Page 1 of Queen’s Griffon (Swords & Tiaras #2)

When Verlora fell…

The day began overcast with intensely dark clouds. Odd because the air didn’t hint of rain, nor had their weather forecasters anticipated a storm, but the ominous press of the sky seemed determined to defy their usual accurate predictions.

Griff woke as he usually did, grumpy at the fact he had to leave his comfortable bed. Alas, his teachers expected him to be present for his lessons—as did his father. He knew better than to skip. His rear end still recalled the sting of the one time he chose to miss a boring day in the classroom.

Rather than eat alone at home, he had his breakfast in the communal dining hall. The young boy paid little mind to the whispering around him and the strained—even frightened—expressions on many faces. Adults could be strange about so many things.

His father was absent as were many others that morn. Of late they’d been working longer hours than usual.

After breaking his fast, Griff hurried to school, his nose wrinkling at the putrid smell perfuming the air. Most likely an experiment gone wrong. It happened, and while the labs did their best to contain the results, sometimes things escaped.

As he entered the classroom, he noticed only half the students were present. He slid into a seat beside Jorge and, after a glance around, asked, “Where is everyone?”

“Dunno. But I saw a bunch of people heading for the pier on my way in,” Jorge replied.

“Are we expecting a ship or someone important?” The usual reason why people hurried to the docks, though Griff had heard of no visiting dignitary that would justify an exodus, and quite frankly, the only cargo that ever excited him involved the mighty horses that came from across the world. One day he’d own a Volaqu and fly across the beach like the wind.

“Haven’t heard of anything arriving, but my mum was muttering about bad omens this morning.” Jorge rolled his eyes. “Dad told her to stop being so superstitious.”

Their teacher, Lucin, entered. The slender man would give them their lessons on history, geography, and world politics. Boring! It would be followed by an hour of calisthenics and weapons training—Griff’s favorite part of the day—then their midday meal, after which it would be the time for the hair-pulling math, literature, and to end their day, science.

More than once, Griff complained to his father about the last because, unlike some of his peers, Griff had no interest in how things worked whether they be living or mechanical. His father usually offered him a stern look and said, “Just because you don’t like it, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t understand it.”

And so, Griff suffered.

“It would seem we’re missing a few classmates,” Lucin, stated. He might have said more, only the floor trembled slightly.

No one paid it much mind. After all, the Research Facility for the Advancement of Science and Technology often did things that resulted in explosions—which Griff thought more interesting than learning the difference between gear and pulley systems.

“Seems like our scientists are at it early today,” Lucin said with a chuckle. As their teacher opened his mouth again, a stronger vibration shook the classroom, rattling desks and chairs, even knocking a few drawings off the wall.

“Everyone, remain calm,” Lucin shouted as the students began to murmur and squirm in their seats. They might have listened if the shaking had not continued.

One of the boys near the front, his expression pale and worried, rose. “I think I’m going to go find my mother.”

No one made fun of Pietro as he exited, mostly because several others followed suit. Such a long-lasting tremor was unheard of.

Lucin blew out a loud sigh. “It would seem we won’t get much done today. Class dismissed.”

Griff whooped alongside Jorge as they raced from their class into a hall that shook and made navigating difficult for some. While they found it amusing trying to walk, staggering like young drunks, the adults they passed appeared quite worried. Could have had to do with the cracks that began appearing in the concrete walls.

“Let’s get outside,” Griff suggested as he noticed a rather large crevice that appeared in the ceiling.

“Last one there has to kiss a girl,” Jorge yelled, running off.

Griff, however, didn’t immediately follow, taking a moment to aid a young woman who stumbled and dropped a folder of papers. It took but a moment to help her gather them, long enough for Jorge to have run outside. Griff soon followed, he and other students spilling into the large courtyard abutting the school, a massive edifice that held dozens of classrooms, one for each age group of learners from toddler to young adult.

The shaking continued and screams could be heard, but more worrisome was the clang of the fire bells. Griff couldn’t help but feel perturbed, a reaction not apparently shared by his friend.

Jorge grinned from the center of the yard and taunted, “Who you gonna kiss, loser?”

Before Griff could reply, the ground heaved and cracked. A crevice split open under Jorge’s feet and his friend plummeted into the hole.

A wide-eyed Griff froze in shock, but only for a second.

“Jorge!” he yelled as he ran for the edge of the wide chasm.

The ground continued to shake, the trembling growing stronger, the violent force of it sending him to his knees. Despite the bruising, and his tummy clenching fear, Griff crawled to the edge of the hole in the pavement and peered down into a bottomless abyss. No sign of Jorge.

“Griff!” The yell had him lifting his head to see Father standing on the far side of the school’s courtyard, looking frantic.

