Hale: The Rise of the Griffins

by JK Noble

Genres: YA Coming of Age; Dragons & Mythical Creatures; YA Epic Fantasy

Synopsis

After a desperate escape attempt from his kidnapper, sixteen-year-old Hale is thrust into the brutal world of magic that his sister had tried to protect him from.

Here, in the violent Land of Griffins, Hale learns he is anything but normal. He is in fact a griffin who has pretty amazing talents. As Hale grows close to the Griffin Leader, Bayo, he can't deny their connection. However, Hale is unaware of the dark plans Bayo has in store for him....as well as who they truly are to one another.

In Hale: The Rise of the Griffins, readers discover a diverse fantasy world with four unique nations and cultures. The novel is broken into short stories that follow a different set in the cast bringing the reader into fun adventures in every chapter. This unique magic system is unlike anything in fantasy literature today. Hale: The Rise of the Griffins is an anti-chosen-one story that addresses loss, manipulation, good and bad family relationships, finding one’s path, and dealing with one’s mistakes.

 

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Release date: June 15, 2021

Publisher: Morgan James Fiction

Print pages: 278

Sample

PROLOGUE

January 5, 1720

Flickering torches line the hall, illuminating the three shadows that creep through. A midnight-black sky camouflages the snowfall behind the paneled windows. Felix, Bayo, and Greon pass the hall in great haste, unseen by all. The gift of illusion is Greon’s. As a master of this power, Greon can will all eyes before him to see whatever he dares to imagine. In this case, he has made himself and his companions invisible. But he has overlooked one minor detail . . . their shadows.

Greon’s forehead wrinkles, his eyes shifting while his body shakes. Felix looks down at the pendant in his hand, which he’d enchanted to beam an amber blaze as it got closer to their treasure. There is no change in his contraption, and the veins in Felix’s neck throb with frustration.

The windows rattle from the storm, and Greon springs up at the sound. At once, his eyes fly to Bayo to see if he noticed his embarrassing moment, but Bayo is preoccupied.

Bayo examines the pendant from the corner of his hungry eyes for it is his treasure the three are after. In pursuit of this treasure for nearly a century, Bayo found that it had been hiding here in a neighboring kingdom. The moment he knew where it was, there was no time wasted in retrieving it.

“We’re nearly there,” whispers Felix.

“Hush now,” says Greon. “I cannot conceal sounds.”

“Hush thyself. I hear you quivering from over here,” Felix says.

Greon glares at Felix. “I would not be so distressed if yourwretched footsteps were not booming in these halls!”

Felix turns to Bayo. “Isn’t it astonishing that the person whining about the noise is making all the racket?”

Greon’s enraged interjection cuts off as his face gives a great twist. A mighty wail, desperate to escape, is released in a mutter past his clenched jaw. Beside him, Felix fares the same. This is Bayo’s gift, the gift of anguish. He can will any victim to experience immense physical torment. Endurance, his people call it. This gift is superior to all, and Bayo, the master of this power, is also the master of his people.

Bayo stands before them and watches with heavy eyes as his companions are forced to their knees in the physical agony that he inflicts on them. With Felix’s loosening grip, the pendant falls with a clank. Bayo snags it from the sparkling stone floor.

“Are you children finished? Or shall Greon conjure the image of both your mothers?” Bayo says, leering toward the pair.

At that moment, a group of men approach the entrance behind them. On the other side of the door, a man stutters in hysteria, “Sh—shadows, sir! Walking about. I’ve never s—seen such a sight! Spirits walkin’ among us, sir!”

At once, Bayo stops using his power on his companions to listen in, and Greon and Felix slowly pull themselves to their feet.

“How many were there? What did they look like?” asks another man, his voice steady.

“There were three, sir,” the first voice says.

Bayo’s eyes widen in horror. “You imbecile!” he whispers, cursing Greon. Greon hastens to fix his mistake, but it is far too late for that. The three begin to run.

The guard then asks, “Which way did they go?”

“Through these doors!”

They freeze once more.

“Through the window!” Felix says frantically, recalling the swords that disable magic in this nation.

Bayo snaps his head to meet Felix’s eyes. “I’m not leaving without it!” he hisses with rage. He worked too hard to find it; the one weapon that could be used to invade their nation . . . and conquer the worlds.

