Gargoyle
Maryann becomes unwittingly involved with an unusual intruder in the manor-house she guards. (7800 words)
Gargoyle
Maryann becomes unwittingly involved with an unusual intruder in the manor-house she guards. (7800 words)
Clean, Human, Gargoyle, Violence
2011 Gren Drake
The manor-house of the Prelate's Servant Randolph was a massive edifice of stone and wood with towers that, well, towered over the surrounding countryside. Within were three above-ground levels and even more below. Despite the name, it was not where the Prelate's Servant Randolph lived, but rather was home to the bureaucracy that lay behind the servant's power.
In addition to the countless offices and records-rooms, it was also home to much of the artistic wealth that the Prelate's Servant had acquired. There was so much of this that it was crammed in almost carelessly wherever space could be found. Public viewing was allowed during restricted hours, but few wanted to dare the volatile moods of one of the prelate's governors.
The deep, private areas of the building were patrolled by creatures that were twisted mockeries of their one-time humanity. Agents of the prelate had bent them into their current forms and given them the ability to sniff out the least trace of magic, then set them as guards for those areas meant to be out of sight. Those who encountered them rarely lived to tell the tale.
The public areas were guarded by a troop of merely human guards of whom Maryann was one. Her patrol route took her along a third floor hallway that ran between the building's various towers.
It was during the stretch between the Prisoner's Tower, where those awaiting the prelate's personal attentions waited, and the Menagerie Tower, where former patients of the Prelate's Servant Randolph waited out the remaining days of their lives, howling through the high, barred windows, that she found the oddity. She was doing an unconscious and routine check of the art present in the hallway; of the five statues that normally rested in a nook in the wall, six where present. The original five, humans suspected to be related to the prelate, were no more than uninterestingly ugly.
The sixth statue depicted a grotesque, inhuman figure. While art of nonhumans existed it was rare and normally it depicted them suffering or being slain; the Prelate had declared them abominations unto the god and thus their very existence immoral. This statue seemed to be just standing there, staring into space.
Maryann lifted her lantern, examining the statue with care. It was a squat figure with a blunt, rounded snout and a pair of massive wings on its back. A tail curled around from behind it, ending with a vicious barb. The carver, no doubt now residing in the Prisoner's Tower for having created the thing, had spared no detail. Even the statue's flaccid genitalia was depicted and was so life-like that it seemed almost to swing in the breeze from a distant, barred window.
Fortunately it was only a statue as the thought of facing a real creature like that made her shiver. Despite the discomfort that looking at it brought her, she fought the desire to touch it. Her finger rose, nearing the stone surface, but she couldn't bring herself to actually touch her finger to the stone.
She considered the statue for several minutes. This was her third round of the night and she was sure that the statue had not been present on the second. Despite having detailed instructions on what to do if one of the statues went missing, though nothing less than a full work-crew would be able to move one of them, she had nothing on what to do if extras showed up.
Finally, with a shake of her head, she decided to ask her supervisor in the morning. The Prelate's Servant Randolph would no doubt be displeased that she had done nothing earlier, but not as displeased as he would be if she did the wrong thing, or if something went missing. In the meantime she would carry on with her rounds.
Only once the human woman was gone, the light of her lantern no longer brightening the darkness of the corridor, did the statue sag with a long sigh and several rapid blinks. The only remaining light was from the glow-strip hanging near the ceiling, dark save for the last traces of light leaking out. This was not a problem, for the statue came from the so-called Twilight Domain where even the midday sun was no better than the twilight hours elsewhere. His eyes rapidly readjusted to the dark.
Galur, for that was the statue's name, belonged to the race most commonly referred to as gargoyles after their resemblance to certain varieties of architectural decor.
He moved quickly to a nearby door, artfully concealed as a panel in the wall. He reached into his mouth and retrieved a pair of tools from beneath his tongue. After wiping the saliva off on his arm, he slipped them into the door's lock. A moment later the door was unlocked, only a quiet snick sounding in the still air. Returning his tools, he opened the door only far enough to slip inside, making sure all of his assorted limbs were through, before softly closing it once more. He did not lock the door; it was quite possible he would be in a rush when he left.
