Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE
SMOKE AND MIRRORS AND PEPPER
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper

Graham arrived at Parsons’ Plateau out of breath and just in time to see Blord and his gang lifting up Ot. They were attempting to hang the little troll by his tunic on the outstretched arms of Malcolm Parsons’ statue. Ot was putting up a good fight, but his tiny arms were no match for the long limbs of his attackers. They soon had him hooked on Parsons’ left arm. Blord’s laughter filled the air.

Graham raced up to the scene, his eyes dedicated totally to his friend. Ot was not crying, but looked close to it. Graham, realizing he couldn’t get Ot down on his own, turned to face Blord. He noticed the bully was covered in what appeared to be ash. He looked like an overcooked steak.

“Get him down,” said Graham.

Blord turned his back and strolled over to the edge of the plateau facing Mount Prometheus. He spread open his wings, allowing them to catch the stiff breeze that was a fixture of Parsons’ Plateau. “You were late. I already did my part of the race.”

“What are you talking about?”

Blord turned around and offered his blackened body as evidence. “I flew over Mount Prometheus already. Can’t you tell? This is ash. I’m quite anxious to scrub it off me, so hurry up!”

“But a race means we do it together!” Graham looked up at Ot to back him up. The troll’s eyes were welling up.

Blord continued, ignoring Graham’s comment, “Riff has my time, don’t you, Riff?”

A thin gargoyle with very long, twisted horns spoke up, “Yep, he did it in four minutes exactly.”

Blord smiled, “I would’ve done it in three if that blasted harpy had minded her own business. Filthy creatures.” He started to brush off the ash, but then stopped, thinking better of it.

Graham knew Blord hated dirt and was curious why the gargoyle would tolerate all the ash covering him. The fact that he had a run in with the realm’s dirtiest creatures, a harpy, also must’ve greatly upset the bully. The harpies, half-giant bird/half savage woman, were not only disgusting, they were wickedly nasty.

“Get my friend down,” said Graham.

“We’ll get him down once you honor the challenge. One lap over Mount Prometheus and back is all we’re asking. Surely the son of the council chairman can do that simple task.”

Blord strutted over to Ot and slapped at the troll’s dangling feet. Ot started to sneeze.

Graham said, “I’ll do it. Just let me talk to Ot alone for a minute.”

“Very well. Just don’t think of chickening out.” As soon as Blord moved away from Ot, the troll’s sneezing stopped.

Graham hastened over to his friend. “I’m sorry I was late. Flenn and Mom cornered me this morn-”

“He’s lying,” said Ot, glaring at Blord and his gang, who were over at the plateau edge tossing rocks at an unfortunate bird who had glided too close.

“Huh?”

“Blord never flew over Mount Prometheus,” said Ot.

“How do you know? Did you get here first?”

“No, they were already here. Blord had the so-called ash on him when I arrived. He
claimed that he had already run his part of the race then too.” Ot shot a distasteful look at the bully.

“Well, where did he get covered in ash if he didn’t fly over the volcano?”

“It’s not ash.” Ot rubbed his nose, attempting to hold back a sneeze.

“What is it?”

“I think it’s pepper. They must have covered him in crushed pepper. It looks like ash, but it sure doesn’t smell like it.”

“I can’t tell. My sniffer barely works.” Compared to the poor sense of smell gargoyles had, trolls were magical bloodhounds, capable of detecting even the slightest pesky odor. “Are you sure?”

“I think so. His story sounds awfully fishy, don’t you think?”

Graham nodded. This changed everything. He wouldn’t have to race. He wouldn’t have to fly. He allowed the hint of a smile to play across his face.

“You don’t have to fly. Just tell him he lied.” Ot looked over at Blord. The large gargoyle was getting impatient and had taken to kicking large clumps of dirt into the morning sky.

“That won’t work. I need more proof that he is tricking us. Besides, they won’t let you down unless I fly.” Graham slumped his shoulders, and his tiny wings pathetically took on a defeated appearance at this action.

He started stepping towards the other gargoyles.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Blord.

Graham inched over to the plateau edge facing Mount Prometheus, kicking loose gravel over the side as his legs began to shake. In the relative distance, Prometheus rumbled, billowing darkness into the morning air.

“You gotta fly through the ash clouds. That’s what I did,” said Blord.

