Page 10 of Claimed By Night

“Assemble another ten or so men. We’ll be paying a visit to Anona in Precinct Five.” Thoradin nods as I face the guards still holding the sprite. “Release him,” I order before starting down the long expanse of stone that leads from the throne room. My centurions take formation behind me. Seconds later, the sprite floats up beside me.

“What’s your name, sprite?”

The creature beams from ear to ear. “Flumph, Your Shadow Highness.”

This is going to be a long evening.

***

FLUMPH

“How did you get into the Gorge, sprite?” Dragan, the Demon Shadow Lord or whatever the hells he calls hisself, ask me. I don’t notice ‘til now that his eyes be as gray as the stone surroundin’ him.

He’s definitely an evil-lookin’ guy with his longish black hair, heavy eyebrows, an’ the way he snarls at me whenever he talks. He wear this long ass black cloak over his shoulders an’ it trail on the ground. He ain’t got nothin’ underneath it ‘cept for a pair o’ black pants an’ his shoes.

I heard tell he’s a gargoyle which I dunno much ‘bout, but what I can say is he’s freakin’ huge. He’s got muscles bigger than my body which, I guess, ain’t sayin’ much.

“The keeper of the Well of Shadows owed me a favor,” I tell him with a shrug.

The Well of Shadows be the only way to reach the Gorge an’ it’s guarded by Keepers—creatures whose sole purpose is to guard the comin’s an’ goin’s o’ visitors to an’ from the Gorge. For good reason. In general, this ain’t the type o’ place you wanna go on vacation. It be cold as warlock balls, an’ shrouded in mist so it’s real hard to see. That, an’ it’s always dark. Guess that makes sense, though, ‘cause it be the Shadow Land.

I follow Dragan through the dark hallway, doin’ my damndest to keep up with him but his stride’s so fast, my wings feel like they gonna rip right outta my back. Not that Dragan takes no notice. That bastard’s as cold as his goddamn castle. An’ he arrogant, too.

Dick.

Either side o’ us are his gargoyle soldiers, who look like rocks come to life. Rocks with real bad attitudes, anyways. An’ that’s basically what they are. Dragan animated the stone gargoyles with his Arcane Magic. Or at least, that’s how the story been told since I was a young’un.

None o’ them soldiers look at us, they just stare straight ‘head as they march through the castle, or whatever the hell this place is called. Whatever it is, it’s real big an’ it’s real cold. It be like four stories high an’ made outta stone. The stone match the soldiers an’ the king o’ the place, so maybe the castle’s made outta them too an’ comes ta life? I don’t really know but it wouldn’t surprise me. An’ there ain’t no comfortable furniture, neither. Dragan’s chair-thingy he was sittin’ on was the only piece of furniture I’ve seen yet an’ that was made outta stone, too. I’m guessin’ he suffers a bad back. An’ probly a sore ass.

An’ he definitely don’t get many visitors down here. But that’s how Variant wants it. Dragan an’ his militia o’ gargoyles was banished into the Gorge way long ago, when Variant broke the Oath an’ decided he didn’t want to share power no more withthe other three protectors. Since then, life as we know it’s been a hell o’ a downer.

“How we gonna make our way outta here?” I ask, ‘cause I been wonderin’. It be true that the keeper o’ the Well of Shadows owed me a favor, but that got me a one-way ticket into the Gorge. I ain’t sure it’s gonna get me back out agin.

I don’t get no response, soze I look up at Dragan an’ he’s seriously like the biggest fuck I ever seen. Like, even bigger than Godwin, an’ Dragan ain’t got a little, shrunked-up head. An’ he’s gotta back that’s like the width o’ a wall an’ his hands are as big as I am, probly.

I’ve heard tell that he’s handsome, or used to be before Variant took control an’ banished Dragan an’ his gargoyles down here. Now, this guy has a chip on his shoulder the size o’… hisself. The whole time I been here, he ain’t smiled once. Makes me half wonder if he even got any teeth.

Dick.

We march outta Castle Death, Dragan in the middle o’ all his stone soldiers an’ me flyin’ right next to him. I notice his wings only show up sometimes. Like right now, as we’re walkin’, you’d never guess he had none. Maybe they only come out when he’s pissed off or somethin’?

“When we arrive at Anona’s,” Dragan start an’ his voice be super deep, so deep it kind o’ sounds like rumblin’ thunder. “I’ll proceed by myself,” he continue. “The rest of you will keep sentry around the tavern in case I require your assistance. As you’re all aware, we only have an hour from the time we step foot into the Mortal Realm.”

No one say nothin’, but I figure they hear him loud an’ clear ‘cause he jist shut his mouth an’ keeps walkin’.

“Why’s you only got an hour?”

He look at me like he angry at me for existin’. “After an hour, we turn to stone.”

“Huh?”

“When Variant banished us here, he knew I’d attempt to escape. He took care of that little problem by ensuring that once we leave the Shadow Realm, we have one hour before we’re forced to shift into our gargoyle forms.”

“What happen once you take yer gargoyle form?”

“We can’t shift back until we’re returned to the Shadow Realm.”

“Soze we got an hour?”

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