Chapter 18
"Their foretelling the future and then making sure it happens the way they said it would," growled Macbeth, staring at the place where the three Fey had been.
"You are both correct," replied the giant stag spirit, satisfied.
The land around them rippled and reformed into the main hall of Castle Moray, it was night and Macbeth was standing by the fireplace pushing at the logs in it with a poker. Gruoch's father was just entering the room from the winding staircase. He came up to the fireplace and stood by Macbeth. "You have news for me, Bodhe?" the Macbeth asked.
"King Duncan's army moves against you," announced the old man.
"But why? I saved his life," protested Macbeth.
"He must have some reason to fear you," said Bodhe thoughtfully, stroking his beard.
Macbeth clenched his fist, "Well…If it's a fight he wants…"
"Be reasonable Macbeth," Bodhe cautioned him, "Your retainers are loyal, but no match for Duncan's forces. The clan will be at his mercy." The old man gripped the younger's shoulder, "But if you surrender now, Duncan might agree to spare my daughter and grandson."
As if cued, the two in question entered the room, Luach was bearing a bowl of fruit, which he placed on the table at the side of the room. His mother was bearing another, which she placed beside it. The boy wasted no time before grabbing an apple and biting into it.
"Perhaps your right," sighed Macbeth.
Gruoch approached the two men, "We thought to lighten your stern discourse with this sweet fare."
Macbeth walked up to her and drew her into his arms, "Always remember, I love you," he gravely told her.
"Husband, what is wrong?" she pulled away alarmed at both his tone and action.
He didn't respond, but knelt and held his arms open, inviting his son into them. The boy smiled happily and ran to hug his father, "Mind your mother always," Macbeth told his son. He ruffled the boy's hair affectionately and rose to his feet.
Gruoch grabbed his arm as he moved to leave, "Macbeth, tell me what is going on," she demanded, concerned.
Macbeth raised one hand to stroke her red hair, "Oh, it's nothing, I go to see my cousin, the King," he spoke reassuringly. "Gruoch, be of good cheer, hmm," he spoke with forced lightness as he hugged her once again. "The journey will be brief," he said with a touch of grimness that he couldn't hide and kissed her goodbye. He turned to leave and this time she did not stop him, but stared after him with a concerned visage.
"You suspected he would have you killed," Demona said to the man standing beside her.
"I was almost certain of it," Macbeth confirmed staring longingly at Gruoch and Luach as everything around them froze except for themselves.
Tentatively, Demona placed a taloned hand on his arm attracting his attention, "You always were an excellent mate and father to them."
"At least until I was no longer able to be a husband and father," he replied bitterly.
Demona lifted her hand away from his arm. She didn't know why he had decided to leave Gruoch and Luach after recovering from being killed by Canmore instead of staying with them. However, the likelihood that her decision to betray him to Canmore played a part in it was certain. She turned away from him to stare at Gruoch and Luach; she knew how much he had loved both of them. It had been so long, so many centuries since they had been alive, there was nothing she could do now to undo the decision she had made then no matter what she might wish now.
Macbeth looked over at the sky-blue gargoyle uncertainly as she stared at his wife and son. He turned to look at the spirit pleadingly; surely there was something else they should be watching right now. He didn't know quite what to do with this quieter, calmer and regretful Demona.
"There is one thing you should know before we leave this time," the great stag stated, "Your mate's father has been enchanted by the Weird Sisters. He speaks for them this night and on other nights to ensure that you follow the path they desire."
Macbeth turned and stared at the old man, "I had to leave to seek out Duncan. Otherwise I wouldn't have met Demona on this night to become allied with her clan," he realized.
Demona turned and looked at Bodhe as well, "We were both desperate this night," she said, "you because Duncan was moving against you, and me because Duncan was hunting my clan. Desperate enough to accept almost any bargain that gave us the hope of saving those we were sworn to protect," she met Macbeth's grey eyes, "desperate enough to accept when the Weird Sisters offered what appeared to be help."
The scene around them changed, it was dark and foggy and they stood on rocky ground with hills all around. He knew this place, had expected it after what they saw at Castle Moray and what they had discussed, this was where he and Demona were bound together.