Graham didn’t look up to answer. He was too focused on the taunting drop. “I’ll do it, but you have to promise you’ll get Ot down after.”

Blord clapped his hands together. “I promise. Now, take to the air.”

Graham looked away from the long drop down to stare out at the sky. The clouds were light and fluffy all around him, the breeze strong and confident. Graham, however, was fighting the queasiness that was rising in his stomach. Here he was, about to face his biggest fear, flying. He had never even attempted to fly from the school’s tree jump where everyone else his age practiced. He didn’t trust his wings. Everyone else’s wings were more developed, wider, bigger, stronger. He was not ready for his first flight at the end of the week and was definitely not ready for this.

Graham slowly exhaled, attempting to calm himself down. His grandfather declared Graham would grow to become a great flyer. His grandfather believed in him completely. His father did not.

His father’s voice echoed in the young gargoyle’s head, “You’ll never fly if you don’t trust your wings.”

Graham closed his eyes, wishing he were back home still listening to his sister drone on about volcanoes.

“C’mon, get it over with. You don’t have anything to worry about. Just remember to keep your eyes open for any lava eruptions. I almost took a magma bath on my flight,” blurted out Blord.

Graham shook his head, not believing what he had just heard. “What did you say?” He turned to face the gargoyle, his back to his worst fear for the moment.

“The lava, you gotta watch out for it. Wouldn’t want little itty-bitty Graham to catch fire.”

Graham looked over at Ot. The troll, despite being very uncomfortable, was smiling.

Graham walked over to the bully. “The challenge is a lie. You’re a liar! You played a trick!”

Blord’s expression shifted into panic for a moment before twisting into inflated anger. “What do ya mean? You trying to back out of a challenge?”

Graham stood his ground. “You just said there was lava coming out of that volcano. That’s wrong!”

Blord nervously shifted his eyes over to his gang, who waved their fists at Graham.

“What?” Blord said incredulously.

“You never flew over the volcano. Lava doesn’t come out of Mount Prometheus, only cinder and ash. Any four-year-old could tell you it’s a cinder cone volcano.” Graham smiled. Actually, it had been an eight-year-old who had informed him of the volcano’s nature. He owed his sister in a big way.

“Okay, maybe I exaggerated a bit about the lava, but get a load of all this ash covering me,” said Blord, sticking out his darkened chest.

“My friend seems to think you just covered yourself in pepper.”

Blord glared at the still dangling troll.

“I’m not flying for a liar!” Graham stepped over to his friend, pausing for a moment to stare at the face of Malcolm Parsons. Had the rock-hard gargoyle just winked at him? Probably just a trick of the light, thought Graham. “Now help me get Ot down.”

Blord marched over to Graham and leaned down to stare coldly at him. “No one gets away with calling me a liar. You’re gonna regret this, Graham, just you wait.” Blord rubbed a healthy dollop of his blackened coat onto his finger. He smudged a crude letter C on Graham’s chest. “It still doesn’t change the fact that you’re a coward and always will be. See you on Friday for your first and final flight, pipsqueak.”

Graham stepped away from the bully as Blord joined his friends. They marched off Parsons’ Plateau together, grumbling up a storm.

Graham shouted, “Hey, wait! You gotta get Ot down!”

Graham was interrupted by a light tapping on his shoulder. He whirled around to see Ot behind him, his two stubby feet safely planted on the ground. “Not a problem. I’m down already.”

“How’d you?”

“Not sure. They certainly didn’t do it. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Malcolm Parsons lowered me down himself.” Ot stared back at the statue.

“No way! He...it’s been solid stone for over twenty years! It’s impossible for a gargoyle to do that!” Graham’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, um, probably just a good stiff breeze knocked me loose. Let’s just say that.”

“We’d better get going. Mom’ll kill me if I’m late for school,” said Graham.

“Wait, I wanna check something.” Ot rubbed his thumb against the dusty “C” Blord had
smeared on Graham. The troll sniffed his now darkened thumb, then plopped it in his wide mouth. He sucked on it briefly, then sneezed.

Graham stared at his friend expectantly.

“Yep, just as I thought—pepper!” Ot smiled. “Now I’m really hungry.”

The two close friends made their way off Parsons’ Plateau and headed to school, the morning sky growing ever more inviting and warm above them.