The Gargoyle King

VIII

It was an unusual gathering of the Titans, taking place in the chamber where the Black Talon alone always met. Generally, few outside of the Black Talon were summoned there. Yet Safrag had commanded that all should attend.

To the rest, that surely meant they were finally to have their chance to wield the Fire Rose. It had been a struggle for some to keep their tongues, Kulgrath especially, but it appeared that their patience was at last to be rewarded.

With the exception of Morgada, the rest of the inner circle was already seated and awaiting Safrag. The lone female Titan stood next to the empty, high-backed chair as if awaiting not only her teacher, but her lover as well. Kulgrath shielded his distaste from her view, sharing it instead with a slightly anxious Gadjul and two others among the Talon.

The rest of the assembled Titans stood facing the tall platform upon which the Black Talon members were seated around a table. In the center of the chamber, where the symbol of the inner circle covered the stone floor, sorcerers suddenly fled from a black whirlwind arising among them. Gadjul half rose, stopping only when Kulgrath stilled him with a warning hand.

The whirlwind swiftly grew, its tip touching the ceiling. Yet just as quickly, it diminished, shrinking to nothing in the space of a single breath.

And in its wake it left the fiery figure of Safrag, the Titan leader, holding in his right hand the artifact that was coveted by the gathered sorcerers.

“I am glad to see all of you here,” he proclaimed as he gazed at the assembly.

“The master summoned,” Morgada replied subserviently. “How could any dare keep away?”

“We’ve been eager to hear from you,” Kulgrath added politely but not at all subserviently.

Safrag nodded then vanished. He reappeared in the chair, the Fire Rose still held reverently in his hand. Morgada smiled in his direction then took her seat next to him.

One of the Titans gathered before the Black Talon dared step forward. Bowing low, his expression humble, Falstoch murmured, “And what wisdom will Safrag impart unto us now? Has he determined how best we should wield the artifact?”

Safrag smiled like a father to Falstoch. “Yes, I have made a final determination.”

Silence reigned over the Titans.

The lead sorcerer slowly rose. He held up the Fire Rose, which suddenly glowed brighter. Safrag let its haunting light wash over his companions, who moved toward it almost like moths to the flame.

“‘Sirrion’s Blessing,’” he began, using one of the other names for the artifact, “is a willful and powerful thing. A steady hand and a steady mind are needed at all times to command it. Further, in order to see that the transformations are to the best of our desires, they should be done under considerable guidance.”

The rest of the Titans nodded. Safrag’s pointed explanation showed how carefully he had studied the Fire Rose’s mercurial and dangerous nature. With that knowledge, the sorcerers could surely begin planning its use.

“Therefore,” Safrag continued, his smile gracious, “for the foreseeable future, I will continue to retain absolute control over it.”

There were gasps of protest. Some of the Titans started forward. Kulgrath rose from his seat and glared, shaking off Gadjul’s tugging on his arm.

Ignoring the clear objection to his decree, the lead sorcerer went on. “And in order to facilitate matters most simply, I and the Fire Rose will remain in the capital in the great temple that I have just this day used the artifact to erect. As the one most properly capable of wielding the Fire Rose, I will take each suggestion by all of you under careful consideration and, if judged a fit proposition, will carry it out myself.”

“Are we to understand that we’re not going to be permitted to use the Fire Rose at all?” Kulgrath blurted.

Although Gadjul shrank back, Draug, one of Kulgrath’s other allies in the Talon, added his voice. “It was agreed on from the start that the artifact would belong to the Titans as a whole, with the Black Talon overseeing the situation.”

“But that was before I determined how dangerous such a course would be. Already, the avarice is clear in the eyes of too many of you. That is why I must take such actions.”

“There is more avarice staring back at us than comes from all our eyes together,” Kulgrath angrily retorted.

“We are not the ones so possessed by it,” Draug offered.

Morgada pressed back against her seat. Her expression was guarded. Among the Titans watching the spectacle from the floor, Falstoch stepped forward and thrust a taloned finger in Kulgrath’s direction.

“Safrag is the wisest among us! If he states that he must keep the Fire Rose to protect us from ourselves, then so be it!”

“Well said,” Morgada quietly interjected. Her wary expression did not change.

Gadjul shifted his seat as much as he could to avoid being too close to Kulgrath. The other Titan was too incensed to notice.

“Fawning abomination!” he snapped at Falstoch. “You are unworthy of being one of us!”

The Fire Rose flared, its brilliance blinding all but Safrag, who stared into its flaming depths without fear. As the artifact’s glow lessened, he glanced from Draug to Kulgrath.

“I have relied heavily in the past on the advice of both of you, and I appreciate your concerns.”

Draug frowned but nodded. Kulgrath remained unmoved.

“You are steadfast in your resolve,” the Titan leader commented. “As strong of determination as the very stone of this sanctum.”

Draug’s eyes flared in sudden horror. Kulgrath’s hand rose toward Safrag as he, too, realized where the master was going.

