Wales, one of the oldest parts of Great Britain, and the fabled location of the former Kingdom of Camelot. It is here that two Archeologists, Dr. Lydia Duane and Dr. Arthur Moorwood-Smyth, are in the middle of their greatest discovery. They had located a large mineshaft that dated back centuries, and even though time had taken its toll and many of the tunnels had caved in, the two of them were sure there was something worth digging for in these tunnels. To their delight, their hunch was right.
"Duane!" Arthur called out. "Duane! I'm through!"
Duane made her way up to her partner, urging him to be quiet.
"We can't be too careful down here." She insisted. "The whole hillside could collapse on top of us."
Arthur gave a nod as the two made their way deeper and deeper into the tunnels. Inside, they found what they could only describe as a lab fit for a master alchemist, or even better, a wizard. Smiling at each other, the two made their way through the room, careful not to disturb anything.
Suddenly, the sound a lyre playing drew their attention. The sound was almost hypnotic, drawing the two archeologists towards its source. Deeper into the laboratory they went, until they stumbled across a most alluring sight.
There was a shining golden lyre that was playing itself. It seemed to give off this power that almost refreshed the two archeologists with its music and light, a sign that whatever was powering it, it was a naturally good force.
"It can't be…" Arthur gasped.
"True magic…" Duane whispered.
Beneath the lyre sat a small wooden chest that, like the rest of the lab, was still in amazing shape despite the centuries of abandonment. Blowing away the dust and dirt, Duane discovered a golden plate on top of the chest's lid.
"Ancient Celtic…" Duane said in surprise.
"What does it say?" Arthur asked.
Adjusting her glasses, Duane read the inscription.
"The seeker of knowledge need fear nothing here; the destroyer, everything."
Almost instinctively, Duane opened the chest, desperate to unlock the secrets inside. Once the lid opened, the room was flooded by swirls of blue light that wrapped around the two archeologists. For a moment, it was as if they could not move, like something had wrenched control from them. They watched in frozen shock as the swirling light briefly look the form of an old man's face, which seemed to scan them. After a moment, the light slowly faded, retreating into the chest. Once the last of the light was gone, both archeologists could move once more.
Acting much more carefully this time, they approached the chest, slowly lifting the lid. Inside, they could see two large, wax sealed scrolls, which could only be one thing.
"The Scrolls of Merlin." Arthur said in a reverent tone.
…
Willow laid on her bed, a copy of "The Legend of King Arthur" in her hands as she devoured each word. Brooklyn sat next to her, reading over her shoulder.
"Whom so ever pulleth the sword from this stone shall be named King of England." Brooklyn read aloud.
"Good job." Willow said. "Usually you trip on the pulleth part."
Brooklyn shrugged.
"What can I say? I've been practicing."
Lexington ran into Willow's room, pushing the curtain aside in a frantic motion.
"Willow! It's happening!" he cheered.
Willow's entire face lit up.
"It is?!" she let out.
"Yep!" Lex confirmed. "The Scrolls of Merlin are officially being brought to the New York History Museum for further study and will be on display for all to see."
Willow jumped into the air happily, Brooklyn catching her on the way down.
"I can't wait!" she squeed.
"I haven't seen you this happy since the first time I took you flying." Brooklyn commented, hugging her tightly.
"Are you kidding? Merlin and Arthur are some of most well-known legends of human history." She reminded him. "If these scrolls were truly written by the Great Wizard Merlin, then this could mean that the entire legend is true."
"You believe that?" Lexington asked hopefully.
"Well, I believed that gargoyles could come to life, and now look at me." She playfully ribbed.
This earned her a playful tackle from both gargoyles as Goliath and Elisa watched smiling.
"Scrolls written by a white wizard from the fifth century." Goliath commented. "Many of the books in the library across the street have their own versions of the story, many theories on him and his famed pupil. It is no wonder that many want to ensure that these scrolls are the genuine article."
"Yep." Elisa agreed. "And it's also no big surprise that the NYPD is sending two of their finest to help guard them on their way to the museum."
Broadway plopped down on ground, a large hoagie in his hand.