The double door behind them crashes open with a bang. In the doorway stand five armed guards, peering through the hallway. But they see nothing. The guards walk through the corridor with waiting swords that ring in the proximity of any magic. Bayo, Greon, and Felix back away quietly until their backs are pressed against the white stone walls. The guards’ swords begin to buzz.

The cold of the stone sends shivers up their spines. Yet, Bayo’s hand grows warm. He looks down at the amulet in his palm; his face is illuminated with an amber glow. His heart skips a beat. It’s close! Bayo walks on despite the approaching guards, searching for a door, anything besides these endless halls. However, even around the bend, no exits appear.

Greon presses his back against the ice-cold window, his brow slick with sweat as he struggles to keep up his illusions while managing his panic. A guard passes by him, only an inch away, yet he notices nothing.

The guards then pass Felix, who stands across from Greon. He clutches the stone, trying to keep still and out of their way.

“What’s that ringing? There is nothing here,” says a guard, staring at his pulsating sword.

The superior of the royal guards answers, “Ah, it’s The Eyes.”

Bayo’s lips curl into a smirk as he begins to pat the wall silently. It’s here . . . somewhere. The swords are nearly brushing against his back. If they were to touch him, he would be temporarily cleaned of all magic, including his power of Endurance. Long enough to be killed. But Bayo keeps on. He knows there is something here, a trick to the wall that hides his prize behind the stone. He continues down the hall silently, all the while patting the shimmering stone with the warm pendant in his hand. Finally, at the end of the corridor, his hand falls through the wall.

“Calling five guards on Lorain’s Day!” scoffs the superior of the royal guards. “As a witness to shadows in the night! Go home, men. There is nothing here.” With that command, the guards exit with a slight murmur.

Felix and Greon peer around the bend in search of Bayo, but he is nowhere in sight. They come to a dead-end, utterly dumbfounded.

“What on Malphora?” mutters Felix as he holds out his arm to touch the wall at the end of the corridor. His arm passes through it completely and without feeling. He and Greon share an astonished look. Neither has experienced such magic before. They both walk through.

The air beyond the corridor is warm and inviting, unlike the brisk winter they left behind. They stand on black earth lined with magnificent rock structures below a brilliant sky with stars and constellations they have never seen before. In the distance are strange planets so large they seem to be a short flight away. At the horizon, a blazing orange sky fades into pink, then blues and purples. There are no clouds, and the air is entirely still. A gentle hum echoes through this strange world. Although Felix and Greon stand here for only a moment, it is evident this mystical place is alive.

In the distance, they see Bayo’s figure approaching a great white light in the center of this strange world. Once Bayo is close, the objects emitting the dazzling light emerge. They are three glassy orbs, each the size of a palm, floating several feet from the ground. They spin slowly and continuously, as if they were in one another’s orbit. Each orb represents an existing world. Through their glass-like forms, one can make out the world within.

The Mythical Three Eyes

Bayo beholds the orbs in their beauty, his arms extending out to touch what he has so long searched for. This is Bayo’s treasure.

Felix and Greon stand behind him. The strange world echoes with Bayo’s chuckle. Sound moves differently here—more slowly and in clear waves.

“I’ve crossed the ends of the earth, and finally, I’ve found you,” he whispers, a rapturous grin on his face. Bayo touches one with the palm of his hand, and it feels as though the world stops.

The magnificent starry sky turns black. The orbs’ light lessens altogether, and their rotations pause. All is still for a moment until the rocky earth beneath them begins to tremble.

Felix shouts to Bayo, “We must leave!” He and Greon turn around, but the expanse of land looks all the same, obscuring the way from which they had come.

“Do not fear, friends,” Bayo calls. “Come closer. These orbs are our salvation. See here, Malphora, our world, bountiful and beautiful in every way.”

Malphora is most commonly known as the realm of the humans, though it is also home to the extraordinary, as they call themselves. Although both humans and the extraordinary share Malphora, the ancients of all the extraordinary nations created a divide between the two regions of the world to protect their people. To accomplish such a feat, they used the oldest magic in existence: The Three Eyes and the oldest Tree in Malphora. Thousands of years passed, and neither humans nor the extraordinary could pass through the divide between worlds unless they had the orbs or the location of the oldest tree.

