Planeshift: The Griffin Ride

As each beat of the creature’s wings pulled them higher above the park, Petra did as she’d been told, clinging to Axel’s back while gripping the griffin’s flanks with her knees. She looked along the span of his wings; fully extended, they appeared almost twice the length of his body. So powerful were they that the griffin did not need to exert himself to keep them gliding at a great speed. Petra’s hair had been blown out of the collar of her blouse, where she’d tucked it, and trailed behind.

When she braved a glance down, she saw that they had long cleared the treetops, and were ascending to the height of the taller buildings. Below, the green lawn fringe of the park looked even more unnaturally and uniformly lush than it had at ground level; the children frolicking upon it looked like porcelain dolls on a backdrop of make-believe grass. Slanting his wings elegantly, the griffin took them above the thickly wooded forest. Its canopy was consistently thick, but had none of that artificial uniformity which had been imposed on the grasses surrounding it. Some trees, more ambitious than their neighbours, broke past the canopy and reached gnarled, leafy fingers towards the sun; others, choked by vines and stunted by disease, could not compete with the more aggressive of their kind, and shrank back.

They glided at this height over the park a few times, tilting with the griffin every time he turned. The sensation of being compelled upwards and forwards eventually grew exhilarating instead of alarming. She felt a new buoyancy wash over her as the griffin swooped right, turning the riders nearly to their sides. She knew their combined weight must be staggering, two young humans and one griffin, but they manoeuvred as easily as if they’d been wisps of cloud.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she was content simply to feel the wind in her face. She smirked a little at the thought of Rowena at her tedious tea house, sipping at a cup of lukewarm brew. Feeling the updraft beneath them again, Petra wondered if Axel would be attending class tomorrow, and if he would reply truthfully when Mr. Arterberry asked where he had been. She vaguely contemplated whether it would be worth going to lessons if he intended to be there.

But her expression soured when she remembered that ‘Park Boy’ had outwitted her attempts to taunt him, and had not even allowed her the satisfaction of returning her quips. She’d been somewhat shamed by the boy’s refusal to treat her with the contempt that, in all likelihood, she deserved.

Distantly, just above the whip of the wind, she heard Axel speaking. Petra’s eyes opened to see his head craned back, a self-assured smile on his face. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied quickly, hoping her breathlessness didn’t sound like nerves. Glancing over his shoulder with a little difficulty, she wondered whether Axel was steering, or if the griffin could guide himself. She could see no bridle, or anything else for that matter that could be used to direct the creature, unless Axel was guiding him with his body. “How do you guide him?” she yelled, her voice competing with the rushing wind.

“You don’t need to speak so loud. You’re right in my ear.”

“Oh,” she said, her tone lowered to its usual volume. “Sorry.”

“I can guide him with a little pressure on the shoulders, just to tell him where to turn. Other than that, he does most of the work.”

When Petra next caught a glimpse of the ground, she saw no longer saw the green expanse of the park, but instead the rooftops of buildings and neatly paved squares of the metropolis. And she realised they were descending rapidly, as the griffin navigated the channels of air between narrow streets, scarcely wider than his wingspan, plunging around corners in a way which left certain townspeople below much shaken. Petra grinned as she saw one mature, well-dressed woman (on later reflection, Petra realised it had been Mrs. Desselles, a wealthy, widowed acquaintance) brandishing her parasol as they swooped past. A quick dive towards a market stall left both riders laughing mischievously as the griffin glided over the sellers and their expensive wares (this was the Archadean Square after all), close enough to cause shoppers alarm.

Planeshift: Petra and Axel (Untitled)

Breckenridge’s Flora and Fauna lay closed on the grassy bank beside Petra as she reclined, legs stretched out gracelessly, watching the shadow cast by the stone minotaur set at the fork of two neatly paved paths dwindling as the sun rose to its zenith. Her bonnet had been discarded long before, stuffed irreverently into the brown book bag, only its blue ribbons protruding as a reminder that a young lady should always wear her bonnet to avoid a ruddy complexion. Petra’s complexion was a little darker than fitted a young lady of fortune, as that bonnet rarely remained on her head when she made her visits to the park. Neither did she care a shred that her mother would be off at her again upon seeing her reddened cheeks and nose, with the hard remark that she looked like a common labourer. Petra was not a vain girl, for all her pride.