"I don't get the big deal about these scrolls." He said after swallowing a large bite of his hoagie. "I mean, half of the world doesn't even use books anymore. They use those…. Crumble things."
"You mean Kindle." Willow replied as she pulled herself out of a double gargoyle pile.
"Whatever." Broadway dismissed. "Books are overrated. I'll just wait for the movie."
"Not all books turn into movies." Lexington explained. "And sometimes, the best way to enjoy a good book is to read it."
Broadway scoffed.
"Well, I can't read." He said. "And frankly, I don't want to."
Willow raised an eyebrow.
"You sure?" she asked. "I can teach you, just like I'm teaching Brooklyn."
"Thanks, but no thanks." He brushed off. "I'm fine just the way I am."
Brooklyn shook his head and sighed.
"You don't know what you're missing out on." He said.
Hudson called out from his usual spot.
"Will you all stop blabbering on about yer blasted books and words?" he demanded. "My favorite programs on!"
Everyone quieted down as Willow stifled a laugh. Elisa then looked down at her watch and winced.
"Yikes, I gotta get going." She announced. "The escort convey will be leaving for the dock any minute now."
As Elisa made her way down the steps, Willow settled back onto her bed and picked up her book again. Brooklyn retook his spot as Willow tried to find her spot.
"Hey Willow, any idea what the scrolls contain?" he wondered.
"From what I've read, they're still sealed." She answered. "But if they truly were written by Merlin, then my guess is that those scrolls are Merlin's version of the Grimorum Archanorum."
Overhearing the exchange, Goliath's eyes narrowed at the prospect. If the scrolls were parts of a spell book, then he could think of one or two enemies who would want to get their hands on them.
…
It was storming quite badly as the small police convoy arrived at the HMS Churchill. Lightning illuminated the sky and rain poured down, making the ocean's wave choppy and wild at best. Careful not to fall into the wild waves, Elisa and Matt began climbing the ladder onto the Churchill.
"We didn't think you'd make it!" Dr. Duane called over the storm.
"I wouldn't have missed this if I had to swim!" Elisa called back.
Now safely aboard the ship, Dr. Duane led the two police officers into the safety of the main cabin, where the scrolls were being kept in two air tight containers. As Duane and her partner Arthur began recounting their tale of discovery to the awe-struck officers, the ship's sonar began beeping, showing two blips.
Outside, two large planes were descending on the ship, high tech weaponry primed and ready to fire. Their target in sight, the planes fired on the boat, the blast shattering the glass of the ship's windows. Matt and Elisa grabbed the two archeologists, forcing them to the ground to protect them from the falling glass, as well as any more shots.
The Churchill's captain grabbed the ship's intercom radio, issuing a red alert as Matt and Elisa readied their weapons. Peering through the wind and the rain, Elisa could make out the figures of two large fighter jets, as well as five inhumane silhouettes.
All the gargoyles, sans Bronx, were flying, and below them on a small jet ski was Willow.
"I still don't see why I couldn't just fly you like I always do!" Brooklyn said through a Bluetooth set Willow had given him.
"Without my gauntlet, I'm useless in the air!" Willow replied through her Bluetooth. "If Goliath's hunch is right and Xanatos really wants the scrolls, he'll be looking to the sky, not the water!"
"Looks like his hunch was right!" Brooklyn called suddenly, pointing to the ocean below. "The ships under attack!"
Willow squinted through the ocean spray and the wind to see the two jets circling around the ship.
"Those machines must belong to Xanatos!" Hudson called out.
"Those are a special type of jet that can land and take off like helicopters!" Lexington explained. "I've read about them!"
"When real life's this exciting, who needs books?" Broadway declared.
The group watched the jets land on the deck of the Churchill as two mercenaries armed with electrical guns got out. The ship's crew attempted to intercept these mercenaries but were easily shot down. They made their way to the cabin on the ship, where the Captain was trying in vain to contact the coast guard. His call was cut off when the cabin door was blasted off its hinges, striking both Matt and the captain, but barely missing Elisa.
"MATT!" she exclaimed, before turning her attention to the advancing mercenaries.
Elisa managed to let off a few shots before one of the mercs tackled her, snatching her weapon from her. Without anyone to stand in their way, the mercenaries made a bee-line for the two canisters containing the scrolls. They went to grab them, but Duane snatched them up, holding them to her chest like a mother would a baby.
