Awakening:  Part 1
By Tim "Gabriel" Reynard  T12345r@aol.com


Disclaimer: 
      Gargoyles and all characters therin are the property of Disney,
 Buena Vista, yadda, yadda, yadda.  I wish to thank  Michael Reeves
 and Eric Luke for introducing me into the wonderful universe of 
drama and romance, magic and mystery that is Gargoyles.  
 And this is in no way an intended plagerization of their work,
 rather a tribute.  


This is my first fanfic, mindless praise and constructive criticism
 are greatly appreciated.


Dedications:
      This is dedicated to all those in the chat room gang,  with special 
regards to Batya "The Toon" Levin, Beth Maza, Wraith, Fox,
 Goddess, Kelly, Keyser, Shade, Ninane, Serpent, heck, everybody
 would get a mention if I had enough space!    Thanks for everything, guys. 
 
Now that all that stuff is out of the way, on with the show!  Cast your 
mind back through the mists of space and time to the point where
 you first saw Awakening. . .and begin. 



Prologue
1994 A.D.



        Night.
        It veiled the city of New York in darkness.  The beginnings of a 
storm lingered in the air.  Ominous rumbles came from gathering
 clouds and the first flashes of lightning flickered among the boiling 
black monsters.  The streets of Manhattan were filled with taxicabs, 
cars and huge throngs of people.  Businessmen were shouting at 
taxis, trying to hail them as they blew by, families were going to dinner, 
young couples were on their way to nightclubs.  Several glanced up at 
the coming storm and unconsciously hurried faster.  
      Brandon and Margot Yale hurried down the street, weaving in 
and out of the crowd with all the precision of a pair of bumper cars. 
 Margot glanced up with a worried look at the obviously rain-swollen 
clouds.  “'Don’t bother to bring an umbrella, Margot, we’ll be
 parked near the restaurant.  It’s a nice night', you said.  Well, 
I hope your’re happy.  This is a 300 dollar outfit!” 
        Brandon cringed at what he called his wife’s “shrew voice”.  This is
 one shrew that would never be tamed.  He sighed.  “Don’t worry
 Margot, the car is only nine blocks away, if we hurry, we can make
 it before the rain starts.”  
        “Nine blocks!” she swore in frustration.  “If we hurry, we can make 
before hell freezes over!” muttered Margot as she picked up a littered 
newspaper in preparation for the downpour that was sure to come, 
given their luck.  She looked up again.  They were passing in front of 
the Eyrie Building, David Xanatos’s main base of operations on the
 Eastern Seaboard.  She noticed that the top of the building disappeared 
above the clouds.  “He probably dosen’t even have to worry about cars, 
probably flies a helicopter everywhere,”  she harumphed.  She stopped 
and grabbed Brandon’s arm.  “What now, Margot?” he sighed as tore his 
arm away.  His wife was staring up at the rich boy’s newest domicile.
  Strangely enough, there was  a look of horror on her face.  Was the 
architecture that bad?  He followed her gaze.  What was that sound?  It
 sounded like ray guns, something out of Star Wars.  A surprised 
expressionflashed briefly on his face as he beheld several man-sized stones 
tumbling out of the clouds, headng right toward them!
        “Ah-” he yelled before his throat closed up with a sqeak.  Purely on 
reflex, he dove into Margot and flung her into the street, just as the rocks 
smashed into the pavement with a sickening crunch.  He lay on the 
pavement for two seconds, staring dumbly at the boulder that had come 
within an inch of crushing his skull into powder.  Picking himself up, heart 
still racing, he shakily tried to help his wife to her feet.   They stumbled 
backwards away from the scene and out into the street, heedless of 
hoards of people screaming and flinging themselves away from the stone 
and rubble that again came tumbling down from the clouds.  Odd red 
flashes of light illuminated the black night and sounds like lasers drifted 
down towards the people on the ground.  The stones smacked into cars 
and asphalt. 
        Margot and Brandon gaped at the smashed rubble, then at each other.
  “’Let’s go out to dinner tonight’.  ‘We never get out anymore’ you said.  I 
have never been more terrified in my entire life!” she yelled. 
        She stared at him, exhaling heavily, hands spasmodically opening and 
closing.  They faced each other for several seconds, suddenly oblivious to
 the chaos around them.  A frightened and worried look abruptly swept away
 the normally angry and pinched features, and her lower lip trembled.  
“Are. . .are you all right?”
        Brandon opened his eyes wide in shock as the woman who had 
prosecuted the toughest crimminals in New York broke into tears and flung 
herself at him.    He awkwardly gathered her in his arms and held her close.
  “Come on.” he said softly.  It’s all over now.  Let’s go home.”   She nodded
 silently, face still buried in his chest.  They continued walking slowly away 
from the gawking crowd down the sidewalk, holding each other.  
        The crowd hurried away from the rubble and gathered in a semi-circle, 
staring up into the cloudy haze that masked the top of the building from
view.  Then, several noisy and flashing police cars converged on to the
scene.  Several officers got out and began questioning people and putting
up barricades.  All the while, they glanced up, waiting for more of the 
offending rock to fall.  A long, black-haired woman with dusky, black skin 
in streetclothes got out of her car and hurried over to a policeman.  She 
flashed a badge from her red jacket.    
        “Maza, 23rd, what’s going on?” she demanded.
        “Got me, detective,” replied the cop.  “Must be a heckuva party going 
on up there.”  More red flashes illuminated the air and the sound of gunfire
 was heard faintly.  The woman frowned.  Then her eyes widened. 
 More rocks were coming down!  One the size of her body slammed 
to the ground in front of her, the jolt of the impact knocked her off her
 feet.  The rest slammed into the ground with equally crushing force.  She 
gasped her breath back and noticed several people getting ready to climb 
over the barricade to come to her aid.  “Get back!” she yelled, throwing out
 a hand.  They stopped.  “Or you’ll wind up street pizza.” she murmured
 at them as she stared at her bedraggled self sprawled on the asphalt.
  She idly looked up at the rubble of the rock that had nearly ended her
 life.  Her eyes fell on a rather odd sight, and her brows creased in 
puzzlement.  There were four, even lacerations etched deep into one of the
 stones at her feet.  The foot long marks seemed too orderly to have been
 caused by the fall.  The more her dark eyes stared at them, the more they
 seemed looked like. . . 
        “Claw marks?”  Her slim, calloused hand fell across the marks and she
 traced them with her finger.  She peered up at the building as she got
 up and began to clean herself off.  
          Another stone fell and smashed into a fire hydrant with a clang.
  Water cascaded upward in a fierce stream to intermingle with the new 
droplets of rain coming down.  She lifted her collar in a meager attempt
 to shield herself from the spray as her eyes narrowed curiously at the
 marks.  Her narrowed gaze swept upward to the building, and
 tried to peer above the clouds.
        “What could be strong enough to make claw marks in solid stone?”


                                                                                                        
994 A.D.  Just before sunset.
Chapter 1



        It was the end of a long, dusty afternoon.  The sun’s lengthening 
rays fell upon the gray stone walls of Castle Wyvern.  Situated on a 
cliff overlooking the ocean, the magnificent castle was a triumph of 
architecture.  Battlements and ramparts, towers and walls, all came 
together to form a high, impenetrable fortress of granite.  CastleWyvern 
was fortunate it was so well constructed, for outside it’s walls sat many 
warriors, itching to charge the castle and raze it to the ground.  The 
soldiers literally covered the ground for a hundred yards around the castle.  
Horses and tents and giant siege engines were scattered among them. 
The soldiers were busy preparing for battle. They polished their swords and 
laced up armor.  They strung arrows to bows and quieted nervous horses.
Here and there there you might hear occasional mutterings of dissension
among the ranks.
        “I’m telling you, we’ll never beat those bastards!  Why the devil are we 
attacking now?”
        “Aye, does he not see the gargoyles atop the walls?”  It’s nearly
sunset!  We’ll be slaughtered!  the soldier shuddered.  “And eaten!
Hakon is blind to the danger!”  
        A broad hand whirled one soldier around and suddenly he found his
eye in line with a glittering dagger.  “Now. . .who is going to be blind?”
a harsh, grating voice asked.  The soldier did not dare breathe. 
“M-mercy sir!”  cried the poor man, nearly wetting himself.  “It was only
the babbling of a poor soldier, nothing more.  It dinnae have no
meaning in truth!”
        With a snarl, Hakon,  Captain of the Vikings, hurled the unfortunate 
man into the muck at his feet.  “If I catch you or anybody else
questioning my battle strategies, I’ll have you stuck like a pig 
and roasted for good measure!”  Having finished his threat,  he stalked 
back to his tent.  As he passed through the
barracks, the smell of cooking fires entered his nostrils.  Soon, he 
thought, it will be Castle Wyvern that is burning!
       His forces had sacked a town far to the west of Castle Wyvern.  
The people that had not been killed had fled to the only place of safety
for miles around.  His warriors had laid siege to it, and now were ready
to fight at dusk.  He entered his tent, acknowledging the guards 
half-hearted salutes with a slight nod.       
      The captain was a large, burly man, with a mop of dirty blond hair, 
equally unkempt on his head and jaw.  He grinned as he sharpened 
his sword with a wetstone, honing the edge for the battle to come. 
The slaughter would be glorious, and the plunder was sure to be great.
The captain frowned at the thought of his men being demoralized by 
children’s tales of gargoyles.  He strode back outside.  
       “Prepare to attack with the setting of the sun!” he yelled to his troops.
       After a few glares from the guards and himself, they all cheered 
mightily, whooping and hollering war cries.  Satisfied with the response, 
he left to see to last minute preparations.  As he walked, his eyes fell 
upon theramparts and battlements of the walls of the castle. 
        There, nestled among the winged forms of the gargoyle statues around
the wall, were numerous archers, peering down on them.    


       “Look at those barbarians.” said one archer.  “Even with the gargoyles, 
how can we stand against them?” 
        “Take heart, lad,” said a grizzled old soldier.  We’ve got the Princess’s
blessing upon us, the Captain of the Guard to lead us to victory, and. . .
well, yes the gargoyles come in handy as well. . . I suppose.”  He said the
last phrase with a sigh.  “Though mind you lad, I wonder why the beasts
haven’t eaten us alive yet!”    
       The objects of his discontent were gargoyle statues that surrounded 
the walls of the castle.  They were also on top of every tower, with the
largest gargoyle being on top of the highest watchtower.  All of the
statues were in various frightening positions.  They varied from three to
eight feet high.  Every detail was meticulously carved in.  The men
could see the pointed ears, the gaping maws open wide in frozen snarls
showing short fangs, the large muscles, the bat-like wings unfurled to 
heir fullest.  Most had horns on their heads in various numbers, lengths
and sizes.  Their basically human forms were well muscled, with each
hand ending in four sharp claws.  A long tail graced each one. 
They were dressed in loincloths or jerkins.  A few had bits of armor
scavenged from previous battles.  All this was captured perfectly in
stone, as if by a master sculptor.  The men shivered at the stone demons
and turned their gaze back to the army below.  The sun was touching the
peaks of the mountains, swirling them with stripes of purple and black. 
It was getting harder to see.  Fires were lit, both in the Viking 
army and in the castle.  The two archers saw the Captain strolling toward
them. 
      “Now then lads, everything all right?  Not thinking of desertion, are you?” 
The large man glared at his men, long mustaches framing a frown, 
brown eyes daring somebody to say something.