Beyond the door was a long stairwell that wound downwards along the outer wall of an open shaft. There would be no doors on the first or second levels; the underground areas were accessible only from the third floor. He wanted the bottom level so, rather than make his way tediously down the countless steps, he clambered onto the railing. Spreading his wings as wide as he dared in the confines of the shaft, he jumped. His wings slowed his descent so that he landed at the base without so much as a thud. Sadly going back up would not be so easy.
The door at the base of the shaft was not locked. Or not supposed to be locked, he amended, recalling the state of mind his source had been in. Rather, it was protected by a powerful magic alarm that would go off the moment anyone unauthorized touched it. The simplest solution, dispelling the alarm, would alert the magic sniffers that wandered the underground levels.
He looked at the wall next to the door; if it had been wooden it would have been a simple affair to break through. Unfortunately it was made from well mortared brick.
Galur had known this in advance, however, and so was prepared. He slipped a sack, carefully dyed the same stoney grey as his hide, off his back and began to pull the specialized tools out. Most had been gathered individually over the past several years from those rare areas that had only weak magic, but a few were provided by his clients for specific tasks. Most of the tools for this job were of the second category, but the first tool he needed, the drill, was his own.
He placed the bit against the mortar and began cranking it.
On her fourth round, Maryann passed the statues again. Once more she stopped. There were five statues, all human. She shook her head; had she imagined it? No, she decided, the prelate's agents had given her a clean bill of mental health. Was it then a problem if someone stole a statue that wasn't supposed to be there to begin with?
Something else was going on. Could she actually have seen an intruder? It didn't seem likely; the statue had not flinched at all when she'd brought the lantern up to examine its face. Moreover, it was entirely naked and she did not believe anyone would, or could, break into the Prelate's Servant Randolph's manor-house naked and without tools.
Not to mention that the thought a nonhuman could get so far into the Prelate's Domain almost made her heart stop; wasn't the whole reason the Prelate erected the barrier to keep out such undesirables? If it was some kind of intruder, however, she was going to be in a lot of trouble for not reporting it. Perhaps she should go ahead and call it in? No; she would check to see if it could have gone anywhere first, starting with the nearby doors. Or door, rather, as there was only the one in the area.
The door was unlocked. There was an intruder. She knew she should report it, but even as she started to turn away from the door she realized she was opening it.
Beyond was nothing but a winding stairwell that twisted its way into the darkness below. Even holding her lantern over the railing she could not see the bottom. It had to lead to the forbidden zone.
Someone had actually broken into the forbidden underground levels of the manor-house. How the intruder had done it was a mystery; all the entries were heavily secured with magic every night and the magic sniffers, prone to going off at any unexpected change in the magical ambiance, had been quiet and subdued all night.
She had no doubt that she should have been hurrying off to report what she'd found, but still she hesitated. If she was able to actually stop or catch who- and whatever it was, her other mistakes of the night might be forgiven. Thus, trembling, knowing that she would most likely see the inhuman visage of the missing statue, she started down the stairs.
Most of Galur's tools had been returned to his sack with only a small bottle of acid and the rod used to apply it remaining. Although he had doubted its effectiveness when his client had given it to him, after seeing the way it melted the mortar between the bricks no doubt remained. And if it could devour the mortar like that it would likely do the same thing to his thick, stoney skin.
After carefully securing the cap on the bottle, he slipped it back into his pack. The rod he tucked up against the wall. It was coated with acid and still steamed slightly; it was not reusable and, in fact, probably not even safe to touch.
Finally, he was able to remove the bricks from the wall, carefully stacking them next to the hole that he was creating. He could replace them on his way out, concealing his method of entry, and possibly that he had entered, for as long as possible.
It took him several minutes to get all the bricks out, but he was successful in doing so without even dropping one of them. By ducking he was able to slip through the hole he'd created and into the underground portion of the manor-house.
It would not be far to the head clerk's office and it was there he would be able to find the secret files of the Prelate's Servant Randolph. This corridor was, like the one at the top of the stairs, lit by a dim glow-strip that hung a few centimetres from the ceiling.
The head clerk's office was locked but, at least according to his source, not alarmed in any way. No one, after all, was supposed to be able to get that far without going through one of the alarmed entryways. Unlocking the door took only a moments work with the tools still tucked under his tongue.
