The Gargoyle King

XXVI

Weeks passed on Krynn, weeks of tension and of not a little fear-all of it focused on the ogre realm.

To the south, legions of minotaurs stood battle-ready, their siege machines prepared. Each fortnight, the ranks were expertly shifted to keep the soldiers ever at their peak. Attack might come at any moment. They faced no ordinary foe.

It was the Grand Khan Golgren.

Solamnic Knights also patrolled those lands nearest to the ogres, but Sir Augustus Rennert was no longer in command. He had left after the retreat to confer with his superiors to discuss what had happened and what could be done.

The Nerakans, too, surveyed the new borders of the ogre realm, but with a trepidation more akin to that of the minotaurs. They prepared for a war certain to come.

Golthuu-the name was only just beginning to spread from Solamnics and the minotaurs to other places-was all but entirely cut off from the rest of Ansalon. A great canyon surrounded the combined lands of Kern and Blode, even cutting through the land of Khur. Behind the canyon-and further securing Golthuu-stood the great wall of stone, a veritable mountain chain wrapping around Golgren’s domain.

Curiously, the creation of both wall and canyon had happened in such a manner that those in its path had been given enough warning to flee. Of course, no one believed for a moment that the half-breed ruler had spared lives out of any goodness; rather, it was suggested and accepted that he had simply been displaying how perfect his mastery was over the magic he wielded.

Yet no word-no warning-had been issued from Golthuu until the day Solamnic Knights stationed at the one entry point remaining in the west awoke to find a large column heading out from between the lone crack in the vast wall. That column moved unerringly toward a single land bridge made of stone that had been carved out by the same magic as had created the canyon over which it crossed. Not once had the Solamnics dared to use that bridge; they suspected that it existed solely for some reason known to only the Grand Khan. And on that morning, with the winds high and the skies dark, they discovered that purpose.

The elves numbered in the hundreds, even more perhaps. They were weary and hollow-eyed and their garments were tattered. Yet they did not seem frightened, not even as they marched under the gaze of ogre sentries flanking the gap.

The sentries, in turn, watched the flow of refugees as if very pleased to see them go. As soon as the last of the elves had crossed the bridge, the ogre sentries slipped back into the shadows of the crack, disappearing without a word.

The elves carried food and water with them, enough to last two or three days’ journey more. Questioning revealed little, save that they had been rescued by one of their own kind who was helped by a brave human Knight of Solamnia named Stefan Rennert. The elf had vanished, but the knight had led them to a place not far from there before he, too, had disappeared. However, he had told the elves to wait. Ogres would be coming who would, at their master’s command, lead them the rest of the way.

The Solamnics took the elves in tow. They would soon be united with their kinsmen and fellow exiles.

And once again, Golthuu and its master settled into an ominous silence.

But while the other races and realms worried about the terrifying magic the Grand Khan of the ogres was capable of wielding, in Garantha itself there was no sign of impending war. However, the capital was a somber place, even though its inhabitants attempted to go about their daily lives.

Outwardly, the city looked the same as before, but there had been, as Kiri-Jolith had promised, one alteration. It stood at the entrance to the palace, where once a prominent statue of Golgren himself had been set. There was a different figure: a slim, female figure with long, flowing hair who looked with kind eyes upon any who stood before her. One hand reached out, as if to give comfort to the ogres, even though she herself was obviously an elf. The figure was astonishingly lifelike and colored exactly as the one after whom it had been modeled. Many ogres swore that, at times, the female statue did move.

The statue stood atop a large, thick structure of marble that to all appearances seemed solid. However, upon his approach, Golgren had found the marble foundation open and waiting.

Waiting for Idaria’s body.

Understanding that, the half-breed had deposited the broken and bloody burden that he had carried with him into the waiting tomb. He set her gently in place then arranged the signet atop the griffon pendant that she still wore upon her breast. Golgren had not marveled when the tomb had then sealed itself, the entrance transformed into just another wall. Gods were capable of many miracles … but only up to a point, it seemed.

The Grand Khan had not visited the tomb since then, though guards stood watch over it and servants kept it clean of any dust or debris. Indeed, the ogres of Garantha had seen little of their lord since his return. The revolt spurred by the Titans had collapsed without them or their puppet to shore up support. No other ogre desired to face he who had vanquished the sorcerers and reshaped the land. Golgren’s rule was restored.

Despite that, though, the Grand Khan did not issue any great edicts preparing his people for conquest of the other races. He did not summon his warriors from around the realm to lead them into battle. He did not even receive the many missives sent to him by the Solamnics and others. Those rested unopened next to his throne, ignored as if they did not even exist. Indeed, all that the half-breed once disparagingly named Guyvir-unborn- had conquered was ignored.

Instead, the once-ambitious Golgren sat day after day, staring at a worn, elven tapestry. It had been restored with the rest of the palace by Sirrion’s creation, or perhaps it was one of the last gifts of a sympathetic Kiri-Jolith.

A tapestry of an oak tree …