Gryphon Guild: Journey Into Darkness
Revelation

The labored stallion forded the shallowest part of the Sleth under a barrage of kicks and curses. As he passed through, his off-fore caught a moss-covered riverstone, making him stumble, throwing his rider into the bankhead. The fall knocked the wind out of Druen, and he gained a struggling hold of his lungs just in time to see the stallion's great body canting towards him . . .

Seldin pelted into Ducheikshedar's throne room, the mage's attendant having only precious seconds to warn his master.

"What is it?" Am'salinth growled behind his mask. Cloaked in deep grey, the mage leaned forward in his padded chair, hunched dangerously over his game table. "Who is this, Shestoh?"

Shestoh passed the small bag Seldin had come in with. "Lord, this is Seldin from Guard Tower One. He claims that the gates were ignited and the towers sieged by unknown means."

Am'salinth folded his arms and leaned onto the table; Seldin was forced to meet the glowing gaze behind the slits. "The Guard Towers?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral, a far cry from his previous query. The game board swung and the section of the towers slid nearest Am'salinth. "Come here."

Jerked like a child's toy, Seldin stumbled forward. Am'salinth took the bag and placed it out of the way. With one hand, he gripped the Darkhound's skull, the other he spread over the table. Angry jolts of red shot from the mage's fingers and into Seldin's brain; the guard's eyes glazed over and he slumped bonelessly to the floor. Shestoh motioned two Doomhounds to cart the body away. Am'salinth flicked the fingers of his other hand and the board came to life.

What he saw did not bode with him well.

Arkhon had not returned; Am'salinth was not one to hedge over lost personnel. The cyber was gone and that was that, but the memory-vision torn from Seldin's mind showed a figure very like Arkhon -- and it was fighting against him!

"Master?" Shestoh ventured.

Am'salinth hadn't realized that he'd been gripping the bag the guard had brought with him. His fingers had punctured the leather and even dented the fine smithcraft within.

"Yes, Shestoh?"

"What shall I do about this, Master?"

Am'salinth leaned further onto the table, fingering the bag. They hadn't the key, he thought with a smile. They came all this way to deal with him, and they hadn't the key! They would wear themselves thin searching for it and when they discovered that it was no where to be found, they would have to enter the City itself. And wouldn't that be a welcoming gift! A thousand Doomhounds at the ready to greet them! This he told to the Darkhound, who nodded and left the mage to his own thoughts.

Immortality is mine!

The sunlight poured through the tattered curtains, sweeping over the sprawled bodies of the Guilders stationed in various rooms. Xiii, Sirah, Calypte and Raekkenyia had gone out hunting before dawn and brought back several deer and forest fowl. There had been some horses roaming about, the ones freed from the outpost, but most Guilders conceded to leave them out of their diet ever since there came among them some unicorns and hippogryphs. Thus, they passed over the horses in favor of deer.

The smell of roasting and raw venison and fowl woke the remaining of Wings One and Two, and they galloped down to the yard.

"Are you certain we can use this as a way to get in?" Tser asked the smushed faces of Kaal and Crystal, hovering above the Tsurieth orb. The velvetwyrm fished for a deer haunch and munched as they made their report.

"Indefinitely," Crystal said, flicking her crest in assent.

"By the looks of things, you guys should hoof it over here as quickly as you can." Kaal turned her head off to the side of the Tsurieth's field of projection. Tser could hear her talking to someone, but Crystal, who still faced her, seemed unconcerned. Kaal turned back around. "Our eyes on the watch towers just reported seeing military movement in the City."

To Kaal's right, someone spoke again. "Aeris says nearly a thousand. Doomhounds and some digitigrade lupines." Tser identified it as Tyr.

"See?" The red lioness swivelled her ears forward.

Tser nodded. "We'll be there as soon as we can."

"Good." Crystal's eyes in their raptor form flashed with a light unseen in any other's. "We're pretty well-off here, but it wouldn't hurt to turn on the juice. We got in easy, so could they."

All three acknowledge the other and Tser flicked the "off" button. As she looked up, she saw all eyes were trained on her. "Finish up, Wings. We take off in fifteen minutes."

"Where're we headed?" Ratha asked, popping a heart into her mouth.

"To the guard towers where Third and Fourth are," she answered, rising. Slinging her carrying pouch about her velvet neck, the dragoness stowed the Tsurieth away.

"They found a way in, then?" Kalaki queried, lounging in faerie form by the roasting pit.

"Yes."

"Did they say anything more?"