"Come on." One of the mercs, a female, demanded. "Give 'em up."
"No!" Duane shouted. "These scrolls are priceless."
The merc face palmed herself, stowing her weapon.
"Oh man!" she cried, her voice dripping in sarcasm. "What was I thinking?"
For a moment, Duane was hopeful that the scrolls would not be taken. That is, until the merc performed a leg sweep, knocking Duane to the ground and the canisters into the air. The merc caught them, then she and her partner made their way back to the jets. Powering up, the two began their clean get away.
Or what would have been a clean get away, had it not been for Hudson and Broadway. Hudson smashed through the glass of one of the jets, grabbing for the canister. Once the merc realized what was going on, he activated the ships defense field, electrocuting Hudson and sending him plummeting down, canister in hand.
"HUDSON!" Willow screamed.
Flooring her jet ski, Willow went to intercept Hudson, only for him to land right on top of her. The impacted knocked her out and sent them both into the water.
"WILLOW! HUDSON!" Brooklyn exclaimed.
Brooklyn went to dive after them, but gunfire from the jet prevented him from acting and forced him into defensive maneuvers. Goliath and Lexington also found themselves flying in circles around each other, simply trying to stay alive. Meanwhile, Broadway was trying a different tactic. He clawed his way onto the belly of the plane, holding on for dear life as the mercs made good their escape.
"They're getting away!" Lexington shouted.
"Not quite!" Goliath explained, pointing out Broadway's form.
"What about Willow and Hudson?!" Brooklyn demanded. "I can't see them anymore!"
Looking down at the choppy waves, the gargoyles could see the capsized jet ski, but no sign of Willow or Hudson.
"We've got to find them!" Brooklyn insisted.
"Hudson won't go down that easy!" Goliath insisted. "And if Willow's with him, she'll be safe! Right now, we need to focus on recovering the scrolls, and figuring out exactly where those mercenaries are taking Broadway!"
As the Gargoyles flew off towards the docks, Hudson and Willow floated unconscious amidst the waves, Willow's life vest keeping the two of them afloat.
…
With the storm finally moving away and the ship safely docked, the police were working in full force to find out exactly what had happened. As they interviewed Dr. Duane about possible suspects, Elisa broke away from the group, heading towards the dense shadows provided by large shipping crates.
The three remaining gargoyles were gathered, pacing around in both anticipation, anger, and in Brooklyn's case, genuine worry.
"I knew those scrolls would produce too much of a temptation." Goliath snarled as Elisa approached.
"Xanatos is behind it!" Elisa practically screamed, punching one of the crates. "He made me look like a total amateur! But I've got no proof! And without proof-!"
"Without it," Goliath interrupted, "it falls to us."
…
Hudson felt the warm waters of the ocean cascading over him as consciousness finally graced him. Slowly opening his eyes, the old gargoyle found himself washed up on an abandoned beach. As he sat up, he felt the canister, which he had somehow managed to keep ahold of through the journey. He also saw the still form of Willow a couple feet away from him.
"Lass…" Hudson called weakly. "Lass… You alright?"
He crawled over to her, brushing her hair away from her face and feeling for a pulse. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt a steady heartbeat but winced when he saw the large knot and bruise forming on her forehead.
"You're gonna be sore for a while lass, but you'll live." He told her still form.
He tried to stand, but his legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed on top of Willow. Darkness clouded his vision as he passed out once more.
…
Far off in a more secluded part of Manhattan, the two jets pulled up to a large medieval castle, landing in a large hanger bay full of different jets and other vehicles. As the mercenaries got out, the female examined the damage to her partner's jet.
"Hey!" she called out jokingly. "That's not covered by your insurance!"
Her partner glared at her through the broken cockpit windows.
"It gets worse." He told her. "I lost the canister."
The smile on the woman's face fell, turning into a look of shock and terror.
"WHAT?!" she exclaimed. "Oh, the boss will have you for dinner with a spoon."
As the two argued about what to do, Broadway tiptoed out of the hanger, the second canister in hand. Hoping to diffuse the situation, the male merc mentioned the other canister.