Bayo touches the orb of Malphora and chortles as the air before them rips open in a long gash. A portal. Through the gash is an image of a pristine beach with waters so clear the sand beneath is visible. Rays of sunlight pour through it and into the now black world Bayo stands in. Cooing birds and crashing waves seem only a step away.

“The human divide,” Bayo mumbles.

Without a moment’s hesitation or fear, Bayo stuffs the orbs into a large sack and throws it over his shoulder. The earth begins to quake beneath their feet. And yet the portal remains open.

Greon and Felix jump through the gash, and Bayo follows before the portal closes. As soon as they’ve gone, the earth they had stood on but a moment ago falls into oblivion.

 

CHAPTER 1

July 1, 2020

The only way to tell time inside the cellar is by studying the sunlight, which pours through a large crevice in the brick wall. Two ragged bodies sprawled across the cement floor watch as the light fades. They share a troubled look, knowing what horrors the evening will bring. One of the bodies is Hale, a young man, nearly sixteen years of age. He extends a heavy arm to his older sister, Carly, and the shackles that bind him rattle. His cuff digs further into his skin, and he bites his lip. Carly reaches out for him as well, wrapping her arm around his shoulders. He can feel her shivering.

Carly must sense his worry. “Hale, I’m fine. Just a little cold.”

Carly’s once plump, berry-colored lips are now a sickly shade of purple, and her cheeks have lost their fullness and color. Under her eyes are heavy, dark circles. It is hard for Hale to look at his older sister this way, recalling the beauty she once possessed.

Grabbing the blanket that they share, Hale throws it over himself and his sister. He pulls himself closer until his head rests on her bony chest. As he moves, his left arm dangles above his head; the three-foot chain connecting him to the stone wall is not long enough. His iron shackles press deeper into his open skin, but Hale tolerates the pain as warmth finally radiates between them.

To their left, the door above the stairs opens with a light screech, and candlelight from the floor above pours through, illuminating the dark cellar. The cellar is bare except for two large buckets, one in the far corner for defecating, and the other beside Carly, filled with water for drinking and bathing. The shelf to Carly’s left holds two bathing rags, two glasses for drinking, and a few candles—which were lit and replaced at sunset.

A man walks through the door and locks it behind him, descending with slow, lumpish steps. Hale knows this man only as his abductor. Carly, on the other hand, would have dared to call him family in another life. His somber eyes, the color of deep waters, droop with lack of sleep. His lips quiver as he lights the candles on the shelf.

Carly takes a deep breath and removes her arm from around Hale’s body. The abductor halts before her, and they lock eyes for a long moment.

Watching the two staring at one another is off-putting for Hale, but he is clueless about the fact the two are engaged in a telepathic conversation.

Carly senses the lack of the man’s mental barrier. He has not taken the potion he regularly uses to keep her telepathic gifts at bay. She understands this as an invitation to enter his mind, that he has something to say to her and only her.

We’ve wasted enough time, Carly. Bayo needs him to come back home, says the man.

If you were in my place, would you give him to Bayo? she counters.

His life is not your concern. Bayo is his rightful guardian,he declares.

I will not destroy his life for that reason.

At least tell him. Give him a choice, he pleads.

The less he knows of our true identities, Greon, the better. He still has a chance to live a good life.

Your stubbornness will only bring you strife. Greon sighs and kneels down to unshackle Carly from the wall.

Hale’s stomach turns as the man touches his sister’s wrist, and he lashes out, kicking him in the leg. “Don’t touch her!”

Greon ignores Hale’s blow and gazes at the fearful young man.

Those eyes puzzle Hale ever more, for Hale could never understand how a person with such kind eyes could act so maliciously. Hale watches in horror as Carly is pulled from the ground with a tight grip on her forearm. Her legs falter beneath her, the cement scraping her knees.

As Hale’s rage intensifies, he recalls Carly’s words just a few hours prior. “When he comes for me today, do nothing. Stop fighting, Hale.”

Dumbfounded, Hale had retorted, “Do nothing? He wants to kill you!”

