Page 67 of Queen's Griffon

They emerged from the building one at a time, and Griff couldn’t help but glance often at the hole where Mohan had disappeared. Thieves might have been stripping Verlora with some success, but that didn’t mean his country was safe. Given what he’d seen thus far, it didn’t seem like it ever would be.

Using their uneven cadence, they made their way deeper into the city, heading for the mountain and the lab nestled within. It bothered him that he’d not seen a sign of anyone passing—aka Avera. Then again, they might have come ashore in a different area. They might not even be in the city.

As they travelled, the damage from the volcano became more pronounced. Entire streets were destroyed by lava flows. Gaping holes where buildings once stood, and skeletons. So many skeletons left lying in the dust, their bones bleached by the sun. While Verlorians didn’t have elaborate burial ceremonies, they did cremate their dead and hold a ceremony of remembrance and farewell.

As a young boy, Griff had rejected offers to hold a vigil for his father, refusing to accept he might be dead. After a few years,when he realized his father would never return, he’d still not done anything to honor him. Couldn’t. A part of him wanted proof, because what if they were wrong? What if his father simply couldn’t sail away from Verlora?

Being here it became clear his father had died long ago. The how of it didn’t matter. Dragon. Bug. Poisoned air. No way he’d survived. The little boy grieved.

The man forged ahead, determined Verlora wouldn’t steal another life. He would find his little queen and save her like he hadn’t managed to save his father or anyone else. The guilt he felt at surviving didn’t care he’d been just a child. He’d lived while so many died. He wouldn’t flee again.

As they entered the central part of the city, more and more doors were closed. Out of curiosity, Griff entered a multi-family building, the kind set over a few levels with individual apartments.

“What are you looking for?” Monty asked as Griff entered the first home.

“Seeing if the thieves made it this far.” Seeing the table set with dishes, a chair knocked over, the furniture still intact if dusty gave him his answer.

Monty held up a mechanized fan, the kind that could be cranked so that the blades spun for a while, moving the air. “Do you know I saw one of these being sold for the price of a horse in The Fool’s Bazaar?” A marketplace in Okkilam.

“Verlorian artifacts are priceless now that we no longer produce them.”

“Can I take it?” Monty asked.

“If you want to carry the extra weight, then go ahead.”

Monty stuffed it in his knapsack, making the bag bulge.

They emerged to see the sky starting to darken as the sun began to set.

“We should find a defensible place for the night,” Simhi suggested.

Griff wanted to argue. Avera needed him.

She needed him alive not stumbling in the dark with unknown menaces to be discovered.

His shoulders slumped. “I guess.”

“What’s the dragon doing?” Monty pointed and they all looked to the sky to see it swooping suddenly from the mountain, diving straight down, as if it had spotted something.

Griff began running, uncaring if his pace was rhythmic. All he could think was the dragon had spotted something and was hunting.

Possibly Avera.

Never mind he’d never reach her before the dragon finished its plummet. He couldn’t stop if he tried.

Simhi bolted past him, huffing, “Gonna try and keep up, Cap?”

Brat. He tucked his head down and ran, eyes on the ground.

As quickly as the dragon had dropped from the sky, it suddenly reappeared, talons empty. Then again, given its size, it could have eaten a person in a single bite. It flapped its way back to the mountain and Griff’s pace slowed enough Monty caught up, puffing heavily.

“I really need to exercise more,” the man panted.

“Agreed,” Simhi taunted, leaping from the asphalt to grab hold of a pole that once held a light that ran on gas and was lit at night. She shimmied up and smirked. “You old guys rest while I try and get a peek.”

She leaped from the pole to a balcony. Then from there to the one above, climbing them as if they were stairs. A glance at the door showed it buckled in the middle. They wouldn’t be getting inside easily if she needed them, and he doubted he or Monty could be as acrobatic.

Simhi, though, needed no aid. She made it to the seventh floor with its view over the last few streets separating them from the mountain—and whatever the dragon had done.

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