        “No!  Uh, no Sir!”    
        “Very good!  May your arrows strike fair and true.”  With that, he strode
to another pair of archers along the front wall.  
        The two archers looked the balding captain, then at each other, then
down at the catapults.  “Aye, if the catapults don’t smash us to kindling 
first.” said the young one sourly.  A low moan from a horn came from 
the army below.  They froze.  That usually was the signal for-


        
        “Attack!”  Hakon screamed, and the Vikings hurried forward.  Catapults 
let their burdens loose with a groan and pieces of the walls disintegrated,
as did several men that were unfortunate enough to be posted there. 
Archers countered with flurys of arrows, black death raining down, mostly
striking up raised shields.  As the procession moved forward with deadly 
intent, a soldier tried one last time to voice his disapproval of this apparent
universal lack of common sense.  “Taking on an entire castle full of
gargoyles near nightfall.  This is crazy, and Hakon knows it!”  His 
companion only gave him a sorrowfull gaze and looked behind his shoulder.
       A broad hand clapped down on the man’s shoulder.
       “No boys, that’s not crazy.  Questioning my sanity when I’m in
earshot, that’s crazy!” a deep voice ended with a shout.  He shoved the 
man away and raised his sword.  “I say those gargoyles are naught but
chiseled stone!” screamed the Captain of the Vikings.  “And even if 
somehow they aren’t, it’s worth the risk for the plunder within!  Attack!”


        Hordes of soldiers shrieked in unison and ran forward, swords 
brandished and shields raised upward to ward off the arrows that
would soon be be coming again.  Ladders and grappling hooks were
thrown against the wall and men charged up them, only to be repelled
by spears and swords.  Cauldrons of boiling oil were dropped from
the ramparts, then torches were tossed down and many soldiers
disappeared screaming in flames.  More catapaults fired, and tall
siege enginesr umbled towards the castle, intending to roll right up
to the walls and send hordes of sword-waving death over the side.
Still more soldiers under the cover of a metal sheet ran towards the
gate with a giant battering ram in hand.  Carved from a massive,
ancient trunk, the ram slammed into the gate.  It shuddered with 
each crashing blow.     The castle could only counter with a flurry after
flurry of arrows.  Scores of Vikings lay dead or dying, as screams cut 
through the air and red stains soaked into the ground.    But their were
too many scaling ladders and grappling hooks, and once the
Vikings got over the wall, fighting was basically reduced to hand-to-hand
combat.   A siege engine rumbled up to the wall, burning slowly where 
fire arrows had struck it.  The door came down and out came many 
soldiers, intent on killing as many people as they could.  Swords
clashed, men screamed and blood flowed as the fight was brought
within the walls.      
        “Stand fast men!” bellowed the Captain, swinging his sword. 
 “Hold them back!“      
        “Aye, and we’ll catch boulders with our teeth while we’re at it!” swore
an angry and afraid young archer who turned from his post.  Others
followed suit.  The Captain frowned.  He didn’t have time for these 
young ones to get spinless.  “It’s your choice then, me lads.  The 
catapults, or me.  Back to yer posts!”  He shook his sword at them.  
Shaken, the young soldiers took up their swords an plunged grimly 
into the battle.  “Keep them occupied until sunset!" the Captain shouted.  
"Then we’ll see some fun!” he muttered rather gleefully to himself.
       As the bloody melee kept on, the sun was sinking deep into the 
purple mountains to the west, the red and grayshadows touching 
everything.  It sank lower and lower.  Stars began winking into existence,
sparkling with a diamond-like glitter.  Hakon climbed a grappling hook up
the highest watchtower, fighting off any Wyvern soldiers who were foolish
enough to challenge him.  He let out a roar of victory.  Taking
this castle was going to be like taking candy from a baby!
      As he reached the top of the tower, the sun vanished. 
      He heard the sound of grating, crumbling rock from just above him.  
He slowly peered up and gaped in fear.  What was wrong with the gargoyle 
statue perched above?  He stared in wonder.  Cracks were running through
it at a speed not to be believed!  What foul sorcery was this?  The cracks 
grew  faster and faster, networking into a intricate spider web that covered
the entire stature.  Hakon’s mouth was open, he gawked, entranced by 
the sight before him.  
       Abruptly, the statue exploded, showering bits of stone everywhere, 
including all over the Viking.  He shook off the offending rocks and looked
up to the most terrifying sight he had ever seen..  
       A monstrous creature stood before him.  It was in the exact same 
position as the statue had been.  It even looked exactly like it, save that
instead of stone, the gargoyle was now flesh!
       The captain was about to scurry down the rope with all the speed
he could muster, when the gargoyle abruptly noticed him.  It’s upper lip
curled over one sharp fang and it’s coal black eyes suddenly glowed a
blinding white!  A low snarl escaped it’s mouth as one clawed hand 
reached down to grab him by the wrist.  The fingers crossed over 
themselves, and it felt like his wrist was being compressed by a steel 
band.  The creature hoisted him off the rope with one jerk of it’s muscled 
arm.  Holding the stunned and afraid Hakon aloft over ground a hundred 
feet below, the lavender-skinned gargoyle spread it’s massive wings and  
let out a growl that was deep and terrible.  “You,” rumbled the deep voice 
of the gargoyle, “are trespassing.”         The captain risked a quick glance 
around.  All over Castle Wyvern, gargoyles were coming to life, shaking 
bits of stone off their heads, noticing the soldiers, and snarling.  Their 
eyes were glowing like the pits of hell, and their muscles were tensed 
to leap.
        Hakon, thinking he and his army were now food for demons anyway, 
decided to go down fighting.  His sword was still in his other hand.  
Swaying in the gargoyle’s iron grip, he swung his sword in desperation.
        The beast moved impossibly fast for something so huge.  The left 
hand came up in a flash, stopping the blade by grabbing it in mid-swing.  
The monster hissed and growled in pain  The captain’s eyes widened 
as he sawa thin trickle of blood run from between his sword and the 
gargoyle’s palm.        
      The captain called from his precarious position.  “Fight men, they 
are not invincible!”  He looked back at the creature holding him, new 
confidence inhis eyes.  He planted his feet on the edge of the tower 
and kicked backward, his momentum tossing the surprised monster 
over the edge.  Hakon swung down on his rope to a lower level, 
sweating as he noticed the creature spread it’s massive wings and 
glide away.   The rest of the gargoyles flexed their bat-like wings, 
extended them fully and leaped off the various ledges they were on.  
Wheeling about the sky, they attacked.  The Vikings were suddenly 
buffeted by many flying forms of all different colors.  The gargoyles 
knocked the humans off their horses, dropped rocks, nets, and other 
unpleasant objects on the army.  Bloodcurdling howls and shrieks 
terrifed both men and horse.   Talons that could rend metal splintered
swords and flesh alike.   A few  gargoyles grabbed screaming men, 
glided up far above the Earth and let the men drop like stones.  Their 
eyes flared red and white as the Viking army ran for their lives.      
       Three young gargoyles stood in the back of the courtyard, watching
the battle.  A  rail thin, red gargoyle with a shock of long white hair and
a long, beak-like mouth looked back at his brethren.  “Come!” he said 
excitedly to the other two.  “Shall we let our brothers and sisters have
all the fun?”  With that he spread his huge wings and jumped off the 
ledge. The other two watched him go.  A small, olive-green gargoyle with 
wings stretched between his arms and legs looked shrewdly at his sibling.
      “Not afraid are you?” he said with a wry smile. The other gargoyle
looked back at him in shock.
      “Afraid?”  the pale blue-skinned gargoyle said in astonishment.  
“Me!  Why, all of nature trembles at my passing!”  He flexed his muscles
and unfurled his wings to their fullest and drew himself up to his
full height.  Then tiring, he slumped back down.  His muscles disappeared
under the rolls of fat that suddenly and unwelcomely made their
appearance.  He panted.
      “Hmmmm.  I can see why.”  the small one said as he poked a
clawed hand into the fat one’s pudgy middle.  The two smirked at each
 other and flew off to join their brother in battle.
      An aged, brown gargoyle fought off several soldiers, bearded face 
heaving.  His tattered wings batted aside swung swords as he worked to
overcome the incessant humans.  He swatted them from the walls with ease.
Hearing a scuffle behind him, he whirled, claws held at ready.
The leader was heaving a would-be assassin, off the rampart.  He
watched the human slam into the ground, then looked at the ancient one.
     “Watch your back, old friend.” he warned.  
     The old gargoyle gave him a grim smile, silently thanking him.  “Watch
your own!” he said gruffly.  The two separated and went off to do battle
once more.     The Captain of the Guard dodged, swung, stomped, 
bit, kicked and cursed away soldier and sword alike as they came 
at him.  He welcomed the massive gargoyle as it
landed besides him and helped beat off his latest assailants.  “My thanks,
Goliath.” he said, panting.  
     “I could not do otherwise.” said Goliath.  He flapped his giant wings
at some soldiers running their way.  They were blown off their feet by 
the gale, and ran the opposite way shrieking.  
     “These rogues must have followed that band of refugees that took 
shelter here!” the Captain swore to himself.  He and Goliath plunged 
back into the midst of the fighting.  The Viking army could do nothing 
against creatures who flew as fast as the wind and evaded every arrow 
shot.  The monstrous appearance of the gargoyles, their inconcievable
strength and monstrous screams they emitted as they attacked 
proved to be to much for even the hardy Viking warriors.  Chaos 
claimed the uniform ranks of the Viking army, and they fled for the hills, 
a few being cut down as they ran by the remnants of the archers of 
Castle Wyvern.  Hakon was left almost entirely alone in the castle. 
He ran against the walls, hunched down, trying to hide himself from 
the devil-spawned beasts. He did not relish the prospect of being left 
alone in a castle full of gargoyles.  He ran for a tower which he 
thought concealed the stairs leading down to the gate.  A snarl in the 
blackness ahead stopped him, made his breath catch in 
his throat.  It seemed more animalistic than the howls and shrieks of the
gargoyles outside, if that was possible.  A gargoyle dog-beast stepped
out of the darkness.  It gave a low growl and began to run towards him,
the volume of it’s barking increasing every second. The captain’s heart
leapt into his throat, and he fell to the ground, more a futile attempt to
ward off the slavering beast than an actual dodge.  The hound flew over
him and slammed into the side wall, crashing through it with a roar.  The 
captain, not pressing his luck, continued with all haste towards the tower
and the stairs.  A pair of red eyes shining in the darkness like fiery 
embers stopped him cold.  Cape-like wings unfolded with a deadly 
slowness, and the glowing eyes emerged into the torchlight, followed 
by a beautiful blue-skinned female gargoyle face, framed by a mop of 
long, fiery-red hair. In the back of thecaptain’s mind, he noted that, had 
she been human, she would have been one of the loveliest women he 
had ever seen.  The front part of his mind,however, was terrified at the 
terrible, fanged grin etched on her face.  
      “Face me human, if you dare!” she hissed like a wild cat  Her wing 
unfolded in their entirety as she prepared to spring.  
     Hakon, seeing death in her burning gaze, gulped, turned and ran.
      He was confronted again by the hound.  It was about twice the 
size of any wolf he had seen.  The doggoyle sprang, growling 
ferociously.  Just as it was going to tear his throat out, he was swept 
up and held aloft by a familiar looking arm.  It was the huge gargoyle 
again, and once again he leanedforward and spoke menacingly into 
the shaking captain’s  face, eyes gleaming like twin moons.
     “I see you have met our watchdog.” the gargoyle said, as the hound 
growled at the quaking human.  “And my second-in-command.”  The
female gargoyle’s red eyes flashed and she teasingly raked her talons
softly across his face, as she watched the quavering Hakon.  “I 
grow tired of this,” the monster said.  “Take what’s left of your men 
and begone!”  
     With a flick of his wrists, the gargoyle hurled him off the walls of the
castle, into a pile of hay.  Flailing his arms, spittilg hay and swearing, 
Hakon climbed out and fell into arms of his waiting men, who then ran 
like frightened mice.  He tried to salvage what was left of his pride.  
“This isn’t over monster, I’ll be back!”  he shouted defiantly.  And 
revenge would be sweet indeed.
     A cry of victory rose over Castle Wyvern.  The Captain of the Guard
strode over to Goliath, whose hand was being bandaged by his mate,
a concerned look was on her face.  
     “Goliath, we owe you our lives.”  He clapped his hand upon the 
gargoyle’s shoulder. 
     Goliath folded his great wings around himself like a cloak and smiled
down at the human.  His long, black hair swirled around him.  His eyes
no longer glowed white, but were clear and black.  “As we owe you ours,
everyday.”   His bass voice rumbled in the night air, and he flexed his
bandaged hand.

