Just then the panel in the central column opened. Dagamier poked her dark head out anxiously. "The hell hounds and gargoyles appear to be poised for a fight."
"How is that possible?" demanded Ezius. "Control of the hounds is your responsibility, Dagamier!" He looked at Guerrand. "Can't you maintain the enchantment on your gargoyles?"
Ezius's accusations brought a scowl to Dagamier's white face. "Not all of Bastion's magical defenses are entirely predictable, Ezius. Gargoyles, if you haven't heard, are chaotic evil creatures. I think it's remarkable that this hasn't happened before in five years."
"I still say the Council should have anticipated such problems."
"They did," cut in Guerrand. "That's why we're here. If Bastion functioned automatically, there'd be no need for guardians." Guerrand was already running for the apse and Bastion's entrance when he said, "Ezius, man the sphere. I'm going out to see what's happening."
Dashing after him, Dagamier caught Guerrand by the arm and spun him around. "You can't go charging out there. Maybe you trust the gargoyles to attack only intruders, but the hell hounds will kill anything they can sink their teeth into."
Dagamier had pulled him into one of the black wing's seven doorways before he was even aware of moving. "Let's use the observation tower above the black wing," she said, tapping the wall inside the door. A doorway slid open, revealing a long, narrow flight of stairs.
Another door flew open and they emerged into the windless, dark air above the courtyard on a narrow walkway hidden by the facade. The sounds of snarling, shrieking animals cut them both to the core. The mages clapped hands over their ears to hush the sound, but it did little good. The noise seemed to slice through the flesh and bones of their hands like a sharp pick on its way to their brains.
Apprehension made Dagamier's voice sound like a whisper, though she shouted above the din, "The gargoyles are gone."
Guerrand did a swift scan of the nearby pointed gables of the white wing. He searched the smooth, flat ledges of the red and black wings. The hideous, winged creatures who posed as downspouts on a stronghold that never saw rain were indeed gone.
"There!" yelled Dagamier, pointing. Guerrand followed her finger and the sounds to the left, to an area in darkest shadow beyond the fence. Bursts of flame and red-hot eyes revealed the presence, if not the outlines, of the hell hounds. Squinting in the perpetual dimness, Guerrand could make out bent bars in that section of fence, and through them constant but undefined movement. Occasionally the area was lit up by a flash of fire from a hell hound, but this did little to illuminate the situation.
By the time Guerrand realized that Dagamier was casting a spell, she was already done. It was a simple light spell, suspended over the battle. All six of the gargoyles appeared to be battling four to six hell hounds. The entire scene was such a chaotic swirl of limbs, dirt, and fire that it was hard to tell which side, if either, was
OK CDcdusA pUgue
winning. The stony gray hide of the gargoyles was largely impervious to the fangs and claws of the hell hounds, and if a gargoyle did get into serious trouble its enormous wings could easily carry it out of danger. But the dark red hell hounds were vicious fighters who would gang together to overwhelm one foe at a time, or disappear into the shadows if hard pressed.
At the corner of his sight, Guerrand saw Dagamier's eyes sink shut. "What are you planning to do?" he asked.
Her hands began to rise in a swirling motion. "Slay them before they completely destroy the fence. We'll replace them with a new batch."
"That would solve the immediate problem, as would putting them to sleep," agreed Guerrand, "but it would also leave us with no inner guardians for some time. I have a better idea," he said. "Follow my lead."
"Do I have a choice?" asked Dagamier, but there was no malice in her husky voice. "We'd better hurry before the light spell goes out."
Guerrand dashed to the opposite side of the overlook. Below in the courtyard were many of the strangely sculpted topiary plants he had seen on his arrival. When viewed directly, the plant shapes were unidentifiable. But in the oddly angled light of Bastion, they cast very distinct, disturbing shadows against the edifice. While none of these shadows was recognizable, all of them had an eery familiarity, like shapes remembered from nightmares.
Guerrand spread his arms and extended them forward in a sweeping motion. As he did so, the shadows moved away from the trees and lumbered forward. Their motion was graceful and fluid, and they advanced steadily toward the gashed fence.
Dagamier was unsure what Guerrand had in mind, but she did as he had ordered and animated the shadows from the other side of the main entrance. Shortly, several dozen shadows were flowing toward the fight.
As the first shadows slipped into the melee, the gargoyles and hell hounds paused momentarily, unsure what was happening. Then one of the hell hounds unleashed a blast of fiery breath at the shapes, but it crackled harmlessly through the darkness. Guerrand was ready on the roof and immediately loosed a sleeping spell at the attacking hell hound, which crumpled soundlessly to the ground. Startled by the apparent demise of one of their own, two other hounds tore into the shadows and fell prey to Guerrand's spell. Both lay motionless on the ground.
The remaining hell hounds and gargoyles slowly backed away from the advancing shadows. In the brief respite, Guerrand and Dagamier quickly reestablished their charm spells that usually controlled the guardian beasts.
The gargoyles returned to their perches, chittering softly, their sights anchored on the shadows in the courtyard. The hounds whimpered briefly behind the fence, then fell silent, red eyes watching.
Guerrand lowered arms that felt as heavy as if a bag of coins hung from each.
Dagamier's head tilted to regard him. "What made you think of using the shadows?"
Guerrand shrugged. "My brother and sister and I used to play a game when we were kids. Back when the garden was more than weeds, we'd wait until dark and then tell each other stories about what all the shadow- shapes really were. Rosemary shrubs became child- eating ogres under moonlight, and the like. Then we'd dare each other to go farther and farther into the garden. I tell you it was frightening, even though we knew they were only shrubs." He shrugged. "Everything looks different in darkness.
"It's hard to predict how long it will take gargoyles and hell hounds to catch on/' continued Guerrand. "They're really more brawn than brain. Still, as long as they think the shadows will intervene, neither side is likely to cross the darkness of the courtyard."
Tired to his bones, the mage took several steps toward the staircase. 'This episode has taught me two things, though," he confessed. "We must be even more vigilant about maintaining the enchantments over such creatures-take nothing for granted. And, starting tomorrow, while one of us remains in the scrying sphere at all times, the others will begin practice drills for battle readiness. We'll have no more scrambling for the doorway like scared rabbits."
Dagamier held the door open for Guerrand. On her face was an unmistakable look of respect. It was a look the high defender of Bastion had long waited to see.
Chapter Four
Standing in the underground laboratory that had once been Belize's, Lyim continued to ponder the oracle's message. She'd said that Lyim's former master had the answer to curing the snake mutation. It was not a new thought. It wasn't idle curiosity that had prompted Belize to thrust his apprentice's arm into the portal that night on Stonecliff. The archmage had known full well the consequences of the action. He alone knew the exact cause of the mutation, so it was only logical Belize could have fathomed a cure, if he were alive.