"I need your help again," he heard his younger self say from nearby, it didn't take him long to spot his younger self pleading with a white haired Demona to join with him. He had forgotten how thin and old she had looked then. She had aged rapidly over the years since he had first seen her as a young man he realized with surprise, but then life had apparently not been easy for her or her clan.
"I beg you help me defend my clan," the younger Macbeth asked.
She turned shaking a fist, "And what about my clan?" she asked.
"Help me now and I swear to keep them forever safe," the younger Macbeth swore. Macbeth winced, he had forgotten that he had sworn so much for her aid, but he had been desperate. He knew what Duncan would do to him if he surrendered and he hadn't been ready to die. Also, he hadn't been entirely certain that Duncan would spare his son Luach.
The old gargoyle crossed her arms, "You sing an old song. How do I know you will keep your word," she asked doubtfully.
In a gust of wind that had both the young Macbeth and the old gargoyle looking around startled, the three Weird Sisters arrived.
"This is more than chance," the young Macbeth said wide-eyed.
The older Macbeth barked out a bitter laugh, "Oh lad, you don't know the half of it," he said to his younger self. He remembered that he had seen them in this time as the old women he had seen with Duncan. Now though, he saw them as they really were, three young women with slightly pointed ears. Curious, he turned toward Demona, "I saw them as three very old women then, did they appear that way to you?"
"No, they appeared as three old gargoyles to me," she responded absently, staring at the scene before them.
"What do you desire," the black haired Fey asked the old Demona.
Her fists clenched, the snowy-white haired gargoyle replied, "My youth restored, so that I may continue to lead my clan."
"And what would you be willing to trade, Macbeth of Moray," the blonde Phoebe asked.
Macbeth responded immediately, "Anything to save my family."
"The bones are cast, let us begin," said the white haired Luna with a satisfied look.
The Weird Sisters joined hands around the young Macbeth and Demona, forcing the two to stand almost back to back to fit in the center of their linked arms. "Across the mists of space and time, we propose this covenant sublime." The wind circled fiercely around them; the young Macbeth and the old Demona were now solidly back-to-back.
The three Sisters spoke again, "Macbeth his youth doth offer here, to make this one a force to fear." Young Macbeth and Demona began to rise up in the air, "While she, with fang and claw and wing, doth swear sweet death his foes to bring."
"I don't really remember this next part," Demona whispered to Macbeth.
"Neither do I," he whispered back just as quietly.
"By their acceptance are they consigned, unto each other's fate resigned, forever and eternal bound, and each the other's pain resound." The Weird Sisters finished, the two figures were hurled to the ground, Macbeth white haired and Demona restored to her youth. The Sisters moved to stand together, "The pact is made. Our work is done." They turned to leave, Luna added over her shoulder, "Make haste, the storm is coming."
Selene turned and created a small sphere in the palm of her hand, "And know this, when Duncan spoke Gillecomigan was quick to do his bidding." The sphere floated over to Macbeth who cautiously held out his hand for it, "Duncan ordered your father's murder."
"What?!" exclaimed the newly old Macbeth, trailing after the black haired Fey who disappeared into the mists before he could close the distance between them.
"So, they kept the knowledge from me until they felt it was time for me to kill Duncan and become the next King of Scotland," said Macbeth grimly, "thus fulfilling the first part of their supposed foretelling."
Demona drew in a deep breath, recalling what the Ancient One had said the night before, that she would not have betrayed Macbeth if not for the interference of the Weird Sisters, "That implies that they would also ensure that the other part of their prediction would take place as well," she said grimly. She met Macbeth's gaze for a long moment as they eyed each other warily. In a marked change from their interactions for the past nine centuries, it wasn't in wariness of each other.
Macbeth turned toward the great stag, "I believe I know where and when we are going next."
"Indeed," commented the Irish Elk in a deceptively mild tone as the world dissolved around them, "Then we will bypass the Weird Sister's presence at your coronation ceremony to watch the fulfillment of that portion of their prophecy," the stag said as they appeared in mid-air, "and proceed directly to this time."