      The Captain strode into the dining hall.  The smell of roast meat and 
cold ale hit him full in the face, washed over him like a wave.  He paused
 to look around.  Four long tables sat in a square in the center of the hall.
  The surviving soldiers were eating, drinking and laughing.  Several used 
chickenbones to illustrate sword thrusts to their companions.  Dogs 
pulled apartmeaty remains tossed into the center of the square.  Bards 
and  minstrelsplayed merry tunes.  Serving girls brought food and drink 
in ever more back-breaking amounts while at the same time deftly 
dodging the hands of some of the more drunken men.  In a throne facing 
the door, overlookingthe hall, sat the Princess Katharine.  She was supple, 
dressed in brown and white robes, with almond shaped eyes and long 
brown hair that flowed to her waist.  Sitting beside her, as always, was 
the Magus.  His young face was pale and thin, his hair long and white.  
His appearance was the result of spending many hours in study.  The 
Captain started towards them.  As he passed the table on the right, he 
overheard some conversation.  “I don’t mind telling ye, I thought we were all 
under the sword there for a while.”
      “Aye, a fine soldier is our Captain of the Guard!”
      “Captain of the Gargoyles, you mean!”  A hearty laughter broke out.
      “Aye, he’d fit right well there in the cornices with em’, it’s a fact!”
      The Captain gritted his teeth.  Ungreatful louts, the lot of them.  He 
seriouslyconsidered throwing them in the dungeon, or worse, potato peeling 
fora week.  Then he shook his head in disgust and continued on his way.  
Fools, all.  The gargoyles save their lives and they think they each single 
handedlysaved the castle.  Don’t want to admit that “beasts” saved them, he 
grumbled.  With a sigh, the Captain took his placeand stood near the 
Princess.  She smiled charmingly at him.  She dosen’t even really know
 the horrors of war, he thought sadly.  That one will have to grow up, if 
she is tosurvive the coming years.
      “Our thanks for a battle well fought, good Captain.”  she said.
        “The thanks is not mine to take, Your Highness.  Without Goliath 
and his gargoyles, our defense would have proven useless.”
      The Princess and the Magus both frowned.  “Please,” she said 
with a shudder.  “Don’t mention that beast’s name in me presence."  
she said haughtily.
      He grimaced.  She would soon see more of the “beasts” than 
she might care too.  Damn you, Malcom. he cursed silently.  You 
thought your threats of gargoyles would teach her to behave, but you 
only started her on the path to bigotry.  It had taken much persuasion 
to keep her from having the gargoyles smashed when she ascended 
to the thone.  He glanced back at the door.  Any minute now. . .
      The great hall doors opened with a boom, causing the Magus to 
drop his goblet.  A cold wind snaked through the room, chilling every 
human.  Two forms, both tall, one massive and the other willowy, stood 
in the doorway.  The Captain motioned them in, hoping he was not in for 
a night in the dungeon.    
      It was Goliath and his second-in-command.  Everyone blanched 
as they strode into the room with wings spread to their fullest.  
The dogs growled softly.  The two gargoyles walked right up to the 
Princess in her throne.  They towered above her as an oak
 towers above a single blade of grass.  She sank back in her chair, 
expecting the great beasts to fling themselves upon her any second.  
      “Yer pardon, Highness, I took the liberty of asking them to appear 
and be recognized for their bravery.”  If she didn’t acknowledge or like 
it, well then the devil take her! 
       The Princess went livid and stared at the Captain, regaining 
some of her fire.  “Captain, we are most seriously displeased!  To 
allow beasts in the dining hall!”  At least the old one was not with them.  
The one that had killed her father.  She ground her teeth silently.
      “Her Highness is right!” the Magus said loudly.  He glowered at 
the gargoyles and the Captain.  “These are unnatural creatures!  No good 
can come from associating with them!” he spat.
       The Captain glared at the Magus.  Damn sycophant.  You’ll agree 
to anything she says out of infatuation, whether it’s right or wrong.  
He looked over at Goliath’s mate.  He muttered an oath under his breath 
as he watched the female give a low growl, and her eyes begin to 
glow scarlet.  She crouched down in the beginnings of a spring.  The
 Princess sank back in her chair, recoiling, fear enveloping her face.  
The guards tensed.
       Then, Goliath stopped with her with a clawed hand on her 
shoulder.  And with a sudden move, the gargoyle folded his wings 
and dropped to one knee in a cordial bow.  The Princess looked 
down at him inastonishment, as did the female gargoyle.  The
 Captain applauded silently, masking hisgrin beneath his long 
mustaches."Ah, Goliath, we named you well!  You are as brave a soldier as
the Philistine giant who fought David.”
        “You would do well to remember, Captain, that the Goliath in biblical
 times was also a bully, and a savage!”  the Princess said warningly.  
She looked down at the bowing gargoyle with disdain.
        Goliath looked up at the Princess and said, “If you will excuse us, 
your Highness.”  He had a deep bass voice, and it was spoken in a sad,
 but noble tone.  The Princess turned one eye to the gargoyles, nodded,
 and gestured, practically shooed for them to leave.  Goliath pursed his 
lips together and sighed on seeing the look in the Princess’s face.  He stood,
 and he and his mate whirled around and strode out of the main dining hall, 
back into the darkness.  
        The Princess turned her royal gaze to the Captain.  “In the future,
 Captain, you will make your reports to my advisor the Magus, not directly
 to me!”  At this the Magus smiled.
        The Captain bowed courteously and inwardly sighed heavily.  Nothing
 would breach her armor it seemed and now he would be forced to deal with
 that God-cursed warlock on a daily basis.  Granted, he was not psychotic
 like the ArchMage, but with him, it was always, “I’ll have to consult the
 Princess.”  
        He turned and hurried back towards the entrance where Goliath and 
his mate had disappeared.
        He caught up with them  underneath a lighted torch in the hallway.
        “My apologies for this, Goliath.” the Captain said sadly.
        They turned and Goliath held up his clawed hand.  “No apologies
 needed,” he said.  “We are what we are.  Her opinion will not change that.”
        “Have you no pride?  No sense of justice?  We save their lives and
 they repay us with contempt!”  The female clenched her teeth in anger.  
        “Ye know she’s right Goliath,” said the Captain.  You deserve better
 than this.”  Stand up for yourself! For your kind!  
        “These cliffs were our home ages before they built their stone
 fortress!  They should bow to us!” she said angrily.
        Goliath clasped her hand in his and gazed at her forlornly  “It is
 the nature of mankind to fear what they do not understand.  Their ways
 are not our ways.”  He shook his head sorrowfully at his mate.
        The Captain suddenly recalled many of the times he had seen the
 gargoyles persecuted by the people of the castle.  There were numerous
 demeaning jokes about them, mothers warned children to stay away from
 them lest they be snatched up and given to the new hatchlings to be 
feasted upon. Whenever one of the gargoyles attempted to talk to the 
troops, share war stories and such, it was always stared at coldly and 
fearfully or simply walked away from.      
        The gargoyle’s face relaxed into a faint, bittersweet smile.  She put
 her hand on his shoulder.  “There are times when your patience astounds
 me, my love.” She sighed, and the two left the darkened corridor.  The 
Captain noticed Goliath heading off in one direction and his second-in-command 
gazing at him sadly, before heading away from him.  The Captain was 
left alone with his thoughts churning as he headed through the torch-lit
 hallways to his chambers, head bowed.
        
