He blurted out a short spell. Moisture suddenly drenched the monstrous limbs. They began to rust. The change was accompanied by creaking.
But just as quickly, a gray aura spread over the tentacles. In its wake, the aura left the tentacles pristine again.
Gadjul let out a gagging sound that was as much due to his astonishment as it was to the tightening around his throat.
The tentacles dragged him toward the door. In desperation, the Titan dug his heels into the floor, but Safrag’s sinister guardian relentlessly pulled him closer.
Gadjul desperately thrust a hand against the door.
The hand plunged in. Worse, when the sorcerer attempted to pull it free, it would not come out.
One foot also sank in, followed by the rest of the one arm. Gadjul’s nose touched the door.
With one final, almost indifferent tug, the tentacles shoved the hapless Titan into the door. Gadjul was able to let out only a desperate murmur before he vanished.
The door resumed its original appearance. Silence reigned.
A moment later, Gadjul went flying out as if spewed from a giant mouth. He collided with the opposing wall and fell to the floor.
The door once more stilled.
A thick, iron-gray sap caked the shivering, wide-eyed sorcerer. Gadjul managed to stumble to his feet. Half mad, he stared first at the door then down the corridor where Kulgrath and the others had long vanished.
Mouth agape and still shivering, Gadjul fled in the opposite direction, grateful merely to be alive.
He had not escaped. Gadjul knew that he had been released. He had survived only at the mercy of Safrag, who had hidden that spell-protected magical minion in the door for just such intrusions.
But the departing Gadjul knew one other thing: The next time someone sought uninvited entrance to the master’s lair, they would not be as fortunate as he.
V
Golgren and Tyranos landed with a heavy thud. The half-breed made a grab for the wizard’s staff but failed to grasp it as the wizard bounced in the opposite direction.
“This is your doing!” the robed figure growled as he came to a halt next to a large outcropping.
“No,” was all Golgren answered. He rolled to his feet and was not surprised when Tyranos stood up almost as quickly. The wizard was very agile, very athletic for one of his calling.
And that again reinforced suspicions that Golgren had always had concerning his “ally.”
The deposed Grand Khan looked around. While the mountains bore a similar appearance, he was sure those that surrounded him were not all that far from the citadel. They had the same bleak, skeletal look to them and radiated a familiar sense of despair. Whatever had caused the pair to be transported there did not seem to want to send him very far from his objective.
He glanced down at the signet.
“Don’t put too much stock in that bauble, oh great one,” Tyranos sneered. “Against the Fire Rose, it is worth nothing.”
“And so I should hand it over to you, perhaps?”
The wizard snorted. “Keep it if you like.”
Golgren turned from Tyranos, more interested in determining just where he was. He considered demanding that the spellcaster bring him to the top of one of the peaks so he could orient himself, but there was always the chance that the wizard might just leave him there.
Something glittered in the gloom surrounding them. That should not have been possible, but when Golgren focused on the teasing flicker, it appeared to be Sir Stefan Rennert.
Coinciding with that, the signet glowed brighter.
“What-?” Tyranos began, but the half-breed was already moving toward the distant, much-too-bright figure. Golgren thought the knight stared back at him. Certainly the knight’s hand rose as if to greet Golgren.
He tried not to blink as he increased his pace. Golgren was certain what would happen if he did.
But in the end, he could not help himself, and though it was perhaps no more than a second at most that his vision faltered, that was long enough. The Solamnic was no longer there.
However, there was something else descending from above. The size and the wings spoke of one creature: a gargoyle.
Though the ring still glowed, Golgren did not trust it to protect him. Teeth bared, he snatched up a rock and crouched, ready to throw it with practiced accuracy at the head of the beast.
Tyranos clutched his shoulder. “Hold on! That’s not one of his! It’s Chasm! I can sense that!”
Aware of the wizard’s link to his gargoyle servant, Golgren lowered the rock. He eyed the nearing creature and finally noticed that Chasm carried a slighter form in his grip.
“Idaria,” the half-breed whispered.
The duo descended. With a rumble, Chasm gently lowered the elf in front of Golgren. She moved with some unsteadiness toward him. Her hair was disheveled, almost completely covering her face. Her gown, already well worn, was closer to tatters.
“My lord,” the slave murmured, bowing her head. Her face was even more pale than normal.
“Do not look down when you speak with me,” Golgren commanded. “You, my Idaria, must always look me in the eye.”
As she did as he bade, Tyranos interjected himself into the situation. “And where’s the cleric? Where’s the Solamnic?”
Idaria’s gaze fell to the ground again. “Sir Stefan … he is dead.”
Golgren raised her chin so she again looked at him. For a brief moment, the glow of the signet revealed her surprise that it once more graced his hand. “Speak of this! When and where?”
She told them, leaving out none of the terrible details. The knight had been trying to rescue her when the macabre creatures serving the gargoyle king had surrounded them. They had seized Stefan, and one of them had slain him with his own sword. His body had been tossed to a corner where the gargoyles deposited their refuse.
Chasm nodded vigorously in support of her story. They also gave an account of their escape. In the telling, though, the tale expanded to reveal more about the dread master of the citadel and his desires. Golgren and Tyranos did not interrupt, both keenly aware that to do so might cause some memories to lapse and, thus, vital knowledge to be lost.
“He claims utter ownership of you,” she told Golgren. “From before your very birth! He says that you would not even exist if not for his desire.”
“There is some sense in that,” Tyranos muttered, despite a glare from the half-breed. “Ogres and elves … the mix is not a workable one.”
“No less so than a human and an Uruv Suurt,” Golgren returned.
The wizard opened his mouth to retort then clamped it shut. His eyes blazed.
“So,” continued Golgren, “I am to be his hound so that he might have the Fire Rose. I-”
Chasm suddenly began hopping up and down. “They come. They come!”
Screeches filled the air.
“Brace yourselves-” the wizard began.
But as he spoke, the signet flared brighter. Light crackled around them, light that shaped itself. The foursome was abruptly surrounded by shining silver shields stacked one upon the other, so they were covered from all sides and overhead.
The cries of the great flock drew closer.
“I had thought we lost them,” Idaria muttered. “Forgive me! I should have warned you-”
Golgren silenced her with a wave of his hand. He listened to the thunder of flapping wings. The minions of their foe were upon them.
Then the cries grew more distant. The thunder lessened. As the four waited, the noise became less and less audible.
It became quiet again.
“Now how could they possibly miss a mound of glowing shields?” Tyranos asked with a snort. He touched the nearest shield with the crystal. “How could they-?”