Gargoyle Quest (17 page)
Whether man or gargoyle, there was a war out there that needed him.
Fueled by these thoughts, he fought the dark temptation to succumb and let go. This was his sword. It had been forged for him so he could stop the gargoyles and shatter the source of Cael’s power. He would not allow it to end him.
He grunted with agonizing effort and at last pulled the sword from his chest with a bestial roar. As soon as he’d liberated the blessed steel, the gaping wound in his chest closed up, the regenerative power of Balor’s blood restoring him within seconds.
As he scrambled to his feet, wings extending to their full size, he saw Necron surging toward the workhouse. The warlock was still on fire, a creature of flame descending on the ruins of the building. By now, Necron had probably drawn the same conclusion as Artan. Somehow Nyssa had tampered with the third grimoire before it fused with the other two volumes. Necron might be dying, but Artan would bet he planned to take his enemy with him. An opponent facing imminent defeat with nothing left to lose often proved to be the most dangerous enemy of them all.
***
The horde of zombies was closing in from all sides when the prison workhouse erupted with red energy. Beams of lights penetrated through the broken windows and holes in the walls and ceiling, bathing Rhianna, Nyssa, and Cormac’s faces with crimson. The tendrils of energy arced through the zombies and set the invading army of the living dead ablaze. For a few seconds, the burning zombies shambled on before they succumbed to the flames and fell to the ground.
Moments later, they found themselves surrounded by a mass of blackened corpses. Rhianna stared at Nyssa, wondering if the warrior-mage had been the cause of this unexpected development. An explanation would have to wait as the warlock gargoyle, now a burning phoenix, burst into the workhouse through the large opening in the ceiling. Roaring flames wreathed his gargoyle body as he drew up to his full height, fiery wings spreading from wall-to-wall. It was all too easy to imagine him as a beast straight from hell.
Cormac pushed Rhianna aside, protecting her with his body as the fiery monster reached out for them. The blonde monster hunter cried out as the burning claws swiped at him, opening a deep gash and setting his skin on fire. The hunter madly rubbed his burning arm against the wall, leaving Rhianna completely at the monster’s mercy.
The magical fire burned with a supernatural heat far greater than normal flames and was rapidly melting away Necron’s tough gargoyle hide, the bony outline of his malformed skull visible. The warlock’s eyes squirmed with murderous rage. There was no way he could survive such injuries, yet hatred seemed to be keeping him alive.
He’s going to take us all with him
, Rhianna realized. The thought had barely crossed her mind when another gargoyle appeared behind Necron. Moonlight played across the sword in Artan’s claws as the blade ripped into Necron. The steel entered the back of the warlock’s skull right at the spine and erupted in a spray of black blood below his wide-open mouth. The creature gasped as Artan lifted Necron’s speared form upward and swung it away from them.
Heat singed Rhianna’s face as the burning gargoyle warlock hurtled past. By the time Necron’s sizzling body slammed into the wall, the burning head had been separated from its torso. Only now did the creature collapse and remain unmoving among his downed minions.
Once the fire died down, Nyssa descended the stairs cautiously. Artan loomed at the heart of the carnage, silhouetted in the pale moonlight. Rhianna had never thought she’d be so happy to see a gargoyle.
“How did you do that, Nyssa?” Rhianna asked, following her down the stairs.
Nyssa’s answer was to kneel over Necron’s downed form. The fiend was still clutching the burned grimoire in his blackened claws. She pried what was left of the book from the gargoyle’s death grip, the clawed hand turning to ash in the process. She held it up, a molten mass that now only vaguely resembled the leather-bound grimoire. There were no pages inside the ravaged spine except for one single sheet of ancient parchment that radiated a golden light. Nyssa pulled out this one page from between the leather covers. The glyphs upon it resembled the tattoos on Nyssa’s arms.
“There was only one way to destroy the grimoire,” Nyssa explained. “When I took the third book of magic from Schmidt’s corpse, I added a page of my own containing spells of white magic. White and black magic cannot coexist inside the same book. When Necron united the three books, white magic began to infect the entire grimoire.”
