Arching his back so that his slab-like head faced upwards, Gahrspat thrust his fists towards the ceiling and murmured an incantation fitting his dark mood. Abruptly, his massive wings stretched out from his sides and swung up over his head, forming a canopy. Savage light burst from the ceiling as several stalactites ruptured from the rock overhead and crashed to the floor all around him. Withdrawing his wings from over his head, Gahrspat surveyed the destruction he’d wrought, a smile widening across his face. His crimson eyes glowed so fiercely that they cast a bloodred glow on the shattered stone at his feet.
He reveled in his strength and the surging return of raw power in his veins. Oh, his need to destroy was great! But orders were orders. His commander’s instructions had been abundantly clear, even though uttered generations ago. “Wait until someone comes. Do not be discovered. Then report immediately. Do not fail me! Now, go!”
Gahrspat wondered for a moment if all the other scouts his master had sent out so long ago, to guard all the caves of access, had returned. If so, what had they reported? Or was he the first to come back?
“Argh! What does it matter, you fool?” he swore at himself. “Tarry any longer and Master will teach me the way of pain!”
Immediately, the obsidian-shaded gargoyle sped down the middle passage that Anders, Freida and Paign had considered taking just minutes earlier.
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish