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“You didn’t?” Tyranos was disconcerted.

“I only knew you were in danger, and I had to try and help.”

“You’re a fool!”

Stefan shook his head. “No. That is what you refuse to understand. I am a Knight of the Sword and the servant of Kiri-Jolith.”

With a grunt of disbelief at his companion’s simple manner of explaining his near-sacrifice, the wizard turned his attention to the uniquely sinister sight above them. The citadel which loomed above them had two oddly narrow towers flanking its narrow main body. All was topped by long, carved points of stone so sharp Tyranos could imagine dragons impaling themselves on them. Each tower had one black, triangular window while the main part of the citadel boasted two windows side-by-side. There seemed no entrance to the massive building, although, perched as it was on the side of a mountain, it was possible some tunnel or cave provided a hidden way inside.

The outer appearance of the structure was perhaps its oddest aspect, for whoever had created the citadel had left the walls unpolished, indeed resembling unhewn rock. There was no doubt its design helped make the place difficult to spot from a distance, as the citadel blended into the surrounding rock.

“Really, you have no idea where we are?” Stefan asked.

“I only concentrated as best I could on getting us away from the gargoyles. I didn’t expect to end up wherever we are.”

The cleric rubbed his chin. “I have one theory, which bodes both good and ill for us.”

“What is your theory, cleric?”

“The citadel is the domain of the gargoyle’s master.”

Tyranos snorted. “The ill I understand, but what is the good?”

“We are still near where Golgren must be.”

“Ah. Of course.” Gripping his staff, the lion-maned spell-caster considered the citadel. “So you think he’s up there?”

“No, I think he’s far, far below.”

“Below?”

Stefan started walking. “If the Fire Rose was hidden up high, the gargoyle’s lord would likely have it, I’d guess.”

“And he wouldn’t find it as easily if it was below?”

The cleric touched his pendant. “You’re the wizard. Haven’t you noticed what surrounds us?”

His brow furrowed, Tyranos studied the craggy, hard, inhospitable landscape. After a moment, he closed his eyes in concentration. Barely a moment later, his eyes flashed open.

“I can’t sense anything. No, that’s not right. It’s as if the entire area doesn’t even exist!”

“In a sense, you’re right. And something that doesn’t even exist would hardly be noticed by anyone beyond that part of the valley.”

Tyranos pondered long and hard as he followed the knight’s train of thought. After reflecting long and hard he ended up with an idea that left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Cleric, If the citadel isn’t supposed to exist to anyone who isn’t granted the ability to recognize its existence, I don’t like the notion that I somehow brought us right to it!”

“Yes, I’ve thought about that too. And it worries me also.”

“It bodes ill, you mean,” retorted the burly wizard.

Stefan did not respond. Tyranos paused for a moment, eyeing the Solamnian’s back as he walked ahead of him on a narrow trail leading up. After a moment, he resumed following the human.

As he walked Stefan held the medallion of his order ahead of him. He continually looked left and right, as though seeking a marker.

“What’re you looking for?”

“The same thing you are.”

The hooded figure paused again. Holding the staff against his chest, Tyranos rumbled, “Hmm. A place where the sense of nothing is at its greatest.”

“Exactly so. The one glaring fault in that type of deception, but only if you can tell the subtle difference. And that requires skill or, in my case, the gifts of my patron.”

“Well my skills aren’t having any luck. Are your gifts doing better?”

“Not thus far. I-”

The cleric stiffened. Tyranos almost spoke, but waited as flapping wings echoed through the mountains. The wizard silently swore. Readying the staff, he murmured, “Stand near me, cleric, and hope that I can get us out.”

“I don’t-”

At that very moment a gargoyle swooped down before them, a muscular beast with an eager cast to his brutish countenance. Stefan readied his sword as the creature dove upon them.

Tyranos forced the knight’s arm down. At the same time, the gargoyle suddenly landed before the duo.

“Master,” the creature rumbled.

“Chasm,” Tyranos returned. “A pleasant surprise.”

The cleric frowned, his eyes shifting between Tyranos and the waiting gargoyle. “The gargoyle serves you?”

“Since he was born. Isn’t that right, Chasm?”

The gargoyle dipped his massive head. “Master is my father, and my father is master!”

“He was an orphan, his parents slain by a rival flock. I was … investigating a lead … and came upon him.”

“So you raised him? And how did he find you?”

The tall mage masked his emotions from Stefan’s penetrating stare. “We are tied together by many things, Solamnian. Chasm can find me no matter how far apart we are from one another.”

Chasm eagerly nodded agreement. Stefan looked with fresh eyes upon the tall mage. “You are more and more surprising to me,” he said to Tyranos, adding, “For one of your kind to take on-”

The staff was suddenly thrust under the Solamnian’s nose. From where he squatted, Chasm gave a threatening hiss at the knight as the mage spoke between clenched teeth.

“I am my own. I do what I do. We’ll speak no more of ‘my kind,’ right?”

“Not until you wish to speak of it, no.”

With some frustration, Tyranos snapped, “I’ll never wish to speak about it with you, damned cleric-” He broke off, staring past Stefan at the gargoyle. “What the devil’s the matter with you?”

Chasm was shaking his head as if trying to rid it of some inner noise or pain. The winged creature snorted, leaned forward, and all but rubbed his forehead against the ground.

“Stop that!” commanded the wizard. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Head hurts! Feels … Feels strange …”

Thrusting his staff forward, Tyranos studied the area just beyond and surrounding the gargoyle. A grin spread across his face. He tapped the crystal tip on Chasm’s head. The gargoyle flashed bright for a moment, and the creature’s face calmed.

“What is it, Tyranos?”

“As you already know, gargoyles can often sense the presence of magic. Not all flocks, but some. Trust me, I’ve made a very thorough study. Chasm is more sensitive than most. And I do believe he’s found the area we’ve been seeking.”

The cleric looked around at the nearby landscape. “So we just have to find a passage.” Stefan added, “Odd that the master of so many gargoyles couldn’t also find it so readily.”

“As I said, Chasm is more sensitive. Unique, actually. That’s why I was forced to shield his mind a little.”

The Solamnian said nothing further, but continued to look around intently as the trio slowly moved along, deeper into the mysterious mountain terrain. Chasm hopped ahead, sometimes on all fours, other times just on his legs. The gargoyle sniffed the air, whether for the presence of more magic or others of his ilk, Stefan had no idea; the mage did not deign to illuminate him.

“You’ve been following the trail for a long time,” the cleric said to the mage in a low voice, as they climbed steadily.

“I thought we’d already agreed on that. What of it?”

The knight shrugged. “I was merely curious what you hoped to do with the Fire Rose.”

“And you’ll remain that way: curious. Your patron chose to have you help me. As a cleric, you shouldn’t need to ask more.”

The answer did not aggravate Stefan, but rather made him chuckle. That, in turn, caused Tyranos to glance at his companion in irritation.