He pushed the door wide open and stepped inside only to discover the head clerk still sitting at the massive desk and flanked by a pair of guards that looked human, at least if one squinted right, but whose behaviour belied that appearance. Even as the head clerk stood, raising his hands and starting to chant, the pair of guards moved towards him in a rapid, if inhuman, shuffle.
Even as they did he could hear an alarm going off somewhere in the background, no doubt set off by the head clerk's spell. No time to worry about that; it wouldn't matter what else they sent after him until he'd dealt with what was already in front of him.
Maryann had just reached the bottom of the stairs, her foot touching down on the floor of the lowest landing, when the alarm shrieked through the manor. She froze on the spot, knowing that whatever else may come of the night she would be in an awful lot of trouble. Explaining what she was doing in a forbidden area would be bad enough, though thankfully the door at the base of the stairs was still shut, but as to why she was there when the alarm went off, that would be an entirely different problem. If she was lucky they'd let her get away with a dishonourable discharge.
That train of thought lasted only seconds before she noticed a funny patch on the wall. No, not funny patch, a hole. Whoever the intruder was had gone through the wall rather than the door. That meant they had inside knowledge of the manor's security. Maryann had no doubt who would be blamed for that, not with the way she was lurking down here.
She turned and started back up the stairs. Perhaps she could get back to her place before anyone noticed she was gone.
The two guards were able to reach Galur quite quickly, but they did not distract him from the real threat for long. He swung his tail towards one, the thorny barb impaling its chest and tearing flesh apart as it seated itself between the guard's ribs. Rivulets of blood ran down its chest and its momentum almost caused it to fall over his tail, the motion only causing his barb to tear up the once-human's insides further.
The other guard got closer, but then had to face Galur's claws. These tore into the soft skin of the guard's neck as his muscles strained to keep his hands around the increasingly bloody flesh. The crack of its neck breaking was accompanied by a far more ominous silence.
Galur spared the high clerk a glance only to see a storm of tiny knives flying towards him. He twisted, swinging the dying once-human impaled on his tail between him and the knives. He got the body in place just in time to block the bulk of the knives, but his wings, hands, feet, and tail were all exposed and he could feel pain lance through him as the knives cut into his tough hide.
The body fell from his tail. The knives had turned it into a pulpy mass that lacked the cohesion to remain on his barb. A powerful sample of what had almost been his own fate. He dropped the body he was holding; the swarm of knives had damaged it, but not to nearly the same extent. Remarkably, it was still alive, but Galur did not expect this to last much longer.
Even as the high clerk started to chant once more, arms raised high, the gargoyle threw himself at the human, his claws digging furrows into his opponent's skull and shredding his opponent's thighs. Neither seemed to slow the high clerk's chant at all and, had he had the time to consider it, Galur might have thought the high clerk had been adulterated as well. As it was he spared no thought for the matter and, instead, brought his last weaponized limb into play. His tail swung around the high clerk and the barb smashed into the human's back, tearing open a lung and penetrating just through his chest.
This, finally, stopped the high clerk's chanting and Galur quickly finished him off, casually dropping the now lifeless body on his way to shut the door. Thanks to the high clerk's spell the room rather had the look of an abattoir and would attract attention if anyone (or anything) happened to walk by.
He paused to tear up the clothing of the dead to make some bandages, a task made more difficult as the swarm of knives had rendered the clothing of both the once-human guards into small, blood soaked fragments. Thankfully he had not been crippled anywhere, but his limbs were bleeding freely. And even aside from the risk of blood loss, the documents he was seeking could easily be rendered unreadable by blood splatter.
Finally, Galur was able to turn to the task that'd brought him to the Prelate's Servant Randolph's manor-house and he approached the cabinets of files to begin the tedious, nerve-wracking process of seeking out the particular items he'd come for, wondering every moment if some new threat would wander through the door.
Maryann had barely begun back up the stairs when she heard footsteps above her. Someone was coming down the stairs; other guards no doubt. She slipped back down to the landing and ducked through the hole in the wall. She didn't know if the door was still alarmed or not and thought that it would be better not to risk it.
For a moment she just stood in the corridor as the realization that she was standing in the forbidden zone of the manor-house trickled through her mind. The thought sent a cold shiver through her, but it was too late to do anything about it now.
