by Everly Frost
His expression turns from surprise to anger.
He drops his weapon on the ground with a clatter and advances on the girl, curling his hands into fists. She stands her ground in the face of his oncoming wrath. The only reason I don’t go into full defense mode is that the male’s wings are pinned tightly to his sides. Having fought this gargoyle before, I know he’s only serious when he uses his wing daggers. Right now, they’re held back.
Jasper isn’t so restrained. “I’m not swallowing my pride anymore.” His snarl reaches me moments before he sidesteps out from behind me, closes the gap to the girl, and pulls her behind him, facing down the other male with a determination of his own.
“Careful, gargoyle,” he warns. “We went to great lengths to protect this girl. We aren’t about to stop now.”
The gargoyle pulls up face to face with Jasper. Both males are equal height and matched in strength. Where the gargoyle resembles an immovable stone force made of jagged edges, Jasper is like a sturdy oak, feet planted, taking on a defensive stance.
“Don’t worry, Twisted Metal, I will not touch her.” The gargoyle angles his head to the side and lowers it to mere inches from the female as she peeks around Jasper.
Despite the threat in front of her, she doesn’t flinch or back away. I brace, at war inside myself. I know this gargoyle to be capable of gentleness. He showed me his sleeping children and displayed only a desire to protect them. At the same time, there is danger in him—that same protectiveness turned into a need to attack first and ask questions later.
He leans down to the girl, eye to eye. “Grievous Howl is no brother of mine.”
She snaps right back. “King Howl is your kin. Born of the Grievous Clan. Just like you.”
The gargoyle inhales sharply as if she slapped him. “He killed my wife.”
“I…” The fire leaves her eyes and she falters. “I’m… sorry. I thought…”
He spins away from us, presenting us with his back, his wings tightly folded. His giant rib cage expands and contracts as he sighs a breath in and out.
“My name is Llion. Do not call me Grievous. I forsook my Clan long before Howl came to power.” He half turns but doesn’t meet my eyes. “We can’t stay out here in the open. You will all come with me now. This way.”
He gathers up his bow and arrows without a backward glance, striding away along the path. Despite the threat he poses, the female follows him without hesitation. Her wings flutter at her sides, her head down, the fight gone out of her.
I catch Jasper’s eye but before I can speak, he says, “That’s the gargoyle you met on Scepter Peak.”
When I’d encountered Llion the first time, I was determined to keep all the elves away from him, because they would attack his nest with his children in it. Jasper had been the only one to come close to the nest, and I’d immediately acted as a diversion and led Jasper away. Until now, he never gave me any indication that he had known the gargoyle was there.
I stare at him, incredulous. “You knew he was there that night?”
Jasper gives me an apologetic shrug. “Baelen warned me in advance. For what it’s worth, I thought you were exceptionally brave.” He runs his hand across his forehead. “I, uh, actually disagreed with Baelen’s plan for you to act as a decoy to protect the gargoyle nest. I thought it was too dangerous. I told him I would do it, but he said you were the only one who could keep the other elves away.”
For the first time ever, I consider thumping Jasper. He knows I can handle myself, although Llion had almost ripped me apart that night, only stopping when he scented the storm on me.
“He was right,” Jasper says, catching my eye. “And now… I think this gargoyle has more to fear from us.”
I keep my distance from Llion and the girl ahead of us as I follow in their direction. I sense the Storm floating behind me, staying close, but she remains silent. Worry settles in the base of my stomach. I glance up at the sky, seeking out the Phoenix.
“Do we have time for this? Following these gargoyles I mean.” I search the distant clouds as I speak. I need to see the Phoenix and Baelen. “The female’s safe now. We should keep moving…”
“Is she?” Jasper gives me a hard look. “We can’t save her from one threat only to leave her with another.”
I sag. My heart stretches thin. “I take your point but we still haven’t crossed the border…”
“Maybe that’s a good thing,” he insists. “These gargoyles can tell us exactly what we’re heading into. If there are more gargoyles like Cassian waiting for us, we need to be prepared.”
I swallow down the feeling of near panic that threatens to engulf me with every step I take further away from Baelen. “But… I…”
Jasper’s expression softens. “I know you need to return to Baelen. I sense you pulling toward him even as you’re walking away from him. Being separated is hard for you. But trust me, we need to be prepared and these gargoyles can help us.”
I push hard at the feeling of being attached to a coil in the sky. It doesn’t go away—I don’t want it to—but it lessens enough that I can follow Jasper as he picks his way along the narrow pathway. I try to fill the silence with words to distract myself. “What do you know of this… what did they call it? Grievous Clan?”
“The gargoyles are born into Clans the same way we’re born into Houses. I guess you could say the Grievous Clan is the equivalent of Baelen’s House—the House of Rath. Except for all the wrong reasons. Where the House of Rath is sworn to protect, the Grievous Clan has a reputation for destruction.”
“Do you know this Howl gargoyle they were talking about?”
