Aces and Eights 11
Harvey Smith
I put away the Trump, then turned full circle, taking in the panoramic green of the sea, the bone color of the cloudless sky. The ash gray tower was the only visible architecture. Cautiously, I made my way toward the tall structure. As I approached it, I could see that the only door in sight was bronze-bound and twice my height.
When I was about thirty feet away from the door, I heard a flapping sound from above. I leaped back and glanced upward.
The creature was spiraling down slowly, bat-like wings opened into the wind like leather kites. I considered making a run for the door, but if it was locked, my back would be exposed to the descending thing, an idea that I did not care for.
Since I had no knowledge of this Shadow and could not be sure as to whether any of my gunpowders would work or not, I reached over my shoulder and dragged out my short, heavy saber. Just as I readied the weapon, the gargoyle came down on me like a load of bricks. We fell to the sand, but I managed to score a hit to its scaly left thigh. Perhaps due to my attack, it faltered and seemed slightly slow in recovering. I rolled away from it, but by the time I was on my feet again the gargoyle was coming toward me. It took several hops forward, then with a wing assisted boost it leaped at me again.
This time I lunged into its attack and was more successful, slicing cleanly through the meat of its right shoulder and punching a neat slit in the leathery wing behind it. Screeching, the thing barred its teeth and snapped its head forward. In a horrible, snapshot instant of clarity, I saw that its teeth were transparent, seemingly composed of some glassy substance.
Wanting to avoid those jaws, I jammed an elbow up under its chin. The gargoyle made an abrupt gagging sound and reeled. My saber was still imbedded within the creature's shoulder and I did not want to lose my hold on it. So, still gripping the hilt as tight as I could, I crossed over with my left, landing a solid punch to the right side of the gargoyle's head. While it was staggering, I twisted and yanked the sword free. This time it did not come cleanly, but scraped through bone. I had an instant to wonder if the thing's skeletal frame was as see-through as its teeth.
Wings flapping fiercely behind it, the gargoyle lashed out with its clawed talons. I tried to block, but received several scratches anyway. It seemed then that my opponent had been trying to use the fury of its attack to stage an immediate upwards retreat. It was lifting up off the sand, kicking out with the claws on its feet, when I sidestepped to the left and sent my saber in a downward arc through the light bones of its right wing.
About half the wing was sheared off and was thrown forcefully away, leaving my opponent grounded and bleeding messily. I seized the opportunity and lunged forward, my blade penetrating its chest.
The gargoyle shrieked, thrashing and pushing back, trying to free itself. Its remaining wing beat against me, creating more scratches. I twisted the saber and the gray-skinned creature grew silent and sank to the ground. A pool of thick, orange blood began to stain the sand around the corpse.
I removed my sword from the body and wiped the blade on my cloak. "Yuck," I said.
* * * * *
The tower door would not open. It seemed to be barred. Still holding my saber, I braced myself and pushed. After several moments of creaking, the door splintered inward, making a dead-rousing racket. I cursed and entered quickly, telling myself that any element of surprise had already been blown by the gargoyle's screeching, anyway.
Inside was a small, dry room containing many wooden packing crates with foreign letters stenciled on them in black. The crates, I guessed, held supplies for whomever was staying within the tower. It seemed safe to assume at this point that the resident had to be Kashfa's mysterious foe�the sorcerer who had been behind both the theft of Luke's phoenix and the creation of the Trump which had delivered me to this place. Ignoring the crates, I studied the remainder of the room.
In the area farthest from the door, behind a stack of boxes, I found a narrow stairway that curved its way up the wall and to the left. The steps were smooth stone, pale and green�very different from the gray rock that had comprised the tower's outer wall. Certain steps�at oddly placed intervals�bore strange characters, flush with the stone and formed of what appeared to be inlaid mother-of-pearl.
Through the ring, I sent forth tendrils of psychic awareness, looking for anything of a magical nature that might cause me harm. The stairway itself radiated a fairly strong level of energy, but it did not feel like a trap. Stepping forward, I set my foot upon the first pale green step. Climbing as quickly as I was able, I began to ascend.
At regular intervals, intricately carved brass hands extended from the curved outer wall. Each hand held in its palm a green crystal orb that shed about as much light as a forty watt bulb. The dim light had a green tint, of course.
The first landing I arrived at led to a wide, wooden door, painted an odd shade of orange. I stopped and tried the knob. It was locked.
Taking a firm hold of the thing, I applied as much pressure as I could and twisted hard. With a metallic, click-crunching sound, the locking mechanism snapped free within its place. When I released my hand, the knob bobbled and rested several inches below where it had been before. I pushed open the door and entered, saber in hand.