“It is only right then, that you should be as them.”

The Fire Rose burned.

Draug howled and curled into himself. Kulgrath almost managed to complete a spell, but whether it would have done him any good was moot. He, too, suddenly twisted in agony.

For a moment, there was the terrible sound of crunching bones. Then both Titans became thick, gray vapor. That vapor hurtled toward the thick, oppressive walls. Other Titans darted out of the way as if fearing to join the pair’s fate.

The two clouds of vapor poured into the cracks. As they did, shrieks rose from both. The stone swelled as if taking heaving breaths.

Then all was silent. No one had to ask what had befallen the duo. The power of the Fire Rose had transformed them into stone.

Morgada rose. “The master has wisely administered justice! The Titans and the Fire Rose are safe from unwise influence now.”

“Hail, Safrag!” Falstoch lustily shouted.

The other Titans immediately took up the shout. Safrag nodded benevolently. With his free hand, he then gestured for Falstoch to step forward.

Despite some obvious trepidation, Falstoch held his head high as he walked up to the Talon. Only when he stood directly below Safrag did he then lower his head once more.

“Falstoch, your wisdom is evident to all of us. Therefore, I grant you the seat vacated by Kulgrath.” The other Titans were shrewd enough to immediately applaud the decision. A stunned Falstoch moved to the seat, where Morgada briefly touched his shoulder in congratulation.

Safrag stared at his audience. “I shall ponder who is worthy of the remaining opening in the Black Talon. As for this gathering, it is ended.”

Almost from the moment that he made the pronouncement, the Titans began vanishing in short bursts of black flame. No one wanted to draw Safrag’s ire.

Morgada murmured in Falstoch’s ear. The newest member of the inner circle nodded then also disappeared. Within moments, only Safrag and his apprentice remained.

“An august choice,” the female Titan quietly spoke.

“Falstoch or the removal of Kulgrath and Draug, my dear Morgada?”

She blinked. “Why, both, naturally.”

He smiled wider than before, revealing many, many sharp teeth. “And that is why I keep you near me.”

The female sorcerer looked as demure as any of her kind could manage. “May I … may I merely touch the Fire Rose?”

Still smiling, Safrag extended the artifact to her. He did not release his grip, though.

Morgada’s long, taloned fingers stroked the flowerlike structure. Her golden eyes blazed bright as she sensed the incredible forces flowing through and radiating from it.

“So much power … to remake anything or anyone…”

“To remake even us.”

She cocked her head. “Us?”

Safrag chuckled. “I have decided that Dauroth’s spells were inadequate. I have already begun formulating just what I desire the new Titan race to look like.”

She gaped, displaying her own sharklike teeth. “You intend to transform all of us, as well as the entire realm?”

“I intend to transform most of us. There must be some additional … culling.”

Morgada bowed. “Whatever service I can render in that regard, I offer.”

“Of course.” The Titan leader briefly cupped her jaw, then, stepping back, vanished in a burst of black flames.

For a moment longer, Morgada retained her expression; then she, too, disappeared, materializing a breath later in her personal quarters.

The female Titan immediately began concentrating. In her mind, she saw the subtle seals she had learned to put in place. The runes were hidden with deep, ancient spells. Even Safrag would not have been able to sense them.

Satisfied, Morgada turned her thoughts to contacting her true master. She had come there serving another, the shadowy form known as Xiryn.

She had only just become a Titan when he had visited her in a dream. He had sensed her ambition long earlier and, in truth, had manipulated matters so she would be invited to join the sorcerers’ ranks. Things had so easily gone her way, and Xiryn had offered her a new future, to help steer the choices of the leader of the Titans until the Fire Rose-Xiryn’s ultimate goal-could become his. For her part, Morgada would have a place in his new kingdom that would be second only to his.

With his guidance as well as her own beauty and cunning, Morgada had easily fulfilled his commands to the point where the artifact was nearly in their grasp. Safrag was doing just as Xiryn had predicted; the treacherous leader was playing into their hands.

Especially by seeing Morgada as the only one-save perhaps the fawning Falstoch-whom he could trust near him.

Morgada sensed Xiryn’s desire to speak with her. With that in mind, the dark temptress spread her fingers wide and placed both palms over her eyes. A faint, black glow emanated from her, darkening the rest of the stone chamber.

Xiryn, she called in her thoughts.

I have waited for you. There was just a hint of warning or threat in that statement.

I could not reach out to you! Safrag summoned us to dictate his decision concerning the Fire Rose!

Her explanation appeared to soothe him. And?

He has acted exactly as you predicted, right down to his intention to transform the Titans too.

Morgada sensed his good humor at that. She relaxed.

Very good … The children have been set loose… The hand is all that is awaited.

She knew exactly what he meant by “the hand.” Will he come?

He is as I intended him to be from his birth. He will come because he must come, because it is in his nature to come.

I shall be ready to do my part, Morgada replied.

