The Saga of the Swords

Part 1: Visions

By

The Sword Maker

The_sword_maker_lives@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: Gargoyles is © Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these rights is intended and I seek no monetary gain through this story. Fred Saberhagen created the Twelve Swords and their abilities. I've modified the fate of the Swords and the forging, however. All else is mine, and may be used with permission.

Note: This story starts partway through the Goliath Chronicles. It is a continuation of my previous fics. (The clones never died.) This fic begins nearly a month and a half following my "Interlude." It isn't necessary to read it to understand this, but it wouldn't hurt! ::grins:: 'Sides, if you don't read my other fanfic, you won't see how I got Elisa and Goliath together.

In the darkness he sat alone. His body was twisted with age and old injury. With a trembling hand, he lifted a picture from his lap and placed it with great love on the small table next to him. In the picture, a young smiling couple was holding a baby. He remembered that day well. He also remembered the day they had been driving home from the park when a drunk driver had smashed into his car at nearly sixty miles per hour. His wife had died instantly, and their son had followed not long after. The injuries sustained in the wreck had left him nearly paralyzed for many years. Only the thought of what lay hidden in the basement of his home had driven him to endure the agonizing pain of learning to walk again.

With a groan of effort, he stood, and grabbed his cane. Time passed, seemingly unaware of this man's labored breathing and efforts to reach the stairs to the basement. He took great care once he arrived at the stairs. There was no motorized chair here to lower him gently to the basement floor. It was nearly fifteen minutes before his feet touched down on the cold cement below.

Once there, he leaned against the wall for several moments, trying to regain some of the strength he'd expended. As he stood there, his gaze was drawn across the room to a strange box. It was five feet long, a foot wide and eight inches tall. A heavy lock prevented it from opening. The man took a deep breath then began to walk toward the box.

Inside the box, an ancient power long dormant began to awaken.

Owen frowned and stopped his work of transferring the employees of a company Xanatos had just bought to more productive placements within the company. He looked around, as if expecting someone to be standing right behind him.

Owen? Did you feel that? The soft whisper of Avalon's imprisoned Jester was nothing new to Owen. But this feeling… He stood, and rapidly closed up his work. He had to get to Alexander. Owen had the distinct impression that a lesson right now would be a very good thing.

The man stood in front of the box, and fished a heavy iron key from a chain about his neck. For several long moments he looked at the key, brooding. It had always been iron. His grandfather had been adamant that whenever the lock needed replacing, or a new box purchased, that the box be lined with iron, the lock and key being forged from the same metal. He opened the lock and lifted the lid. Despite the fact that'd he'd not opened the box in nearly forty years, the hinges didn't even squeak.

In the box lay a sword. The sheath was plain, unornamented black leather. The handle was black as midnight. The hilt, oddly enough, was brilliant enough to be pure polished silver, but somehow gave the impression that it was stronger than the best alloys. The pommel was the same silver color as the hilt, but it had an engraved symbol there. A white arrow pointed up along the sword, as though the pommel was the feathered end of a great arrow. The man gripped the sheath and lifted the sword from its place. He rested the point of the sword on the ground and took a deep breath. Then he took the sword by the handle.

In Manhattan, Owen Burnett froze in place. The feeling he'd had earlier had returned. And somewhere it had found a great deal of reinforcements. He broke into a run, suddenly gripped by an emotion that the Puck did not at first recognize. Then he did know what it was. And, driven by the combined terror of two beings, a pale human raced ever faster through the corridors of an ancient castle.

Power surged through his body. For the first time in nearly thirty years, he felt strong enough to run the mile. Run the mile? The man laughed. He could break all the world speed records with the strength that coursed through his body. His laughter faded, though, as he remembered what it was that had driven him to retrieve this sword. He looked down at it, still sheathed in that plain leather. With another deep breath, and steeling himself for what was surely to be a rush of power greater than the first, he drew the sword.

Owen stumbled and fell as a vision swept across his mind. The Puck stirred in shock, not quite believing what they were seeing.