Macbeth yelled in shock, and automatically Demona flared her wings and grabbed for Macbeth's arms only to realize belatedly that they were not falling. Immediately she released him and glared in annoyance at the giant stag spirit. The Ancient One only flicked his ears back and forth at her with an amused look in his great brown eyes. He lifted his head directing her attention off to the left.
Demona looked in the direction he indicated and saw herself gliding in the air. She followed her other self's logical flight path and saw below them Moray Castle, on the battlements stood a broad shouldered waiting figure that could only be Macbeth. "This is the night that I overheard what I thought was Macbeth preparing to betray me to the English," she realized.
"I wasn't going to," Macbeth said in an annoyed tone, "I was just making a point to Luach about listening to every advisor, even the ones who were saying something you didn't want to hear."
Demona stared at him searchingly, trying to decipher the truth of that night. All she saw was honesty in his grey eyes. "Bodhe!" Demona exclaimed angrily, turning back to look down at the castle and remembering the words the Ancient One had spoken just minutes ago about the old man being enchanted by the Weird Sisters. "He was the one who suggested you betray my clan just as he suggested you surrender to Duncan," she looked back at Macbeth, "He's the Weird Sisters voice in this, saying what they want us to hear when they want it heard, so that we would dance to their tune."
"This will have to be carefully planned," a familiar voice to the right of their position had them all turning to look in that direction.
"She has grown contented here," Phoebe commented.
"It will be difficult to persuade her to break the alliance," Selene said.
The Weird Sisters were all watching the castle and Demona turned that way to watch as well. She was just placing Macbeth back on his feet after twirling him around her in her exuberance at the battle she had just fought for him. Something in his manner had given her pause that night, caused her to wonder what business he needed to attend to that he was not inviting her as his primary advisor to attend with him.
"Yet break it she will, for have we not foretold their future," the coolly amused voice had Demona glaring over to see which one of the three had spoken, it was Luna, the white haired one.
"So you overheard old Bodhe suggesting that the Hunter would leave us alone if I forswore your clan," Macbeth said to her ignoring the Weird Sisters now floating in the air near their location.
Demona turned back to him, looked down at where he was staring at the Demona of this time who was clinging to the stones of the castle outside a large window. In that room, Macbeth was meeting with Bodhe and Luach.
"How could you believe that I would be so naive and foolish as to think that the Hunter would leave me alone if I broke my oath to protect your clan," Macbeth said angrily, turning toward her, "Bodhe didn't know that we were all but certain that the Hunter was actually young Canmore. We both knew that it was he that stole the hunters mask from you when you stopped him from trying to attack me as a boy." Macbeth stared at her, his eyes hard, "Canmore was using my alliance with you to get English aid, but that wasn't his real goal, his goal was my crown. I was fully aware that breaking our alliance would not only make me an oath breaker, but also far worse off tactically; I needed every man and gargoyle I could get to fight on my side. I was hardly going to do something that would cost me part of my forces."
Troubled by his words, she looked back towards the castle. Why had she jumped to the conclusion that Macbeth was going to betray her? "I think that despite the years that we fought together," she said hesitantly, "I still suspected that you might someday decide to save your own life and the lives of your clan by letting us be killed just like the Captain of the Guard at Castle Wyvern." She finally turned and faced him, "When you didn't disagree with him and when you didn't tell Luach that you weren't going to betray us, I thought you were seriously considering his words. I knew how much you listened to his advice over the years, and how often you followed it."
Macbeth looked disturbed by her words when she finished, but before he could respond one of the Weird Sisters drew their attention.
"This is unexpected," the blonde Fey sounded displeased.
"They must not meet," said Selene, frowning as she looked down toward the castle.
"Or all will be undone," finished Luna.
Curious, Demona turned her attention toward the castle as well, wondering what was occurring that disturbed the three. She saw herself flying high circles over the castle and remembered that she had thought for a long time about what she should do before finally deciding to go to Canmore to bargain for her clan's safety. She looked down at the castle and saw Luach on the battlements looking upward at the Demona of this time and trying to attract her attention. "I don't remember this," she said frowning, she was certain she would have remembered seeing Luach again that night.
"That is because you were never allowed to notice him," the Irish Elk announced in his deep, wise voice.