Still hearing the guards footsteps on the stairs, she picked the nearest door and yanked it open, not noticing the light coming from around its edges.
Blood was everywhere. Two bodies, both mangled, lay near the door. One of them still weakly spurted blood. Although it was hard to tell, she suspected that they had been human.
It was all she could do not to throw up. She turned away so as not to see the bodies only to find the blood-splattered wall with hundreds of tiny pits in it.
"Prelate preserve us," she said, her voice weak.
"Not if they catch you he won't," a voice said. "And they will now that you've gotten the blood on you."
She looked down; the floor was at least as bloody as the walls and she could see the prints of her boots. "That doesn't mean they'll blame me," she said. Her voice was weak, but still managed to sound more confident than she felt. She turned as she spoke to see who the real intruder was and gasped.
It was indeed the inhuman visage of the missing statue! One of the dreaded nonhumans had indeed broken into the manor-house, killed some of the staff, and was now riffling through private papers.
"You think they aren't going to realize I had inside help? That they won't leech onto the first scapegoat they find? Open that cabinet and start looking for any files on military movements."
"Why should I help you? As you've already pointed out, it's going to be bad enough for me as it is! A dishonourable discharge at the least."
He looked at her. "You don't think they aren't just going to make you one of those and be down with it?" He gestured to one of the dead guards.
What on earth was the creature talking about? "You are trying to cloud my judgement; the prelate has pronounced all your kind an abomination unto the god."
He sighed. "By 'our kind' I presume you mean nonhumans. Did he include your livestock in that as well? They aren't human either."
"No," she informed him. "Animals are blessed of the god for they sustain us."
"There is a scholar in Maldin City that has proposed a theory that every species is descended from animals."
"The prelate has assured us that humankind is the chosen of the god. I suppose you can be descended from beasts if you want, though," she added after a moment.
"So kind of you." He shook his head. "You really don't know what your prelate is responsible for, do you? How about this reason, then: help me or I'll kill you."
She felt a surge of dizziness overtake her and had to put her hand on the wall to stabilize herself, realizing only afterwards that now she'd gotten blood on her hand as well.
This couldn't be happening!
"They'll get you," she managed to protest, but she still stumbled towards the cabinets. "They're already on their way here."
"Bah!" The gargoyle pulled a sack around from where it'd hung unseen on his back, hidden by his wings. He shoved several scrolls from the cabinets into it before starting once more for the door. Partway there he stumbled over something in his rush, but easily caught himself. "Bloody idiot," he muttered.
At first Maryann thought he was referring to her and was irritated that he'd left before she had a chance to reply. Then she saw what he had stumbled over.
It was a clerk. By the remains of the clothing, a high clerk. She dashed out the door behind the gargoyle.
"You killed a high clerk! You-" She stopped; he was standing in the middle of the now brightly light corridor facing a pair of human guards who stood just outside the secure door. She thought they were human at any rate, though she had to admit that they didn't look quite right. Nothing specific, but subtly wrong somehow.
"There it is!" One of the guards shouted, his voice strangely flat. "The traitor is with it. Kill them both; the Prelate's Servant can question them later."
The gargoyle snarled at them. "Can you see in the dark?" he asked.
Maryann wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to the guards, but she answered regardless. "No. Why?" Even as she spoke he'd leapt straight up, his claws wrapping around the glow-strip hanging from the ceiling. As he came down his weight brought it with him causing it to bend then shatter. The corridor was cast into darkness even as shards of glass rained down.
The falling glass was the only sound; the alarm had stopped the moment the glow-strip broke. This near silence was broken only a moment later by one of the guards.
"Get some light going! We'll need a behemoth scented and loosed; the monster cannot be allowed to escape. If the Prelate's Servant wishes to question them, he can pull their head's from the behemoth's stomach." From what he was saying Maryann decided that he was using one of the communication crystals the inner guards were issued; she'd never had the chance to use one herself, but she'd seen them in use a few times. "We believe it may have killed a high clerk and it has stolen records in its possession."
Silence returned for another brief moment that was broken by a pair of screams. Short, abortive screams. A hand grabbed Maryann's arm, pulling her along.