        Goliath's mate traversed the lower bowels of Castle Wyvern, instinctivley
 eyeing all patches of shadow.  She found being indoors distasteful.  No room
 to spread her wings.  Her eyes glimmered a faint red as she recalled the
 audacity of that human wench.  How dare she condem Goliath for his 
protection!  And not even a grudging thanks for their efforts.  Just 
contempt.  A smothering blanket of contempt.  Life was hard enough without 
having to put up with the oppressive looks and the vulgar jokes.  She didn’t 
understand how her love put up with all of it, but she did admire him.  
Some of the things she had over heard the humans saying had made 
her seeth in rage.  Goliath took all of the barbs with his characteristic 
rock-like demeanor and then usually sought refuge on his roost, or in 
the library.  After the wench’s scathing reproval at their appearance, as 
if they were cats to be scolded for leaping upon the beds, and after the 
Captain’s apology, he had silently bid her good night and crept away, 
head hung.  She had sighed wistfully and slowly trudged back up to 
the fresh open air.  Lately,  she had been finding him there more and more 
often, perched ontop of a small shelf, book in hand.  No doubt he was now 
trying to bury his feelings of frustration in a book.  Well, not this time, 
she told herself silently.  Whilrling around she headed back for the library,
 snarling in contempt at the humans who were flatteneing themselves 
against the stone walls to avoid brushing against her as if she were 
diseased.  She snorted.  ‘Her’ hair was not crawling with lice.
        When she silently entered the library, she spotted Goliath immediately.
His back was turned to her, curled up in a sitting position on a small 
shelf in the right corner of the room.  Moonlight filtered through the windows 
to fall on his broad shoulders, making his skin glow with a almost white
 sheen.  She gazed at him lovingly.  So strong and yet so fragile.   Creeping
 up behind him, she lightly ran her tongue up along his back where 
wing met shoulderblade.  He started, dropping the book to the floor and 
turned halfway around.  She smiled at him innocently as a grin broke out 
on his face.  He spread a wing and pulled her around to sit besides him.  She 
laid her head on his shoulder.
        “Are you going to be all right, my love?”  
        He twirled a lock of her hair absently.  “Yes, my angel.  You know I 
will.”  He smiled at her, then sighed wistfully.  “But it seems the humans 
will always spurn our attempts to bridge the void between our people and 
there's. . .”  He frowned.
        She sat up and clasped his hand in hers.  “I do not think they will
 never accept us, Goliath.  We are but beasts to them, attack dogs to be
 set on their enemies and then thrown not even scraps for our efforts.”
        “The Captain has always treated us with respect.”
        She nodded slightly.  “Yes, he has proven the exception to the otherwise
 ugly rule,  but he is but one of many.” 
        “Given time, other’s might follow his view.”  
        She shook her head.  “My love, since we were hatched all those years
 ago I have known few humans who look at us with anything other than scorn
 and disgust.   Even before we were hatched the human’s feared and hated 
us.  Remember all the stories Mentor told us when we were hatchlings about
 how hard it was for the humans to even accept us living here?  As if they 
were the first to claim this land for their own.”  She snorted.
        Goliath looked at her somberly.  “I cannot give up the hope that 
gargoyles and humans will live in peace someday.  We must be strong, 
harden ourselves to the barbs and thanklessness.  And hopefully, given time, 
one by one, the humans will realize that we are not monsters, but just 
another race, going through the same harships, leading lives night by night, 
just like them.”  
        Her face twisted wryly.  “Goliath, that human wench called you a bully 
and a savage.  And you bowed to her, prostrated yourself as if you were 
her servent!”  He grimaced.  “That was a sudden decision.  I thought it 
would ease her fears.”
        She would have none of it.  “That skinny human wretch of a sorcerer
called us. . .what was it?  ‘Unnatural creatures.’  The rest of the humans don’t
even acknowledge our existence, unless we are to be the butt of a joke or a 
subject of a curse.  We share our meat, protect their home, we get nothing in 
return.  Why, they even think we would defile ourselves with the flesh of their 
children!  I don’t understand how you can put up with all of it and still 
keep to this stubborn view that if we put our faith and trust in them, they 
will one day ‘awaken’ from their fearful notions and suddenly we will all 
become one happy clan.  The world dosen’t work that way, Goliath.  I 
am sick of being gawked at like I am some sort of monster!  Sometimes 
I  wonder why we don’t just throw them from the walls. . .”  She stopped 
suddeny, realizing she had been yelling in his face.  “I. . .I’m sorry, 
beloved. . .it’s just that. . .it’s so hard. . .”  She could go no further.  
Her heart was pounding.
        Goliath enfolded her in his arms and kissed her forehead.  “Shhh,” he said.
“I understand.  You have been through much this night.”  He rubbed her 
shoulders.  “There are many who feel the same as you.  Even I am not 
immune to the desire to put some of the worse humans. . . in their place.”  
At this, she looked up at him.  “But I will not give up hope.  And you must 
do the same, my angel of the night.”  She smiled  sorrowfully at him, and 
he kissed her, deeply, tenderly, and she felt her burden ease a little.  
Just for a moment.  Then they parted.  He jumped lightly off the shelf 
and helped her down as well.  “Come.  The sun will be up soon.  And I 
for one could use some rest.”  The walked hand in hand to the doorway, 
and out into the torch-lit hall.  
        They passed many rooms, wooden doors breaking the patterns of 
stone every few feet.  She stopped suddenly by the Captain’s room and 
looked at him.  “It has cost the Captain much to regard us the way he 
does.  Most of the humans shun him, outside of his soldiers.  Why, I 
think he must have more friends among our kind than his own.”
        Goliath nodded.  “Myself included.” 
        “I wish to. . .to thank him.  I doubt I will ever consider him as a friend, 
but does deserve something for attempting to make that arrogant human 
princess at least acknowledge our part in the battle.”   
        He smiled.  “A most generous idea.  I will leave you to it.  I will see you 
back at the tower.”  She squeezed his hand warmly and then she watched 
him stride away, wings folded around himself.  Then she turned to the door, 
took a deep breath and knocked three times.
        “Enter.” a gruff voice said.
        She shoved the door open, it grated on the floor with a slight screech 
and entered.  The room was sparse, functional, nothing more.  A bed and 
chamberpot stood in the corner.  A small wooden desk sat in another.  
The burly human was sitting on his bed, sharpening his sword with long 
strokes of a whetstone.  He stopped and peered at it without looking at her.  
“Come in, lass.  I was just sharpening me sword.  Ye never know when you 
might be called upon to do battle.”
        “A wise descision.” she said.  
         He peered at the sword, running his thumb lightly upon it’s edge.  
Then, apparently satisfied, he slid it into his sheath, and looked up at her.  
“So what is yer business with me?  And once again, I apologize for her 
Highness’s serpent tongue.”
        She waved it away.  “The other’s and I have. . . grown used to such 
biting words.  I actually came to. . .thank you , human.” she said in a 
detached tone.  “You are the one human who actually bothers to speak 
with our clan.  To think of gargoyles as something other than savage creatures.  
And I thank you for it.”   She turned to walk out.
        “Wait!” he said loudly.  She turned back to him and raised a brow ridge.  
“Would ye talk with me for a minute, lass?  I know the sun will rise within 
the hour, but I wish to ask ye something.”  
        She swished her tail.  She had nothing better to do for the remaining 
hour, so she walked over and stood in front of him.  “What do you want?”
        He was silent for a minute, scrutinizing her with his dark eyes.  
Outside, she could hear nighttime crickets and birds.  He looked at her 
so long, she thought he must fallen asleep with his eyes open.  “How do 
you feel about my kind?”  He stroked his mustaches as his eyes bored 
into hers.
        Her breath caught in her throat.  Her knees trembled and if she had 
not sat down besides the human immediately, she realized she would 
have fallen.  “Well, er. . .you are likeable. . .for a human.  And the rest 
really don’t bother us as long as we don’t bother them. . .” she said 
warily, evading the question.  The fire within her flared up and she 
half-turned her head but his eyes stared straight into hers, boring, digging, 
searching out her thoughts.  
        “How d’ye. . . really. . . feel?”
        She felt her throat constrict.  She was acutly aware of each beat 
of heart.  Her mouth opened and closed once, twice, like a fish out of water.   
Anger and rage, long kept pent up like a caged beast-burst forth.
        “I. . .I hate them. . .” she whispered.  She clutched a bed post with 
one hand, digging deep furrows into the wood.  “I hate all of the jokes, all 
the cursed insults,” she said more loudly.  She was shocked to find herself 
on the verge of tears and hurridly wiped them away, as it woud never 
do to seem so weak in front of a human, no matter what his attitude of 
her kind.  “I hate the looks of disgust and contempt, the mothers pulling 
their children away, the thanklessness we get for everything we do!  I 
hate them!”  As she said the last the post splintered beneath her palm.  
She drew in a shuddering breath and felt a slight warmth in her head and 
knew her eyes were glowing.  She looked up at him.  His gaze had softened 
and he now looked at her with pity.  “Goliath thinks that one night, the 
humans will come around, we will live in peace.”  She shook her head.  
“But I just don’ t 
know anymore.  I would like to believe him, I truly would.”  She clenched 
her fists.  “But sometimes I wonder what life would be like if there were no 
humans at all in the castle.”
        The Captain’s eyes flickered at that.
        “Mentor used to tell us tales of what life was life was like before the 
humans built their stone fortress here.  It sounds  like. . .paradise.  No 
constant attacks from the human’s enemies.  No one gawking at you as if y
ou were a monster.  No turning to stone wondering if this is your last night 
alive.”  She slumped, inwardly appalled that she had bared her soul to a 
human.  No one. . .not even Goliath. . . knew of these feelings.  
        He sat for a minute more, still staring at her as if she was some sort of 
bug.  She started to grow angry.  What did this human think he was doing, 
making her feel this way. . .?  Suddenly he leaned forward and she almost 
slashed at him in self-defense.  
        “What if I told you that I know of a way to rid this castle of all the humans?”  
he said softly.
        A gasp escaped her throat.  She realized. . .insanely. . . that a smile 
had broken out on her face.  Quelching that, she leaned in closer.  
“Surely you cannot be serious, human.” she said mockingly.  
        He noddedd.  “Aye, I am..”  She drew in a breath.  “It would leave 
the the castle an empty stone fortress for you and yer clan to live for all 
time.  With no humans.”  he stated.  “No more jokes, no more utter 
contempt, no more protecting that which does not deserve such an honor.”  
        As she digested that, suddenly she yearned for Goliath’s prescence 
more than she ever had in her entire life.  She bit her lip.  “Tell me. . .I 
must speak to Goliath about it.” 
        To her surprise, he made a chopping motion with his hand.  “Nay!” 
he said harshly.  Her eyes narrowed.  
        “Narry a soul must be told lass, be it human or gargoyle.  What I 
have in mind is something Goliath would never condone.”  
        She started.  “You. . .you’re not suggesting we kill them, are you?  
Are you mad?”  
        “Nay, we’re not the ones doing the killin!’  The Vikings will do that 
just fine, right enough!”
        She sat up sharply.  “What are you saying. . .are the Vikings attacking 
again?!  Have you betrayed us somehow!?”   She leapt off the bed.  
        He held up his hands at once.  “Nay, lass.  At least not yet.  Calm 
yourself.  Ye remember when Goliath threw Hakon from the walls of the 
castle?”
        “Hakon?”
        “The Viking captain.”
        She smiled wickedly.  “Yes, I frightened that pathetic wretch of a 
human out of his mind with a mere hiss.  And my love finished him off 
quite nicely.  It is a shame indeed that he survived the fall.  What of it?”
        “He swore he’d be back, did he not?”  She nodded.
        “What if yer clan was not there to protect the castle?”
        She felt her protecting instinct rise involuntarily.  “If we were not 
there?  They would die.  The Vikings would slaughter them like sheep.
But we would never just sit there and let the castle be overrun.”  
        “There are always possiblities.”  
        She laughed at him.  "You have quite an imagination, Captain.  
What possible reason could we have for the entire clan not standing 
ready to protect our home?”
        The Captain leaned forward.  “I’ll be blunt, lass.  If ye can get Goliath 
and the rest of your clan away from the castle, I’ll can see to it that the 
Viking’s sack the castle and be gone by the time ye return.”
        She stared at him, dumbfounded for the first time in her life.  
“You. . .you’re serious!”
        “Aye.  D’ye think ye can do it?  Will ye help me?”
        She swallowed.  “I. . .I don’t know. . .how do you know the Vikings 
will even attack again?  Surely they’ll realize with an even lesser force 
they cannot hope to defeat us.”  
        “Very simple.  Tomorrow I shall go to the Viking’s camp and tell 
Hakon’s troops to hide themselves on the far side of the plain leading 
up to the walls of Wyvern.  They’ll attack sometime during tomorrow 
night.  I will open the doors to their slaughter.  It is your job, lass, 
to make sure the gargoyles are away from the castle when the 
Vikings attack.”
        Her military mind clicked into place.  She was not second-in 
command just because she was Goliath’s mate.  “We could all 
go out in force and attack the Vikings while they were disorganized 
and hurting!”  she said.  “I believe Goliath would agree to that.  He 
has probably thought up the idea already.”  Then she shook her 
head.  “But. . .if we actually do this. . .all the Vikings will be out 
near the castle.”  
        The Captain waved it away.  “I’ll tell Hakon to send his calvary 
into the woods, as a diversion.” 
        She nodded slightly.  “Yes.  Yes!  The clan will follow them, and 
be occupied during the entire sacking!”  She stopped, realizing that 
she was about to put her clan in danger on the word of a human.  If 
he was so eager to betray his own kind, what would prevent him from 
betraying her clan?  “Why would you do this?” she growled suspiciously.
         He sat back and sighed.  “Because I too, grow tired of seeing a 
honorable race such as yours persecuted for nothing more than being 
different.  I have fought battles all over the known world and it is the 
same everywhere I go.  My kind see everyone not like themselves as 
something to be either exploited or destroyed.  With your kind it is 
even worse.  I see how my kin treats yer clan and it shames me.  They 
do not deserve all the sacrifices yer clan makes.  I ask ye again, lass.  
Would ye help me?”
        Her breath caught in her throat.  She felt her mouth dry up and her 
suddenly fidgety hands grasped her tail and squeezed.  A hundred things 
whirled through her mind at once.  Was it possible?  Could it work?  
Could she stand more months, perhaps years of waiting for the humans 
to change their ways?  What would Goliath think?  Maybe he was right. . .
all she would have to do is wait. . .but did she want her egg to hatch into a 
world where it would be feared and hated?  To be truly free of human rule. . .
it was a dream, unattainable, unreachable. . .until now.  She would never 
have another chance at this.  She slowly looked up at him.  
        “Agreed.” 