The figure was gigantic. The humans gathered at its feet barely reached to its waist. On an anvil as huge as a bus, twelve glowing lengths of some otherworldly metal lay. Owen and the Puck struggled to get a better view, and found themselves gliding forward.

A dozen swords were lying there, finished but for the quenching.

The man held the sword aloft, and marveled at the blade. He'd never seen it before, having honored his grandfather's wishes to not draw the blade. It was a strangely crafted blade, indeed. It was an inch and a half wide, and three feet long. Only in the last two inches of blade did it taper to a point. The edge was finely ground, but there did not seem to be any of the polishing marks evident in other blades the man had seen in his life. Something told him that even if he examined this blade with the most sophisticated instruments known to man, he would find no flaws. The oddest thing about the blade was that it seemed to be several inches thick. A unique mottled pattern of grays and whites made up the entire blade and the illusion thus generated made the sword seem far thicker that it actually was.

The sword seemed to hum with suppressed power, and the man recalled the old legends about this weapon. After several moments of thought, he carefully leveled the sword and concentrated. The sword's sudden jerk took him completely off guard, but fortunately he managed to keep a grip on it. It dragged him around to face a new direction. The man smiled and noted the direction.

He swore viciously, however, a half-hour later. He'd driven ten miles to get to this place and the direction was still almost the exact same. He would need to travel farther to get an accurate reading.

The smith reached out with tongs, and lifted the first sword from the anvil. One of the humans walked jerkily forward, as though he was a puppet being controlled. Seconds later, the two observers realized why. The smith lifted the cherry-red blade and shoved it down through the man's head along his body's length.

Even though they were not really there, the stench of seared flesh assaulted their nose. Owen wanted to retch, even as the Puck came to the realization that they were seeing something that had been done in the dim past; a bit of history shrouded by the passage of uncounted eons.

The giant being removed the quenched sword from the now dead man and gripped it in his hand, cutting himself on the blade, and allowing his own blood to permeate it. In a huge voice, he roared a name.

Returning the finished weapon to the anvil, the smith picked up the next sword. Puck and Owen watched, in horrified fascination, as each blade was quenched in human blood and named.

Before their non-corporeal eyes, the vision began to blur and Owen felt the knowledge begin to recede to the deepest recesses of his mind. Desperately, Puck and Owen joined forces to hold on to what they had seen.

Owen opened his eyes to find himself staring right at David Xanatos. His employer's eyes were filled with concern. Shifting his gaze to look beyond Xanatos, Owen saw Fox standing there, holding a crying Alexander. Dimly he came to the realization that he was propped up against the wall. Xanatos' voice forced its way into his head.

"What happened, Owen?" Xanatos sat back and motioned to his son. "Alex starts crying and won't be comforted, we find you lying on the floor, twitching and moaning…" His voice died away as a buried fear decided to re-emerge. "Oberon isn't going to try to take my son away again, is he?"

Owen shook his head and held out his arms for the babe. Fox passed her child to the pale man on the floor, her expression clear. Fox was afraid.

"Oberon will not return to take Alexander away. What happened was…was…" Words failed the majordomo as Alexander's mind forced its way past his mental defenses. Bad-big-man! Owen stared at the child, shock and confusion shattering his normally stoic reserve. Alex had shared his vision!

"Why don't we go to your office, Mr. Xanatos," whispered Owen. "We have something to talk about." As the small group moved toward Xanatos' office, Owen glanced at the clock. It was still early in the afternoon.

Night was only an hour or so away where the man stood, alone. Now nearly a hundred miles from his home, he believed that he would be able to get an accurate triangulation. After a moment of concentration, the sword once more pointed off to the east.

Carefully noting the direction, the man added a new mark on his map and drew a line off to the east. Seconds later, he sat back and glared down at the map. "New York," he muttered. "Who'd thought it could be in New York?"

After returning the sword to its case and the map to his pocket, he got back in his car and resumed his trip. He needed to get to an airport.

Goliath winged through the city, lost in thought. When they had awakened that night, several in the clan had noticed that there seemed to be a hovering 'air' about the castle. For Goliath, his suspicions had been confirmed the moment that he saw Fox.