The three Fey began chanting a spell, "More forces thy king needs to be allied," Phoebe began, "So before the dawn thou hast far to ride;" Luna said next, "Thou hast no time this night to waste," Selene spoke, "So to thy horse thou must make haste," Luna finished unleashing the energy they had formed toward Luach below.
The young man stopped waving at the blue-skinned gargoyle flying in the sky above him and turned to go inside, presumably to go to the castle stables and then to get the allies his father requested.
"What was my son doing before they stopped him, why was he trying to get Demona's attention?" Macbeth asked the Ancient One.
"As he walked by the window, he thought he saw the glow of a female gargoyle's red eyes. Concerned that it was Demona that he had seen, and that she had heard what was said, he went looking for her to persuade her to talk to you," the great stag spirit replied. "He knew of her temper, and her habit of making rash decisions when angry, and was rightfully concerned about how she might interpret what was said."
Macbeth turned to glare at the Weird Sisters, "So they stopped him."
Demona was paying attention to the discussion between the Irish Elk and Macbeth but she was also watching herself still flying in high circles above the castle. Her eyes narrowed as she saw herself swerve and begin a downward glide. She looked down at the ground trying to see what had drawn her attention. Luach was leaving the castle with three soldiers, riding out obtain the reinforcements his father wanted and the Weird Sisters had enchanted him into immediately seeking.
"Our gargoyle thinks too much of him," Selene observed watching the Demona of this time who was swooping down to fly over the small group on the road leading out of the castle.
"If he had wings and a tail she would take him into her clan," Phoebe commented.
Demona turned to stare at her, frowning, why would the Fey say that? She didn't really remember much about Luach except that Macbeth and Gruoch had loved him very much and that he had been a very decent warrior.
"It must be undone otherwise she will not betray Moray," Selene warned. The three sisters turned to look at one another, silently conferring for a moment.
"Concerns for the young Prince's safety in the upcoming war," Phoebe began the spell, "Must weigh on your heart no more," continued Luna, "Thy past with the young Luach thou must forget," said Selene, "So to Canmore thee can go without regret," finished Luna.
Demona followed the path of the greenish fey energy to where the Demona of this time was gliding. As soon as the spell was finished she saw herself turn away from the road and head south toward where the Hunter and the English were camped.
"I don't understand," Demona whispered, "I don't remember anything about a past with Luach." She turned toward the great stag seeking an answer. She knew that all the enchantments on her had been broken, so why couldn't she remember something that would give her a clue as to what the Weird Sisters had been talking about.
"Memories are like clearings within a thicket," the great stag explained, "to get to the clearing there must be a path. You possess the memories, but you no longer possess the path to get to them. It has been nine hundred years since you remembered them; the path has been overgrown and lost."
"Over the centuries I wondered why you deserted not only me, but Luach and Gruoch as well," Macbeth said, "I had thought we were more than just allies after watching you with Luach when he was a boy and then later when you helped teach him how to fight." He shook his head, "It was one of the things that drove my bitterness and hatred. I couldn't understand how you could just turn your back on all of that as if it meant nothing."
"I…" Demona's voice trailed off, she could not remember anything about Luach as a boy much less teaching him how to fight. She turned toward the great stag, "Ancient One is there no way to remake the paths to those memories?"
"There is," the great stag answered as he swung his antlered head around to look at her.
She met his wise, brown eyes and abruptly there were memories. She was standing on the battlements of Castle Moray with Macbeth discussing where to find more gargoyles to increase the number of her clan. Young Luach came running to his father, grabbed him around his leg and looked up at her with a grin on his face. "Can you fly?" he asked.
His open friendliness and lack of fear disarmed her, "We glide," she corrected him.
He let go of his father and looked up at her hopefully, "Could you take me sometime!" he asked excitedly. She just stared at Macbeth's hatchling nonplussed, never had any human asked her to take them gliding.
She was standing in the great hall next to the fireplace, discussing the training of Macbeth's soldiers with him and how to change it so they and her clan could fight together more efficiently. She had just finished an apple and tossed the core into the fireplace, she was still hungry and had looked briefly at the bowl full of fruit on the table, but had decided to wait until she was finished speaking with Macbeth to get another. A light touch on her wing less than a minute later had her looking down; it was young Luach holding up an apple for her. She accepted it with quiet thanks, noticing the approving look Macbeth was bestowing on his son for his thoughtfulness.