        The Magus walked the Princess back to her chambers.  “Why must 
we continue to put up with those monsters!” she said as they entered.  
Katharine practically tore herself away from his arm.  She snatched up a 
poker and  jabbed harshly at the dying embers before flinging it away and 
pacing back and forth in front of the fire.  “I live in constant fear that we will 
all be one day slaughtered in our sleep!  Did you not see how the female 
looked at me?  She was like. . .like a demon come to life!”  
        “It is all right now, Princess, they are gone, you are safe here, with me 
to protect you.  I would never let anything harm you.“
        She stopped pacing and gave him a wistfull smile.  “Thank ye, Magus, 
I know I can always depend on ye.  Ye served my father well untill he drew 
his last breath.”
        The Magus cringed inwardly at that.  Years before, Prince Malcom had 
been felled by a poison dart concocted by the ArchMage, his former advisor.  
The ancient gargoyle had failed to stop the dart from hitting him, curse his 
cowardly hide.  The gargoyles had been able to retrieve the Grimorum at 
least, so that he could concot an antidote.  But he had still been young, 
and not fully trained in the magical arts.  The antidote he had made was 
only strong enough to barely fend off the poison, and it had left Malcom a 
very weak man.  
        In the few short years that had followed, he had many fevers and sickness’s 
that a healthy man would have been able to throw off, but Malcom 
struggled to overcome.  A terribly young Princess and Magus were 
forced to take over most of the daily tasks.  Finally Malcom had been 
confined to his bed once again, where he had eventually died in his 
sleep.  The Princess blamed the old gargoyle for not stopping the dart 
in the first place.  The Magus knew the truth, but kept it to himself, fearing 
that the truth would tear her apart and she would loathe and despise him.  
He had known Katharine since she was but a tiny babe, and he dearly 
loved her and would die for her.  
        “Stay here and rest Princess, I will see to the castle’s repair soon.”  
he kissed her hand formally, and left, glancing over his shoulder at her 
beautiful face, white robes trailing behind him.  As he walked down dark 
hallways, he mused about the gargoyles.  In truth, he generally felt no 
real hatred of them, but he was not a stupid man.  The gargoyles could 
be very dangerous.  They  were usefull creatures for protection, but were 
viscious, cunning and they were obviously quite intelligent, no matter 
what the majority of the casltle thought.  He remembered he had caught 
the one called Goliath fishing through the books in his laboratory.  The 
creature had claimed it had run out of interesting books in the library to 
read and it was only looking for new ones.  The Magus was shocked to 
find out that gargoyles considered books as more than kindling for fires.  
        That crimson-haired witch  was the one he was really afraid of.  As 
a young lad he had watched the ArchMage teaching her minor cantrips 
in horror.  It was not wise to give creatures that could break you in half 
with a flick of their wrists the ability to cast spells.  If they ‘ever’ harmed 
the Princess, there would be hell to pay.  He would make sure of that.  
        Entering his laboratory in one small tower of the castle, the Magus 
lit a candle bent over his spellbook, and began scanning the pages, a 
gleam in his eye.  He ran his hands lovingly over the yellowed pages.  This 
was his lifeblood.  His magic.  He bent and began to read the spidery-looking 
words, burning them into his brain.  


      The warmth and brightness of the rising sun was fighting
 to warm the chilled ground, when a cloaked and hooded figure 
trotted a horse out of the castle and then coaxed it into a gallop.  
The stone gargoyles silently stared after.  The rider whipped the 
horse he rode on so violently it seemed the poor animal would 
die of shock.  They galloped down the main road leading from the 
castle.  The road, which was more of a wide clearing was stark 
on both sides for many miles.  Pockets of trees and scraggly brush 
contrasted with the rocky landscape in the chill wind.  After riding for 
two miles, the rider suddenly wheeled his horse around and entered 
a dense forest.  The dense shrubbery and great trees blotted out the 
sun-drenched land behind him.  The horse and rider plunged through 
the heavy undergrowth, drawing deep scratches along the horse’s flank.  
Over small rises and through icy streams the figure and horse pressed on.  
        Suddenly they broke through the trees and laid eyes on the remnants 
of the Viking army camped near the edge of a canyon, wedged up against 
a large rock base.  A trail led into a shadowy alcove in the center of 
the rock face.  From where the rider stood, the trail stretched out unevenly 
down a small hill, winding its way through boulders which studded the 
terrain.  The rider trotted the horse down towards the camp.  
        They passed many shivering soldiers, all disgruntled from the massive 
defeat they had received the night before.  Many were nursing their bruised 
and broken bodies.  Some men ran back and forth fetching food and hot 
and cold water and bandages.  The rider halted when he reached the 
cavernous alcove, and got down off the exhausted horse.  Guards came 
hurrying out, spears at ready.  
        “Stop!” said a deep voice from the cave.  The figure entered the cave 
and beheld the Captain of the Vikings sitting dejectedly on a stone, last 
night’s dinner in hand.  He cocked his head at the mysterious stranger.
        “Ye seek the fall of Castle Wyvern?” the stranger said ominously.
        Hakon’s blue eyes narrowed.  “What of it?” he growled suspiciously.  
        The man held out his hands.  “Perhaps a bargain can be made.” 
        Hakon appraised the rider who stood before him, trying to discern if 
some trickery was afoot.  Then he grinned the grin of a tiger who knows 
he is about to make a kill and feast upon bloody flesh.  “I’m listening.”
        The stranger did nothing.  He merely place both hands on the sides 
of his hood and drew it back.  The sunlight fell over his features.  
        The captain’s eyes widened and he swore under his breath.  “You!” 
he blustered.  “Well, don’t just stand there man, tell me what you want!” 
          The two went inside the cavern.  The guards could here them 
whispering together.  They wondered what their crazy captain was 
planning now.  Probably would get them all killed.  They sighed and fell 
asleep at their posts.  The clouds grew thicker, and a heavy fog settled 
around the land that grew thicker and seemed a living thing, swirling 
about every tree, rock and bush.  It blotted out the sun and a gray 
darkness swept across the camp as if the fog knew something dark and 
treacherous was being done this day.
        The sun set yet again, completing an endless cycle that had 
begun eons in the past and would continue until the end of time.  
Shadows lengthened upon the gargoyle statues.  Little cracks appeared, 
growing larger and larger, until the stone fell away with a roar.  The 
gargoyles yawned and stretched.  Up on his watchtower, Goliath pulled 
off the bandage and flexed his hand that had been cut 
by the sword.  It was fully healed, as were all injuries by the stone sleep 
during the day.  He turned toward his mate, and saw the Captain walking 
up the stairs through the trap door to him.   
        “Those Vikings might return at daybreak, Goliath.  I say take all 
your gargoyles and make sure they’re gone!”  the Captain said with 
urgency.                
        “I agree!” his mate said, as she clenched her fist for emphasis.  
“Let us go out and put and end to these pigs once and for all!”
        “Too risky,” Goliath said uneasily.  I don’t want to leave the castle 
unprotected.”           
       “Their leader swore he’d be back Goliath!” 
said the Captain exasperatingly.  He was almost livid.  Goliath stared at 
him.  “It’s best to harry them farther away now, and not take that chance!”
        "Ah," muttered Goliath indecisively.  He swung his great head 
around in thought, peering into the darkness that swallowed the earth 
beyond the fire-lit walls of the castle.  The Vikings might very well attack       
again, while the clan was out searching, but to harry them away further 
was to good a chance to pass up.  An idea came to him.  
        “Very well,” he said, turning back to them.  “But I shall do it."  
He looked back outside and he smiled a terrible smile, and his black 
eyes suddenly glowed white.  “I can scare those cowards away without 
any help!” he said in a dangerously low voice.  He did not see the 
looks of alarm the Captain and his love gave each other.
        “No, that’s to dangerous for you!” she said in a pleading tone.
        He smiled at her gently, proud of her stubbornness, her willingness 
to protect him.  “You and the others will stay here with the castle.”  
He gripped her arms.   
      “You are my best warrior.” he said proudly.  “I leave you in command.”
        “No!  I cannot let you!”  her eyes pleaded with him.
        “I won’t go alone.” 
        He grasped her arms and gazed at her lovingly.  A slight smile 
creased her face.
        “Remember, you and I are one.  Now and forever.”  He stroked her face, 
and then Goliath pulled away.  He strode down the stairs, leaving his 
love behind.
        No one saw as she reached her hand out to him, begging, then 
pull it back in dejection.  She felt queasy inside.  No, no, damn him, 
this wasn’t supposed to happen!  Why do you have to be so brave?  And 
so blasted stubborn!  She bit her lip.  Suddenly she remembered the 
human standing besides her and tried to push down the growing fear in 
her soul.  It was too late to turn back now.  She turned to the Captain.  
        “This ruins everything!” she swore.  “The plan was to have all the 
gargoyles gone so the Vikings could attack uncontested and we 
could return to claim and empty castle!”  She clenched her fists 
in anger.  The Captain glared at her for a second.  Did she think 
him so stupid that he could not remember the plan?  She took a step 
away and he hastily put up his hands.  “The plan can still work.  
I’ll signal Hakon.  Tell him to attack during the day.”
        She whirled on him.  “Are you mad?”  She grabbed him by the 
front of his tunic and with ease pulled his frightened face to her own.  
“Have you forgotten that gargoyles turn to stone during the day?  
We’ll be helpless against the Vikings!”  She released him, practically 
threw him off his feet.  
        She was getting hysterical.  “Not while I’m about!” he said vehemently.  
“I swear, I’ll keep yer clan safe!”  he vowed to her.  I promise.
      She turned her back on the him.  Her heart was pounding.  
Could she risk her clan’s, her love’s saftey on the trust of a human?  With 
a frustrated growl, she realized she had no choice.  She bit her lower 
lip in frustration.  
        Then she slowly nodded once, knowing the Captain was watching 
her.  He grunted in acquiescence and walked down the stairs.  
She felt sick, as if she had just eaten poisoned meat, and suddenly 
she was aware of her blood roaring in her head.  She shook her 
head angrily, trying to clear her thoughts.  Weakness on her part.  
Damn human.  She would have to trust in him, as loathing as that 
thought sounded.  Once the humans were gone, the clan would have 
the castle all to themselves.  She could be with her love.  Her 
clan would live unmolested.  She had made the right decision.  
So why was she sweating as if she was gliding over a forest fire? 
        She jumped off the ledge,  her wings filled with air.  The 
breezes were still a bit smoky from the fires that had broken out.  
She settled on a ledge over the courtyard and watched the humans 
huddle together by a fire, safe at last after their trek through the 
land.  She sneered at them.  They have us to thank for their survival.  
And what do we get?  Her eyes glowed.  Soon the humans would 
be gone, and only the gargoyles would remain.  She studied the 
huddled mass.  No wings to carry them through the sky, only the 
littlest claws and puniest teeth.  And they bred like rabbits.  She 
shook her head in resentment and smiled faintly at the sight of young 
warriors playing together.  They would not have to grow up in a castle 
that is infested with humans.In the courtyard in the middle of the castle, 
the refugees from the town huddled together.  Cooking fires were 
planted among them, popping and spitting.  One child looked down a 
shadowy ward where in the faint firelight, sounds of laughter could be 
heard. 
        “Over here!”
        “No, over here!”
        “Here boy!”  
        The sound of joyous barking also could be heard, reverbating 
down the alley.  The boy took a quick glance at his mother.  She 
slept in front of a fire, along with two others.  The boy crept down 
the alley to watch the fun.  He ducked behind a mound of hay and 
beheld a curious sight.
        It was three gargoyles.  They were playing catch with a haunch of 
meat, keeping it just out of reach of the dog-like gargoyle who was running 
from one to the next,  trying to catch it.  
        The dog-like gargoyle abruptly snatched the meat out of the air and 
with a “wuff” of superiority, flopped down to gnaw at it.  
        The boy came out of his hiding place.  He stared at the gargoyles with 
a happy fascination, mouth open in wonder.  The gargoyles gave amused 
glances at each other and turned toward the kid.
        “Hey kid,” the  said the beaked one in an easygoing manner.      
        “My name’s Tom.” said the boy.  “What are your names?”
        “Except for Goliath, we don’t have names.” said the small one.
        “Then how do you tell each other apart?” asked Tom.
        “We look different.” said the small gargoyle as if it were the most 
common thing in the world.  
        “What do you call each other?”
        “Friend.” said the beaked one, and at that moment, Tom decided that 
these gargoyles were not the monsters his mother warned would get him 
if he misbehaved.  Also at that moment,  the mother of the boy woke, and 
looked around anxiously for her son.  Her eyes widened in horror.  Her 
Tom was talking to the monsters!
        “Tom, get away from those monsters!”  she cried.  She rushed down 
the alley, grabbed Tom bodily, and pulled him behind her. 
        Tom tried to wiggle out of her tight grasp.  “But Mother!” he protested.
        The beaked one heaved himself off the crates he had been sitting 
upon “We wouldn’t hurt the lad, mamn.” he said in a soft, subdued voice.
        “Keep away from him, ye beast!”
        She  threw a small piece of wood at him.  It hit him in the cheek, and 
bounced away.  The gargoyle flinched and sighed.  
        Up above them in the shadows, her eyes started to glow red, and a 
low growl trickled from her throat as she launched herself from the ledge.
          A blur of blue skin and flashing fangs dove down and landed 
between the trio and the humans.
        “You’re the beast, you-”
        “No!”  the red one said, holding up a hand.  He looked over at his sibling 
and grinned slightly.  “If they think we’re monsters. . .” he let his eyes glow 
and growled at the crowd  gathering to see what was wrong.
        The small one took the cue and snarled at the people.  “Then maybe 
we should live up to the name!”    
        The hound, not really sure what was happening, growled softly at the 
apparent threat.
        The fat one finished his chicken leg and suddenly became aware of 
the situation.  “What is it!?” he yelled fearfully.  “Are we being attacked 
again?”  He grabbed some food and held it tightly to his chest.
        The female's fiery gaze burned fear into the hearts of the crowd and 
they started to shout and back away.  
           They only meant it as sarcasm, but the mother’s eyes stared in 
terror, and she opened her mouth and screamed.
        “Mother, no!  They only mean it as a jest!”  But Tom’s words fell 
upon deaf ears.  
        Then Goliath and the Mentor swooped down as well, putting a 
restraining hand on his mate’s arm.  “All of you, stop!” he shouted 
in his deep voice.    “You three” he pointed at the three young gargoyles, 
barely concealing his fury.  “Down to the rookery until I return.  I’ll 
deal with you then.”  
        His mate stared at him in shock at this pronouncement.  The 
watchdog whined piteously.
        “And take him with you!”   The three hung their heads and gathered 
the hound in their arms and glided off.
        “Come with me.”  Goliath said to his mate.  She gave one last snarl 
at the petrified humans, then followed him.  They all flew through the air 
and landed next to massive doors that red one had already shoved open.  
The young warrior looked back at him, a pleading expression on his face.  
        “We meant no harm!”  She looked at her love and stared in disbelief 
at the unflinching, frowning gaze he bore.  Surely Goliath would not 
punish them for defending themselves?  
        His eyes were unflinching.  The trio looked sadly at Goliath and slowly 
trudged in.  The hound plodded in after them, whimpering.  The door 
slammed shut.  He turned to look at his mate and saw that she wore 
a flabbergasted look.          
        Her teeth clenched in fury as she stared daggers at him.  “Are you 
blind?” she nearly yelled.  “They were not at fault, the humans were!”  
        “No matter what the provocation, or whose fault it is, I cannot 
condone fighting between our peoples.  I will make it up to them, 
later.” he said to quell her anger.  “Now I have business to attend 
too.”   He turned and walked back towards the tower.
        She narrowed her eyes at the abrupt dismissal, her thoughts racing 
through her head.  With a sudden flash, she realized she was alone.  
She glanced around sharply as a sudden fear dropped over her like a 
blanket and she hurried after him.  
        She caught up with him at the entrance to the tower.  Back to the 
matters at hand.  ‘We should all go with you!”  she said urgently.
        Goliath turned and looked at her, puzzlement in his eyes.  “My love, 
we’ve been through this.”  He continued up the stairs.  
        She hurried after him.  “What if the humans are too numerous even 
for you?  We should all go!”
        He smiled.  “I appreciate the concern, but then no one will remain to 
guard our home.  If the castle were to be attacked, the humans would 
be killed.  We cannot allow that, my angel.”
        They stepped out into the moonlight.  She greeted the gargoyle that 
stood in front of them, and Goliath’s face lit up at the sight of his rookery 
brother.  
        “Where do you go, my brother?” he asked.
        “To track down the Vikings, before they attack again.”
        The gargoyle cocked his horned head.  “Will you need help?”
        “Foolish creatures!”  a mocking voice said.
        The gargoyles whipped their heads around and settled on the outer 
edge of the tower, where the Magus had let his spell of invisibility fall.  
“Why are you still here?!”  he spat, jumping down from the rampart.  He 
pointed a long finger at Goliath’s chest.  “If you wait any longer, you won’t 
have to track the Vikings, they’ll be at our gates again!”  He pushed 
Goliath aside, no small feat and stalked down the stairs, white robe 
trailing behind him.    She stared after him, scathingly.  Another example of human gratitude.  
       She looked back to Goliath.  “Why do we risk ourselves to protect the 
human’s caslte?”  
        Her rookery brother nodded his head.  “She’s right, let the human’s go, 
we can survive anywhere!”  
        She agreed wholeheartedly.  
        “A gargoyle can no more stop protecting the castle than breathing the air.” 
        The turned to see the Mentor walk slowly up the stairs.  
        Yes, old soldier.  But we now protect the humans, instead of ourselves!
        “I would have you at my side, old friend.  I will need your tracking skills.”  
Goliath said.
        She felt a wrenching in her gut.  No! she pleaded silently.  Take us all!  
        The old face nodded once.
        Goliath clasped his brother’s arms.  “Stay here and keep guard, my 
brother.  I will see you soon.”  He nodded, ever vigilant.
        She quivered as he grasped her chin gently and gazed lovingly into 
her eyes.  “And you my love, I never lose sight of.”  
        Goliath smiled at her gently and then turned away and leapt off the 
ledge with the old one trailing behind.  Snapping their wings open they 
soared away into the star-filled sky.
        She ran to the ledge, stretching out a hand, pleading.  With a sudden 
sinking feeling, she realized she might not see him again.  For centuries 
afterward she would remember the touch of his hand, the sight of his face, 
the sound of his voice, captured as surely as if he was in the stone sleep.  
For one eternally long second, she considered telling him the truth, calling 
out to him, to stop, to come back to her.  
         She lowered her hand and hung her head.  Whirling around, she 
shoved past her sibling, almost running down the stairs, wiping angrily at 
the glimmer of tears in her eyes.