"This way," the gargoyle's voice came. "You may live out this day yet. We need to get up." She felt herself being pulled up stairs in the dark and she scrambled, albeit not entirely successfully, to get her feet underneath her rather than be dragged over their stone edges.
Live out the day? It sunk in only then that the guards had been, were, planning to kill her. Then question her. How the hell could they question her after she'd been killed? The Prelate had declared necromancy one of the greatest abominations unto the god!
That thought brought forth another inconsistency; before she'd become a guard she had met many retired guards who'd ended their service for health reasons, or age, or any number of other causes. Never once had she met a dishonourably discharged guard. Yet, once she had joined the guard it seemed that someone was thusly discharged every other week, sometimes on the strangest complaints. She would never forget Charles, discharged for breathing too heavily on the vases.
Her thoughts were interrupted as light flared around her, forcing her to squint her eyes against its painful brightness. She glanced behind her; why had the dark stairs suddenly blossomed with light?
The stairs behind them were filled with a single, massive creature that seemed barely to fit. Indeed, the railing along the edge of the steps was pressed outwards as it forced its way up the stairs. The massive spines on its back dug into the underside of the steps above, causing a constant rain of dust to land on it. Its mottled hide possessed patches of scales and fur. The light came from an antenna that extended from its forehead, a glowing ball hanging off the end. And though its face was contorted with a bestial, mindless rage, the features had a distinctly human cast to them
"Prelate preserve us," she said. "What is that thing? What unholy ritual gave birth to it?"
The gargoyle was dragging her up the steps faster now, too fast for her to keep her feet under her and she gave in to the discomfort of bumping along behind him. She could hear he was panting now.
"That is one of your precious prelate's toys," he told her, each word fit in between breathes. "A behemoth. Death on four legs. It has our scent, it will pursue us without end so long as we remain within the barrier.
"I can't believe the prelate would condone such a thing," she said, her words coming between her body thudding against the stairs. He did not deign to reply to her.
Bootfalls suddenly sounded above them, more guards coming down the steps.
"Help!" She cried. "There's a monster loose in here! A behemoth!"
The pace of the bootfalls increased considerably and for a moment she thought they were coming to rescue her. Then she realized they were retreating.
"Well played," the gargoyle said. "I would not have thought of that."
She shook her head; "that was not what I'd intended. Besides, they probably wouldn't have believed you."
"It is what you achieved, regardless."
Then they achieved the upper landing. The gargoyle had them out into the hallway in a flash, throwing her ahead of himself and slamming the door behind him.
"Feel free to chase after your allies now. The behemoth can follow only one of us and if it chases you I'll have more time to escape. Besides," he gave her a quick grin, "I'm just an abomination and thief. You're a traitor."
Even as he finished speaking he was turning, taking off down the corridor once more. She could see his thick, powerful thighs pumping as he ran, but there was an awkwardness that suggested running wasn't his strongest point.
"I didn't do anything!" she complained.
"Prove it," he shouted back.
"What'll it do to me?" she called after him.
"Eat you. If you're lucky it'll chew," he shouted over his shoulder.
It was then that she made the decision; while she still had plenty of reservations about nonhumans, there was clearly something wrong within the Prelate's Domain. "If I'm going to get eaten, I'll make sure you do too!" she shouted, taking off after the rapidly disappearing figure.
And not a moment too soon. Only moments after she had taken flight the behemoth crashed into the doorway, sending the actual door flying and cracking the walls around it. There was a slight delay, enough for her to get a lead on it, before it was able to push itself through, leaving a massive hole in the wall.
The gargoyle was almost to the Prisoner's Tower when she caught up with him. She slipped right behind him, shutting and bolting the door behind them.
"You're smarter than you look," he told her with a grin. "But you're responsible for keeping up!"
Once more they raced up the stairs, only she was on her feet this time. She almost ran into him before she realized he'd stopped in front of the first of the tower's cells.
"Won't we be trapped up here?" she asked as he fiddled with the door using a pair of strange tools. He just flexed his wings in reply and she immediately felt foolish; heights would be no problem for someone who could fly!
Even as she resumed chasing after him, she glanced back at what was coming out of the cell and immediately regretted it.
