Richard Knaak - The Gargoyle King

Sarth did not look up. “It would have been better if your patron would have told you, but it does not really matter in the end. We face the same enemies, and we hope to save the same people. That is what you need to know.”

“Golgren and Idaria! You know where they are?”

Sarth cackled. “Where would Golgren be but in the worst of places seeking to make destiny his? He is inside the city, Knight. As for the elf …” Sarth drew a pair of ominous eyes then two long lines where the nose and mouth should have been. “Where do you think?”

“The fiend has her?” Stefan started toward the gates of the city, but Sarth snapped his fingers. The noise was so loud that the human had to look back.

“Think why Kiri-Jolith deposited you near me and not near them. I have considered that fact carefully since your arrival.”

“I’ve no time for your games!” the Solamnic retorted. Yet Stefan did not depart but rather stepped closer to Sarth.

“You have little time,” the aged figure agreed. “And I have had far too much of it. We are at opposite ends of the spectrum in that regard, which makes us need one another.”

“Make some sense.”

“As you wish.” Sarth stood and, in doing so, revealed to the knight that he was more than a head taller than the human, despite initial impressions. His fine, patrician features made the ogre look as handsome as an elf. He wore a rich, silken robe of blue, with black stars crossing diagonally over the chest.

Stefan steeled himself. “I know what you are.”

“Then you know to listen. You must be prepared to follow exactly as I suggest. Our part to play may be significant; it may be of little value. That depends on what the others do with what we give them to work with, good or ill. Are you prepared to listen, human?”

“I am.”

Sarth nodded. “We won’t survive this.”

The Solamnic’s expression did not waver. “I am past that concern.”

The High Ogre smiled sadly. “Yes, we both are, aren’t we?”

Sarth drew an image in the air between them. The image-a griffon’s wing-flared a bright gold.

The pair faded away.

Idaria struggled in the clutches of her monstrous captors. Xiryn’s horrific entourage stood as though frozen. They clearly were waiting for some silent summons from him, and the reason for that filled her with dread and apprehension, especially for Golgren.

“Set me free!” the elf demanded again. “This is not right! It goes against all aspects of nature! It is an abomination!”

The figures remained silent. Yet in their hollow eyes, it was possible to read their hunger. That hunger had built up greatly over the many centuries, as they had surrendered to Xiryn’s cause.

A ragged figure only vaguely identifiable as once being female, judging by the strands of hair on her skull and the slighter shape of her rotting form, suddenly looked up with more animation than any of the other creatures had shown. The others followed suit. They pressed forward eagerly, eyeing the capital.

Yessss… came the wind that was not wind but the collective voice of those surrounding Idaria. Yesss…

She felt their powerful, ancient magic stir. Although what Xiryn intended was awful in and of itself, again all that came to the elf’s mind was a single name: “Golgren …”

Xiryn had told her what her part in his plan was to be, and that part was about to be played.

She would prove Golgren’s downfall, and there was nothing that Idaria could do about it.

The Titans did not stay idle upon Xiryn’s return. They knew who he must be, and Gadjul was the first to react. The sorcerer used the energies the Fire Rose had fed him through Safrag to strike at the shrouded figure.

But before the spell could be completed, a cold, flesh-less hand seized the Titan at the small of his back. A white, deathly aura passed over Gadjul, and although he remained conscious, his body slumped as though only invisible strings kept it from falling.

The ghastly figure behind him was one of Xiryn’s entourage. His appearance startled the other sorcerers, if only briefly. Some quickly recovered and moved to act against the new threat.

Then they, too, were seized from behind.

One of Xiryn’s creatures stood next to each Titan and, although they were only roughly half as tall, they clearly commanded the much-larger sorcerers through their hands. As one, they made the Titans straighten. The eyes of the giant sorcerers were filled with confusion and not a little fear.

Atop the surrounding buildings, others of the gargoyle king’s followers appeared. They stared not at their comrades, but at the ogres of Garantha, who still hung helpless in the air.

From where Golgren and Safrag also stood frozen, Xiryn chuckled once more. The rest will have their pick from the populace so neatly gathered by the Titans… once matters up here are settled, naturally .

Safrag found the will to speak, if briefly. “I … know you. I know your voice.”

Yes, the one in your dreams, the one urging you to take your “rightful” place over your master, he who found the strength to defy my will, even after the goddess Takhisis had abandoned him and his hopes. But you… you were so much easier to sway because you thought you knew everything .

Safrag managed a growl but no more.

Xiryn focused on Golgren. And you, child of my ambitions, your every defiance of my wishes only has served in the end to make you more as I hoped .

Golgren’s gaze was all the half-breed needed to communicate his desires where Xiryn was concerned. The gargoyle king laughed then murmured something.

Both Golgren and Safrag groaned from renewed pain. Each felt as if their skin was slowly being peeled from their body.

The Fire Rose blazed. Its energies surged from the trio to the other Titans and their horrific captors, utterly enveloping both groups.

The sorcerers’ bodies grew a translucent blue. The Titans began to shrink. They dwindled to the size of the decaying fiends that kept them frozen. Their mouths gaped like those of fish left to suffocate on land.

And when the Titans were no taller than Xiryn’s followers, the ghoulish figures, their skeletal hands still pressing against the Titans’ backs, began to step into the ogres’ diaphanous forms. The Titans’ eyes were the only indication that the sorcerers struggled against the act, but they struggled in vain.

The skeletal figures fit into the Titans as one might a garment, letting the sheer outlines drape about their fleshless bodies. Titan and ghoul merged. In doing so, the sorcerers faded while their captors began to take on new sinew over their bones. Veins wrapped over their arms, legs, torsos. Beating organs swelled to life, and skin began to cover what it had not for ages.

Glorious, golden skin wrapped over the skulls, and white strands of hair became lush silver or other grand colors. Death’s-head grins became full-lipped smiles. Bodies filled out in both feminine and male fashion. Even the ragged garments mended, once more becoming opulent robes and gowns of black, gold, red, purple, and green.

The last of each Titan melded into their captors, their eyes pleading until the very end. In their place and that of Xiryn’s sinister horde stood a legion of handsome and beautiful figures the likes of whom had not been seen in such numbers since the fall of their race all those centuries past.

The assembled High Ogres preened. They touched their perfect faces and graceful bodies, as if seeking to reassure themselves that they were truly, fully restored. Laughter broke among them, moving from one to another, laughter that was filled not only with triumph, but also with a little madness.

The Titans have provided worthy vessels. I thank you for that , Xiryn joked to Safrag. Just as you two shall provide me with the ultimate vessel .