Though Fox and her husband were becoming more like allies than simply people who weren't enemies, Lex and even Hudson on occasion were still wary of the two. But the usually steady and self-assured look that Fox had in her eyes had been shadowed. She'd been so worried about something that her mask of confidence was starting to slip. Goliath thought back to the night that Fox had hunted Lexington and himself through the city with the Pack. She'd not lost that confidence for one moment until the end.

Goliath drew nearer to his destination and thoughts of the castle and its inhabitants were banished from his mind. After tapping on the window, he entered and found himself immediately swarmed upon by the only person he could imagine being with. As if a prayer her name escaped his lips. "My Elisa…"

Across town, near the docks, Brooklyn and Broadway were mopping up some would-be smugglers. The two rookery brothers amused themselves for a few minutes by twisting the smugglers' own weapons into makeshift bindings. After using a nearby pay phone to call the cops, the gargoyle duo took to the sky again and headed off in the general direction of the park.

"Do you know why Goliath was so eager to go out and patrol tonight?" asked Brooklyn with a wicked grin. At Broadway's puzzled look, he clarified. "He passed out patrol assignments and took off into the night."

Broadway frowned and thought hard, then realized that tonight… "Elisa doesn't have a duty shift tonight! Do you think…" His voice trailed off as Brooklyn began to laugh. Broadway's eyes glowed faintly as he growled at his red brother. "You don't think, you know!"

The beaked second in command nodded vigorously as he banked around a skyscraper, his larger green brother right behind him. "I started getting suspicious about a month ago, when I realized that it'd been weeks since I saw Elisa hanging around the castle on her night off. Then on her next night off, Goliath went off by himself." Brooklyn's beak curved into an impossibly huge grin. "Every night off since then, I've been watching what Goliath does. He usually flies off pretty early and returns hours later, looking rather happy and smug at the same time, yet trying to hide it."

Brooklyn fell silent and let Broadway think as they flew. For his part, Broadway was grateful for the thinking time. He mentally kicked himself. In hindsight, it was so obvious! Goliath and Elisa had been acting a little strange ever since the Hunter's Moon, but then Broadway had been distracted by the realization that Angela wanted him to be her mate that he hadn't really been paying any attention.

"Who else do you think knows about this?" Broadway asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Brooklyn gave that some thought as he did a barrel roll. "Angela definitely. Remember what happened the night she came in wondering what Yahub was?" At Broadway's nod, Brooklyn continued. "Since we were all in the TV room, there would only have been Goliath and Hudson she could have been listening too. So Hudson knows, too." Brooklyn's beak formed an expressive grimace before he resumed his little detective's report. "Since Lex seems to have us all beat in the brains department, I think he figured it out some time ago, but as to when Goliath and Elisa became mates, I just don't know."

Broadway started to nod, then cut himself off as a sudden thought burst out of his mouth. "What would Goliath do if he heard us talking about him and Elisa?"

Brooklyn frowned suddenly, then shuddered. "Rookery duty!" the two chorused.

"Let's get to work, okay?" suggested Brooklyn, deciding that since they didn't have a rookery anymore, it was best not to tempt fate and find out what would be substituted for it.

Back at the castle, Hudson sat listening to Angela speak.

"Kanagnanip oka as Avalon. Gna gnigan gnika agm nalugam ya anis Princess Katherine ta Ligil-Agat Tom. Is Goliath gna yatat-om, ta is Demona gna yanan-om. Aritakan an oka as Manhattan, as Wyvern omsim." Angela finally finished the tongue-twisting mass of consonants, vowels, and gutturals that formed the gargoyle language. She grabbed her glass of water form the table before her and took a long drink to sooth her tortured throat.

She stopped, however, seeing the amusement gleam large in Hudson's eyes. Even his blind eye was laughing at her! She slammed the glass to the table as her eyes flared with a faint reddish light. "What's so funny?"

"Well, lass," the elder gargoyle managed between chuckles, "You did first tell me that you were hatched on Avalon. Then that the Princess and Guardian Tom were the ones who had the raising of you, or words to that affect." Hudson struggled to keep from bursting out with pure laughter. "That last sentence was, indeed, that you now lived in Manhattan, here in the castle. But when you were talking of true parents…" He stopped talking, and tried to hold in his laughter as Angela mentally reviewed what she had said.