As you should. The voice faded. As you should …

Contact was broken. Morgada lowered her hands. A sheen of sweat covered her perfect, azure skin, yet it was caused not by fear, but rather anticipation. Soon all would come together. The only pawn still awaiting was Golgren-Golgren, who had been created through Xiryn’s efforts. He was who would wrest the Fire Rose from Safrag, as Xiryn desired.

The female Titan smiled. And once that happened, it would be Morgada who took it from Golgren, not Xiryn.

Tyranos let out a growl, not the first. The wizard had to constantly cope with Golgren’s arrogance. But at last things were happening as he desired.

Probably the half-ogre was feeling very proud of himself, the wizard thought as he concentrated. Wonder how he’d feel if he knew that I’d let him take the staff.

It had been a grueling decision but one that Tyranos had in the end felt necessary. He had a method by which to retrieve the staff-a painful method, granted-but for the moment he needed Golgren’s unknowing assistance. Tyranos needed Golgren to act out the plan set in place by the gargoyle’s shadowy lord.

The wizard sat near the spot where he had last spoken with the half-breed, drawing new strength from his exhausted body. In very many ways, his concentration was akin to that of a trained warrior mentally preparing himself for battle.

Tyranos had no problem with using Golgren for his personal gain. The half-breed would have done the same.

All that matters is the Fire Rose, he thought. With the Fire Rose, I can make things right and make me right.

He suddenly sensed that someone was standing behind him. Tyranos made no move, considering carefully just which of the two possible candidates it must be. The fact that he did not feel any sweltering increase in the temperature helped his guess.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you long ago,” he snarled without looking back. “Let us leave it that way.”

“You know a part of you does not agree with that statement,” said the deep, majestic voice.

With an exasperated sigh, Tyranos rose, using only his legs. He made a fluid turn worthy of any fighter, which produced a nod of approval from the other figure.

“You have not let your skills fade,” the bison-headed giant remarked.

“For my sake only. No longer to serve the cause of any god, even you!”

Kiri-Jolith shook his head. The deity stood more than a foot taller than Tyranos, though the two were alike in the breadth of their great shoulders. “No one serves me, Tyranos. I ask favors of them, and they may choose to grant them or not.”

“Semantics. I’ve seen the proof. I’ve watched the lives that were sacrificed for you, for Sargas, for all the others. That’s why magic became my god, but even there, only the magic itself, not the trio.”

“And they’ve been very patient with you, do you not think?”

Tyranos turned away from the god. “Spare me your philosophical mutterings! We’ve no more ties between us! Those perished with my uncle, my brother, my sisters, and my friends.”

“They gave themselves for what they believed. They saved so many others where your own mentor turned a blind eye.”

That last caused the wizard to angrily glance over his shoulder. “I am not him! I wanted only to bring to my people something so many of them feared and yet that could help them!”

The bison-headed god’s deep brown eyes blinked once, only once, for the first time. “And then?”

“And then they rejected me as Gragnun’s puppet, as dangerous as he turned out to be! Even after I brought him down!”

“They were wrong.”

That concession from Kiri-Jolith momentarily pushed Tyranos mentally off balance. The wizard recovered quickly, though. “They were wrong and I was wrong to believe they could understand! I’ve turned from them, turned from my ancestors! I will become what I should become!”

With determination, Tyranos left. He stalked several steps from where the deity had been standing only to find Kiri-Jolith in front of him again.

“A paltry trick,” the wizard muttered.

“You would risk everything to abandon what you were born to be?”

Tyranos sneered. “Yes.”

Kiri-Jolith nodded. There was an indecipherable look in his gaze. “Then there is hope for you yet.”

The hooded figure was incredulous. “Now what-?”

But the god of just cause had vanished.

“By the Kraken!” Tyranos let out a snort. “So typical.”

Then he noticed that something lay on the ground where the deity had been standing.

It was the staff.

Without thinking, he snatched it up. It glowed brightly, apparently completely rejuvenated.

The grin spreading over his leonine face faltered. The last time he had seen that staff was when Golgren had taken it. What did it mean that Kiri-Jolith had returned it to Tyranos?

The staff was the lone item that he had from his past, an artifact once belonging to his mentor, which Tyranos had taken after Gragnun’s death, after Tyranos had been forced to kill him. Tyranos had tricked Gragnun into putting it aside, and that had been all the opportunity the younger mage had needed.

Tyranos had regrets about the dishonorable method by which he had slain his former teacher, but not about the actual death. Others had already perished due to Gragnun. Just as Golgren, Idaria, and others were likely to perish at the hands-or magic-of either the Titans or the gargoyles’ master.

A low, bestial rumble escaped Tyranos. He suddenly knew exactly what Kiri-Jolith intended. He knew exactly what he was supposed to do.

“Well, I won’t! You hear me?” Tyranos growled at the sky. “I won’t.”

The sky was silent.

The spellcaster grimaced.

“Damn all you gods,” he muttered under his breath.

Raising the staff, he spoke the command and disappeared.