He shakes his head. “She called him the King. I don’t know much about their monarchy, but I know their rulers aren’t from the Grievous Clan.” He clicks his tongue, scratching his chin in thought. “Baelen did tell me the royal clan name once… It’s something powerful… And it’s two words, not one like all the other clan names…”
The Storm leans toward me as if she’s going to whisper in my ear. She must know more about what’s going on. The breeze she creates tickles my ear. She hesitates and I think she’s going to draw away from me instead, but at the last moment, she whispers, “Supreme Incorruptible…”
Jasper snaps his fingers. “I remember now… it’s Supreme Incorruptible.” His focus shifts from me to our surroundings. Ahead of us, the male gargoyle stoops to retrieve one of his arrows, the weapon vanishing into the quiver slung between his wings.
Jasper says, “All I know is that their monarchy has remained in power since the elves and gargoyles first came here. Unlike ours.”
Our last king—the last elf in the royal line—died without children so our monarchy died with him. He was feared, not loved. It was widely acknowledged that he dabbled in sorcery and abused his power relentlessly. It was his scheming that caused the war with the gargoyles and led to the gargoyles creating the Storm to wipe out our race.
Funny, now that I think about it, how the details of the story are never really clear. I don’t doubt that the elven king caused the war but it’s never been clear to me how. And, knowing there’s more to the Storm than I previously believed makes me wonder what really happened to cause her to give her life for revenge. Was she asked to do it? Did her people nominate her? Or did she choose this path on her own?
We travel in silence for the next half an hour until the pathway ends. I pull up, stare at the soaring rock face, glance at Jasper, and spin back to the rocks. “Llion was just here.”
I jump back as the female pops her head out of nowhere right in front of me. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Step to your right,” she says. “I didn’t see it at first either.”
I do as she says, even though I don’t quite believe her. Is it a trick? “Huh. An illusion.”
Once I’m standing to the right, it’s possible to see that there’s an opening: a walkway between two soaring cliff faces. When viewed head on, the edges blur into each other and appear as if it�
�s one unbroken rock. “Clever.”
I follow the walkway along and to the right again. My boots crunch loudly on loose scattered pebbles and I guess that’s some sort of warning system. The walkway turns left and once I’m there, the space opens up, shafts of sunlight pouring through openings in a rocky overhang.
I gasp at the glittering space around me. In the dark corners, spider webs glisten like delicate lanterns. In the sunlit spaces, plants grow—tomato vines, squash, and even strawberries. Far on the opposite side, a mountain goat is tethered. A soft whooshing sound signals the flow of water to the right, which tells me there’s a clean water source here. Further to the back, in the cave-like hollow, a large cradle made of piled rocks creates a bed for the two babies. One of them is awake, it’s little arm waving, softly gurgling. Judging by its rock-like skin, it’s the boy.
I pick up my jaw. “This is…” Not what I expected. “Not the same nest you had before,” I say to Llion as he waits at the opening.
He doesn’t reply but gives me a nod, as if my approval is somehow appreciated.
The female hesitates for a single moment, her own eyes wide, before racing to the babies. “Precious ones,” she coos over them. She reaches out to pick up the boy but Llion growls at her.
She freezes, her wings drooping in dismay. “I won’t harm them.”
He takes strides to the nest and pulls the alert boy into his arms, propping him up in the crook of his arm. The boy is old enough to hold up his own head, but otherwise snuggles into his father’s chest. Llion murmurs into the child’s ear and that’s all it takes to quiet him. “You will explain yourself before you touch my children.”
She gulps and asks meekly, “Do you have some water?”
“You may drink from the fountain. Over there.”
He points, and as my eyes adjust to the darkness, I identify the source of the water running along the rock face and out from a lip into a carved crevice beneath it. The female retrieves a wooden bowl from the base of the water source, filling and drinking from it, and then filling it again. I’d like nothing more than to put my head under the water and cool the back of my neck but I don’t think the others would appreciate me sticking my head into the water source. I follow after the female and drink to my fill, handing the bowl to Jasper too.
The female finds a flat stone as far from Llion as possible. Jasper leans against the wall near her and I find a seat next to him. The Storm remains close to my other side.
A tug pierces my chest and I almost don’t hear the girl speak. The Phoenix must have floated further away and the sensation is agony.
I need to take cover in the clouds, the Phoenix apologizes, its voice more distant than before. The relief I feel at hearing it speak is dampened by the knowledge it’s flying away.
I understand, I reply. But as it ascends, the air is sucked out of my lungs. I take deep, slow breaths and focus on the sparkling webs until my heart calms.
The female clears her throat, addressing Llion. “For the sake of the elves, I will tell you what you already know as well as what you don’t.” Her wings fold inward and across her shoulders, giving her the appearance of a fallen butterfly.
“My name is Talia. I once belonged to the Sunflight Clan, but now…” Her eyes flick to me and I’m not sure why. “I am a Priestess-in-training. I am the first trainee in three generations.” She brightens a little as she speaks, pride filling her eyes.
She angles toward me, speaking to me now. “I believe elves have spellcasters, but none can control deep magic, yes? In Erador, our Priestesses wield deep magic.”
The light in her eyes fades. “Except that there are not many of us left. As we age, we lose our power. It is the natural order of things that all power must pass. My power is new and Howl wants it.”