Mortification suddenly bloomed on her face. Unable to hold it in any longer, Hudson roared with laughter. Blushing furiously, Angela realized that she had used the incorrect suffix. "-om" meant your, meaning that…

"You said that Goliath and Demona were my parents, lass," chortled Hudson, as Angela began to finally join in the hilarity of the moment.

"I meant to say '-ok,'" she muttered, through her laughter.

"Next time you will," Hudson said encouragingly as he calmed down. "Now, on with the language lesson!"

Angela favored the elder with a prayerful look as she rubbed her neck. "Please, can we continue another night? My throat's nearly raw from all those sub-vocalized pitches that go with the words!"

Hudson sighed slightly, and sat back in his chair. "Very well, lass, but I expect you to be able to keep up a running conversation of basic greetings the next time we meet. You already know the words and appropriate respect markers, you just need to practice them."

Nodding her agreement, the lavender female slipped from her chair and stretched. Angela took a quick look around, taking in her surroundings. She'd been so involved with the lesson that she'd almost forgotten that they were in the library. After grabbing a book of her favorite poems from the shelf, Angela turned her steps toward the arboretum.

Behind her, Hudson cleaned up the papers that he'd been using to help Angela learn her native tongue. It was a new experience for the old gargoyle, to teach the language to one almost an adult already. He sighed and went off to his little room in the west wing, to relax in his chair and watch his television.

Arriving at the arboretum, the young female was rather looking forward to some peaceful reading. So when her eyes fell upon Fox and Owen in deep conversation, she was rather disappointed. Angela turned to leave, when sharp hearing caught the tail end of what Owen was saying.

"…the Swords were forged of some being of which the Puck has no knowledge," said the pale dual entity. "Just earlier, as the gargoyles were awakening, I felt the power again and had another vision."

"How much do you remember about this one?" asked Fox, her voice sounding rather shaky to Angela's ears. Goliath's daughter quickly slipped into the bushes, hiding herself. She was very interested in what the two humans were talking about, even though she didn't really understand it all. What was this about swords and visions?

"I saw the smith, again. Only this time, he had one of the swords in his hand and was killing people. Then he was attacked by a human bearing another sword…and the smith was slain." Fox gasped at that little bit of news. Angela risked a peek out to the woman; Fox's large green eyes were wide and fearful. "Then I saw many other beings, who were obviously kin to the smith. I believe they would have been as powerful if not more so than Oberon and all His Children. They too were slain, one by one, by humans wielding the weapons that they had forged."

Fox began to pace across the walkways, her heels clicking against the elegant marble. "Were you ever able to remember what the swords were named? I can't shake the feeling that their names are as important as the swords themselves."

Xanatos' majordomo shook his head regretfully. Fox patted him on the shoulder, and told him to keep at it, and to let her or David know if Owen experienced another vision. Angela held herself as still as possible as the redheaded woman left the room. Now if only Owen would leave as well…

Footsteps echoed loudly in her ears, heading for the door as well. But these steps halted right beside the bushes concealing her.

Owen's voice split the quiet air. "Come on out; I know that you are there."

Angela slowly rose from her concealment, and joined him on the walkway. Owen looked mildly surprised. "I had expected that it was Lexington who had come in and listened."

The gargoyle shook her head, her long black braid flipping almost violently from side to side. "Lex is up in the clan's rooms, working on some new program." The two stood for several moments, silence slowly dragging out between them. Then Angela's voice cut through the awkward stillness. "What was all that about swords and visions?"

Owen stared at her for a long minute, his ice blue eyes betraying nothing of his emotions or thoughts. When he did finally speak, it almost was a shock to Angela. "That does not at this time concern the clan." With no further word, Owen Burnett turned and vanished through the door.

Left alone in the arboretum, Angela was as still as the stone that claimed her every sunrise. Her whispered voice went unheard except by the plants that surrounded her. "But it will, won't it?"