She had shaken her head. “No, he doesn’t. He would have done it already. Hale, listen to me. Don’t push him to hurt you. Close your eyes and do nothing until it’s over.”

“If we don’t fight, we will never escape.”

“Fighting won’t do us any good. We are too weak to fight. We need to be smarter than that.”

Ignoring his sister’s words, Hale had continued to try to slip through his cuff like he was able to do a few evenings ago. However valiantly Hale thought he fought against his kidnapper those nights prior, his efforts were futile, and as punishment, his arm was burned with a hot piece of metal.

Now Hale watches his sister kneel before this man as she is struck down with a heavy hand across her face. Her hair goes flying in front of her. Hale shakes and pulls at his shackles, fresh blood trickling from his wrists. It is no use. They are tighter than they used to be. Tears overwhelm his eyes with every passing bang and moan. He tries with all his might to heed Carly’s words and not look. For a long moment, there is no noise, and Hale opens his eyes, assuming it is over for the day. Instead, he sees his sister on the ground, the man crouching over her with his hands at her throat. Carly kicks her legs and tries to pry his fingers from her neck. The sound of her gasps fills the cellar, and suddenly her arms fall to her sides. Hale screams.

Greon releases his hold on her neck. The marks of his hands are on her throat. Tears pour from his eyes, but he is quick to wipe them so Hale will not see. He stands up as Hale screams, turning his back to the boy completely. He can’t face him now after what he’s done.

Hale’s sobs echo throughout the cellar, and he scrambles to his knees, trying to reach out to his sister.

“Carly! Wake up! Wake up!” His heart pounds from his chest as he shouts her name. He pulls on his chains, but she is too far. Through his flowing tears, he cannot tell if she is breathing. He wails at the man, “What do you want from us?”

Greon simply stands, his expression melancholy. Hale looks up at him, waiting for something, anything. But Greon gives no answer.

“What do you want from us?” Hale asks again.

Greon doesn’t respond.

“Why won’t you kill us?” Hale whimpers. “End it already!”

Greon lifts Carly into his arms and carries her back to her place to the left of Hale. He gently lays her down and begins to shackle her wrists. Hale quickly takes her unshackled wrist in his sooty hands and checks for her pulse.

“She’s alive,” Greon says. It is the first time he has ever spoken to Hale. Hale is shocked. Greon’s voice is soft and quiet. “I need something from her, and, therefore, I cannot kill either of you.”

“What do you need?” Hale asks. “I’ll give you whatever you need. Just please let us go.”

The man kneels down to unlock Hale’s cuffs, and Hale’s heart leaps with hope. As Greon pulls at the metal, Hale’s skin tears from the places it’s bonded it. Hale whimpers, and Greon continues on with a gentler hand.

Then Greon gravely responds, “You cannot give me what I need.” He pulls Hale up and pushes him toward the large tin bucket to the right.

Hale screams, “No! No! Stop—please!” He tries to fight his way free, but Greon overpowers him. Hale is forced to his knees, and his head is pushed into the bucket.

Hale fights the grip at his crown; straining his neck. He begs in panic, “We’ll give you anything you want. Please! You’re not an evil man!”

Greon hesitates before he flatly says, “You know not what you say.” He pushes Hale’s head down.

Hale’s arm thrashes, and he hits the brim of the bucket in panic. But Greon pins Hale’s hands behind his back. For a brief moment, Hale’s head rises from the water. He inhales deeply and gasps, “Please! Stop!” But Greon pushes him under once more. Hale’s gurgling rings in his ears.

“Do you see what you have forced upon me?” Greon shouts. “I’ve waited patiently for you. I shall wait no longer!”

“Stop!” Carly manages with a hoarse voice. “You cannot kill him.”

“No. That I cannot do. But how long are you both to suffer from this pain? Shall I keep you for an eternity?”

Hale feels his head becoming light. Unable to hold his breath anymore, he exhales. Hale frantically scrabbles at the bucket, and in his fit, he manages to wiggle his left arm free, snagging the pocket of his assailant. Out from this pocket, something falls with a slight clank. Greon tries to regain control of Hale’s arm, and Hale’s vision dims to black.