Tser turned to Sparhawk and shook her head. "Only that they have a door to some place and they haven't been able to figure out how to get it open yet."

Calypte snorted. "What's a door got to do with it if it's locked?"

"We'll work on that when we get there." Tser spread her velvet-covered wings and fanned them. "Now, let's get a move on, people!"

Eclipse and Tagia sat amongst the remains of breakfast. They had gotten up as early as their situation permitted and had spent those waking hours in the tower basement, going over the lump and the door.

Sheaves of paper and charcoal sticks lay strewn at their feet, the parchments littered with sketches and half-formed ideas, as well as food-stains.

Eclipse sank back down on his haunches, a rubbing of the runes on the door in hand. He moved the other piles out of the way and spread the paper on the floor. "How's the research, Tagia?"

The black Lupodracan looked up from her barricade of books purloined from another of the tower's rooms. "Nothing here that looks anything remotely like what's on the door." She gave a short bark of laughter and shook her head, dipping back down behind the books. The swish-swish sound of a lupine tail on paper, leather and stone was the only sound coming from her corner.

"Damn." Eclipse swore and covered his forehead with one hand, the other laying on the rubbing. He'd been foolish to think that something of this caliber would be tucked away amongst regular books meant for the literary-inept guards. As carefully as the Guilders had searched both towers, the runes on this door were not reproduced anywhere but here. That guard Efran had said he'd sent to Am'salinth had taken the only key to the door with him. But as to what that key was, no amount of prodding would get him to divulge. Not even the telepaths had been able to pry open his mind. Efran's mind was as locked as this gods'-cursed door.

"I guess it was presumptuous of us to assume that something like this would be out in the open."

There was a muffled woof from Tagia's fort. The tips of her black ears rose and then her eyes and muzzle, peering wickedly from behind the books. Eclipse shot her a weary glance. "Don't say it," he warned.

"Say what?" she giggled, taking a book down and hanging it off her muzzle.

Eclipse grinned despite himself. He took a rolled-up parchment and lobbed it at her head. "You know what I mean."

"What . . . assume?" This time, there was a long stream of giggles from the Lupodracan. She sat up and winked, began to open her mouth when another parchment lodged there as the first syllables came forth: "Ah--"

Eclipse chuckled and pulled the rubbing of the runes closer. One by one, he looked them over and then the general shape of the depression. Something tweaked in his mind, like someone had taken a feather and tickled him deep within his brain. He'd seen this before -- but where?

He turned the lump over, examining one of it's sharp angles.

-- the metal --

-- the angles --

-- runes --

Gryphon and lupine eyes met.

For an instant, the sky over the twin towers was awash in a slew of feathers, fur and scales. Wings One and Two banked, curving over the gate parapet before coming to a wind-churning rest on the strip along the Sleth. They hurried inside, cramming as far within the towers as possible. Once in, they found chaos instead of order.

"Where's Kalaki?" Eclipse was shouting, waving a piece of paper and a lump of silver in either hand.

The faerie shoved herself to the fore, surprising some all over again with her strength. It seemed that whatever the form, Phoenixes retained their phenomenal abilities. "What is it?" she demanded, coming to a halt before the black gryphon and Lupodracan. The rest of the Wings hovered behind them. Ary happened to be standing near Eclipse, a cool look of determination plastered on his face; but as Kalaki came striding over in her short tunic and calf-cut breeches, his eyes popped. Eclipse rolled his eyes up at the warrior and poked him.

"Huh?"

The bibliophile grinned. "Not nice to stare at the lady, you know," he admonished with a chuckle. Kalaki pointedly ignored this sally, but she was smiling.

Ary shook himself and threw back up the cool confidence look. "Well, I pay respect where respect is due."

Kalaki chuckled. "I thank you all the same." She turned to Eclipse. "What's up?"

"Can you fetch something from the Guild for us?" he asked.

The faerie cocked her head to the side, her hair ornaments and collar jangling. "What is it that you need?"

"The two masks on Ary's wall. That's what this is --" The gryph held up the small silver lump. "This is what'll get us to the lord behind everything!"

All talking stopped and every head turned.

Kalaki frowned in thought for a moment. She stepped up to the elf and held her hand over his head; looking up at him, she winked one grey eye. "Permission to invade your private thoughts?" she joked.

Ary spread his hands wide. "Whatever you want. My mind is yours for the taking."

"Not that there's anything to take," someone murmured loud enough to be heard. Laughter accompanied this statement and Ary grinned. "I'll get you back, Moos!" he called. "No door is safe from me!"

There was a snort and silence.