“I’m here.” Griff stood, but it took some careful balancing to navigate the heaving ground while skirting the hole before he could reach his father.

Father grabbed him close in a hug. “Thank the gears in the mighty clock tower you’re safe.”

“What’s happening?” Griff asked.

“Something went wrong in the lab.”

“Did something explode?”

“Of sorts,” his father muttered, leading him away from the school.

“Where’s Uncle Basil?” Not his real uncle, but his father’s best friend. Basil was the lead scientist for one of the labs, something to do with experimental development, whatever that meant.

“Don’t worry about your uncle. You have to leave.”

“What?” His father’s statement made no sense.

“We’re evacuating Sitnalta.”

“But why?” Griff asked as his father, who had a firm grip on his forearm as he began walking in the direction of the pier.

“As a precaution. Something has gone awry and until we can fix the unfortunate result, we feel it best to remove as many people as we can to avoid casualties.”

Lots of big words, but Griff only understood one thing.

“You’re making me leave?” Griff huffed, trying not to pout. A boy his age shouldn’t whine.

“Only until we get the situation under control. Think of it as an adventure at sea.”

“I’d rather stay with you.” Not entirely true. Griff enjoyed sailing. The sea breeze on his face. The undulation of the boat as it tunneled through waves. The power and beauty of the ocean.

“I’d prefer to know you’re safe. I have enough to worry about without adding you to that list,” his father snapped. A rarity that underscored the severity of the situation.

Griff kept his mouth shut as he followed his father to the pier, trying to forget seeing Jorge fall, ignoring the screams of people as buildings cracked and, in some cases, collapsed. The rotten stench in the air intensified, mixed with the increasing aroma of smoke. Something burned.

Their flight to the docks didn’t prove unimpeded. Several city dwellers tried to stop Griff’s father, shouting at him .

“Are we going to die?”

“What are you doing?”

“Fix this!”

Father didn’t take his usual time answering their questions. Even more shocking, at Father’s signal, soldiers formed a bubble around them, a wedge that drove through those standing in their path.

The docks were pure chaos, the likes of which Griff had never seen. People, their arms full of belongings and children, pushed and shoved, clamoring to be allowed to board the tethered ships. Already some ships had set sail, their decks crowded with passengers. Others attempted to cast off only to have people grab the mooring ropes, screaming to be allowed on board.

The Kalypsi , Father’s personal ship, remained at the dock. Griff craned to look, and he could see a few familiar faces peering over its rail, including Kreed, who’d not been to class this morning. Unlike the other moored vessels with streams of people boarding, soldiers stood at the bottom of the Kalypsi’s gangplank, weapons in hand, preventing anyone from gaining access. A restriction that didn’t apply to Griff.

At the sight of Griff’s father, the soldiers pushed those crowding the dock, creating a hole for them to pass. A passage meant only for Griff. Father didn’t join him on the pathway to the boat.

“Please come,” Griff asked, his voice small and pitiful. A good thing none of his peers heard or he’d have been mocked.

Father shook his head. “You know I must remain and see how we can fix this unfortunate incident.”

Griff couldn’t help a tremble of his lower lip. “But?—”

“No crying.” A stern admonishment by his father. “You must be strong. Everything will be fine. Here.” His father unbuckled his sheath with the sword Griff admired. “Keep this safe for me.”

“When will I see you again?”

“Soon.”

A lie, as it turned out.

Griff stood at the rail, watching his father stride back into the shaking city, then watching as the crew sailed the Kalypsi into the crowded bay, waiting for their chance to slip through the narrow inlet.

Saw as the mountain that shadowed Sitnalta appeared to explode, spewing smoke and lava, bright red gobs that landed like bombs on the buildings—and even a few boats.

A horrified Griff witnessed a large schooner, its decks teeming with people, catch fire and begin to list. The nightmare only increased as streams of molten rock started to run down the mountainside.

The volcano, long dormant, had woken.

Soon, he could see nothing as smoke, stinking and thick with ash, rolled over the city and into the bay. As it reached them, people began to cough, including Griff.

“Cover your faces! Don’t breathe it in,” screamed the first mate as he tugged his shirt over his mouth and nose.

Griff copied him, the fabric somewhat filtering the poisoned air. The world took on an eerie cast, with visibility restricted to the area around him, but the noise…

The groan of heaving stone and concrete, the wails and screams, the hum of the engine propelling them since there lacked a wind for the sails.

The Kalypsi emerged from the bay and kept going. The further they travelled, the more the smog lessened. The more Griff could see.

See his home enveloped in darkness.

His last sight of it.

His last memory.

The start of a hard, new life as a refugee with nowhere to go.

Verlora died that day, as did his father.