In a distant airport stood a man. He stood motionless in the swirling sea of people in the terminal, determinedly examining the flight schedules. Finally he located the one he wanted. His path then took him over to the airline's desk.

"Good afternoon, sir," said the man. His nametag said "Jason." "How may we help you today?"

"I need to buy a ticket on flight 2238 to New York," answered the old man. "Do you have any openings on that flight?"

Jason frowned slightly as he typed away at his computer, and said doubtfully, "I don't know, sir. That flight was looking rather full this morning when I check for openings. Ah ha!" His doubtful look was replaced was one of pleasure. "We have one more seat on the flight, sir."

"I'll take it," said the man as he passed his credit card over the counter. Shortly thereafter, he was seated in the plane as it lifted off and banked to head for Manhattan.

After hours in the air, the plane came to a gentle halt at a gate in New York. After retrieving his baggage and hailing a cab, the man leaned back in the seat and let the driver take him over the bridge into Manhattan itself. As they drove, a strangely lopsided tower caught the man's eye.

"What in the world?" The cabby glanced over his shoulder at the bewildered tone in his fare's voice, then shot a quick look over the bay before shaking his head a time or two.

"That's the Aerie Tower, home of the richest nutcase in the world," growled the cab driver. "Mr. David Xanatos bought that wacko castle years ago and had it stuck on the top of his corporate tower."

Shaking his head, the man in the back seat rested his head back and let the cab roll on, its destination a hotel on the island.

Shortly thereafter, firmly ensconced in a room, the man removed the sword and once more held it before him. After getting a new direction, he left his room and hailed another cab. Once he was checked into a second hotel, and noting the new direction, he carefully triangulated the location that the sword was revealing to him.

The address was that of an apartment building, not too far from where he was at that very moment, happily enough. The man glanced at the night sky, noting that he had about two hours before sunrise. Hoping that the object of his quest was a night owl, he sheathed the sword and placed beneath his trench coat. After making sure that the journal was in his pocket, and feeling rather absurd for acting like some hero in a cheap "swords and sorcery" novel, he left the hotel and headed to his next destination.

Elisa and Goliath shared a lasting kiss before reluctantly pulling apart. The slender woman settled her head against her lover's broad chest and sighed, drawing great comfort from listening to his heartbeat.

Goliath gently brushed his talons through her hair as they sat there on her couch, reflecting again how lucky he was to have found her. Tonight had really shown just how much she meant to him. After sating their physical needs, they'd made their way to her couch and passed the hours simply relaxing in the warm glow of their love.

Goliath placed a kiss on her forehead and his deep voice rumbled out from his chest. "Laham-atik, yahub-ok. Gawuh gnak sila as nika," he whispered to Elisa.

Elisa raised an eyebrow and returned the kiss, with interest added. After pulling back, she fired back a rather arch reply. "Sweet nothings in my ear mean nothing if I don't understand them, Big Guy!"

Goliath had the good grace to look abashed, then he pulled he closer to him. "I said, I love you, my Life. Don't ever leave me." He smiled, his fangs glinting even in the dim lighting. "I would have added this too. Yatamam oka gnuk alaw an ak as gnika yahub, isak gnuk silaa ak as nika, alaw an gnoka nahotsugak an yahumam. 'I would die without you, for I would have no wish to continue living.'"

Elisa felt a tear form in her eye and quickly blinked it away before clutching Goliath to her tightly. "How do I say you'd better not die?"

Goliath tilted his head to the side, and said, "Id edewup gnak yatamam, isak id atik ayisnesapapam gnuk yatamam ak. I added that you'd never forgive me if I did."

After trying several times and failing miserably to wrap the strange words around her tongue, Elisa gave up and settled for a language she did know. "Don't you go dying on me, Goliath; I would never forgive you for leaving me."

A knock at the door prevented Goliath from responding, and Elisa hauled herself to her feet with a muffled groan. After Goliath had concealed himself away in the bedroom, Elisa wandered over to the door, not even stopping to consider what she was wearing at the moment.