"Look at it this way." He suggested. "We've still got yours. One outta two ain't bad."
That was when they noticed the gaping hole in the bottom of the jet left by Broadway. Running over, they looked around and found, to their horror, that the second one was gone as well.
"Oh no…" they both moaned.
…
Owen sat in his office, typing away at his computer. He was so focused on his work that he jumped slightly when Goliath, Brooklyn, and Lexington came bursting through his doors.
"Xanatos." Goliath demanded, his eyes glowing bright. "Broadway. Where are they?"
"I suppose they could be anywhere." Owen replied, a little more than annoyed at having his work interrupted.
"No games!" Goliath demanded. "Take us to them!"
Owen smirked slightly.
"You should know I can't do that." He told them.
Three sets of glowing white eyes stared down on him.
"Then we will find them ourselves." Goliath swore.
The gargoyles then turned on their heels, walking out of Owens office and back into the main part of the castle to begin their search.
…
Broadway hid behind a set of oil drums, waiting for the right moment to run for it. He had managed to evade detection so far, but the two mercenaries were searching high and low for him, giving him little chance to get out.
As they searched some of the other drums, Broadway took a calculated risk and made a run for it, leaping over a stack of crates. Unfortunately, his tail knocked one of the oil drums, drawing the mercenaries' attention. They drew their weapons, approaching the crates carefully.
"So much for stealth." Broadway thought to himself.
He braced himself, then busted through the crates, sending the two mercenaries flying across the hanger. Not even bothering to turn, Broadway proceeded to tear through the very wall of the hanger. Believing himself to be home free, the last thing Broadway expected was to be stopped by someone he hadn't expected to see again.
"That's far enough my friend." Declared none other than Macbeth himself.
"Macbeth!" Broadway snarled, clutching the canister closer to him.
"The very same." Macbeth replied, stepping closer. "Now, I do believe you have something of mine."
"Do I?" Broadway asked. "Then come and take it."
Macbeth seemed to sigh as he launched at Broadway, throwing the large gargoyle over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Broadway fell into a large puddle of mud, just barely holding onto the canister.
"You understand I don't get any pleasure from this." Macbeth told him, bending down to take the canister.
Broadway's eyes began glowing as he stood up, still clutching the canister.
"You've got courage, I'll give you that." Macbeth complimented as he fished into his pocket. "What you don't have, is a prayer."
He pulled out a small silver ball, throwing it at Broadway's feet. It exploded, sending large clouds of green smoke billowing right into Broadway's face. He coughed and choked before succumbing to the fumes, passing out in a matter of seconds. The canister clattered out of his hands, rolling over to Macbeth, who stopped it with his foot.
Picking up the canister, he unscrewed it with a pneumatic hiss, sliding the scroll into hand.
"Finally, The scrolls of Merlin." He let out.
As the two mercenaries ran to his side, Macbeth began to translate the words inscribed on the wax and golden seal.
"Sealed by my own hand," he read, "the second and final compendium-"
Eyes narrowing, Macbeth turned to the mercenaries.
"Second?" He asked. "It would be useless, even dangerous to read these out of order!"
Sliding the scroll back into the safety of the canister, he marched right up to the mercenaries.
"Where is the first scroll?" He demanded.
The two mercenaries exchanged worried looks, then gulped hard.
…
Hudson forced himself to try and stand, but when that failed, he settled for rolling in the sand and off Willow. Now laying on his back, he had a clear view of a large dog that approached him, sniffing and licking at Hudson's face.
"What is it, Gilly?" a voice said from a few feet off. "You find yourself another sand crab?"
Hudson began gently pushing the dog off him as he started coughing hard. The voice called out again, sounding concerned.
"Who's there?"
Hudson flipped onto his stomach, horrified at the prospect of being discovered, but as he saw who had found him, he was surprised. The man was dark skinned, wearing a simple turtleneck sweater and khaki pants, as well as a large pair of sunglasses despite it still being late at night.
His discoverer was blind.
"Are you alright?" The man asked.
Hudson could not hold back the sigh of relief that his secret was safe. Wrapping his wings around himself, he attempted to rise once more.
"My friend and I merely had an accident." Hudson replied.
