Richard Knaak - The Fire Rose

The Fire Rose’s glow decreased to its original level. The Grand Khan’s brow wrinkled as he realized something. He had been thinking of the ferocity of the gargoyles and what beasts could possibly counter them … and the vicious ji-baraki had sprung to mind.

Sprung to mind and to existence, thanks, somehow, to the artifact.

He had no doubt it was capable of much more, but there was no time to consider just how he might summon its power. The reprieve the artifact had granted him was a temporary one. Only the incredible number of gargoyles standing between him and Safrag was saving the half-breed from annihilation.

The path to the steps was blocked by the sinister shadow from which the gargoyles continued to emerge. That made Golgren think of the signet. It still lay where it had fallen, near the fallen Idaria, the symbols glowing almost as bright as the Fire Rose.

As he reached for it, his eyes fixed on the elf. Clutching the ring, he grabbed for Idaria, pulling her to her feet.

“Away with you, you damned pests!” the Titan roared. There was a burst of blue light, and the gargoyles, stripped of their hard hides, suddenly lay dying at Safrag’s feet.

The three ji-baraki were faring little better. One had already fallen to the gargoyles, and the other two were caught amid the sorcerer’s attack.

Safrag’s golden orbs fixed once more on the half-breed.

Aware that he could not hope for another miracle from the artifact, the Grand Khan sought some other avenue of escape. He needed to be far from Safrag, far enough to gain time to recuperate and think-

The Fire Rose burned bright.

The floor ripped up as if some giant hand had seized it in sinewy paws. Stone and earth rose between Golgren and the Titan, who recovered from his astonishment just before the two lost sight of one another. Golgren could see the sorcerer beginning to cast a spell, but by that time, there was an incredible wall cutting off the two from one another.

The half-breed’s surroundings shifted and reshaped. The walls, floor, and ceiling grew as red as flame, churning as if suddenly molten. Golgren stared down, thinking that he and Idaria were about to sink down into that molten hell. Yet his footing remained solid despite everything else transforming.

No, not everything. Bursting out of the wall of molten earth and stone, the altar and the alcove were back, their presence restored. They looked exactly the same as before save that, once again, the bars were there. It was as if they wanted to keep the Fire Rose out rather than contain it.

The artifact continued to radiate a blinding, hot aura. Golgren forced himself to look at the blinding artifact, and realized that the signet touched the Fire Rose.

He released his hold on the ring.

It fell onto the shifting floor and sank . It was gone.

The Fire Rose’s light eased. The walls began to solidify, turning a fiery crystal reminiscent of the artifact. Only the altar and alcove continued to persist in their original form.

The new chamber stretched wider, growing into a room as vast as the field of the Jaka Hwunar, the great arena located in the capital. Yet there was no sandy floor where warriors fought to the death against beasts or each other, where enemies were executed by graphic means often involving limbs torn apart or beheadings. A polished floor with wicked striations mimicking flames ended on each side with tall, flanking columns carved to resemble great plumes of fire.

The altar stood at the far end, shadowed by the imprisoning alcove, a vast sunburst etched into the gold and crimson wall above it. The heat surrounding Golgren was thick, so much so that he had trouble breathing and was forced to lay Idaria down again.

In doing so, he discovered that the Fire Rose had not left him untouched. Caught up in the chaos, the half-breed had not wondered how he had managed to do so much in his own defense.

Golgren had two hands again.

With the one he had never lost, he reached into his tunic and sought the severed appendage.

It was still there .

With a mixture of muted pleasure and heightened suspicion, Golgren turned his new hand over. It was strong and lean, and when he flexed it, he could feel the muscles tighten. It was identical to the lost one save there were no scars from years of struggle. The skin was pristine, the hair smooth. Even his fingernails were perfect, more akin to those of some elf lord before the fall of Silvanost, than those of an ogre leader.

The Fire Rose had restored him. There was no other answer. Golgren studied his fingers, turned his wrist, and clapped his hands.

Idaria stirred. The elf coughed and opened her eyes. Recalling her conspiracy with Safrag, the Grand Khan hesitated, pulling back the hand he had been about to offer her-the new one.

She saw the hand and gasped. Quickly recovering from her shock, the elf reached up to tentatively touch the new appendage.

“It is real,” she breathed. “Did the Fire Rose give it life?” Before he could answer, the elf, studying his hand intently, suddenly shook her head. “No, it is new.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I wonder … How did it happen?”

He waved off her question, instead asking his own. “You served the Titan. Explain.”

She did not attempt to divert him. “He has my people. All those you gathered in the stockade for eventual release. He came upon me just as I was about to descend. Immediately, he told me the other Titans were going to use my people for their ends — unless I obeyed. He warned that you had no life, no future with which to still save my people. But he thought that I might be of some service in the future, so he promised that a few would join me in freedom if I followed his dictates.”

“And so you betrayed me, my Idaria?” When she did not reply, he nodded. “Fair enough.”

He extended the new hand to her again. The silver-haired slave paused but finally accepted it, with downcast eyes.

Golgren gripped her hand tight and brought her up. He nodded in satisfaction at the strength he felt in the hand. “Very good. Very good.”

The elf surprised him by responding, “Is it?”

He started to ask her just what she meant, when the Fire Rose ominously stirred to life once more. Golgren had done nothing that should have awakened its power.

“Above the altar!” the elf warned.

The sunburst was no longer merely a carving on the wall; it had become a living, blazing thing that was swelling toward the pair. As it did so, the chamber grew so hot that the two fell to their knees oppressed. Idaria clutched Golgren by his new hand while the Grand Khan fought to keep his head from swimming.

It was nigh impossible to see. Golgren’s vision was a hazy mass of shapes, worse even than during his flight with his mother’s body after the savage attack on his settlement by the Nerakans. He could no longer see anything but heat blurs. The altar and all its surroundings were enveloped by the sunburst.

But in the midst of the sunburst the half-breed thought he made out a figure. Struggling to stay conscious, he peered at the murky form. At first, Golgren thought it the golden figure, for it certainly bore a similar shape But this one moved more freely, as if extremely conscious of what it was doing. Indeed, for some reason, Golgren thought that it moved as if it were curious about its surroundings.

Oh, I’m so very sorry! an almost amused voice suddenly bellowed in the half-breed’s head. Is it a little too hot for you? I always forget how fragile all of you are .

As Golgren clutched at his pounding skull, the figure raised a hand. Suddenly the sunburst seemed to shrink into its palm, and the heat rapidly receded.