The man who had just been knocking was rather surprised to see a beautiful woman clad in a silk nightdress open the door. Her expression did not bode well for him, but if this was not the one he sought, then he was in trouble. "May I come in?"

The woman scowled. "I don't know who you are and you're asking to enter my home?" Her eyes flickered slightly with realization and she glanced down. "I'm not even dressed," she continued as she edged behind the door a little.

"I assure you, this is very important." The man watched as a multitude of reactions, all carefully concealed, swept through her dark eyes. While she thought, he waited, carefully etching her face in his mind. If she was the one he sought, then he would have to deliver his burden, and soon. If she wasn't what he needed, then she was the key to finding it.

"Why don't you come back some other time," she finally said, though the man had no trouble reading what she was really saying. She didn't want him to return. Sighing, he realized that he would have to take matters into his own hands.

In the bedroom, Goliath heard a muffled grunt and a shocked exclamation from Elisa. As the front door slammed shut, the lavender gargoyle sprang through the door to find a strange white-haired man pointing a sword right at Elisa. Huge wings flared wide, almost knocking over a vase or two as Goliath's eyes erupted with white rage.

The man jerked slightly in surprise to see the enraged behemoth emerge, and dived out of the way just as Goliath's hand passed through the air that the stranger's head had just vacated.

"Pax!" cried the intruder as he dropped the sword to the ground. He lifted his hands above his head and stood still. Goliath glared at him for several long moments before slowly lowering his wings and allowing his eyes to fade. Elisa leaned down to retrieve the weapon he'd dropped.

Her hand had barely closed on the hilt when something happened. Elisa looked up, confused. She was no longer standing in her apartment.

The raven-haired detective stood on a hill, surrounded by armies on all sides. As she watched in horror, the earth heaved beneath portions of the massed forces, swallowing hundreds of men. Over to her left, an unstoppable berserker waded through everyone he saw, their weapons never scoring a single hit as the sword he bore deflected every blow and sliced through heavy armor like it was tissue paper. A groan from behind brought her about.

A man lay there at her feet, his intestines spilling from a gaping wound in his belly. Retching, Elisa fell back a few steps. Another man suddenly ran up to the dying warrior, bearing a strangely familiar sword. Elisa quickly looked around. She saw four - or was it five? - such swords near the hill on which she stood. Looking back, she watched in horror as the new arrival simply thrust his blade right into the heart of the dying man. She wanted to turn away, even though it was a mercy killing, but something seemed to have frozen her in place.

Before her astonished eyes, however, the man who moments before had been trying to put his internal organs back in place was sitting up. Seemingly of their own accord, his entrails pulled back into his belly and the wounds he had were healed. The man who had impaled him with the sword removed it, leaving no wound. As she gazed on the strange scene, the formerly dying man took up his arms once more and dove back into the fray.

Elisa began to shake. This was too much! The vision shattered and she found herself in Goliath's arms, back in her apartment. The sword was lying on the ground still, and there was no sign that any time had passed. The stranger was staring at her, his gaze thoughtful. He nodded, then slowly removed a scabbard from beneath his long trench coat. After placing it on the floor beside the sword, he removed a leather book from his pocket and extended it to Elisa. Confused, she took it.

"Everything you need to know…" His voice suddenly degenerated into a coughing fit, and it was several moments before he was able to stop. "It's all in there," he rasped. A sickly smile formed on his face. "Don't worry about me, my fate will not be yours." Elisa and Goliath's gazes became quizzical, so the stranger explained in brief tones, interspersed with racking coughs the shook his whole body.

"I suffered grave injuries years ago in a car crash and have been dying slowly ever since. Wayfinder," and he gestured to the Sword lying at Elisa's feet, "gave me the strength to find the next Guardian." After another bout of coughing, and breathing hard at the effort it cost him, the stranger made for the door and vanished, his two observers too startled to follow.

Goliath was still for several moments, trying to fathom what had just happened. In his mind he replayed all that he had seen: an unfamiliar man pointing a sword at Elisa, then dropping it and the sheath before her. The book, which supposedly contained everything that Elisa would need to know. Know about what, though? Then leaving, just like he'd arrived. The large gargoyle shook his head, trying to ward off an impending headache, then turned to Elisa, who was obviously just as confused.