The man shook his head sadly.
"This beach just isn't safe after dark anymore." He muttered. "Do you need a doctor?"
"No." Hudson replied quickly. "Just a place for us to rest until sunrise."
The man held his hand out, slowly kneeling on the sand as he searched around.
"Where is your friend?" he asked. "I don't hear anyone else, so I'm guessing they're unconscious."
Hudson gently took the man's hand, placing it right on Willow's forehead. The man gently felt the wound listening as the unconscious girl winced at the slight pressure.
"That's a nasty bump." The man commented. "We'll need to get her some ice, so the swelling will go down."
The man felt a bit until he was able to safely lift Willow in his arms.
"My house is on the other side of the wall covered in gargoyles." He announced. "You shouldn't miss it."
Hudson smiled slightly, then swooned, catching himself on the man's shoulder.
"My apologies." He huffed. "Tonight's events have taken their toll."
"No need to be sorry." The man assured him. "Let's just get the two of you inside."
The two walked through the large gates towards the modest house inside.
"My name's Robbins, by the way." The man introduced. "Jeffery Robbins."
"My name is Hudson, like the river." Hudson replied.
Robbins chuckled, then shifted Willow in his grip.
"And her?" he asked.
"That's Willow." Hudson answered.
"Like the tree." Robbins quipped, earning a chuckle from both men.
…
Flying through the stormy sky, Macbeth and his two mercenaries were scanning the beaches of Manhattan for any sign of the first canister. As they searched, Broadway struggled against the thick chains keeping him bound in the back of the plane.
"You can't keep me like this forever!" Broadway threatened.
"Nope." Macbeth agreed. "Just until I find the first scroll."
The male mercenary leaned over to his partner, whispering.
"I blew that old gargoyle away." He said quietly. "He and the scroll are probably at the bottom of the ocean…"
"They better not be." Macbeth interjected. "Or you two will join them."
The mercenaries froze for a moment, then quickly returned to their search.
…
Once they were inside, Robbins settled Willow onto a couch in his living room, draping a thick quilt over her. Hudson sat with her as Robbins went to fetch the ice and bandages. He gently petted her hair, brushing the stray blue locks from her eyes.
"You rest up, lass." He told her. "You'll be as right as rain here soon."
Robbins returned with an icepack in his hand.
"Put this right on the bump." He said, handing the pack to Hudson. "You might need to hold it there."
Hudson took it, doing as he was told. Robbins then sat down in an arm chair across from his two guests. After an awkward moment of silence, Hudson noticed a strange, framed medallion sitting on a table next to Willow's couch. Picking it up, he examined it curiously.
"What is this?" he asked.
Robbins held out his hand and Hudson handed it over. Robbins traced his fingers over the medallion, sighing.
"My purple heart." He replied, adjusting his glasses. "For this. Was so busy trying to keep a bunch of green kids safe over in Iraq that I didn't watch my step."
He let out a small snort.
"Shrapnel…" he muttered. "You never see it coming."
"Iraq?" Hudson asked.
"Yeah." Robbins replied. "I was one of the first to sign my name after 9/11, and one of the first back home unfortunately."
Willow had told them all about 9/11 after they had stumbled across what she had called "Ground Zero". From the way she had described it, and from the videos she had shown them, it would make sense that someone would be willing to give their lives to defend their home when it was attacked.
"What about you Hudson?" Robbins asked.
The question caught Hudson off-guard.
"What about me?"
"The way you talk, you have the voice of an old soldier." Robbins explained. "One that's seen battle more often than they've wanted to."
"Aye, I was a solder of sorts." Hudson replied. "And in many ways, I still am. Though nowadays, I act as a mentor for my clan."
Robbins nodded at that, which brought a question to Hudson's mind.
"And what of you?" he wondered. "What fills your night now?"
"I write novels." Robbins replied, gesturing to the large bookshelves behind him, covered in large, hard cover books. "Or I did, until they dried up."
Hudson's eyes scanned all the books in awe.
"You wrote all of these?" he asked astonished.
Robbins let out a hearty laugh that seemed to light up his face.
"Wouldn't that be something?" He replied as the laugh died down. "No. But I did have a few modest successes."
