050 - The Great Hunt

The bottom of Sable gorge was almost always in shadow, even in the middle of the day. Pete Stint and the hunters followed the river, running over rocks and leaping down between the slick stony ground with practiced ease. This was home ground for the hunters around the Horn, each and every one of them could boast to be able to sprint through the roughest of grounds after the nimblest of prey.

Along the top of the gorge where the rest of the hunters, keeping pace far above, and above them the Griffon - shrieking and swooping down into the gorge.

Behind the hunters, a breathless Carl Lang took the rusted ropes and climbed down after them, his guards following close behind. His eyes ablaze, he no longer called out to Pete, sweat thick on his brow and staining his scholarly robes, Carl gulped down mouthfuls of air and pushed on, following the hunters.

The gorge twisted and turned, suddenly becoming steep and narrow, the waters of the river rushing white and splashing on the hunters. Down, faster! The cries of the Griffon echoed off the sheer cliffs, a beastly roar.

Pete was the first to leap down through the narrowest part of the gorge, falling feet first into a large bank of damp sand. The gorge opened up here into a small basin, a deep pool of clear water surrounded by sandy shores and steep high cliffs.

"Skrieeee!"

Pete winced, feeling a blast of air he looked up. Right above was the Griffon, hanging in the air and beating its massive wings, its fearsome beak chipped and slashed a dozen times.

The Griffon . . how the devil are we meant to hunt that thing!? Long black talons, each as thick as man's thigh, as pointed as a needle and capable of clawing a man in two. Its beak, hooked and black at the tip, able to tear the skin from a horse with one bite!

Pete felt a tremor, a shiver of dread. Back, run you fool! The sight of the beast unnerved him entirely. Never in his long life as a hunter had he seen such a monster . . never . . ye gods . .

"Skrieee!"

The Griffon folded its wings and dived down, Pete instinctively flung himself to the ground. A cloud of sand flew up into the air, the beast thrust its talons out and fell like a meteor out of the skies at the cliffs of the gorge, screaming and madly lashing at something.

Clang! Fissssssssss . . . the sound of metal scraping against stone, of talons breaking rocks and suddenly "Skrieee!" An almighty guttural screech. The Griffon launched itself back into the sky, desperately flapping its wings, its beak and talons scarred with even more cuts, a bloody gash running down its side. The Griffon took to the skies, screeching and flying beyond the gorge.

"Pete!" A hunter on the cliff tops called out waving his arms frantically. "You alright? Pete!"

Pete got up, running to the side of the cliffs and pressing his body against the stone. "I'm good! I'm alright!" His heart thumped frantically against his ribs. Seeing the Griffon up close . .

The hunters who'd followed him down the bottom of Sable gorge were quick to arrive, hurrying in single file through the narrows and leaping into the sandy basin, quickly taking a place beside Pete.

"What now Pete?"

"Hells if I know, keep your head down."

"Where the beast?"

"HEY!" Pete called to the hunters on the cliffs above. "Where's the Griffon?"

The hunters atop the cliffs of the gorge searched the skies, seeing nothing.

"What do you see from there? On the cliffs!"

"There's a ledge, Pete! Half way up the cliff, behind those trees!"

On the near side of the basin a bit more than half way up the cliffs there grew a clump of bushes and a gnarled tree jutting out at an angle.

"Is there anyone there?" Pete roared.

". . ."

"We don't see anyone Pete!" A hunter from up high roared back.

"There must be someone there . . blast it all," Pete muttered.

"What do we do now Pete?" A young hunter asked.

"Dunno. There has to be something up there . . Oi! Can you climb down? No . . that's no good." The cliff ledge was on the opposite side to the hunters along the gorge. Pete calmed his breath, got his heart under control and took a firm grip of the stock of his spear. "There has to be something up there!"

"Its here . . its here!"

"Skrieeee!"

A screech and rush of air, from the cliff tops a hunter screamed as a talon tore his chest, his body flung out like a sack of potatoes, smashing into the rocks of the cliffs below.

The Griffon spread its wings, leaping from the top of the gorge straight the hidden ledge, this time diving in with a tremendous crash and snapping of woods, an avalanche of jagged rocks exploding out into the basin below.

"Good Gods!" Carl Lang exclaimed, just squeezing through the gorge narrows.

"What's the hold up? Hey?" From behind the scholarly man appeared Gunner in black armour, so wide at the shoulders he could only pass sideways through the gorge narrows. "Is that Carl? Get a move on!"

Gunner thrust out an armored palm pushing Carl and his guards out of the narrow mouth tumbling into the sandy basin.

"Haha!" Gunner leapt down after them, landing heavily on the sands. In his hands he held a long metal staff, the end of which was covered in iron studs. "Where's the beast!" Gunner roared, looking at the hunters crouching by the cliffs. "Well?"

"Up there!" Carl pointed. "Its up in the cliffs!"

From up the side of the cliff came another crash and massive crack, then the sound of metal scraping on stone once more, followed by a pitiful "Skriee!"

Gunner frowned. "Someone got there first?"

"You're always a step behind Gunner." A voice sung out from the cliff narrows as a maiden clad entirely in white dropped elegantly down onto the sands. She held in her hands a white bow as tall as she was, long white feathered arrows in a quiver at her side.

"Humph!" Gunner snorted. "A step behind? Still in front of you!" Even wearing the thick black plate armour Gunner was incredibly agile, able to jump easily across the basin waters and cross to the cliffs beneath the hidden ledge. There, still holding the iron staff in one hand, Gunner began to scale the cliff, grunting and digging his fingers and feet into the stone to make footholds.

Pete and the hunters gawked silently at the antics of the heroes.

"What do we do now Pete?"

"After him! Come on lads! Let's get to that bloody bird first!" The hunters cheered, rushing after Pete to the cliff. They couldn't keep pace with Gunner, none of the hunters could dig their feet or fingers into the stone like he could, but they swarmed up the cliff nevertheless.

The terror of the Griffon seemed to pale before the promised riches. Even the normally cautious Pete had more than half a thought in his mind that, well, even if he couldn't kill the Griffon himself, there might be a chance he could stab a vital spot, whatever that might be on the beast.

"Skriee! Skriee!" The shrill shrieks of the Griffon came with another thunderous smash and plume of dust exploding out from the cliff ledge, the hunters climbing braced themselves against the falling rocks. A mad desire filled their eyes, they were in for the kill!