The water stills, and Hale’s body is limp. Greon pulls Hale from the water and rests him on his back. He turns Hale’s head to the side and presses on his chest until water spews from his mouth. Calmly, Greon places Hale back beside Carly and shackles his wrists once more.

He turns to her. “Give me what I need. I will no longer hold back. You both cannot take much more of this. If not for your life, do it for his.”

She pulls Hale into her arms and checks his burning forehead. “Then you will have condemned us either way.”

He sighs while climbing the stairs. “You are giving me no choice.”

She looks at him with disgust, her voice weak and frail. “You’ve told yourself that for hundreds of years. Do you truly believe you are not a monster?”

There is click as the door locks, then all is silent.

 

CHAPTER 2

Greon obsessively works over a large wooden desk. He writes as fast as his mind works, all the while mumbling bits of incantations he ought to use. The room is lit by candlelight, some on nearby candelabras, others scattered across the room. The cabin is lined with oak from ceiling to floor. Beside the living room is a bedroom in the corner, the shadow of a small cot visible from Greon’s seat.

Greon’s hands grasp the roots of his hair as he looks over his notes. “No. No. It can’t be this. I’d have to remove the Nymph’s Dew for it to . . .” He crosses his writings.

Down below in the cellar, Hale wakes. Carly is lying over him to warm his cold, wet body, and he squeezes her tightly.

She smiles. “Guess what?” Before Hale can respond, she whips out a set of keys. Her wrists are unshackled.

Hale gasps.

“They fell from his pocket,” she explains. “We’re getting out of here. Tonight.”

After she unshackles her brother, they creep up the stairs and crouch beside the door. Hale holds his hand out for the keys, but Carly places a finger to her lips. Voices sound in the room beyond.

Right above Greon’s desk comes a voice, startling him half to death. “What progress have you made?” He jumps and his pen flies behind him. The voice chuckles, “Honestly, Greon, you should be used to my visits by now.”

Greon sits back in his chair and looks up at the levitating window above the desk, its oval rim clouded with smoke. In it is Bayo.

Hale presses his ear against the door and whispers, “That other person’s voice . . .”

Goosebumps rise on Carly’s forearms before he’d even finished his sentence.

“It’s so familiar, isn’t it?” Hale continues.

“No,” Carly says at once. “I’ve never heard it before.”

The sound of the voice replays in Hale’s mind, calling him to find a memory lost in the void.

Carly eases Hale away. “Let’s wait until he falls asleep.”

Greon rests his arm on his chair and covers his mouth. “She is reluctant, Bayo,” he says. Bayo’s cheerful expression turns ferocious. His eyes narrow dangerously.

“But I’ve made progress on my own,” Greon adds hastily. “I shall try this cure tonight.”

“You mean the paper whose contents you just crossed out?” Bayo asks sarcastically. Greon looks up into the window.

“Yes, I believe I’m getting closer to the answer,” he assures Bayo. Fierce pain courses through his body, and he gasps, grasping the back of his chair. Greon’s knees buckle, and slowly, he sinks to the floor, holding in his screams.

Bayo fumes, “Ah, but you see, that is what you’ve said to me for the last three months since you’ve captured them. And what you said to me since before then as well.”

Gritting his teeth, Greon manages, “Yes, but remember it is I who found them, not only once but twice since the incident. And I’ve captured them on my own. I have done well by you, Bayo. I suspect in no time at all I will have ready what you require.”

“You are too soft on her. I should have sent Rioma to do the job.”

“Soft! I have done everything you asked me and more to try to persuade her, going against my every instinct to do your bidding!”

“What is your instinct?” Bayo asks with a biting tone. “Setting them both free to make a muck of my plans?”

“She is Felix’s daughter!” Greon counters. “This isn’t easyfor me . . . nonetheless, she won’t be able to go on for much longer.” Suddenly, a sense of relief washes over Greon’s body. He rises to his feet.

“May your words hold value, Greon,” Bayo responds coolly. “I have been gracious to you with my time. Think of your Mary and Ianna.”

Greon replies in a whisper. “Yes, they are the reason I do your bidding.”

Bayo laughs. “There will never be an escape from me, old friend. I will always find a way to get what I desire.”

Greon purses his lips. “And once you achieve even that, ...