        Goliath and Mentor glided through the sky on their wings, the air 
rushing through their hair and streaming off their skin.  Goliath glanced 
at the other and wished it was his angel gliding besides him in the night.  
He found himself thinking about  her mysitfied gaze when she had first 
caught him in the library. . .
        


      “What are you doing?” she had asked, as he hurridly hid the book.
        “I am reading.” he had said.  Pulling the book out, he showed her the cover.    
        “Reading is a human custom.” she said with a faint edge to her words 
and a curious gaze at the spidery words.
        He gave her a soothing look.  “I find it an enjoyable way to escape from 
the grueling realities of life.  Although the Magus apparently does not see 
it that way.” he said with a sigh.
        She sat down next to him, brushing his shoulder.  “What happened?
        “I  snuck like a common thief into the Magus’s chambers, looking 
for any interesting books.”  he berated himself.  “He caught me.”
        She regarded him with a surprised look.  “And you aren’t spending your 
remaining years as a newt?”
        He chuckled.  “No, he ranted and raved at me for a while, then bade me 
go and never come to his rooms again.  So now I am forced to read these 
once more.  I have a particular fondness for history and poetry.”  
        “Poetry?” she held back a giggle.  “The greatest warrior in all our 
clan is a mere bard?”
        Goliath admired the way the moonlight ran across  her fiery red hair, 
giving it a glow like the sunrise.  He wondered why he had not noticed her 
before. “Would you. . .like to hear some?”  he asked hesitently.  “Poetry, 
I mean.  It would be my. . .pleasure to read to you.”
        “Only if you glide with me afterward.” she said with a smile.  There 
was perfection in that smile, Goliath noted.  Above her full red lips, perfectly 
positioned, was a pert nose and two wide black eyes, limpid pools of night.  
A fiery mane framed her face perfectly, before cascading down her back 
to come to rest between wings that seemed to be sails of deep lavender.   
        She sat next to him and looked down at the pages of the the poetry 
book he had picked up.    He began reading, romantic lines filtering 
from between his lips.  In between words, he risked quick glances at 
her.  She appeared bored at first, but then seemed to be hanging on to 
his every word.  Eventually, she was haltingly mouthing the words along 
with him.  When he finished, she looked up into his face.  
        “That was beautiful.” she said softly.  “I had no idea humans could be 
so. . .so. .. romantic.”  Her hand brushed across the skin where wing 
met shoulderblade on his  back.  “Would you teach me how to do that?”  
        Goliath sucked in his breath at her touch, which seemed to 
ignite his blood like fire.  “I must warn you,” he said.  "It will require 
lengthy lessons.  I hope you will not grow. . . bored.”  He gazed at 
her from out of the corner of his eye.
        She gave him a slight smirk.  “I believe we can find ways to ease 
the passage of time.” she said silkily.  “Now,” she said, laying the 
book aside and taking his hand.  “How about that flight?”
        Goliath stood up to find himself wobbling on his feet.  He mentally 
berated himself for being such a inexperienced hatchling.  He led her 
outside the lit room into the darkened hallway and let himself grin like 
a fool under the cover of darkness.
        Their first flight together, hand in hand, had been one of tenderness 
and passion.  They dove in and out of clouds, ambushed each other, 
getting a feel for each other’s wants and needs.  They gave chase to 
two highly startled and extremely insulted owls.  When they first held 
each other in the night air, the wind was a cool caress in contrast to 
their burning touches.
        They landed on a grassy knoll, the moon casting a silvery light upon 
them both.  As they embraced, both felt as if they were one with each 
other.  “I wish you had stumbled upon me in the library ages ago. . .” he 
said softly.   
        “I. . .I wanted too, but I just didn’t know how to approach you.” she 
said hesitantly.  “But I’m so glad I did.”  she said softly, raising one arm 
up to caress his face.
        They kissed. Timidly at first, then their mouths pressed together 
hungrily.  Her lips were delecate velvet, hiding the strength within.  Soft 
yet firm.  She gasped as he crushed her to his massive chest.  There 
was strength here after all, hiding a gentleness she had never seen in 
any of the other rookery brothers.  The world swam and grew hazy and 
then disappeared altogether.  They were all that remained, and they 
would be one, now. . . and forever. . .
         
      Goliath!” shouted the old gargoyle, interrupting his reverie  He pointed 
downward.  
        Goliath had already seen the tracks.  “There!”  he agreed.  The two 
swooped down low over the barren ground and landed at the edge of a 
great forest.  The trees thrust skyward, boughs and leaves rising a 
hundred feet into the air.  
        The old one was bent over horse tracks.  There seemed to be many 
of them, all trailing away into the forest.  Forest insects chirped and buzzed.
        “It’s them, right enough.  But the tracks are very light for horses 
carrying armored men.”    
        Goliath waved it away.  “They’re not far ahead, come!” 
        They plunged into the forest, and climbed the nearest tree.  The slick, 
moss-covered bark proved no problem to their claws and they were soon 
winging their way through the dense broughs and branches.  The old 
soldier was still shaking his old head in puzzlement.
                        
          The three young gargoyles lounged in the rookery, bored.  
        “Sent to the rookery.  How embarrassing!” muttered the red one.    
        “Yeah.  I haven’t been down here since I hatched.“ said the fat 
gargoyle, peering around curiously.     
        “How much longer is he going to keep us here?” said the small 
one, exasperated.
        “How should I know?  Do I look like Goliath?” retorted the red gargoyle.  
He glared at him.        
        “Well, no actually.  He’s a lot bigger, with a giant wingspan and big 
muscles, not like you, you're much more puny and ug-” he was interrupted 
by a rock thrown at his head.
        The three gargoyles were surrounded by white speckled eggs, each 
about a foot in length.  There were 36 eggs.  The rookery was the sturdiest 
place in the castle, kept secret even from the Captain, for there were not 
many gargoyles left in the world, and every egg was precious.  
        Over in a corner, the doggoyle was sleeping, making running motions 
with his legs.  The fat one shuffled over to a growth of heavy moss that 
grew in the dark, dank environment.  As the others watched in disbelief, 
he grabbed a slimy piece and popped it into his mouth.  He chewed for 
a while, his face grimacing in distaste.
        The others grabbed their throats and made faces.  “I hope we’re not 
down here  much longer.” said small one.  “He might eat us!”


        A figure slipped stealthily into the armory deep in the bowels of Castle 
Wyvern.  The cloaked and cowled person headed straight for the rack which 
held the countless bows of the drunken archers in the dining hall above.  
One hand brought out a gleaming knife from the folds of the cloak.  
Holding a bow in one hand, the blade flashed down and sawed at the 
bow string until a needle-thin strand held it together.  One by one, the 
figure did the same to each bow.  Then the figure thrust the knife back 
into the cloak and slowly slunk back into the darkness.
                
  
 Goliath and the old one flew through the old forest, searching.  
They lost sight of the tracks from the air occaisionally, and had had 
to land to find the trail once again.  The night was cool, and the 
whispering sounds of insects and animal life drifted up to their ears.  
Their eyes glowed,  scanning the forest for any sign of torchlight, for 
humans could not see in the dark as could they. 
        The Mentor peered at the sky through patches of leaves, then
 glanced at Goliath.  “It’s not long until sunrise.  Perhaps we should 
return.”
        Goliath was about to answer when a hint of movement caught his 
eye.  “There they are!” he pointed. 
          The old one followed his hand and saw shadowy shapes moving 
slowly through the forest.  Horses whinnied and the occaisional 
mutterings of the Vikings drifted up to them.   
        
        The remnants of the Vikings grumbled together as they rode farther 
and farther away from the Castle Wyvern.  They all wanted to fight with 
their comrades, but their captain, the devil take him, had ordered them 
to begin riding northeast, without their armor, away from the fight!  Like 
everybody said, he was crazy.  He had only let them keep their weapons.  
He had chuckled and said, “You’re gonna need em’, boys.”  And then 
he had taken rest of the army and headed in the direction of the castle, 
leaving their pitifully small force to trudge through this cursed forest!  It
 was damned cold, and not just because of the night.  A damp, 
penetrating chill had wound it’s way into their clothes.  The woods 
were still, even for the late night hours, and the wary soldiers walked 
and rode their horses in uneasy silence.  The moon was a distant
 light that appeared briefly through the dark boughs overhead.  
        A grizzled old soldier nudged his friend.  “I’m telling you, I’m not 
spending the night in this place!”  he declared.  I’ll walk all night if I have 
too!”  The young soldier’s head shot up from where it had been resting 
on the back of his horse.  “Duncan!” he said, whipping his head around.  
“D’ye hear that?”
        Duncan stared at his friend, his brow suddenly glistening with cold
 sweat.  He listened intently for a few minutes.  He heard the rustle of
 leaves upon the wind and numerous insects.  Nothing of consequence.  
“Your ears are playing tricks with your head, laddie.  There’s nothing 
out here, but tree’s and-”
        A shrieking howl interrupted his scoffing.
        “What was that!” said  Duncan loudly, clearly frightened.  The rest of 
the group turned their horses around in a circle, seeking the source of 
the sound.
        The sound screamed out of nowhere once again, and accompanying
 it was a loud growl.
        “It sounds like a pack of wolves!” said another soldier.
        “Aye, and d’ye see any wolves about?” said Duncan.  “Draw yer swords, 
men, we’re about to get a visit from something unpleasant.”
        No sooner had he spoke when a huge winged shape dove straight 
at him with the speed of a cheetah and knocked him off his horse.  
The soldiers all drew their swords and waved them around in the air.  
        "Tis' the gargoyles!” yelled one.
        “Nay, gargoyles wouldn’t follow us.”
        “Oh, and I suppose what knocked Duncan off his steed was a 
giant horsefly!”
        Winged shapes swooped in and out of the moon’s light, illuminating 
the glowing eyes and sharp teeth.  They both let out terrifying growls that 
chilled the men to the bone.  Duncan heaved himself up from the muck 
and filth and attempted to rally his men.  “St-stand fast men!” said 
Duncan.  We’ll give the beasts what for!”
        This did not suit well with the soldiers, who turned in their saddles 
and rode their horses away as fast as they could.  
        “Yer all a bunch of cowards!” Duncan yelled after them.  Then, 
he looked all about him.  Seeing the two gargoyles swooping towards 
him, eyes glowing with unending malevolence, he gulped, turned, and 
ran.  “Wait for me, men!” he shouted.   
        The two gargoyles landed and stared after the fleeing men.  This 
pitifully small force could not have been the entire Viking army!  Goliath’s 
eyes widened with realization.  “They were leading the horses to decoy 
us from the castle!”  They immediately ran back in the direction of the 
castle, not wasting time to climb a tree and glide.  They plunged through 
the underbrush on all fours, ignoring the branches slapping and tearing 
at their skin.  Goliath was in torment, images of the caslte, his clan 
and most of all, his beloved, flickering through his mind, powered by 
the fear surging upward from within.
        