Luach was still looking at her appraisingly; she looked down at him curiously. "You're pretty, I like your hair," he announced. She noticed Macbeth smirking out of the corner of her eye.
Before she could reply Grouch called for the boy, "Luach come here and leave your father and Demona to their discussion." To the gargoyle's surprise there seemed to be no anger or concern in her tone. She looked at Macbeth's wife; the woman was smiling in amusement.
She was standing next to a pell practicing with her mace; she could see Luach over to the side watching her intently. He was a little older now and had his short practice sword belted around his waist. She paused, looked over at the youngster watching her, "Would you like to practice with me?" she offered and watched as his face lit up with pleasure at the invitation.
More, many more memories followed those, of her continuing her training of the youngster, of him turning into a young man and then into a man over the years of her alliance with Macbeth. Always he had a ready smile for her, and never did he seem to think of her as being any different or any less than the humans at the castle. They had become friends, and she had come to care about him, perhaps even more than she cared about some of the members of her clan.
"Luach!" she cried, her eyes filled with tears and she fell to her knees in her grief; it had leapt upon her along with her memories. She rose to her feet, not noticing Macbeth's hand upon her shoulder, turned toward the direction Luach had gone.
The Ancient One stepped in front of her, blocking her way. "This is not real, you cannot go after him or yourself and stop what has happened," he said with gentle understanding.
Grief turned to rage and with a scream, she turned toward the only targets she had for her anger. She sprang across the distance that separated them and savagely attacked the Weird Sisters. They disappeared, tattering like mist as she slashed them with her talons. The landscape round them faded into the spirit realm, the shadowy land underneath her feet and the shadowy trees rising around them.
Demona sunk to her knees, her rage gone as swiftly as it had come, "Why?" she asked plaintively.
"If you had not left Moray and taken your clan with you Canmore would have not been able to kill Macbeth. Luach would have never become king, nor would he have been slain in turn by Canmore so that Canmore could become king after him," the Irish Elk answered.
A warm hand fell on her shoulder; she looked up to see that it was Macbeth looking down at her with a mixture of sorrow and anger. "So they destroyed my family, they destroyed Demona's clan all to make their prophecy come true."
"That and to fulfill the Archmage's instructions for you," responded the majestic stag spirit grimly.
"Bitterness, hatred, and enmity for one another," Macbeth said grimly, "Well they certainly achieved that."
"I'm sorry," said Demona quietly as she rose to her feet, the restoration of her memories of Luach and the knowledge that her actions had led to his death made her feel as if someone had torn out her heart. He hadn't been clan, but he had been the human she had felt closest to until Kendra.
Macbeth regarded her indecisively, "For what?" he finally asked.
"For deciding that you were going to betray me, for going to Canmore," Demona said, her voice filled to the brim with her regret, "for the loss of your family."
Macbeth sighed, his expression softened as he regarded her, "And yet you didn't leave for Canmore's camp until after the Weird Sisters made you forget about Luach," he observed, "so neither of us knows what you would have done without their interference."
Demona stared at him, "I…," the flame-haired gargoyle hesitated, not wanting to lie about this. She searched her newly relocated memories and feelings, trying to determine what course of action she would have taken so long ago. "I would have spoken to Luach," she was finally able to say decisively, "I would have been worried about his safety."
"And he would have insisted that you talk to me," Macbeth followed unhesitatingly on her words, "And I would have explained that I was not planning on breaking our alliance and the reasons why."
She met his grey eyes, "And I would have eventually killed Canmore."
"And that they could not allow," cut in the Ancient One grimly, causing both Demona and Macbeth to turn and look at him.
Demona stared at the spirit for a long moment lost in her thoughts, "That does not ease the burden of guilt I feel," she admitted, "I cared for Luach, he was human, but he was my friend, to know that my going to Canmore lead to his death is a bitter thing to accept."
The great stag shook his antlered head, "Do not accept what is rightfully the Weird Sister's burden of guilt in these events," the spirit advised her. "Normally you would indeed be responsible for your own decisions and actions. At this time and place, however, you were not in control of decisions, nor fully in control of your actions resulting from them. Had you deviated in the slightest bit from what they had planned they would have simply tightened their control over you."
