Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT
THE FLYING MUMMY
copyright 2007 Brian Clopper

Wednesday, the day of the celebration, arrived with much dread for Graham. School was closed as all in the village prepared for the afternoon parade and evening banquet— all except for one very sad and lonely gargoyle.

Graham sat in his room pouring over his scrapbook of newspaper clippings. Pasted on each page were articles, interviews and photos depicting the adventures and deeds of The Eternity Guard. They had been lovingly cut out of Cascade’s leading newspaper, The Oracle. The Eternity Guard were the official protectors of the realm and highly admired by all citizens of Cascade, especially the young.

Graham thumbed through the pages with a mixture of wonder and frustration. He glanced over the clipping detailing The Eternity Guard’s clash with The Night Clans. He chuckled as he reread the profile on Mang the Lava Man, leader of the Guard. Articles on The Night of the Scorpions, The Poseidon Adventure and The Goblin Gauntlet were all highlighted in yellow, indicating an adventure where his hero, The Flying Mummy, had single-handedly outwitted the villains in question.

Now, his opportunity to meet the pharaoh had been taken away. To make matters worse, Flenn had told him she had overheard their dad telling their mother that he had invited Blord to take Graham’s seat next to the guest of honor that night. After all, his father had said, it was the least he could do to set things right with the boy’s parents. Leave it to his father to look for any way to keep everyone happy, everyone except his son.

Graham shut the scrapbook and returned it to its place of honor under his bed. He had been confined to his room all day while his mother, father and sister had been dashing about the village preparing their wardrobe and confectionary contribution to the banquet with great delight.

He wasn’t even allowed to visit with his grandfather. This had not set well with the old gargoyle, who had raised his voice at Graham’s father over the matter. The pepper accusation did not make sense. Grandfather had scoffed at the notion that his grandson would do such a thing and dismissed Blord’s family as mean-spirited and diabolical. Graham, despite being stuck in his room, had heard their heated conversation and wondered just what “diabolical” meant. The word had certainly upset Graham’s father enough to end their discussion and slam the door on his own elderly father.

Graham hopped on his bed. His schoolwork was done, and he had no desire to read. A nap might take his mind off his punishment and make the day and night go faster. Besides, he was tired. Yesterday evening, after being grounded, he had stayed up half the night, exercising his wings the way his grandfather had taught him. His wings were sore now, and Graham doubted he had done much to help him in his first flight on Friday.

Graham wrestled briefly with his blanket before drifting off to sleep.

**********

He awakened in darkness. Graham scrambled out of bed and peeked out his window. Judging from the height of the two full moons in the night sky, he had apparently slept well past dusk. In the village below, the Spindwiff Tavern was still lit. That was the only building large enough to house everyone under its roof and was the choice spot for the banquet. Cries of excitement and joy wafted up through the cool night air from the tavern. Evidently, the banquet was well under way.

Graham dropped his head in sadness as he returned to his bed. He was about to pull the covers over his head when a slip of paper stuck to his door caught his eye. He rolled slowly out of bed and ambled over to read it.

Honey,

Your father, Flenn and I are at the banquet. Grandfather is in his room. He had his dinner already, but would like to read you a bedtime story. It took some arguing, but your father said it would be okay. I left some blumbleberry cookies on the oven. Fetch yourself some gryphon’s milk and visit your grandfather at 10:00 sharp. Don’t ask me why the time is important. Your grandfather was rather mysterious about that. Anyway, take care and we’ll see you in the morning.

Love,

Mom

P.S. Flenn is going to try to get The Flying Mummy’s autograph for you.

Graham smiled. He glanced up at the clock mounted above his desk. The time read 10:05. He was late. Graham folded the note in half and slid it under his pillow. Then, he dashed to the kitchen, grabbed a handful of cookies and two cup of gryphon’s milk, and made his way back to his grandfather’s room.

He was about to open the already ajar door, when he heard hushed voices. Graham peeked inside. He could see his grandfather sitting up in bed, looking even more tired and stiffer than usual. He was talking to someone else who was standing over by the window. Graham could not see who it was.

“...don’t think I can. I know it’ll disappoint the boy, but I’m gonna have to cross over tomorrow night.” His grandfather’s eyes were limp with sadness as he looked at the unseen visitor.

A deep, gravelly voice that had almost an ageless quality replied, “You should tell him. He has a right to know.”

“No, he has enough to worry about with his first flight. I would rather tonight be my last time together with him. You will make it so memorable for him.” Graham’s grandfather choked out the last sentence.

“I suspect you are the one in his heart, not me.”

Graham’s eyes started welling up. His grandfather was going to cross over without telling him. How dare he? Graham was about to barge in and tell the aged gargoyle there was no way he would let him cross over, no way he need ever leave, but was frozen in place by what his grandfather said next.

“It is the honorable thing to do. You must see that.”

“I do, but sometimes the honorable way is not the right way when it comes to a youngster’s heart.” The hidden visitor stepped into view. Distinguished bandages covered him from head to toe. An elegant headpiece complete with his trademark serpent crown adorned his head.

Graham stumbled backwards, shocked at the visitor’s identity. The Flying Mummy was in his home! The Flying Mummy was friends with his grandfather?! Before Graham had time to ponder this striking twist of events, The Flying Mummy was reaching for the door.

“He’s late. How about I go retrieve the boy?”

Graham had just enough time to see his grandfather nod before the door opened. He backpedaled towards the kitchen. Perhaps he could pretend he was returning from the kitchen. It would not be proper if his grandfather found out his grandson was a snoop. Graham clung tightly to the blumbleberry cookies and milk as he attempted to look his most convincing.

The Flying Mummy stepped into the hall and peered in Graham’s direction.

The young gargoyle stammered genuinely, “It’s you!”

The Flying Mummy chuckled, his laugh velvety and smooth. “I should hope so. The last time I checked, I was me. You haven’t heard of any plots to replace me with an evil twin, have you, Graham?”

The boy smiled and nervously extended his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

The pharaoh bowed gracefully, before extending his hand. “The honor is all mine,
grandson to Gortle the Great!”

Graham raised his eyebrow. “Who’s that?”

He heard faint laughter erupt from his grandfather’s room. “That would be me, Graham.
Although, I think great is stretching it a bit. Come in.”

“You know The Flying Mummy, Grandfather?’

“Our paths crossed once.”

“You had an adventure with him?” Graham beamed with pride.

“Heh-heh, more like a misadventure. Come sit up here with me. We have a special guest storyteller tonight. I hope that’s okay with you?”

Graham nodded, spilling some of the gryphon’s milk on the bedspread.

The Flying Mummy entered the room and held up his arm majestically. “Tonight’s story is 100% true. It is a tale of a man most heroic. It is an epic where I am a secondary character, a sidekick, to The Great Gortle!”

Graham smiled and burrowed closer to his grandfather.

The mummy continued, “I call this dangerous tale of valor, I Was The Groom of Medusa. Thank goodness my best man had enough sense to go blind at just the right moment.”

Graham’s grandfather’s eyes twinkled lovingly and knowingly at his grandson.

Amidst squeals of delight and joy, The Flying Mummy spun his elaborate and heroic yarn.