Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

That made him chuckle about something else he had done. Tyranos wondered if the Grand Khan would appreciate the gift he had left for him, a gift that would serve the wizard as much as the ogre.

At first, the only sound that he could hear penetrating the vale was the incessant wind, sometimes soft, more often shrieking like a banshee. Tyranos sniffed the air, vaguely picking up a musky smell, almost as if a herd of goats had gone and died together somewhere deeper in the valley. Perhaps they had come across the mythic vipers, he thought with a smirk.

His staff hinted at more and more arcane energies lying in the same direction. Tyranos wondered how any spellcaster of sufficient ability-a Titan, for example-could have failed to notice. He did not doubt that his own skills were better than most of his calling, though there were also many who were more adept. Certainly Dauroth had been superior, and even if he had never gone hunting for the artifact, the wizard knew all too well that his successor Safrag had .

He hesitated for a moment, uncertain if what he sensed lying ahead was tied too closely to the Titans. That could not be. No. What he pursued was definitely far, far older and therefore more akin to something tied to the High Ogres.

And in the Vale of Vipers, what could that possibly be but the Fire Rose?

Although aware that he had a tendency to make great assumptions when it came to hunting for the artifact, Tyranos nonetheless felt he was finally on the right track. As he climbed over a small ridge and descended into the belly of the vale, his staff’s crystal grew brighter yet. Yes, he was very, very near.

As the thought went through his mind, the wind came rushing again. With it came an overpowering stench, the musky odor multiplied several times over.

For the first time, Tyranos thought he recognized the scent from somewhere.

From the high peaks above, some small rocks suddenly rolled down toward him. The wizard immediately gestured in that direction. A flash of light momentary illuminated the upper area.

There was nothing there, however. Tyranos cursed his anxiety. After a pause to collect himself, the spellcaster moved on.

The wind swirled around him. The musky scent continued to grow until it was nearly unbearable. Yet with the mountains all around him, it was impossible to guess exactly from which direction it emanated. It seemed to drift from all around.

But if the odor was the worst thing he had to face, his task would be a simple one, he thought. With more impatient strides, the powerfully built figure crossed into another part of the valley.

The crystal brightened more than before, and so suddenly that Tyranos let out a curse of surprise and covered his eyes with his free arm until his vision could adjust to the glare.

And when he uncovered his eyes, he sensed that he was far, far from alone.

There was nothing to see in the light cast by the staff, for despite the harsh brightness, Tyranos noticed that the light did not spread to cover more than a few feet around him.

Gritting his teeth, the wizard muttered, “Tivak.”

The air suddenly filled with crackling strands of silver energy that danced in every direction.

That was when he noticed the massive flock of huge, winged beasts perched on the rocks above and around him, their baleful gazes intent on the intruder in their midst.

Gargoyles. More gargoyles than even Tyranos, who knew much about their race, could have imagined clustered in one place.

And there was something else, something barely noticeable at first. There was a gray and black, hooded shadow, with its face bound tightly in a golden cloth that covered all but its eyes. A pair of long, oval eyes, as white as ice.

Tyranos had less than a heartbeat to register the macabre form, which vanished quicker than it had appeared. The wizard could not help but think that those eyes showed a dark amusement with him and his plight.

One of the winged watchers suddenly screeched. The others joined in, their combined cries deafening. At the same time, the silver strands of energy radiating from the staff dissipated.

The wizard muttered another word. The crystal glowed brighter, before returning to a dimmer state almost immediately.

“By the Kraken!” he growled. The command word should have enabled the staff to transport him away from the benighted place.

The gargoyle who had first called out fluttered up off its perch.

Tyranos turned and ran.

In scores, the other winged terrors leaped into the sky. The wizard did not have to look back to know they were pursuing him.

“Saariit!” he shouted, once again calling upon the staff to carry him to safety. Again it failed to do so.

The flapping of hundreds of wings vied with the eager screeches of the flyers, both sounds echoing over and over through the vale. Tyranos did not wonder at the racket. After all, there was no one around to hear, except him and their master.

He sensed rather than heard the first of the gargoyles creep up behind him. Scowling, Tyranos acted uncharacteristically for a wizard: he spun around in mid-step and, gripping his staff with both hands, struck the oncoming beast soundly across the jaw with its crystal head.

There was a flash and the sudden stench of burning flesh, but the force of the swing was as much the reason for the gargoyle tumbling backward as any magic in the attack. Tyranos’s warriorlike appearance was no simple facade. The strength his body hinted at was as real as could be.

A second gargoyle suffered the same fate as the first. A third managed to dodge his swings, but Tyranos, releasing one hand, seized hold of the creature’s thick throat and squeezed.

The winged one’s windpipe caved in with a satisfying snap. Tyranos let the writhing body fall, swinging at another pair of the beasts who had angled around for their own attack.

Although for the moment he was keeping them at bay, the wizard did not go unharmed. There were shredded areas all over his garments and more than a few cuts along his arms and face. Worse, the gargoyles were slowly but surely backing him into a corner.

He batted away another attacker, but when the next drew near, Tyranos freed one hand again and grabbed the winged fiend by the arm.

The gargoyle instinctively flew up. Its vast, leathery wings were so powerful that, with some strain, the creature pulled the wizard up into the air with it.

Tyranos waved the staff to keep another gargoyle at a safe distance as the one that struggled with him continued its haphazard ascent. The towering spellcaster continued to be lifted up as if he were a feather. More gargoyles swarmed around him.

“Let’s try and even the odds,” Tyranos snarled. He beat the gargoyle clutching him hard on the leg with his staff. The creature screeched and flew higher. Tyranos peered around, trying to find some shelter in which he might drop and hide.

More and more gargoyles reached him. They rent his cloak and robe, scoring his legs as well as his arms and chest. The strain of holding tight with one hand was telling on him.

Tyranos had no choice but to force the gargoyle to descend again. Any higher than he was at the moment, and he was sure to lose his grip and die. Tyranos began striking furiously at the shoulder of the winged fury, trying to drive it groundward.

A thundering roar cut through the vale, a roar that could have come from only one leviathan of a creature.

A dragon.

The roar had an astounding effect on the gargoyles. Almost as one, they scattered back the way they had come. Their fear was so strong that the wizard could taste it. His own gargoyle fought to fly off even with him still clinging to it.

As for Tyranos, he had no desire to face a dragon of any sort or size. Whatever color or metal, the thing sounded hungry.