The creature was identifiably human, but twisted, malformed, and hideous. It were as though some unspeakable demon had reached forth and taken everything that made it what it was and twisted it. Parts had been replaced with those from animals, and not always appropriate ones, and a few extras had even been added.
"What, by the Prelate's grace, is that?"
"That," her guide said between breathes, "is a could-have-been. Very much by the Prelate's grace."
"A what?" Maryann's voice, at least to her, sounded less laboured than her nonhuman companion's, but she realized she was lagging behind.
The gargoyle had paused before another door, opening it with only a moments effort as well. "You don't think the behemoths were created by accident, do you?" She was startled to see him put the tools into his mouth when he finished with them.
"I've never heard of them."
"Clever of the Prelate, isn't it? No one protests what they don't know about." He began running once more. As she could think of no reply she concentrated on running after him. Below them she could hear masonry screaming as, presumably, the behemoth tore through the doorway. She could hear the monster's claws scrap against the floor.
The claws hesitated briefly just as a scream echoed upwards; the first prisoner, she guessed. It was a moment before they resumed.
There were five more cells that her companion opened as he passed. Then they reached the top of the stairs. There was only a ladder leading up to a trapdoor, presumably to the roof.
"Up, quickly!" The gargoyle shouted. He was already halfway up the ladder. By the time she'd caught up to him he had the trapdoor open and was climbing onto the roof.
The tower roof, a flat area surrounded by crenellations, provided a view of the countryside the likes of which she had never seen. From up here, the snow-covered fields looked beautiful in a way that she had never imagined they could before. She could see no way down, however. It was all well and good for the gargoyle, he had wings, but she had no hope of descending without falling, even if there not been a monstrous behemoth following them.
"Now what?" she asked. He didn't answer, instead simply grabbing her and pulling her in front of him. Then he moved to the edge of the roof and, while she was still in shock at the way he'd grabbed her, stepped off.
She didn't hear the snap of his wings slamming open and catching the air; she was too busy screaming, her eyes wrenched shut. Only when she realized that she had not been splattered against the ground did she open them and look around.
The ground below was passing rapidly and a glance behind her showed the manor-house had become much smaller behind them. Her glance was just in time to see the top of one tower explode with specks that she imagined were probably bricks; the behemoth had reached their take-off point. Would it chase them off the edge? She couldn't see the tower well enough anymore to tell.
As she continued to not crash into the ground she began to relax in the gargoyle's arms. His hold on her seemed quite secure, almost like he'd locked his arms into place. It was, once one got over the image of splattering against the ground, actually quite pleasant in a way.
That ended when he dropped her a good meter and a half from the snow. She landed solidly in it and it took a moment for her to pick herself up, wet and shivering. The snow came to just above her knees, but at least the sky was clear for the moment.
She turned towards where he was landing neatly balanced on his toes. "What was that for?"
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I couldn't hold you and land properly at the same time. The scrolls I grabbed would be ruined if they landed in the snow and, well I wish you all the best, they're why I'm here. If they're ruined the whole trip will have been a waste."
"Humph," she said.
She was surprised when he dug through the bag and pulled out some brightly coloured clothes. Having only ever seen him nude, the idea of him wearing clothing seemed odd. The clothes themselves seemed rather odd as well, much too light for the weather and of a strange cut.
"I'm Galur; there wasn't a lot of time for introductions before. Still isn't really." He held out his hand. She clasped it for a moment, his claws brushing her skin.
"Maryann."
"From here you'll need to walk. I can't manage more than a controlled glide while carrying you. The barrier's closest that way," he pointed off into the distance, "and you should be able to see it in a kilometre or two. Perhaps we'll meet again on the other side. You haven't lost the behemoth by the way, though it'll take a few hours for it to find your scent again. Ask after me when you reach civilization. Be quick!"
Before she had a chance to reply his powerful legs had thrust him back into the air and he was flying off with slow, powerful beats of his wings.
Looking in the direction the gargoyle had pointed she could faintly see a strange shimmering in the distance. The barrier? With a sigh and shivering from the cold, she started walking. At least she could take comfort in knowing she was better dressed for the conditions than her recent companion.