Kalaki's face turned serious and she laid her hand on the top of the elf's forehead, closing her eyes. **Picture your room for me, please,** she mindsent. Ary did as he was told, thinking of the wall in his room that housed the two masks of An'masazi and the Masked One. Latching onto the images, Kalaki let go and stood back.

"What's she --" someone started to say before they were shushed.

It is difficult to explain the process that is telekinesis. In laments terms it is pulling an object or objects through space with the mind. But as to how or why it works that way defies explanation.

Kalaki found the masks easily enough. Wrapping her mind about them both, she "twisted" them and pulled.

Sweat popped out along her forehead and her hands clenched. She pulled harder.

Nothing.

Zap! Bang!

Kalaki reeled, smoke curling from her hair. Guilders rushed forward to catch her, supporting the dazed and smoldering Phoenix.

"What happened?" Crystal bolted through the crowd, sliding beside her sister's head.

Kalaki shook herself and boosted into a standing position using Cutter's arm. "They're mage-blocked. Heavily so. No amount of my pulling can get them here. And if you ask me, I'd rather not do that again, thank you." She sighed. "A better kinetic could . . . I'm, I'm not good enough."

Angry shouts met this statement. "You are, too!" "Don't say that, Kalaki!" "Cheer up, you tried!"

Crystal thrust her hand into her sister's fleshy one. "Draw on me."

The golden-brown-haired faerie started as more hands and paws slid over Crystal's: Tyr, Autumn, Sirah, Jiari, Diana, Ki, Lux. Mage-energy began to flow from them through Crystal and into her; it hit Kalaki like a physical blow, but with her sister acting as a channel, it soon steadied. She swam through Crystal's gold, Tyr's blue-white, Sirah's blue, Autumn's green, Jiari's rainbow, Tath's ice, Diana's red, Ki's striped, and Lux's iridescent. One more paw joined the colilition and Kaal's fiery blood-red slid easily into the mix. Kalaki struggled momentarily to transmute it, but she soon got it under control.

She reached out again, wrapping the collective mage energies about the masks. Am'salinth's magic resisted and lashed out, striking out at them, trying to lesion their minds. The powerflow increased and they all pulled as one.

An influx of air and a loud bang.

A clatter of metal on stone.

Eclipse rushed forward and picked up the twin silver masks; Tagia held up the discarded parchment. They conferred a moment and then Eclipse turned back around.

"Let's roll!"

The lead Doomhound battered down the door, allowing the rest to spill into the nearest tower. Captains shouted orders.

Top to bottom, they scoured.

No sign.

"Dammit!"

Ducheikshedar would have their heads.

Druen's body was found washed up on the shore by a rural couple. The male turned him over, saw that he was an Opposition guard and borrowed his wife's pitchfork. Using the rounded handle, he pushed the body back into the river's waters; watched it bob up and down with the current and then finally sink under the surface.

"Not there!" Am'salinth roared, exploding with tongues of red mage-energy.

Shestoh ducked and bolted under the war table. The two Doomhound guards were not so lucky; the whips of power lashed them, tearing strips from their hides. They howled in agony and fell over, oozing from a multitude of gashes.

"SHESTOH!"

The small Darkhound peeked out from under the table. "M-m-master?"

Am'salinth grabbed the edge of the table and ripped it from over the pitiful servant. It flew sideways and crashed into the wall, exploding into a thousand pieces. The mage latched onto the hapless Darkhound by his collar and lifted him bodily into the air from his crouched position.

"Where. Are. They?" He bit off each word, emphasizing them with jolts of magic. "Where are the Phoenixes?"

Beads of sweat dotted Shestoh's brow and nose. "The guards whom they left behind and staked outside don't know, either, Master," he pleaded. "They said that they all went into the first tower and never came out."

Am'salinth shook him, refraining himself from snapping the servant's neck. "The Phoenixes?"

"Also gone -- Master!"

Am'salinth dropped him and turned, not watching the Darkhound scurry away. Others would have killed Shestoh in rage, but not him. He did have that much control -- what use was a dead servant bound to him, who served him well and faithfully? None. He stalked over to his chair and flung himself down, fingering his mask.

How long he sat there and planned, he did not know. What seemed like minutes later, the quiet was broken by Shestoh's nervous rap on the chamber door.

"Come."

The Darkhound entered, his livery stained with blood, but none his own. It looked as if he'd been dragged through a trail of Doomhound blood, perhaps trying to escape something. Even his pelt was matted with the viscous liquid. He staggered sideways. "Master," the terrified servant stuttered, his eyes haunted, face drawn. "You have visitors."

