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Puppet Strings - Chapter 18
By Kudara
Disclaimer: All
the characters appearing in Gargoyles are copyright Buena Vista
Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these
copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright
holder. All original characters are the property of the author.
Warning: Actually, this
is more notes this time. The seed of the idea for Luach to be
Demona’s friend came from Donald Flemings 'A Long
Forgotten Secret' and 'A Dream Is A Wish The Heart Makes...'
Rating: Teen
Feedback: Always welcome, feedback is what encourages me to keep
writing. Please let me know what you like and what you dislike
about the story.
Revision History: 04/01/08
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“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.
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