"I will follow him from the air and watch where he goes. Stay here." Elisa opened her mouth to protest but Goliath placed on talon across her lips before the words could come out. "Stay here," he repeated. Just before launching himself out into the night, he glanced back at Elisa. "He said that the book contained what you would need to know. While I'm gone, why don't you read it?"

Elisa glared at him, letting him know without words that this little "protect Elisa" routine wasn't sitting well with her, but she nodded. "I'll be waiting."

As Goliath glided out on the nigh breezes, he reflected briefly on the volumes of undertones in her voice. She wasn't helpless, and he knew that, yet still he found himself in an overly protective frame of mind in recent weeks. He still didn't understand why. He'd not felt this protective of anyone in…Goliath nearly fell out of the sky. Desperately casting about, he managed to catch a rising thermal and let it push him up into the night. Could it be?

Goliath firmly placed such thoughts in the back of his mind. Right now he had a stranger to follow.

Broadway and Brooklyn were just wrapping up their latest group of roving gang members when shrill sirens pierced the night. After insuring that the troublemakers wouldn't be out and about terrorizing the neighborhood, two shadows rose and took wing. Staying quiet and low, they zeroed in on the wailing sound of an ambulance. The rookery brothers came in low and landed on the roof of an apartment building that wasn't all that far from where Elisa lived.

Peering over the edge, they saw an ambulance pulled up by a small group of people. Brooklyn could clearly see a man lying prone on the ground. It was difficult to tell from the height, but it looked as though the man wasn't breathing.

A muffled thump behind them had each gargoyle whirling, desperately bringing up spread claws and presenting brilliant white eyes to their new companion. Glares faded and talons were pulled back to be replaced with sheepish looks and chagrin. Goliath shook his head.

"When looking over the roof you need to make sure that one of you is watching the sky. The Quarrymen are still out there, and if I had been one of them you'd both be dead right now."

Brooklyn nodded. "We know. There's something going on down there, though."

Grunting slightly, Goliath walked over to the ledge. "I will look, but I have to go, I'm following…" The leviathan's voice faded as he peered down to the street below. "I guess I'm not going anywhere after all. That's the man I was following."

Broadway and Brooklyn shared a brief moment of total confusion. "Why were you following him?" Brooklyn managed to spit out just before his larger brother.

The leader of the Manhattan Clan shook his head and slowly pulled back from the edge. Motioning them to follow, Goliath flung himself from the building, his wings spreading to catch the updraft. Had anyone on the street looked up, they would have seen two shadows take to the air and follow another, larger, form across the dark sky.

Elisa carefully shut the book. After placing it carefully on the couch, she rose and gingerly stepped over to where the sword lay. After grasping the sheath and several long minutes of careful maneuvering, she managed to sheathe the long blade. Elisa had barely placed it on the couch as well when her skylight popped open and Goliath dropped down.

"Our 'visitor' made it about three blocks before collapsing. Brooklyn and Broadway had drawn near to investigate, and it looked as though he wasn't breathing. I left Broadway and Brooklyn on watch above," Goliath finished as he caped his wings across his shoulders and walked to her side. Dark eyes took in the blade and the book that lay on the couch. "What did you discover?"

Elisa's eyes were troubled. "I'm going to get dressed. Then we're all going to the castle." At Goliath's questioning look, she continued. "This is only one of twelve such weapons. And they're waking up from a sleep that has encompassed eons." Fear flickered deep within her eyes. "If the Swords awake and are not controlled, there won't be a planet left to live on."

To be continued

Next: Part 2: Explanations and Complications

"The Swords have the power to shatter this world like a glass hurled at the flagstones of this castle!"

-Elisa

"Dragonslicer was forged to slay dragons and like beasts. If that sword alone should fall into the hands of a fanatic like Castaway, no gargoyle will be safe."

-Goliath

"Excellent," breathed Castaway as he carefully opened a long box. Nestled within was a sword with a gleaming white hammer on the pommel. "Shieldbreaker, against which no weapon or protective armor can stand!"