Demona flinched, she understood what the Ancient One was leaving unsaid, there were plenty other times and places when she had been in full or at least partial control of her own actions and decisions.
"Did you not count me as a friend as well?" Macbeth unhappily asked her.
Demona glanced over at him, "Yes, you were a friend as well as an ally Macbeth, but Luach and I had a different relationship than you and I did."
Her old ally nodded understandingly, "He treated you like an older sister or perhaps an aunt I think."
"I did feel like a clan elder to him," Demona admitted, "though I would have vehemently denied it at the time."
The Ancient One interrupted before they could reminisce more, "It is time for both of you to leave this place, staying here for too long is tiring for the physical body." The great stag turned his massive head to look at Macbeth, "The remaining enchantments upon you have been dispelled. There are also several days worth of memories that the Weird Sisters blocked that have been restored to you; you will remember them once you waken from this dream."
"What?" said Macbeth, startled, he stared at the great stag spirit for a moment, "That two week period that I lost after fighting with Demona after her broadcast, I ended up in Paris with no memory of what I had been doing. Shortly after that I met Dominique Destine for the first time," he glanced frowningly toward Demona.
The flame haired gargoyle was once again embarrassed at the mention of the incident, "I am sorry for that, I regret now ever going along with Thailog's plan. Of course now I suspect he actually planned all along for us to kill one another and for him to end up in control of both of our fortunes," Demona growled.
Macbeth's grey eyes widened, "He gave me that weapon."
The gargoyle's eyes flashed red, "That settles it then, he wanted us to permanently kill one another so he would end up with your and my money and sole ownership of Nightstone. He must have intended it all along when he first began suggesting the plan to me."
"Well," he said slyly, "Thanks to Detective Maza killing you, he didn't succeed."
Demona looked as if she had tasted something bitter, "I'm well aware of that, Macbeth. Don't worry, I no longer have any interest in Elisa Maza." The bitter look faded as she commented with dry amusement, "I hope she enjoys dealing with Goliath's arrogance and thick-headiness, and that they have a long life together. They seem well suited to one another."
Macbeth stared at the blue-skinned gargoyle in astonishment. He knew that the two didn't like one another, and suspected it had everything to do with who was and who was not currently with Goliath. But he had never expected Demona to decide that she didn't care anymore that Goliath was one, with another woman, and two, that woman was human.
"I am sorry that I must interrupt this," the great stag broke in, "But there is little time left for you to safely remain here and I have more to discuss with you." As soon as Demona and Macbeth turned their attention to him, the spirit continued, "Macbeth, you are no longer bound to Demona in any manner. However, you are not protected from the Fey enchanting you in the future. You should be wary of accepting offers of aid from them and be diligent against attempts to enchant you against your will. Wearing a charm made of iron will aid in this. I believe you have within your possession a book that describes such a charm."
Macbeth gave a short bark of bitter laughter, "Oh, you don't have to worry about me ever doing that again, I thank you for the warning though. As for the charm," he paused looking thoughtful, "I do believe I have come across a picture of such a charm. I'll make one for myself as soon as possible." He glanced over at Demona, "I don't want them doing to me what they did to my son and Demona." He hesitated just a second before continuing, "That reminds me, what about you? Do I need to make one up for you as well?" he asked the gargoyle.
Demona looked at him in surprise; the level of animosity between them had steadily decreased as they observed past events and understood more of how the Weird Sisters had manipulated them. It had especially decreased once they had learned that the three Fey had to block her memories of her friendship with Macbeth's son before she would betray her alliance with Macbeth, but she was still shocked that he would offer.
"She does not," the great stag spoke before Demona could find her wits enough to respond, "I have arranged for her to find a suitable charm before she leaves my lands."
Demona turned toward the Ancient One, surprised at this news until she remembered the bogus amulet Kendra and she were going to make with Rachael. That must be what the spirit was referring to because as a chosen she wouldn't need a protective charm.
"Very well then," Macbeth said, he hesitated for a long moment before glancing over at Demona uncertainly, "perhaps we can get together sometime," he offered quietly. "It would be nice to talk with someone that remembers Gruoch and Luach."
