Richard Knaak - The Gargoyle King

He brought them closer yet, so Golgren and Safrag, though they were of different heights even on their knees, stared into one another’s eyes. Golgren floated in the air, but Safrag was no less imprisoned than he. The hate the two shared became secondary to that which they felt for the gargoyle king.

The hate feeds me, so continue to dwell on it , the shrouded figure informed them. To Golgren, he added, You are strong, so very strong, but just strong enough, even in your hate. You have the will needed to resist the temptation that the Titan could not but not enough will to resist me .

The other High Ogres gathered around the trio. Their beauty was marred by the hunger their eyes still wielded. Their grins were as vicious as those of the sorcerers, even though the High Ogres’ mouths did not evidence the same savage shark teeth. The ugliness that marred Xiryn’s followers was due to the fact that, like the Titans, they were obsessed with the Fire Rose. They wanted it, needed it.

Above, the surviving gargoyles alighted onto whatever buildings suited their fancy. Once there, they hissed and shrieked their joy at their master’s victory. At that moment, there seemed little difference between the savage creatures and their master’s people.

My foolish enemies made certain that even if I found their hiding placefor it, I could not wield the Fire Rose and that no natural creature of Krynn could do so for me! Xiryn said gleefully. But in their overconfidence, they provided me with the clue I needed. You, who should not exist, have given me at last my prize!

Safrag could only stare in bitterness, but Golgren, pressing, finally felt his fingers begin to move. Feeling hope, he threw all his will into his remaining appendage.

It, too, moved. Motion was his again, but for how long was a question. Golgren let the fragment from the Fire Rose slip to the last two fingers then shoved his entire hand up.

His remaining fingers sought Xiryn’s throat, but instead he grabbed the gargoyle king by the cloth covering the bottom half of his face.

Startled, Xiryn pulled back. For his effort, Golgren ended up with the cloth itself. He nearly lost his precarious hold on the fragment. Only with the best effort-and the smallest of his fingers-did he manage to keep the piece pressed against his palm.

The desiccated face of the lead High Ogre stood revealed to his followers. His skin was withered and crisp. Although they had seen him like that in the past, some of his restored followers instinctively gasped.

Xiryn glared at them, his white eyes silencing all. He could not physically speak, his jaws barely held together by a few dried, ancient tendons, but his thoughts roared in Golgren’s head like a raging thundercloud. The melding could have been accomplished with little relative agony, a reward for faithful if ignorant service, but I think I will savor every last scream of yours, every last pleading .

“I … do not … plead!” Golgren tipped forward, managing to seize Xiryn’s robe at the chest.

The gargoyle king did not move back, for to do so would have meant releasing his hold on the pair. He also did not strike out immediately at Golgren, which was what the half-breed had counted on. Xiryn did not dare chance that in his fury he might slay the one being who would give him his precious Fire Rose.

The other High Ogres converged on the trio, hands grasping at he who dared touch their leader. Golgren gritted his teeth, trying not to let them separate him from Xiryn.

The Fire Rose and the fragment flared brightly.

Xiryn’s followers were flung far in every direction by an invisible force. A few fell with screams from the palace rooftop, while others had to use their renewed powers to save themselves from a similar fate.

The reaction made Golgren grin darkly at his captor. “The Fire Rose is not all yours yet, Xiryn.”

Oh, but it shall be, my child , the phantasm replied with equal confidence. He no longer tried to pull back from Golgren. Have you not wondered at the wizard’s pet being close enough to come to his aid? Do you not recall what last task you gave him and who was with him? He was of no more concern to me, and so when he tried to escape-without his companion-I permitted him. I knew he would come back to die, and she was all that was important … to the two of us .

Xiryn’s white eyes looked to the left. Despite himself, Golgren looked that direction. At first, all he saw were some of Xiryn’s followers who awaited restoration from the populace. Then they parted, letting others edge to the forefront.

Held tight in the grip of two was Idaria .

A strong vessel I sought , Xiryn said. But one that could also be managed, just in case he thought himselfbetter than he was, a weakness that could be exploited, a weakness tested and retested .

“Then you should have tested further. This elf is nothing to me. I have had a hundred like her.”

A hundred like her? Truly? After all the trouble I went to in order to find just the right one? The one that touched the lonely spirit, the one that would in turn be touched despite her revulsion? The shrouded fiend laughed, his jaws shaking.

Golgren said nothing. His eyes went from Idaria to Xiryn and back to the elf again. He opened his mouth to speak.

Then a voice familiar to him quite calmly said, “A weakness can also become a very powerful strength, Xiryn.”

For the first time, Xiryn looked at a loss. The white eyes stared past Golgren and Safrag at a figure that the gargoyles’ master seemed to know as well as the half-breed did, even though the newcomer was not exactly as Golgren had last seen him.

I know you , Xiryn finally answered. I know you … and your foul mother .

Sarth nodded sadly. He stood revealed as another of the handsome High Ogres, save that his face was lined with bitter experience. “Yes, Xiryn. We have known each other for far too long.”

In the shaman’s hands materialized a long, pointed staff, made of what appeared to be shining ivory. He raised the point toward Xiryn.

The gargoyle king reacted instinctively, his hands pulling back in a spellcasting gesture. In doing so, he released both of his captives.

Golgren and Safrag both turned on the ancient High Ogre. As they did, however, Xiryn struck out at what he evidently considered the greater threat: Sarth.

The shaman made no move to avoid certain death. Indeed, he did not even cast the spell that he had appeared ready to hurl at his rival. Instead, Sarth did nothing but smile with satisfaction as Xiryn’s attack overtook him.

There was no subtlety to the shrouded sorcerer’s spell. It struck Sarth hard. Pure energy of a gray hue spread over him. Sarth dropped his burning staff as his skin blackened. The shaman made no cry as he died, his burned body collapsing where he had stood.

Yet the distraction aided Golgren. Through the fragment, he used the Fire Rose against the gargoyle king. Xiryn could make no audible sound, but his sudden pain echoed in the heads of all.

However, Safrag also still held the full artifact and, in his own obsession, refused to yield his link to it. Against all reason, the Titan fought Golgren’s will. The half-breed’s attack faltered as he found himself battling on two mental fronts.

The unexpected opposition bought Xiryn the chance that he needed. Recovering enough to speak, he warned, Recall your elf, my child! Recall what will happen to her! Accept your fate, and she will live! Do not, and my servants will ensure her death will be one that will give nightmares to you, or the Titan-

But from the direction where Idaria was being held captive, there came a powerful battle cry. One of the ghouls went plummeting as an armored figure shoved him from the rooftop. A keen blade cut through the torso of another. An armored hand seized a startled Idaria and dragged her from the macabre throng.