Presently, her half meditative, half vegetative state taxed very little on her mind; as such, she was perilously near the precarious edge of Boredom. She briefly considered unwrapping the vegetable pastries which Clovis (her minotauress nursemaid) had packed for her lunch, but she had no appetite to sate, at present. Besides, crushed as they were by the several books which she had stuffed into the bag after them, they could hardly be particularly appealing.

She sat up to survey the park, tucking her legs beneath her. Her eyes trailed towards the greenish charcoal of the dense forest, scanning the line of trees for any sign of movement, of anything different. But the trees were as motionless as always, and Petra had begun to suspect that the stories about children devoured by predatory beasts who lurked under the thick canopy were the sort of falsehoods parents would tell their offspring to keep them from straying. Petra turned her disinterested gaze away from the ragged edge of the forest, watching the shops across the street.

There was something about the posture of a student evading lessons that gave an observer the distinct impression of their guilt. As Petra glanced along the perimeter of the park, she noticed just one such posture amongst the people lingering around the low stone wall which attempted to fence the last vestiges of nature within.

Petra recognised the boy who leaned against the pillar housing the gate mechanism, gazing back towards the park distantly, eyes focused with a peculiar intensity on the tidy green which stretched out behind him. She was surprised to see Axel – ‘Park Boy’ as he was better known by his classmates – skipping lessons. But then again, Petra’s own attendance record was so scant that she really didn’t know what kind of student he was. She observed his static figure with a dispassionate little frown, winding a blade of grass around her finger.

Without glancing at the time piece in her pocket, Petra decided she’d had enough of the park for one afternoon. Clovis would be waiting around to pick her up; and besides, there was no need to steal Park Boy’s title from him.

Had she cared more about what her parents thought of her schooling (or lack thereof), Petra might have considered what lie she might tell them concerning the test she’d supposedly sat today. But as either parent cared less for their eldest daughter’s education than they did for their own, more pressing, matters, Petra was rarely asked how her day went. No big deal to her, her father and mother’s indifference.

Her expression was just a little petulant as she passed through the park gates, stuffing her head into the crumpled hat irritably. She paused a step outside the gate, fastening the buckle of the shoulder bag as she considered which route to take back to Mr. Arterberry’s. Right would take her past the row of dressmakers, and the bakery she sometimes visited when Clovis’ provisions proved either too little or too spoiled. And left would take her past Park Boy.

Petra realised she had a mind to ask him why he was missing lessons.

So left it was; but as she approached him, she found her curiosity was outweighed by her reluctance to make conversation. Resolving merely to pass by, with a doubtful glance at his defensive posture, arms crossed over his chest, Petra noticed as his gaze shifted towards her. After it had lingered for a moment, she paused in her tracks, a cross frown marring her face. “What are you staring at?”

His eyes narrowed slightly as he seemed to ponder for a moment. “You’re the No-Show Girl.”

Petra’s outward breath formed a sound of exasperation. “Well, yeah. Don’t think your attendance record is exactly golden either if you’re standing here.”

“Better than some. Not as good as others. Nothing vitally important going on today anyway.” Axel shrugged and returned his gaze to the park, falling silent for several moments as he simply looked into the shadowy depths. “You usually drag friends along when you skip lessons, don't you?”

Petra faintly quirked an eyebrow as she remembered reluctant Rowena’s departure from today’s plans, leaving her to the boredom of solitude. “She left. Not much of a park person...Unlike yourself, Mr. Axel,” she added mockingly.

"Usually works better if you know my last name, Ms. Lyon." He shrugged himself off the wall and dug his hands into his pockets. "Question now becomes what you intend to do with the next hour. Unless that minotauress has stopped picking you up from classes."

