There was question as to how Golgren had discovered the Titans’ secret-and all the most likely answers pointed to the sinister Uruv Suurt priestess and empress, Nephera. But what mattered was that Donnag had become an object lesson to all, before his eventual grisly death. His body had bent, his skin had developed boils all over, and his bones had shifted to odd and unsettling positions, making it hard for him to walk or even talk. Even his own clan had finally turned on him.
There was one fate worse than to be denied the elixir, and that fate was a nightmare in itself. An end to the supply was enough to keep the Titans under Safrag’s thumb. For only he had access to remaining stocks secreted by Dauroth.
In the days of plenty, each Titan would imbibe on his own. Of late, though, Safrag had insisted that the Talon always drink the elixir together. The inner circle ought to stay strong and united, so his reasoning went. If the Fire Rose was found, its wondrous power would offer the key to the golden age. But it also would free the Titans of the potion they so desperately needed to maintain their might, and the mongrel who currently kept them from its crucial ingredients. With the Fire Rose, they could rejuvenate themselves with merely a touch of its power.
That is if the tales were true.
With the fragment still hovering far above him, Safrag sang, “Let the magic come forth to quench our thirst!”
The other Titans prepared themselves to receive one of the tiny vials. But the elixir did not materialize. As the sorcerers stirred, beginning to comprehend, Safrag raised his hands upward.
Under the brilliant glow of the fragment, a long shape began to form. Some of the Titans frowned, quickly recognizing its general shape and outline-that of a body.
But it was no newly slain corpse of one of the elves used to create the elixir. Instead, the body-smaller by at least half than those of the great Titans who observed it-was no more than bones.
“The ancient!” Draug gasped.
They all knew the bones well, for the Titans had been the grave robbers responsible for their taking. The bones were millennia old, the remains of a once mighty High Ogre whose tomb the Black Talon had ransacked in its relentless quest for the secrets of the past. The body had been fully intact when Dauroth had led his followers to it. But despite their reverence for their ancestors, he had without hesitation, in order to better seek out any powerful secrets within, destroyed the wards that had kept it in such perfect order for so long.
After failing to unlock any secrets, Dauroth had returned the bones to the sanctum. Magic was so integral to High Ogre society that even the remains should be preserved.
And Safrag had found use for them.
The Titans stared in wonder and pleasure.
“Do you accept the power and the life?” Safrag sang.
“We accept,” Morgada and the others replied.
“Let the vessels be filled, and the desire emptied from them!”
The Titans raised their upturned hands shoulder high. They bent their heads back and closed their eyes.
A faint aura surrounded each of them, a sign that the individual sorcerers had opened themselves up to receive what their leader offered. It was the only moment, waking or sleeping, that Titans left themselves unguarded, even before their own leader. Otherwise, all kept their own hidden defenses, just in case of argument or ambition. Or worse.
Seen from above, the eleven formed a five-pointed star within a five-pointed star, with Safrag occupying the center point. The skeleton hovered directly over him and just below the fragment.
Safrag stared up at the skeleton. His golden eyes flared. With one finger, he drew the star within a star pattern. The pattern blazed red and floated up to the remains of the High Ogre.
As it touched the floating skeleton, the pattern grew to envelop the bones.
Safrag muttered under his breath and his eyes closed.
The pattern became the skeleton, which burned a bright crimson. From the center of the ancient corpse, tendrils of energy shot forth to strike each Titan, hitting them full on the chest.
One last tendril rose to touch the fragment of the Fire Rose.
Some of the sorcerers gasped when struck, but for the most part they remained silent. Only Safrag could be heard, murmuring. The lead Titan opened his eyes to slits, his gaze taking in those within view. A slight smile crossed his lips as he finished the incantation.
More and more the tendrils fed the Titans, and as they did the bones began to wither. They cracked and crumbled, and even the dust that they formed burned away as the Black Talon received the inherent magic flowing from them. All semblance of a body faded away until eventually only the crimson glow remained. Even that finally faded away, and with it went the tendrils.
Yatilun was the first to find his voice. His eyes wide in awe, the Titan rasped, “Never … never have I felt so alive! So powerful! So-”
“So truly as one of the ancients,” Safrag finished for him as the other Titan nodded. Their leader looked to the others. Each face-even Morgada’s-was marked by the same rapture.
“There is nothing beyond us!” Draug managed. “We could flay the mongrel alive and take Garantha in a single minute! We could wash away Uruv Suurt Ambeon with one vast wave taken from the sea, sending all those horned devils back to Mithas to lie dead at the feet of their emperor-”
Others began to babble similar sentiments. Safrag watched them with amusement. Such euphoria was not uncommon after a Titan’s imbibing of the elixir. But the power given to them by the bones had magnified that effect several times over.
“There is only one purpose for our mighty gift,” he finally interjected, his brusque tone silencing all objections. “Keep to your positions.”
They immediately obeyed. Safrag gazed up at the fragment, which shimmered. He raised his hand toward it. At the same time, the other members of the Black Talon pointed at him.
New tendrils of the same hue as those that had struck the Titans spread from one sorcerer to the next. The star within the star pattern was recreated; the focus of its energies was the figure at its center.
And he, in turn, focused those energies upon the fragment.
The moment the tendrils struck it, the Titans stood as if frozen. Their golden orbs turned utter white, and their skin grew so pale they looked as if death had claimed them. Only a faint rising of their chests gave any clue that life remained within them.
Safrag’s mouth opened suddenly, and the voice that emerged sounded like nothing mortal.
“South … South to east… East to north and north to west and west to south … Under the raven’s beak, and at the mark of the burning sun… He claims his child, and his child claims the world …”
Safrag jerked. His voice changed, sounding female but powerful. “The wings stretch long and over the land. The gargoyle king seeks his hand … The fire calls his heart and has eaten his soul, and the king sits upon his throne, the Rose’s sweet scent calling …”
Again, the Titan leader jerked spasmodically. He struggled to turn his hand clockwise, but with his face contorted with the effort, his hand completed a circle.
The sorcerers shook. A vision formed before Safrag. He gritted his teeth from the effort and pain. The vision defined itself. The key to the Fire Rose revealed itself to him.
And caused him to roar in fury and disbelief.
The unexpected cry broke the spell. Some of the Titans collapsed to the floor, while the rest struggled to remain on their feet. Only Safrag retained enough strength to not only keep steady and poised, but to continue his wordless roar.
Finally able to focus, Morgada stared at him in concern. “Master! What is it? Has the spell turned on you?”