Her hands suddenly shake and she clasps them together in her lap. “The older Priestesses hid me from Howl for many years, but Cassian found out about me. I’ve been imprisoned in Howl’s Palace on Mount Erador for the last month.”
Something about what she said fills me with alarm. Mount Erador is the mountain at the heart of Erador and is the location of the springs where I need to take Baelen. I try to keep my tone casual. “Did you say his palace is built on Mount Erador?”
Talia nods. “Right beside the entrance to our most sacred treasure—the deep springs. It’s a sacrilege to build a palace there. But he thirsts for the power of deep magic more than anything else.”
My heart plummets. Neither of the gargoyles knows where Jasper and I are headed. After all, we’re still on our side of the border. From their point of view, we’re just two elves who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or, from Talia’s point of view, the right place to save her.
Now, she’s told us that Howl’s Palace is built right on top of where we need to go. Jasper catches my eye. He knows how bad that is too.
Llion’s growl breaks the silence. “Howl takes whatever he wants, whenever he wants. He killed the rightful heir to the throne ten years ago and now he seeks to find all sources of deep magic to make himself more powerful. He has… no limits.” He turns to Talia and I sense a gentling in his attitude toward her for the first time. “How did you escape?”
Tears glisten in Talia’s eyes. “The elves won’t know this, so I’ll explain: Priestesses can only use deep magic in defense of another. I cannot use it for personal gain or even to protect myself.”
This stuns me. Then I remember how she’d come out of her shell when Llion revealed himself. She’d stared him down without fear. “So that explains why you suddenly found your courage when Llion appeared.”
“If you need protecting, I can do it.”
“But… what use is a power when you can’t use it to save yourself?”
“The right kind,” she insists. “The kind that can’t be used for my own selfish purposes.”
I chew on that for a moment. I find myself staring at the Storm. Talia said that Priestesses can only use deep magic in defense of another. I wonder if all deep magic has the same limitation. The Storm had used it to become the Storm—was she trying to protect someone? She doesn’t meet my eyes and I stop staring in case the others think it’s strange that I’m looking at the wall for so long.
Talia is openly crying now, tears falling down her cheeks. “When the High Priestess found out I was captured, she came to me in my prison cell. The others helped her get in and she used the very last of her deep magic to save me. She turned me into a bird, small enough to slip through the bars. But as I flew away… I realized she wasn’t coming with me...”
Talia hangs her head, tears flowing down her face. “She took on my appearance and took my place in the cell to give me time to escape.”
Llion turns a very pale gray. “How long would her power last to sustain that façade?”
“Cassian came after me the very next day. I believe that was when her power ran out.”
Llion leans against the cradle, clutching the edge of it with his free hand. “Then the High Priestess is captured.”
“The others have no power left to save her.”
“You have to go back.” His order is so sudden that Talia jumps. “You know you have to get her out before it’s too late.”
Her response is quiet. “No. I must not go back.”
Llion paces to and fro in front of the cradle as if he’s caged. His voice is low, but sharp and edgy. “There are no other rightful heirs to the throne. The High Priestess is the only one with the power to bestow the Supreme Incorruptible mark on a new king. You know that’s what Howl wants. He wants that mark! He’s been looking for her for years. He will force her to make him the lawful king. And once that happens… nothing will stop him.”
“No.” Talia’s tears have stopped. She wipes her eyes, but unlike before, she isn’t defiant. She looks tired, her eyes red-rimmed. “I will not go back.”
Llion looks as if he’s going to burst and I realize the only reason he hasn’t roared at Talia is because his
son and daughter are so close by. He doesn’t want to scare them. I admire his restraint, his need to protect his children is far greater than any fear or anger he feels at the girl.
She stands, pulling herself as upright as she can despite her obvious exhaustion. “I can’t go back, Llion, because the High Priestess did one more thing before she set me free.”
He stares at her. We all do.
“She passed her title on to me. She made me the High Priestess.”
4
Talia lifts the bodice of her dress, separating the top from the bottom on the right hand side to reveal her right hip. An intricate mark the size of my palm rests against her skin depicting a sea of green grass at the base of mountains with a golden sun above them. I’m floored by the simple beauty of the design and the way it appears as if the grass is moving in a gentle breeze, the rays of sunlight warming the slender stems while the mountains loom in the darkness behind them…
I jolt as I realize Talia is eyeing me again, as if she’s assessing my reaction. I pull back and shutter my expression. Nobody else seems to notice. Least of all Llion, who looks like he’s just been hit over the head with a dizzy stick.
“High Priestess.” He sways on the spot. “This means Howl can’t be made lawful king.”
“Not unless he captures me.”
Llion chokes back a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “You really can’t go back.”
A girlish smile breaks across Talia’s face. “I really can’t.”
Jasper leans in to me. “That explains why Cassian was willing to breach our airspace to chase after her.”
“It certainly does.”
Llion rubs his face with his free hand. “Twisted Metal,” he says, breaking into our conversation with a cautious nod in Jasper’s direction. “It seems the entire gargoyle race owes you a debt of gratitude.”