As the hours passed Maryann decided that the barrier had to be further off than it looked. It had never changed appearance in all that time. Dawn was approaching when she decided that she was starting to actually get near the curtain of light. Never before had leaving the Prelate's Domain sounded so good; she was cold and wet and her legs would not stop shivering. She worried that she was risking hypothermia, but there was little enough she could do about it.
A sound made her glance back. Bounding through the snow was the behemoth. It wasn't making great speed, its legs were really too short for the depth of snow, but it was gaining on her. She broke into a run, but interrupted it frequently to glance behind her, judging the distance of the monster.
Was she close enough to the border? Would she make it?
She stumbled, falling to her hands and knees. Fear passed through her and the certain knowledge that she could no longer escape. She rolled over to see her killer's strike only to see the shimmering curtain between them. The behemoth charged into this at full speed, unstoppable.
As it passed through the curtain it turned to loose ash that continued forward to coat her in a later of monster dust. At the same time she began to realize the air was no longer cold; she looked up at the barrier once more.
The knee deep snow continued right up to the edge of the barrier then simply stopped as though it were resting against a wall. Where she lay outside was quite warm. Moreover, while the inside of the barrier was occupied by plains, she appeared to have landed in light forest.
She shrugged; without knowing the area at all one direction was as good as another. How, she wondered, did the gargoyle expect to find her again. Had he lied just to be rid of her? She doubted that; he could have left her behind several times without having to say anything.
The one thing that was clear in her mind was that there was no way she could return now; agents of the Prelate would be after her head should she do so.
She was about to start forward, off into the forest, when she noticed the ground was discoloured. No, not discoloured. There was a path covered with gravel leading off in two directions; she'd come rather into the middle of it she supposed. Picking a direction, she followed it.
It took only another hour for her to reach the small town. A palisade surrounded it, preventing her from seeing more than the rooftops of the buildings within. The gate stood open, though, so she walked inside, trying to act and feel casual.
She stopped just inside. The inhabitants of the village were a conglomeration of a massive number of nonhumans, far more than the Prelate's declaration had suggested. Indeed, she only saw four or five of most types as she resumed walking through the town. Humans, she was glad to note, where not unrepresented, though they did not seem to be one of the more common types. Every type seemed to have a different language and the resultant babble was making her mind numb.
There would be no reason for them to stab humans in the back the way the Prelate said they did, she realized. If they wanted to be rid of humans it would be easy enough to just overwhelm them. Moreover, they seemed to get along just fine with every sign of being wholly civilized.
Even as she walked along she was shaking and it wasn't because she was cold; the warm air had warmed her up comfortably, perhaps even too much. She was not dressed for the climate she'd found herself in.
The various buildings of the town were short, wooden structures that looked hastily built. Many had crude, pictorial signs painted above their doors.
One building had a sign depicting a pair of foaming mugs. With any kind of luck it would be a tavern, though with the way events had been going for her recently she wasn't sure she wanted to trust to luck. Still, whoever was inside could probably give her some idea of what she should do. She could hardly be the only person to wander out of the Prelate's Domain.
She entered, trying to look confident, and allowed the door to swing shut behind her without the slightest desperate grab. It helped that the tavern was almost empty. A pair of nonhumans, perhaps a couple, were seated in one corner chattering as they tore at a pair of half-cooked looking fowl. They didn't even look up as she entered. The far side of the tavern had a long bar behind which were numerous bottles and kegs that, presumably, held alcohol.
Beyond the bar was an older man she at first took for human, but as she approached she saw that he had dense, shaggy fur from the waist down and even a pair of horns on his head she'd missed at first. It was only when she noticed he was naked that she realized most of the nonhumans had clothing of some sort, although admittedly not always with what she would consider appropriate coverage.
"Hello ma'am," he said as she approached.
"I-" she started, then hesitated. She doubted that the nonhumans thought very well of those from the Prelate's Domain. After a moment's hesitation she decided it'd be worse for them to think she'd been trying to deceive them. "I just came from the Prelate's Domain; I was with a companion--Galur?--and was hoping to meet up with him, but I have no idea where he'll be."
"The gargoyle? He should be back tonight. In the meantime, why don't you have a drink and rest for a bit." The nonhuman turned to fill a mug from one of the kegs behind him revealing that he had a small tail. "I don't imagine you've anything that resembles real currency yet, so its on the house for today," he said as he turned back to her with a smile and set a mug down in front of her. She took a sip, surprised to find it was a decent ale.