She looked searchingly into his grey eyes; they held wistfulness that to her surprise she found herself sharing. She nodded, "I think I would like that as well," she allowed. So much for living completely separate lives, she thought to herself wryly amused at her thoughts of only a few days ago.
Macbeth's shadowy form wavered and disappeared, she turned to the Ancient One. "I'm assuming the charm you referred to is the false amulet we are making?" she asked.
"Yes, it seems as if it could fill multiple purposes. Perhaps another should be made for the young Jaguar since it seems as if she wishes to learn how to fly with you," the great stag suggested.
Demona looked up at him, her eyes narrowed in thought, as she tried to figure out why he had made the suggestion. "If anyone from Goliath's clan sees her flying with me they will insist on meeting the new gargoyle they don't recognize, and they will probably insist quite forcefully," she decided ruefully. "They'll assume I'm corrupting her and will be intent on saving the new gargoyle from me. They won't give up until they realize who it is, and then they will need a suitable reason for how Kendra can transform into a gargoyle. The amulet will give them an explanation that they will accept without searching any further."
The Ancient One dipped his head in agreement, "That was my thought as well." He turned and began walking towards where Kendra and the two spirits were working on the winged were-jaguar form. "Tomorrow night we will study life and nature magic further, beginning with the very basic of lessons, how to use life magic to heal and how to use nature magic to create light."
The flame-haired gargoyle whipped her head around to stare at him, "Heal?" she repeated in disbelief. Light wasn't that difficult to create using sorcery, it was just that the cost usually wasn't worth using sorcery instead of a candle. Healing, however, was very difficult and had a very high cost associated with it and the Ancient One was calling it a basic lesson in life magic? The great stag's ear flickered toward her, "you will need to study to become proficient at it, but the method is simple," he assured her. She just continued staring at him.
"Demona," Kendra's voice had the gargoyle reluctantly dragging her attention away from the spirit striding serenely beside her. She looked at her lover, noticing that only the Eagle Owl spirit remained with her. "What do you think?" Kendra asked, indicating the winged form next to her.
The broad wings were glossy black and feathered, was the first thing Demona noticed. The second was that the face of the figure had changed slightly, the muzzle was even less pronounced than before. "I like the wings," she said as she walked toward the figure to examine the face more closely. "You've changed the face, why?" she asked turning toward Kendra.
"Jaguar pointed out to me that I wouldn't be biting much of anything unless I made the muzzle more pronounced, so I should either go more that way or just go with a more human appearance," the black haired woman explained.
Demona nodded as she reached out to stroke the glossy black feathered wings, as she had expected they were not particularly soft, but they were very smooth to the touch. "Perhaps we can do a beginners gliding class tomorrow," she suggested softly. "You will need to build up your muscles and skills for it, so we shouldn't do much more than thirty minutes of training to start off anyway."
Kendra responded with a pleased smile, "That sounds like a plan. I need to make sure I got all the attachments and underlying musculature in the correct places anyway and that there are enough of both to adequately support the wing structure." She reached out and touched the winged were-jaguar; it wavered for a second and then disappeared into her.
Demona asked curiously, "Did you create any others?"
"Um hmm," Kendra responded absently as she stretched, "one with the membrane type wings like yours." She gave Demona a searching stare, "You look tired," she noted, "and I know I'm tired, so let's get going?"
The gargoyle nodded, "I am tired and we still have to reheat the stew before we can eat again." She turned toward the Irish Elk spirit, "Thank you…" more words were beyond her fatigued mind so she looked into his brown eyes and hoped that he would understand. Though it had been hard to go back thru the events they had tonight, it was worth it for the understanding and for the memories of Luach she had gained even with the grief they brought with them.
The Ancient One took one stride towards her, easily covering the intervening distance with his long legs and dipped his head. Without hesitation, she leaned against his broad muzzle and rested her head against his for a few moments, taking in the solace and comfort he offered. When Demona straightened, he lifted his head enough to ruffle her fiery hair with a well-placed exhale. She smiled as the spirit realm and he faded away and turned to face the worried blue eyes of her lover.
Continued...