The eyes behind the mask flashed and the mage gripped the arms of his throne so tight that they cracked. "Who?" His voice was a mere whisper, deadly, eager.

"T-the Amb-b-bassa-d-dors Sh-she-k-k-keir-r-ra, M-m-master."

Behind his mask, Am'salinth paled, then smiled; his blood ran first cold than hot with pleasure. He chided himself for the momentary lapse. They were here, in his fortress, under his whim. These Phoenixes must have been a different breed, because he had never heard of any such of the race to be so stupid! Or too cocky. "Let them in."

Shestoh nodded and beckoned behind him from the door. He then took tail and ran, pelting back the way he came.

At first, the clicking was barely audible. Then, as they advanced, it grew harder and louder. The slide of feathers on feathers, that unmistakable sound, combined with the clicking, making an odd marching tune. A jingling Am'salinth wasn't familiar with accompanied them.

He leaned forward more, eager; his mouth actually began to water. Into the throne room stepped two giant feathered raptors, unlike any depiction of a Phoenix he*d ever seen. They walked almost completely straight, with a smooth bipedal motion, belayed by their taloned feet. One was the color of gold, the other a shade of golden brown in a hue so like the former that they had to be related.

Crystal spoke. "Are we the ones you seek, Am'salinth Ducheikshedar?"

The mage stepped off his throne and paced before them; they watched him with their eerie eyes, grey and diamond-shaped. He noted the wide collars -- the sigils and emblems on the gems -- the earrings on Crystal; the deadly talons, wingclaws and beaks. Yes, they would do just fine!

"What Phoenixes are you that grow so tall -- possess such fineries and powers?" he asked, stopping before them.

Kalaki answered. "Vahazayi, born of fire and flame; immortal."

"Then you are the ones I seek -- you and your immortal blood!" Am'salinth lashed out at them with a red levinbolt. It arced across the short distance at them both -- bounced harmlessly and turned back on him. He saw this and absorbed the attack back onto himself, confused.

There was a scuffle behind the two Phoenixes. From the door poured a small army of creatures: gryphons, dragons and three humanoids. They were all covered in blood, most of which wasn't their own, unlike Shestoh. A light shone in their eyes, grim determination, all fixed on him. When they saw who he was, all the eyes narrowed, beaks and muzzles gaped: hissing, growling, snarling. These were not the soft creatures he'd associated with a guild. He'd underestimated them.

"You want blood?" "We'll give you blood!" "Here -- have your hell-spawn's. Tastes like shit!"

More angry curses followed as they worked themselves into a fervor.

"Take it from them if you dare!" "Take it!"

He lashed out at them, tired of their pettiness. The Phoenixes sidestepped, effectively blocked the levinbolts. "They are not of your concern," Crystal intoned.

"You want us and not them. If it our blood that you want," Kalaki finished, "then it is our blood that you shall have."

"Hand us that mug, Ki." Crystal pointed to Am'salinth's ornate goblet that stood on a pedestal next to Nightsinger. Nightsinger passed it to the striped gryphoness, who walked over and around to the Phoenixes. She looked from mobile face to mobile face, unsure of what to do.

"Cutter, Ary."

The two sword-totting warriors came forth, looking professional. Am'salinth ignored the dialogue; the birds were playing right into his grasp. They were insane, for all their talk. The tall anthro-weasel and the elf drew their blades at a nod and held them at ready. Crystal and Kalaki removed their war collars and handed them behind themselves. Kalaki raised her left foot, balancing on her right, wings slightly spread, foot clenching the stone masonry. The silver talons dug in and Am'salinth's eyes widened behind the mask as the stone buckled and cracked under the pressure. Cutter cut quickly, slicing the soft pad of one of Kalaki's talons. Ivory-colored blood oozed, gathering at the tip and then slowly dripping into the goblet. Cutter slashed again, opening a longer gash, and the blood flowed freely.

**What are you doing, hon?** Lux's mindvoice shattered the silence of the proceedings.

Crystal looked over her shoulder briefly, rolling the glint in her eye over to her SoulSister. **You'll see.**

**Tell me now!** Lux was persistant.

**Our blood is liquid fire, hun,** Crystal explained, swishing her tail and watching her sister's blood continue to drip into the goblet. **That is part of the reason behind our immortality. I don't know where he got the idea that Phoenix blood would make him immortal . . .**

Silence from Lux.