"Since you aren't running in terror, I presume that you've broken through your Prelate's brainwashing?"
She opened her mouth to protest, the prelate hardly brainwashed people after all, then stopped. What else could she call all the lies it seemed she'd been told over the years? "Partially," she said at last.
The barkeeper nodded. "Just give it time." He let her have her space as she nursed the ale. She used the time to think; he was right that she had no currency. She didn't really have any skills to earn any, either.
When she'd finished the ale she still hadn't come to any conclusions. The barkeeper handed her a key.
"Up the stairs, third door on your left."
"Thank you." Key in hand, she headed up the stairs and had no difficulty finding the room. She locked the door, dropped the key on the small writing desk, and settled into the cot. She was asleep almost as her head hit the pillow.
It was dark when she woke up. She felt her way to the door, belatedly remembering the key and scrambling for it in the dark. Once she managed to unlock the door she stumbled out into the second level hallway. A couple of hanging lanterns lit the hall giving her enough light to find her way back down to the main room where she handed the key back to the barkeep.
The room was much more crowded now than it had been earlier. A couple of the tables were empty and a few had only one patron, most were crowded with a multitude of types of nonhumans all talking to each other, rapidly and loudly in strange languages. There were only a couple humans visible.
Galur was sitting at a small table tucked into the corner with a large mug and a low, mostly empty looking bowl. At least, she supposed it was Galur. She hadn't seen any other gargoyles in the town so she had no idea how well she'd be able to recognize him amongst his own kind. She hesitated, not wanting to embarrass herself with by mistaking his identity.
He cleared up her doubts for her. "Maryann! Over here!"
Weaving her way through the crowd, she took care to avoid the array of wings, tails, and other assorted limbs that periodically popped into her path before she finally reached the gargoyle and joined him at his table.
"Hello again," he said as she seated herself. "I see you made it."
"Yes," she nodded in emphasis. "Barely. That behemoth, it turned to ash when it touched the barrier."
Galur leaned forward as he spoke and, had he whispered, Maryann would have taken his words as secret. "Unlike what the Prelate wants you to believe, the barrier is not there to keep us," he gestured around the room, "out, but to keep you and his creations in." He gave her a wide smile. "Anything marked by the Prelate is destroyed when it tries to pass the barrier."
"But I had no trouble getting through," she protested. "I didn't even realize I had at first."
"You aren't marked by the Prelate."
"How could you be sure?"
"I was reasonably sure. Its usually pretty obvious."
"Reasonably sure? Usually obvious? You mean you sent me across the barrier knowing I might not survive the crossing?"
He frowned, shrugged. "It'd be better than being eaten," he told her. "At least it would have been quick. But you can put it out of your mind; you've survived your escape."
Maryann had nothing to say to that and they sat in silence for a moment. He did have a point, she supposed, but he could have at least told her first.
He picked a bit of, of something out of his bowl and popped it into his mouth, chewing it briefly before swallowing it. "So, what do you plan to do now?"
"I have no idea. I rather thought you had something in mind since you risked rescuing me."
"No," he said, quickly swallowing another piece of whatever. "No, I just don't like seeing people get eaten alive."
"A shame. Do you at least have any suggestions? Its not like I know much about the world out here."
"Not especially. There is a town at the other end of the road you came in one populated by refugees from your former home."
"I would just as soon distance myself from that place, at least until I've managed to forget it some. Whenever I think about it I see images of monsters and blood."
Galur took a long swig from his mug. "Well, I could take you by to see Virmeal. He's something of a hermit; it would give you a chance to think things over. He could teach you something of this brave new world, too."
"Is-" Is he human, she'd been about to ask. She stopped herself; what did it matter? "No, that sounds fine. You sure he won't mind?"
He ignored her unfinished question. "Not at all; he's always complaining about the lack of company." The gargoyle shook his head. "What'd you move way out to the middle of nowhere for, I asked him. He's yet to give me a good answer for that one."
"Sure," she said. "That sounds fine."
"I'll take you by in the morning then," he said. "He lives only a couple days from here."
Maryann smiled; perhaps she'd be able to build a new life out here after all.