legendarynovel

Chapter 1

An old wives tale that no one tells, just remembers, is what I think of when I hear the screams. It tells of magnificent giant creatures that soar in the sky and rule the land--one with giant wings that are longer than a road is wide and wider than a horse is long--that are brought by the winds. 

It has the forefront of an eagle and the hindquarters of a lion or a leopard-something of that sort. It is breasted in feathers the lead down to legs that stop in taloned feet and the body of it is covered in smooth fur. The hind legs are that of a cats, with powerful muscles and sharp claws. The face is graced with feathers and an eagle's beak but with longish feathered ears.  

The tale calls them gryphons, and speaks of their ferocity in battle. How they maul humans and feast on horses. How some of them have magical healing powers, while some have feathers sharper than sword blades. 

Altogether, the gryphons are dangerous. 

This is why goose flesh appears on my skin when I hear the screams. I can picture it in my mind-the creatures perching on barns; waiting for the horses to be freed after the winds so they can eat. Waiting for people to flood the towns of Ramsey and Douglas so they can spill blood amongst themselves.  

It scares me.  

Nothing scares me. 

I hear another scream, closer this time. It comes from the beach behind the barn.  

I don't dare look out the windows facing the ocean. Maybe I should call town and get the word out. But no-I can't. The phone lines will be down until morning comes and the winds are gone.  

I check my watch. 1:09am. I've got roughly seven hours left to get everything ready until we let the horses go. Fairly enough time to sort the feed sorted and the horses checked over. 

"Collinsey!" 

Someone is yelling my name. I don't respond, I just shuffle down the ladder from my flat that leads to the barn. There waits for me a bloodied young groom and the American that works for me. Inwardly, I scowl at the scene. 

The American confirms my suspicions. The groom, Jem, had gone into Gryphon's stall and had gotten struck by him. A very slight frown tips down a corner of my mouth. 

Raising Gryphon is the black thoroughbred stallion that is the heart of the barn. Countless races in the mainland he has won by more than seven lengths, and is what brings many of the British tourists to the barn. Despite being so popular, the black is wild and untamed. He trusts only one on his back, the one who raised him and named him after a legend that haunted him, which would be I. 

Jem seems to almost cower behind the American. He is afraid of what I will tell him. I am annoyed that he dared to approach my horse, but he is young and he is new and has yet to learn the ways of this barn. This is what I tell them, and the American almost smirks.  

"You say the boy is young but you forget how old yourself is, there, Mr. Collinsey." 

I brush it off. "Gansey still employs me as head trainer, does he not? And you are more than twice my age but you are a groom." My tone comes across cool and quiet. 

"This is true," says the American, "although I am not quite sure I am more than twice your age. My hair is not that grey yet, Mr. Collinsey." He says it with a smile and tips his cap on his way past me.  

I turn my eyes over to the groom. "Get cleaned up. We let the horses out at eight."

* + *

I know the winds stop when the lights turn on in my flat. They wake up the horses and the stable hands, causing the grooms to tend to stable blankets and pour oats and mash into horses' feed troughs. Some neigh in glee and toss their heads; knowing what was to come; and others peer anxiously out their stall doors and shuffle their hooves; waiting. 

I leave my flat after eating breakfast and am bombarded by the American and one other. 

"We saw something outside the windows." Says the boy behind the American, who looks younger than I am and has an American accent. I conclude he is the American's son. 

The American pipes up, "It was big and black with huge wings on its back."  

My blood runs cold, although I do not show it. Stable hands without good horse sense in a barn are a very bad thing when they are frightened. Fright spreads like the plague in horse barns. "And-" I made a motion with my hands, uncomfortable. 

"Lily. Clark Lily." I really need to find out the names this year's crop of hands. 

"And Mr. Lily, where did you see this... thing?" I ask. 

"Don't call me Mr. Lily. That would be my father." A slight smile slips on my mouth. "It was out of the bay windows. Quinn, here, saw it." He places a hand on his son's shoulder.  

I turn and look out the windows on the big doors that lead out of the barn. Nothing unnatural is to be seen. "Well, Lily, whatever it was, its gone now." I pause for awhile, let things sink in. "How are the horses? Gryphon?" 

"Ready to be let out, Mr. Collinsey." 

I let a half-smile appear on my face. "My father is Mr. Collinsey. Call me Collinsey."

* + * + *

Sorry this is so short... Chapter two will be longer, I promise. This is just all to get you used to things, you know.