Richard Knaak - The Gargoyle King

But most arresting were his eyes, burning orbs that were long and narrow like those of Safrag, but ever changing of color. They were gold like the sun, red like the deepest blood, brilliant blue, and finally utter white. They were all the colors of flame and shifted from one to the other as rapidly as fire burned.

The god Sirrion watched with amusement as Safrag continued to be mesmerized by his creation. The fiery figure casually stretched his hand to the side. A yellowed scroll flew into his palm. As it landed, it burst into flame. Within less than a heartbeat, there were not even any ashes remaining.

Sirrion’s expression mirrored that of someone who had just devoured a tasty meal. He gave one last cheerful glance at Safrag then became a scattering of tiny fiery forms that dissipated a moment later.

Only at that point did Safrag stir. The Fire Rose dimmed. Most but not all of the transformations faded away with it. Here and there, including on Safrag himself, there were still slight alterations, but only the discerning eye would have noted them.

The lead Titan glanced around as if expecting to see something or someone. When that did not happen, he returned his attention to the care of the artifact. With a gesture, the chamber around him shifted, the walls moving here and there and a doorway suddenly appearing on one part of the sanctum.

All that surrounded Safrag had once belonged to his master. Safrag had worked long and hard to know all the secret chambers hidden by Dauroth’s sorcery. Before him lay the most important, for it was where he kept the Fire Rose when forced to part from it.

As the iron door swung open, a chill wind flowed from the other side. Ignoring it, Safrag stepped through. He stood in a frost- and snow-covered room. Safrag thought of it as the Chamber of Ice. It was the one place where he could be certain that the Fire Rose would be not only safe, but subdued.

More than twenty tall mounds resembling stalagmites dotted the floor of the unsettling room. Safrag eyed the first of the snowy piles, each rising more than ten feet in height. As he approached, one hand rose in anticipation.

And at that moment, the nearest mounds shook from within. Snow and ice broke away. A set of grasping, flesh-less fingers burst from one then another. The mounds shattered.

Four skeletal ogre warriors stood with weapons ready. Bits of armor and skin still clung to the yellowed bones. The eyes were nothing but black sockets that fixed upon the Titan.

One of the undead raised its rusted but still serviceable axe.

“Asymnopti isidiu,” sang Safrag.

But the skeletal guards did not return to their mounds as commanded. Instead, the first took a menacing step forward, its actions immediately mimicked by the other four. A fifth and sixth mound shook.

“Asymnopti isidiu,” the lead Titan repeated more sternly.

The undead had the audacity to continue to menace him. The two new warriors followed the example of the four. In the background, other mounds began quivering.

Safrag started to gesture then thought better of it. Instead he grinned and held up the Fire Rose.

His desire alone stirred it to raging life. Awash in its glorious light, the skeletal guards hesitated.

The Titan made his wish be known to the artifact.

The Fire Rose blazed.

As one, the skeletons curled into themselves. Their bones became fluid, wrapping around and around until each was bound by itself. The tightening of the bodies forced the skulls to gaze up.

A thick, white substance secreted from the bones, spilling over the undead guardians. It caked the bones until nothing remained but a smooth, white column of ivory the size of each warrior.

Safrag found himself panting not from exertion, but more from excitement. Not only had the skeletons converging on him been altered, but so had those not yet stirring. The Fire Rose had been very thorough in carrying out his wishes.

Why the guardians had not obeyed the original spell only then occurred to Safrag. They had been created to heed only the voice of Dauroth. Safrag had always used his power to perfectly imitate his former master, but in the afterglow of using the Fire Rose in his sanctum, he had forgotten.

The mistake was no longer important. The guards were not needed anyway. Safrag had installed other safety measures far more insidious.

The Titan leader turned back to the doorway then recalled that he had entered to put the artifact away . With great reluctance, Safrag wound his way around the hard mounds to where a black, iron chest lay half buried in the ice. With a wave of one hand, he opened the chest. Within, a clear, thick liquid untouched by the cold slowly rippled.

Safrag bent down, holding the Fire Rose just above the surface. Dauroth had created that liquid to subdue the primal forces of a fragment of the Fire Rose, and Safrag used it with the same goal in mind. However, he hesitated, thinking that perhaps he might wield the crystalline structure one last time, just to be certain that he understood its functioning.

At last, fighting the temptation, Safrag set the artifact in the chest. As he reluctantly pulled his hand free, not one hint of moisture remained on him.

His return from the pocket realm to his main sanctum was greeted by a slight red shift in the outer chamber’s illumination. It was a silent signal cast by Safrag to inform him when someone sought entrance to his lair.

He had no doubt exactly what the visitation concerned. His expression masked, Safrag had the door open before him.

There were six of them, six of the more persistent objectors, including three from the inner circle. Kulgrath was among those and most likely the instigator of the confrontation. Safrag noted that for later.

“Great Master,” the instigator sang with a low bow. Behind Kulgrath, the others followed suit.

“Kulgrath. Gadjul.” Safrag acknowledged the names of the other four as well. His pointed naming of each made two of the lesser sorcerers visibly shrink. None wanted to earn Safrag’s wrath.

Kulgrath eyed him oddly. “Master, you are well?”

“Should I not be?”

Kulgrath quickly abandoned whatever stray notion had caused him to ask the impertinent question. “The Fire Rose … we felt its majesty. We felt it call out.”

“I made some tests of its abilities,” Safrag said with a slight nod. “That’s what you felt.”

“And all was in order?”

The lead Titan’s eyes did not betray his impatience. “Of course. It was to be expected.”

Kulgrath steeled himself. “Then it is now our chance to wield it? Under your guidance, naturally?”

“Not yet.”

His answer came so quickly and with such finality that the other sorcerers visibly started. Kulgrath’s eyes flared ever so briefly before the other Titan recalled himself. Bowing low, he replied, “But surely very, very soon. The artifact is straightforward in its use.”

Safrag turned from him; the lead Titan was bored with the conversation. “There are intricacies. You must all learn patience.”

“The populace is growing restive, Master,” interjected Gadjul. “They await their great ascension.”

“And they, too, must learn patience,” the Titan leader replied without looking back. “They, too, must learn patience.”

He continued down the corridor as if they no longer stood there. The other Titans glanced at Kulgrath, who did not hide his mounting frustration from them.

“We must learn patience,” he muttered. “First from Morgada, now him. Patience …”

Kulgrath glanced at Gadjul then made a brief gesture for the others to follow. Kulgrath and the group journeyed down the corridor in the direction that Safrag had gone.

All, that was, save Gadjul.