Nordics soul.
" Son, this is no longer a Forest Clan affair, it's time, to Call The Clans!"