When it was half full, Kalaki lowered her foot and Cutter retreated, passing her back her collar. Ki then took the cup over to Crystal. The gryphoness averted her eyes, nauseated at the sight of the unnatural color and substance of the blood. Ary waited for Crystal to assume the same posture and with a quicksilver flash, laid open her foot. The blood flowed faster than it did from Kalaki's foot and the cup was soon filled to the rim.

Ki lowered the cup and held it out to Am'salinth before flicking her tail at him and retreating behind the Guild lines. He tried not to be overly eager, but the smell and sight of the blood was tantalizing beyond anything he'd ever encountered. In his haste, he snatched it and turned from them, careful not to spill a drop. With his back to them, he ripped off his mask and flung it to the corner of the room. Tipping back his head, he downed the contents of the goblet, feeling the warmth of the Phoenix blood pouring down his throat, tossing the cup to the side along with the mask when he drained it. Swinging about again, they beheld the face of their enemy --

-- for one second before that face twisted in horrible agony. The mage began to claw at his body, eyes bulging and steaming. He ripped at his finery, trying to find the source of the heat that swept over him like a douse of hot water from a spring. Boils laced his skin, breaking open and exploding like tiny volcanoes. He seemed to be being eaten alive . . .

The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, and several Guilders ran from the room, covering their nostrils and nares. Am'salinth turned back toward them again, his face decaying before their eyes. Giant pus-sacs bubbled across a mass of flesh that no one could identify as an individual anymore. With a roar, he unleashed his power in a vain Final Strike.

Guilders leapt sideways as the first round came after them, dodging bolts and falling debris that rained where the attacks missed and hit the ceiling. With a roar equal to the mage, Sparhawk leapt out, all six limbs spread wide, scimitar claws outstretched. He hit Am'salinth in the midst of gathering his powers for the powerful explosion, bowling him over and rolling along the floor. Where he hit, he left a trail of sickly bodily fluids. They struggled momentarily before Spar gained the upper hand and bit down -- hard.

So simple an end to so deadly a foe.

Three days later . . .

In formation they left the recuperating City of Masks. No fanfare greeted them when they emerged from Am'salinth's underground stronghold, no thanks at all. What welcomed them was a sea of faces in ornamental masks, the Darkhound faces obscured even in this setting. They said nothing, did nothing as Guilders gathered themselves and rested. Not the inn where they stayed, the shops they visited . . . all were quiet and said little even when questioned directly.

They left the City to their own devises, with a promise of aid at the Guild if need be. The ruling Government faction was less cold, but no more vocal. The opposing faction was being taken in hand, they were told, and their aid was not needed, but the offer stood. And so, the Guilders left, winging home.

There, they received a proper greeting. Excitement buzzed through the mountain when word from the lookout spotted the leading edge of the Wings on the horizon. Guilders poured out of the woodworks to welcome them home. Streamers, banners, confetti and food awaited them as they landed on the main ramp. And there was celebration, as such would be remember for a long time, as Eclipse recorded. A joyous occasion, he wrote, one that could have been a mass funeral. But the Guild persevered and that was the way it should be -- the way it always will be.

On the wall of a certain elf warrior, in the light of the new moon, glinted not two, but three silver masks.

Wing One:
Guild Leader Tserisa
Mercenary Soldier Cutter B.
Ambassador Kalaki Moroko Shekeira
Lady Guilder Jexxin
Lady Guilder Jiari
Lady Guilder Lyosha
Guilder Nicoga
Guilder Nightsinger
Magess Sirah
Lady Guilder Xiii

Wing Two:
Administrator Sparhawk
Magess Autumn Sharptalon
Magess Calypte
Guilder Morkarleth
Lady Guilder Raekkenyia Moonrunner
Magess Ratha Flamewing
Lady Guilder RiverDance
Magess Tathramakan
Dark Empress Tyreenya Darkfire

Wing Three:
Magess Kaal'tarn Saamyara
Mercenary Soldier Aeris Windchaser
Magess Diana
Archivist Eclipse
Guilder Epyon XVI
Lady Guilder Ki
Lady Guilder Rhan
Guilder Shongshar
Lady Guilder Tagia

Wing Four:
Ambassador Ythé "Crystal" Shekeira-Flurrith
Lady Guilder Acyd Arcoiris
Guilder Alan
Elven Swordsmaster Aryante
Administrator Illucian Seraphi
Lady Guilder Makaze Darktalon
Guilder Muse Flurrith
Guilder Neo-Xolaris
Lady Guilder Orca

© 2002 Crystal Shekeira. All Guilders are copyright themselves; the Gryphon's Guild is trademarked to Tserisa Supalla. All other names, places and events are copyright to MH. Do not copy, alter or distribute