Page 22 of Stone Sentinels

Pyre nods in agreement. “We need to find the portal he used to get to Oronrel and make sure nothing slipped through with him. Kolvar and Aima can take the southern border, Dragan and Eilish will cover the east, Baron and I can double our efforts in the north and west. We can meet back here once the area has been completely swept for outsiders.”

“We can’t go nowheres,” Flumph calls from the room. We run to see what he’s talking about, but stop just inside the door. Morrigan is pale and sweating through the sheets as she thrashes on the mattress.

“She havin’ some sorta fit, an’ I ain’t able to helps her,” Flumph says.

Pyre disappears to his private quarters, Baron close on his heels. I’m upset that we can’t go after Cambion yet, but I sit beside Morrigan and press my hand to her forehead. “We need to bring her fever down. She’s burning up.”

“What about your healing magic, Eilish?” Aima asks.

I shake my head. “If this attack was brought on by her drained energy or something else magical in nature, I don’t want to risk using my power. We’ll have to do this the old fashioned way.”

Aima begins assisting me as Dragan and Kolvar return to the table where the others were strategizing. Through the door, we overhear Dragan complaining that Cambion hadn’t told him about his plan. At first I think Dragan means to protect Cambion, but the edge to his voice suggests he wants vengeance against the Unseelie King more than he wants to keep his friend safe. And I find myself disappointed in both Dragan and Cambion once again.

CHAPTER NINE

DRAGAN

The Veil

I don’t know if Cambion will return. Pyre appears more concerned with what may or may not come back through the portal with the stupid elf and works diligently with Revenant to scour The Veil in search of any signs of stowaways. The rest of us continue our training, taking it in shifts to check on the Midnight Queen’s fragile state. One would think she’s been poisoned, with the way she convulses. If not for Revenant being so busy with Pyre lately, I would have suspected him of attempting to kill Morrigan. The vampire is known for his aptitude in crafting poisons…

I sit here in the dusty dredges of the library, sorting through rough translations and scarcely deciphered portions of the prophecy book, but none of the prophecies refer to any of us. Beneath the scattered piles of papers are even more books that tell the tale of the gargoyles and how we came to be. My kind originated in the mortal realm, of all places. We were merely statues once, watching over mankind and frightening away evil with our terrifying appearance. If not for an unnamed witch, we would never have known life. This unnamed witch casted a spell to awaken a gargoyle in the midst of a great battle and the rest is history.

I turn yet another page in the book filled with my own lore and frown down at a drawing of what was once my kind. The drawing is not unlike the stone figures we become when we’re exposed to the daylight for too long.

I clear my throat to read a passage aloud, “The gargoyle soared across the sky and saved the witch and her coven from being killed. As repayment for his protection, she cast a spell into the very stone itself and vowed that any gargoyle forged from the earth would live in peace, so long as the night reigned over the sun.”

And then it was Morrigan, the Midnight Queen of the Realms, who gave me and my kind purpose on the day we restored the balance.

The door creaks open and I look up at Kolvar, who leans on the table.“I’ve given this prophecy of yours a bit of thought,” he says. “Maiden is to Shield as prick is to rose.I think it means Aima and I are forever destined to save one another from peril.”

“With what’s happened to the two of you, I believe that is a valid observation.” The grumbling tone of my voice isn’t meant with any malice. I simply grow weary of poring over these texts while the others walk through the past and spar in the clearing. “Where are your men you keep telling us about, Kolvar?”

“That worthless bunch of fuckin’ madmen are most likely pillagin’ Variant’s camps. Then, they’ll rest their bones in the Desolate Borders near the sand dunes. Our clans travel constantly, and rarely ever see civilization unless we aim to make trade. We’re... different than other satyrs.”

“You love your drink.”

“Yes.”

“You love your women.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not so different, then?”

“We may love our drink and our fair share of women, but that ain’t enough to distract us from the glory of meetin’ a warrior’s death on the battlefield,” the satyr explains with a smile. “We follow the roar of the fight, offering our numbers and skill to those willin’ to pay a price.”

“What glory is there in battle?” I know my words sound bitter and weary, but they are. I have no passion in my heart for war, only the burning desire to find answers and right the wrongs we’ve all made. I don’t want this fight to become another battle that claims the lives of millions. Never before have I had thoughts like these—maybe reading about my ancestors is having an effect on me. “War is not a solution; it’s a distraction from the true conflict.Watch by day, protect by night. Only we can defeat darkness with darkness.”

“What is that?”

“The gargoyles’ oath,” I answer. “At least it was, a long time ago.” I sigh as I think about the issues we still face. “I wish that fucker Cambion would have brought me with him. The two of us could have defeated Theren quietly. But, instead here I am... sulking in the pages of forgotten lore.”

“If the elf endangers this world, Pyre won’t spare his life.” Kolvar meets my gaze and holds it steady.

“I don’t know that Cambion deserves death,” I start.

Kolvar shakes his head. “It’s Pyre’s duty, Dragan. We can’t stop him from protectin’ what belongs to him. Even if you still regard Cambion as a friend, you must stay your hand and let the fates decide his punishment.”

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