Rhianna’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Sort of like the magical equivalent of infecting a computer with a virus.”
Nyssa nodded, smiling. “Exactly.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” the gargoyle knight demanded.
“Necron could not be allowed to suspect that something was wrong. Your fear and surprise had to be genuine for this plan to work. It was the only way.”
Rhianna considered Nyssa’s words. She was right, but it still felt as though she and Artan had been used as bait.
Overhead, Cormac groaned in pain and began hobbling down the stairs. The gargoyle knight tilted his head toward the blonde warrior, whose clothing was covered in burn marks.
“Thank you. For keeping her safe.”
Cormac winced and nodded at Artan. “Thank you from stopping this bastard from turning me into human barbecue.”
A bestial roar cut him off, shattering the silence of the night.
Rhianna gazed at Artan with horror. It appeared another gargoyle stalked the island.
***
Artan tilted his head toward the night sky. Looking up through the giant hole in the workhouse’s roof, he saw batlike shapes in the moonlight. Artan counted more than eight gargoyles circling high above, their roars a final farewell to their fallen master. Necron had made these creatures to throw the Order off his tail. Had the power of the grimoires drawn them to the island like some black magic beacon? Or had Necron summoned them himself in his ill-fated hour of victory?
Rage bubbled up in the former king of Kirkfall. Would Balor’s madness ever end?
“Don’t go after them,” Nyssa cried. “It could be a trap!”
Ignoring her warning, Artan’s wings flared out and he took flight before she could stop him. The night welcomed him and strength surged through his wings as he chased after the other monsters. Rising high above the island, he drew level with Necron’s children. There had to be more than twenty gargoyles all together. They kept their distance, sensing instinctively that he wasn’t one of them.
For one sobering moment, Artan thought he’d made a mistake. He was vastly outnumbered and presented an easy target despite the sword in his hands. To his surprise, instead of engaging him in aerial battle, the gargoyles turned away from the island and cut a hasty retreat toward the Manhattan skyline.
Artan followed, his wings churning the night air.
This has to end tonight.
The cold wind felt good against his thick hide as he tore after his quarry. Up ahead, the swarm of gargoyles began to disperse, taking off in different directions across the city and making it impossible for him to track them all in the urban maze. Frustrated, he landed on a tall skyscraper that gave him a view of the entire city. Rhianna had once told him that New York had more stone gargoyles per square foot than any other place in the world. The city that never slept was the ideal hunting ground for Necron’s children. They’d be able to blend in with the architecture while they preyed on an unsuspecting populace at night. And during the day, they’d wear their human masks. Perfect predators in a world that remained blissfully unaware of the horrors that stalked the night.
Artan recalled the various stories of missing people and mauled victims that had popped up on the local news channels over the last few weeks. How many of these gargoyles had the warlock spawned, and how many were, in turn, the offspring of his infernal creations? Did New York City face a gargoyle infestation? Considering the ease with which Balor’s curse could be transmitted among humans, it wasn’t out of the question.
As Artan kept a watchful eye over his adopted city, the horror of the situation began to sink in, and he could almost hear Necron’s laughter reverberating across the dark sky. They’d stopped Necron from unleashing the dead upon the living, but now another nightmare threatened mankind. Manhattan was about to experience the curse of the gargoyle. Even though he’d won a battle today, Artan sensed the real war was just beginning. But this time he wouldn’t be facing the horde on his own. Nyssa and the Order would be standing by his side.
Taking to the sky once more, the gargoyle knight returned to Hart Island, where his Rhianna would be waiting for him. It was time to go home.
THE END
Gargoyle Knight will return in Gargoyle Curse.
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
William Massa is a screenwriter (
Return to House on Haunted Hil
l) and script consultant. He has lived in New York, Florida, Europe and now calls Los Angeles his home. William writes horror, science fiction and dark fantasy. Directing a movie one day is on William’s bucket list. More books are on the way.