“I was just going home,” she replied, ignoring his impudence in correcting her. What was he, 14? Nothing more than a vexing little boy. She bit back the insults she might have thrown back at him, remembering the advantage of her years. “But now that I think of it, how come you’re forever lingering around the gate but never going in?” She left a small pause for emphasis. “You’re not afraid of it are you?”

Axel froze visibly, his confident turn toward the street interrupted by her words. "You ever hear of a Skynight by the name of Revan Cloudrunner?" He looked at her, his eyes so narrow it seemed a marvel of muscular control that they were still somehow open and his jaw clenched tight.

Petra blinked at the familiar name. “Might have. So what?”

“He died in that very park over ten years ago. He'd been on a walk with his only son. The boy got away from him and was attacked by a wild giant.” Axel paused and glared into her eyes for a brief moment before continuing. “Ever since his father died, that boy hasn't been able to go into the park. Nobody really knows why; he just won't go.”

“Oh...” she found herself staring at her boots in shame. So that was the uncomfortable truth of Park Boy’s strange habit. She felt a little mortified of the insensitivity of her comment earlier, but her pride would not let her admit her tactlessness for long. She was nearly ready to return the grave revelation with some remark of wit, when she was stopped short.

Axel turned and began to walk away, hands still in his pockets. He glanced back when he noticed she wasn't following and called out to her. "Hey, No-Show! You coming?"

He was heading through the gate, back towards the park. Stuck to her place by wide-eyed shock, she had to make an effort to move to follow after him.

“But...where are you going?” she asked, jogging a few steps forward to catch up.

“Well, one of us has to come up with a plan for the rest of the afternoon. And I'm the only one who has an idea. You'll see in a few minutes.” He didn't even bother to turn his head back to look at her, focusing intently on the ground in front of him as the trees loomed closer.

Petra frowned, watching as the long shadows of the woods began to cross their path. She would have called him insane, had she been any less curious as to what Master Axel had planned.

Finally, they reached the edge of the trees and he stopped, staring into the murky depths. "Have you ever wondered what happens to a Skyknight's mount when he dies?" Axel turned to face Petra with a slight smirk on his face.

Petra looked at him a little uneasily. “Never crossed my mind.”

“Well, I know the answer, whether you've thought on it or not.” He gave a loud, sharp whistle and crossed his arms. For a few seconds, nothing happened, until a loud screech echoed from within the forest itself, followed shortly by the flapping of wings. “Oftentimes they're released, though they still have something of a bond with their old partner's family. Some naturalists think it has to do with the scent the rider, and by extension his family, produce.”

Before long, a griffin soared high overhead before circling down towards them, crying happily as it approached the ground, trotting slowly toward Axel. “I never really bothered wondering why it was, though. I just have a friend who knew Dad better than I did.”

The appearance of this fine-feathered creature startled Petra, and she took an involuntary step backward. But the animal was beautiful, with its graceful head and sleek beak, and possessed a nobility which the ink drawings on the pages of a book could scarcely replicate. And those of them she had seen from afar during the parades, she realised, had been encumbered by their legionary regalia; seeing one quite close now, she was able to see how the soft feathers varied in colour and texture across the griffin’s body, downy near its chest but sharp and elongated as it stretched along the colossal wings.

Petra watched bewilderedly as the creature lowered the smooth beak and nudged Axel’s side affectionately, apparently requesting that he ruffle the feathers on his crown. It gave her a distinct impression that griffins were quite affectionate creatures, though looking at the cruel, almost serrated edge of that beak gave her second thoughts.

“Hey, boy.” Axel ran a hand through the feathers of the creature's neck as he spoke softly to it. “Sorry I haven't been around lately.” It snapped its beak happily and rubbed its muzzle against him once more before moving to test regally on its knees, tossing its head. Running a hand along its wing, he looked back at Petra. “You coming?”

