Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

Tyranos hesitated. “What do you know of that? How much do you know … about me?”

“What I know is between my patron and me and no one else. Not even the Grand Khan Golgren.”

With a derisive snort, the wizard retorted, “That is a perfectly empty answer. Just like a cleric.”

“I’m also a knight. And besides, I always heard that spell-casters are just as secretive.”

Tyranos let slip a rueful smile. “Aye, that I’ll not deny.” Again his legs threatened to collapse. He quickly planted the end of the staff on the ground to help him balance on his feet. As Stefan moved to assist him, the wizard waved him off. “I will stand by myself, or not stand at all.”

His comment provoked the Solamnian. “That has been your way for many years, hasn’t it?”

“Will you kindly please stop trying to delve into my life?”

“As you like.” Stefan sat down again. “The important question is, do you still want to find the Fire Rose?”

Teetering, Tyranos growled. “And you’re going to just tell me where it is?”

“No, I can’t do that, regrettably. I have an idea, because he has an idea. But where it is actually hidden is known truly by only one other, and he only gives those clues he enjoys giving.”

“Bah, more empty talk. What does that mean?”

Stefan shrugged. “My patron didn’t make that clear.”

“A fine … A fine cleric”-the wizard leaned more and more on the staff-“you are …”

His legs gave. He fell face first to the floor.

But Stefan was somehow there before Tyranos struck the ground. The slighter man proved he was much stronger than the tall wizard, and lifted Tyranos up enough to get a better hold on him, before assisting the spellcaster to the soft fur again.

“You need some water.”

“I need a good ale or some rum! Can you manage that?”

Stefan chuckled. “You’ll have to make do with water.”

“A fine cleric, as I said.”

The Solamnian went to the innermost recesses of the shallow cave. The shadows hid exactly what he was doing, but Tyranos heard the scraping of rock. A few moments later, Stefan returned with a small sack of water.

“Did you conjure that up from the mountain?” scoffed the wizard.

“In a sense. There’s a tiny spring back there. I leave something to catch some of the water and pour that into the sack.”

“Truly amazing. You perform miracles.”

The knight furrowed his brow. “Being a cleric is not about miracles. It’s about faith. Faith finds ways.”

“So does magic, thank you very much.” Tyranos drank from the sack. “Better than ale, at the moment.” Refreshed, he suddenly glared at his companion. “But you did heal me. From what I can recall of my injuries, that had to take more than faith.”

“Did it? I had only faith and my patron.”

“And do you have faith in your patron when he tells you how we can find the Fire Rose, which even he, admittedly, cannot?”

Taking the sack, Stefan confidently replied, “For that, we’ll need the help of the Grand Khan Golgren.”

Tyranos eyed him. “That’s the least surprising thing you’ve said … Stefan. That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Sir Stefan Rennert, Knight of the Sword, nephew of Sir Augustus Rennert-”

The wizard waved him to silence. “None of that, please. I’ve had lineages tossed at me all my life.” He rubbed his broad jaw. “So, as I presumed, the half-breed is the key. Although why he of all people it should be, I’d like to know.”

“That wasn’t made clear to me.”

“Of course not. Nothing is clear. Can you at least tell me what you want? The Fire Rose for Solamnia?”

“Not in the least,” Stefan replied, his distaste evident. “I don’t doubt some of those high above would prefer the artifact in their hands, but my patron has told me enough about it that I can only see catastrophe if anyone possesses it too long.”

Tyranos snorted. “And yet, he wishes it in the hands of Golgren. If that isn’t a contradiction, I don’t know what is!”

“I only understand that I must help keep it away from the clutches of others who desire it, and leave its uses to Golgren. And also to you, to some extent, I think.”

“How gracious of the gods!” the spellcaster sneered. “And did Kiri-Jolith say exactly how long I’m permitted to use the Fire Rose, or if there are any stipulations as to what I’m allowed to do with the Rose for the few moments he permits?”

Stefan started to reply, but suddenly he heard a sound from outside. It was a sound familiar to the wizard, judging by his reaction.

The cries of many, many gargoyles.

Tyranos clutched his staff tight, uncertain what to do.

Stefan readied his sword, but he merely used it to gesture Tyranos to caution and silence. For several tense moments the two waited, while outside the cries rose louder and nearer. The Solamnian pulled forth his triangular medallion, and Tyranos heard him speak not just with his patron, but also with several others who boasted names such as Willum and Hector.

At last, even though the wizard felt with certainty the gargoyles would have located and searched the cave, the cries faded. Within another moment, silence settled again on the area.

“They were very frustrated to find out that the dragon wasn’t really a dragon,” Stefan commented dryly. “I’ll have to come up with another trick next time.”

Memories stirred. “That roar? It was you?”

“With some faith in Kiri-Jolith and the proper ambience.”

“Inspired!” Tyranos sat straight again and was pleased to discover that his head did not swim. He hoped his legs would soon follow the head’s excellent example. “I think I know why those damned things are all in the mountains. But who was that shadow with the eyes like the Icewall?”

“Ah! You’ve seen it too”

“Seen it and know it played me for a fool! Set me a trap I walked into and would’ve never escaped if not for your good imitation of one of the winged behemoths!” The leonine spellcaster growled. “By the Kraken! That shadow-I’m fairly certain it was he -was able to stay among all those gargoyles with no worries about being torn to shreds!”

That did not appear to surprise Stefan. He put aside his sword in order to reach for some kind of meat. The wizard’s stomach was empty, so he couldn’t have been more pleased.

“Why should he be worried?” the Solamnian asked as he handed a morsel to the wizard. “From what little I saw, they obey him as if he were one of them.” Stefan shook his head. “No, more than that …”

“More?”

The Solamnian tore off a piece of meat for himself. “More. They obey him. They obey him as if he were their very king.”

Golgren did not sleep that night, though he rested a little. It was something he had learned to do early in life, a tiny half-breed like himself who was often the target of many taller ogres. Rest restored his strength and cleared his mind.

He and Idaria sat protected from the wind between two large outcroppings about an hour’s rising from the scene of death and destruction. Golgren had not bothered to see if there were survivors, although the elf had recommended doing that. He had declined because he believed all were dead, but also because he had to keep going forward, or something else was bound to happen.

The Titans were extremely impatient to get their taloned hands on the Fire Rose. And so was Golgren.

With dawn, he had tried again to reach either Khleeg or Wargroch. But Tyranos’s crystals did not appear to be functioning anymore. Why that was did not really matter. What did matter was that Golgren had only himself and Idaria upon whom to rely. That was a mistake his enemies would regret.