        The female stalked the front wall, practically pacing a line into the 
stone.  Frantic thoughts raced through her mind.  She could only hope
 that the Captain would live up to his promise to keep them safe.  She 
stared out at the bleak ground, trying to see beyond the firelight, for 
some sign of Goliath.  Damn him, why did he have to protect these 
humans!  It was always the humans!  We should be with you!  Why 
had she ever agreed to go along with the human's plan!?  She glanced 
at the horizon and wrung her hands.  It was nearly sunrise.  The Vikings 
were going to attack, and they would be helpless!  Her thoughts and 
emotions were shuffling about like stray cattle.  She had to tell them.  
Maybe some of them would go along with her, glide to saftey!  She 
gritted her teeth and strode quicklyl up to her rookery brother and his
 mate.  They looked at her curiously, sensing something was wrong.
      "Listen quickly," she said hurridly.  "There is something I must 
tell-"  her voice broke off as she noticed movement on the ground in 
front of the castle, at the edge of the torchlight.  She sucked her 
breath in and composed herself.  "Never mind." she said to the pair 
and walked away.   Not now! her mind screamed.  There was no time!  
She gritted her teeth.  Now she would have to trust in the Captain.  
       She walked hurridly to the rear walls of the castle.  Without really 
knowing why, she hopped up on the ledge, and stared down at the 
jagged rocks and crashing waves far below.  She glanced backwards
only once, then leapt off and snapped her wings open.  
        Circling around, she landed on a small beachhead, and knelt, 
staring at the ground, feeling terribly alone.  She felt the sun's rays 
hit her back and stared mournfully up at the castle far above.  A tear 
glimmered in her eye as the stone slowly crept up her body and 
encased her tormented soul in stone.         


         The two gargoyles burst out onto a bleak knoll, jutting out from 
the edge of the forest.  The pre-dawn sky was washing the stars from 
view, and in the twilight, they stared in horror at the growing army that 
was gathering itself near Castle Wyvern. 
        “We’re too late!” cried out the old soldier.  The gargoyles could do 
nothing, but give each other anguished looks as the suns first rays 
appeared over the distant horizon.  The light struck the gargoyles like 
a physical blow, and they writhed and gritted their teeth as the irresistible 
stone crawled up their bodies, their wings and finally, their heads, 
freezing the tormented looks they gave the castle in stone for the day.


  “Attack!” thundered the Captain of the Vikings for the second time.  
        It was the dawn of a new day and perhaps the dawn of the end of 
Castle Wyvern.  
        The Vikings swept across the plain towards the castle, like a wave 
coming at a cliff face, paying no heed to the archers hastily lining up along 
the front wall.  The men ran wildly at the front gate of the castle, 
screaming war cries and waving swords in the air.  The archers were 
mystified at their behavior, the Vikings charged with seemingly no 
regards for the arrows that would be striking their hearts in a few seconds.
        The mystery was abruptly solved when every archer pulled back 
on their arrows to release a deadly stream of death.  The strings snapped 
in their hands, rendering the arrows useless.  Startled oaths and curses 
could be heard all along the ramparts.  Those oaths and curses turned 
into cries of panic when a figure beneath them along the inside of the 
porticulus turned the crank to open the massive gate.  
        The Princess ran down the steps from her private chambers.  The 
God-cursed Vikings were attacking and somehow the gates had been 
opened!  She could hear the grunts and cries of the fighting men.  
Hear the ringing of swords crashing into each other.  Hear the screams 
of pain from the wounded and shrieks of agony from the dying.  As her 
face blanched in horror, she began to realize just how much of the 
castle’s defense depended on the gargoyles.  And she had denounced 
them as worthless beasts.  She turned around a corner and ran headlong 
into the Captain.  
        “Captain!  Captain!" she grabbed at him, nearly hysterical.  "The 
Vikings, captain!  We are attacked!”
        The Princess expected to find a comforting arm around her shoulder, 
and a plan to save her home.  She was not prepared for a hand that 
gripped her wrist like iron.  Her hand instantly turned white.  He glared
 into her eyes and said words that sank her heart.  
        “It is worse than that, Your Highness!”
        The advancing army met almost no resistance as it poured through
 the gate.  They met the shocked remnants of the armies of Castle 
Wyvern who were not prepared for this unexpected turn of events.  
There was the ringing of metal against metal and a grunting of effort 
as the men of both sides fought one another.  Again, blood flowed in 
the halls of Castle Wyvern.  Those defendants who were not slain 
immediately, threw their swords down and surrendered bitterly. 
        More than one man looked towards the gargoyle statues lining the 
walls of the castle and cursed the fact that they were stone by day.  
The soldiers were manacled, and led out of the castle towards the 
camp.  The Princess wept openly as she and the Magus were hobbled
 and led away.  
        The Viking captain stood on top of the front wall, looking down at 
his men leading the prisoners away, savoring his triumph.  Alongside 
him was the Captain.  His eyes were cold and his lips were pursed 
tightly together as he watched the burning and sacking of his former
 home.  He did feel some sorrow for the his soldiers, but they knew 
the risks of battle.  But the gargoyles could now live in peace.  That 
was all that mattered.  Hakon turned turned to the Captain. “Not that 
I’m ungrateful, but. . . why?  Why betray your own kind?” he asked 
softly in bewilderment.
        “They’re not my kind.”  the Captain hissed quietly, without looking 
at him.
        Hakon studied him a moment longer, then shrugged and picked up
 his mace.  He turned towards the nearest gargoyle statue.  “Well, to 
work then.  There’s little enough time for it.”  he said casually.  The 
Captain looked at Hakon blankly, not completley registering what he 
was about to do.  Then it struck him with the force of a lightning bolt.
        As Hakon brought his muscled arm up above his head to swing 
the mace, the Captain whirled and grabbed his arm.
        “This is unnecessary!"  The Captain’s eyes were livid.  
        “Are you mad?”  Hakon struggled in his grip.  “In a little while,  
they’ll be flesh again and my men will be their prey!”
        The Captain let go of the Viking’s arm.  “No.  Once you’re on your 
way, they won’t follow!  It’s not their nature.” he whispered harshly, 
pleading.  
        “Oh,” said Hakon.  He lowered his arm.  He glanced back at the
 gargoyle.  “Well, in that case-”  He slammed the man back against 
the wall, holding the mace above his head.  
         “Care to discuss the matter further?” he said venomously.      
        The Captain’s mouth opened.  Sweat broke out on his forehead, 
and his eyes darted  between the gargoyles and the mace hovering 
above his head.  
        “No.” he said softly, his heart bursting with sorrow at what he 
knew was coming.
        Hakon removed his arm from the fool’s throat, glaring at him.  
“I didn’t live this long by taking foolish chances!”  He turned to the 
helpless gargoyle statue, and again raised his mace to the heavens.
        The Captain made a choking sound and turned away from the 
gruesome sight.  Tears welled up and coursed down his lined cheeks, 
and he winced each time he heard the sound of maces smashing the 
stone gargoyles to rubble.      
                
        The sun set on Castle Wyvern, the shadows creeping outward, 
only to be stopped by the numerous fires that were slowly burning.  
Down on the beach, cracks appeared and the stone exploded outward.  
She took a second to brush the stone from her wings and snapped 
her head up to peer at the castle.  She saw only a vague shadowy 
shape, lit partially by fires with several smoke trails drifting upward 
from the stone walls to merge with the black sky.  The feelings from 
the night before were forgotten, a memory best never thought of again.  
A smile broke out on her face.  
      "It worked!"  she clenched her fists in excitement.    "At last, my clan
 is free from human rule."  She flung herself against the wall and began 
climbing as fast as she could.  She could not wait to see Goliath again.  
She could not wait to glide above the castle and see only her fellow 
gargoyles gracing the walls.  Eagerly she climbed up as fast as she 
could go.
       Reaching the wall, she pulled herself over it and looked around 
eagerly for her siblings.  She frowned.  No one was in sight.  "Where 
are they?" she thought outloud.  
        She walked a few feet, stepping over the little piles of rubble, 
discarded weapons and pools of dried blood, head turning, eyes 
darting everywhere.  Maybe one of her clan had noticed the Vikings and
 had gotten away in time.  
        "Brothers. . . sisters?"   There was only silence.  The fear she 
had felt returned, a cold pit in her stomach, growing rapidly.  She 
walked around hurridly and her worried gaze fell on a piece of stone, 
about the size of a plate.  She stopped and stared down it in horror, 
her mind refusing to admit what it might be.
       Shaking, her hand reached down and plucked it from the ground.  
Turning it over, she beheld the angry face of one of her kin.  A soft 
moan escaped her lips.  "No. . ."
       She jerked her head wildly around, staring in heartbroken disbelief 
at the other piles of broken stone.  She had the terrible feeling they 
were all staring at her, accusingly, disdainfully.  She wanted to flee, 
but there was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  She raised her head 
skyward, eyes blazing, tears streaming down her cheeks. 
        "Nooooooooo!"  Shuddering, she cradled the shattered visage in 
her arms, dropped to the ground, and sobbed bitterly.  


         It was night again, and Goliath and the aged gargoyle flew with 
all haste towards the castle.  They glided as fast as they could, 
beating their wings for further speed.  They dropped out of the 
clouds and swooped low over the castle.
        “No!” said Goliath softly.  
        The castle was aflame.
        Fires blackened parts of the stone walls, and inside the castle.  
Some towers were half-ruined, and items and objects were strewn 
everywhere. Bodies lay everywhere as well, leaking crimson pools 
onto the gray stone.  They saw no living humans.  What was worse, 
they saw no gargoyles.
        Goliath swooped down and landed in front of his tower, where his
 beloved slept.  He scooped up pieces of a gargoyle statue and stared 
at them in shock.  There was part of a wing, a hand, and pieces of 
the tail.  All the rest was unrecognizable stone bits.  His lip quivered 
and he stifled a sob.  Then he bowed his head to the pieces.
        “My. . .angel of the night.” he whispered in a mourned, anguished 
voice.
        Goliath raised his great head to the heavens.  His eyes 
glowed a fierce and terrible white.  Tears broke out and ran down his cheeks.  
He opened his mouth and screamed out a monstrous roar of rage and 
sorrow, echoing like the crash of thunder.  


To Be Continued. . .