“What??” Petra looked back at Axel, her eyes wide at his offer. “You mean ride? On him?” For a moment she could think of nothing but her grip slipping from those smooth feathers, and plummeting through the sky to meet a messy death on some market stall.

"Well… yeah, that's the general notion. He likes when people ride him." He ran a hand along the griffin's beak. "If you want, you can ride in front and I'll… er…" he paused, seeming to realize what it was that was being offered. "Um… If you're worried about falling, it's perfectly safe…."

Petra glared at him; the mere accusation of cowardice was enough to assuage her fears. “I most certainly am not afraid! I’m coming.”

He smirked and swung his leg over the creature. "You wanna ride in front or back?" The creature shifted slightly as his weight fell upon it and crowed with excitement, its wings stretching out in anticipation.

It was easier to settle her nerves once she saw the griffin’s eagerness; she took a few tentative steps forward. “I dunno...” she considered, in response to his question. “Which is easiest for you?”

Planeshift: Petra's Intro

Mr Arterberry, a tutor of natural science and geography in the wealthier districts in the Archadean Square, watched the timepiece strike twelve noon. His students awaited further instruction anxiously, their soft, unworked hands resting hesitantly on their desks, eager to turn the pages of the test paper before them. The tutor rapped the desk sharply with the end of his cane, clearing his throat. He pushed the spectacles up on his nose, clearing his throat in a manner which bespoke his irritation.

“It seems that Miss Lyon has chosen not to grace us with her presence this afternoon, students,” he said, looking at the group of five before him. No, four...he counted again, certain his eyes were deceiving him. But no, young Axel’s seat was distinctly empty, and he did not know him to be a truant like Miss Lyon. He set the cane on the desk, drawing the chair out.

“The examination will commence as normal,” he said tersely. “You have until two-thirty. Begin!”

Scarcely had the order been given that pages began to fly, and quills scratched out hasty answers. Mr Arterberry took his seat. Petronilla’s truancy was something he had been prepared for. But Axel? No, that boy’s absences were rare, and he had never missed an examination before. The tutor muffled a sigh in the sleeve of his coat. This did not bode well at all.

***
Petra was laughing as she stepped off the kerb, followed by a less enthusiastic Rowena. Both girls were in their last year of schooling, though Rowena did not share many of her friend’s classes. The silent but acknowledged truth was, they shared very little at all. Rowena’s father was an associate of Petra’s, and apart from that, all they could confidently claim to have in common was the year of their birth. Rowena was as dull as Petra was unruly. And unless it was for her disobedient friend’s interference, she nearly always abided by the rules set by her superiors.

“Your parents will find out, you know,” she called righteously from behind, as Petra kept up her rapid pace. She felt the lace of one of her fine leather boots was undone, and she ignored its annoying dragging as well as she could. There would be no time to slow down to fasten it, not until they had cleared the immediate vicinity of Cloudreach.

“Don’t care,” Petra replied monosyllabically. Frowning, Rowena tried to keep up with her fiercely-paced walk, feeling the low heel of her boots hit the pavement with painful repercussions for her ankles. She had to jog forward a few steps to bring herself in line with the other girl.

“Where are we going anyway?” she asked tetchily. Petra wondered, not for the first time, why she’d dragged tedious, submissive Rowena along.

“The park.”

Rowena’s eyes looked ready to pop out of her head. “The park! Oh Petra, can’t we find somewhere nicer? How about those beautiful new tea rooms near the—”

“What, that silly little place your mother took us to last week?” she cut in impatiently, leaving Rowena astounded at her friend’s disregard for the most basic social etiquette. “The tea was so insipid there.”

“I thought it was a very pretty place,” replied a cross Rowena, who was genuinely fond of the establishment in question.

“If you don’t like it, don’t come,” said Petra coolly.

Rowena halted suddenly, her brow furrowed in disbelief. It took a few moments for Petra to realise that she had fallen back. “Well you know what? I think I won’t.”

Petra shrugged. “Fine with me.”