Melodies of Stone & Glass: A Gargoyle Story

Chapter 2; The Stranger in Varlara

Lady Lethia

Complaints from my escorts were very stern, however, they did not deter my course. Vivian, my personal servant, expressed great concern for me, asking how I was feeling and egering me to venture back to my chambers. My sympathy for her motives were just. Vivian held my hand as we walked up to the tall black stone of the Night Gaurd's Tower, standing tall and triumphant. This is were I will find what I'm looking for. I let go of Vivian to bask in it's vastness.
"M'y Lady-" Vivian started. I looked back at her and saw her shivering in the cold-the poor girl was freezing. We're walked through Cress'n Fold, hopefully we were not spotted by those Night Guard's we saw earlier, and came to a few yards away from the castle. Then after a minute of contemplating my way in, it started to snow.
"Why don't you go back to the castle Vivian."I suggest holsumly, "It's late, and you must rest in a bath." Her expression a delicate flower.
"But, M'y Lady.  You musten be out like this. We could get hurt, or worse." She sounded so concerned, honest and young. I envied her nievt'e and innocence. So, I try to reassure her, "No, we are safe. The Night Guard's are out, and besides, no one would dare harm us being so close to a castle roaming with Gargoyles." I smiled for her even if my strange in my face was weak.
"But why are we out here, M'y Lady?" She asked, almost convincingly. My thought's rumbled in noise and I wanted it to stop. "Come back with me." she finished, giving the most defeating look. It only reminded me of my own defeat, enticing me to push forward.
I shake my head, "No. I can't stop." Turning my back on Vivian, I walked to the Tower-determination overcoming every figure of my being. I hear Vivian call my name, sounding wounded and scared. Oh, how I hated leaving her. She wouldn't understand, no one has ever understood. I made it to the stairs that circled upward to the top. And I climbed, I took off my slippers and climbed, ignoring the pain in my torso and legs.

The stairs stop to a moonlight room-clear overlooking the village and castle. Francis would have loved this glorious view. I then began my search immediately, flipping through book after book. Stacking the one that remoltly had any relavents to what I needed. The binding's were old, yellow pages smell burnt or ash. Hours I did this, sarching, although not finding. I was started to loose hope. Until, Yes-Thank the God's-The infamous journal of Magna of the IV Age in it's old and beautiful printing. I smiled at my find-It'd found it. The way I can see my son again.

***

Lord Solomon

The beast's game was impeccable tonight. A kind of wit my father would adore, and so I, had envied greatly. My impression's of Salem left with mystery yes, however, much more riskily. I had grown curious of Salem and his race. Beckoning more time with him to know more, learn, perhaps my understanding would help even my people's fear's of these creatures. If I could achieve a proclaim sympathy for Salem and his race, maybe the faith my people had in me may beyond my expectations. A union for the ages to come. I smile stretched across my face as Salem put my King in check yet again.

"In trouble, I am." I said, "How could I out wit such strategy's?" My humour did not registrar with the beast. A common means amongst opponents in such a game that required all senses. Understanding as I was, I couldn't help but press his concentration. "The wit you conceal from me in most late hours is curious in it's measure. Tell me, are there more to the secrets of you're intellect?" My wait was not very long, after I made my move with my King. Salem attacked back with his Bishop and answered my my question.

"My Lord, my intellect is of no other value then any-other Gargoyle or Man. My thoughts and strategy's are a product of my Mother's teachings." The light from the candle was nearly all but gone, although I nor the beast were put off by this.

I moved my King once again, "Ha, yes. A Mother's embrace is all too well recognisable. Surely, this mighty women has taught you other means in the ways of strong mind?" I was beginning to be careless with my words, for I could see a thought pass his grey eyes that beckoned sorrow for his heart to endure-that I suspect would not be it's first.

I frowned, "Forgive me Salem. I have remind you of transgressions?"

He quickly raised his head to assure me not, "No. My Lord. My composure and it's features is a fleeting memory, yes. However, the past is left learned and not festered into it's repeat. I should apologise." He bows respectfully. Oh, how such a creature is left to the shadows.

I waved my hand in dismissal, "No, my friend. My understanding is absolute. There is no need to explain. Although in those very words, I recollect wisdom of the highest form. Please, engage me Salem, I wish to know more of you. What other talents do you hide?" My curiosity blooming vixenishly. "What were you're Mother's other teachings?"

Salem takes stock of my question with unnerving time that I urged to be short. He spoke deep and confident, "My teachings were of many-I can't recall all-However, I will attempt too. I can name my readings of many story's that I had read in my youth. First of witch was 'Wrath's of the Golden Chalice' that was authored by the familiar Marguerite Dolt-A fitting tale of greed, treachery and adventure. But my most treasured was the narratives and plays of the Great Anthos Uni Rihnes; oh, how I wept at the resonance of his words. The scenes of 'Glory's of a Forgotten Age', or 'Oswald the IV'-'Beseech the Slayer'. Yes, my Lord, for I never met a single Man or Gargoyle-born alike, who appreciated such beauty as I did in my youth. Although, I did not know the man, Rihnes brought me more hope, love and anguish in the most glorious of ways, no-one has ever given unto me. My writing's was most improved along with my extension and understanding of those manuscripts, to keep my modesty, I must restrain from so much excitement. The teachings had improved me as a being of night and for that, myself and my family was proud. My years as an older Gargoyle, was taught in the art of Cello. Finding such an instrument was very difficult. For I, sought to search for one. However, my efforts were mild, that I could only find a Cello that was thrown away and old with rot. It took many moon's, my Lord, to repair such an instrument-oh, if you could envision it's finishing! I began my practice and worked to compose many pieces that touched-dare I say-the souls of all who passed my dwelling."

I was moved, stricken with such gracious wonder. I had no clear vision of such a beast that possessed a talent filled with passion that could rupture the ruins of my soul. His very words a composition-a fire I felt so strongly to be feed.

I smiled, "Oh, my dear Salem. The honesty in you're voice, it's clear a passion drives you still. I must say, that I can not let such talent and ambition slip away into ignorance. Will you be my honoured guest and attend my son Barnabas's ball? The carriage to deliver him back home from his journey is not far away."

My offer seems to have him taken aback from the discussion, for his demeanour changes and searches the chess board again. If only I could read the mind of all living creatures.

"My Lord, with no disrespect-I'm afraid my presence may not be welcomed in the eyes of you're other-more important-guest's." He spoke carefully, attempting to steady our peaceful exchange. This I did not falter too terribly. Although, I will say, his rejection was not tolerable.

I pressed, "Nonsense! I insist. My concern for my other guest's will be my burden to bare. Yours will be the enjoyment you will have. The dancing, the music-music you may even have the chance to play, my friend." My eye brow raised inexpertly, studying his features; his ears went down again.

"You honour me, Lord Solomon, however-" I cut his voice sharp with my own, ending this rebutle. "-It is to be spoken of no more! You will attend, Salem, I will have it no less denied. Am I clear?" I left the harsh words in the air for our ear to consume. His posture straightened, closes his eyes-the visible features of his forehead a scaly clutter of lines that seemed to stretch his temple. I wished for the discussion to be left at that as I watched the candle flicker one last time before it's demise. A darkness shaping both of us; swallowed whole.

***

Commander Dryden

Another splash cuaght my ear. I turned back in the direction of the bridge.