Standing once more, Robbins walked over to one of the shelves, his fingers moving from cover to cover until he found what he was looking for.
"Here's one right here." He declared.
He took it off the shelf, handing it to Hudson. The old gargoyle squinted in confusion.
"What are these tiny bumps?" he asked, opening the book. "Where are the… words?"
"My bad." Robbins apologized. "That's my braille copy. It's how I'm able to read and write, back when I had ideas worth writing about."
Taking the book back, he replaced it on the shelf before grabbing a different copy.
"Here's the printed version." He offered. "This'll make more sense to you."
Hudson took the printed copy and sighed.
"Bumps, scrawls, what's the difference?" he muttered.
Robbins put his hand on Hudson's shoulder in a reassuring manner.
"You can't read, can you?" he questioned.
Hudson closed his eyes, nodding in shame.
…
Still scanning the beaches, Macbeth was beginning to get impatient.
"That old gargoyle's as tough as nails" Macbeth said aloud. "He would have washed up along these beaches, especially if he was with Willow as you claim, Broadway. He wouldn't have let her, or the scrolls, drown."
Having given up on trying to free himself, Broadway instead decided to try and pry information from Macbeth.
"What's the big deal about these scrolls anyway?" he demanded. "Who was this 'Merlin'? Just another stupid magician?"
"He was a singular spectacle." Macbeth recounted, turning towards the captive gargoyle. "He was a powerful old man who took a ragged boy and turned him into the greatest king this world would ever see. A king who ruled with justice and compassion. He took a land full of bickering tribes and turned them into a civilized, peaceful kingdom, united under one king, and his famous Knights of the Round Table."
With every word, Broadway became entranced by the tale, his eyes widening in awe.
"With Merlin by his side, the kingdom of Camelot flourished." Macbeth continued. "Until the day he fell. It's funny really. Merlin's magic was stronger than everything, save for the human heart."
As Macbeth turned back to his search, Broadway finally found his voice again.
"You were there…" he whispered.
Macbeth laughed at the notion.
"I'm old, but I'm not that old!" he chuckled. "Obviously I've read about it.
"But, you describe it like you were there." Broadway insisted.
Macbeth didn't reply, for he had found what he was looking for. Tracked in the sand on the beach that weren't human, or animal. Completely ignoring Broadway, Macbeth took his plane and began to descend.
…
Back at the Eyrie building, Owen sat in his office reading a newspaper. Around him, the three gargoyles were pacing angrily.
"Goliath, they're not here." Lexington insisted. "The sun's about to come up."
"You didn't find them?" Owen asked, not even looking up from the paper. "I'm not surprised."
Goliath slammed his hands-on Owen's desk.
"We're running out of time!" he snarled. "You know where they are! Tell us now!"
Owen sighed, folding up the paper.
"All of Mr. Xanatos' vertical take-off and landing crafts are in the shop." He informed the gargoyles. "But you might try Macbeth."
Goliath's eyes widened. He had forgotten about Macbeth entirely, writing him off as an enemy of Demona. It had not even dawned on him that Macbeth may have been behind the heist.
"He's rebuilt his home after that tragic fire, so you shouldn't have any trouble finding him." Owen added.
With no time to lose before they turned to stone, the three gargoyles stalked out of Owens office.
…
Willow's head was pounding as she finally began to wake up. Slowly blinking, she found herself lying on a small sofa, Hudson hunched over her holding something cold against her head. There was a man standing next to him. For a moment, Willow panicked, until she saw the glasses. Relaxing once more, she heard the man talking to Hudson.
"But I'm too old to learn…" Hudson sighed.
"Hogwash." The man replied. "I had to learn Braille when I was almost 40, and I'll learn a new way to read when I'm 80 if I have to."
Read? Hudson didn't know how to read? Willow had always assumed he could. In fact, she had assumed he was the one who had taught Goliath and Lexington to read before the Massacre.
"But who would teach me?" Hudson asked. "I've never told my clan I can't read."
"I would…" Willow whispered.
Hudson looked down and seemed surprised to see Willow's eyes open.
"You're awake, lass." Hudson said with a smile.
"Yeah, even though my head feels like Brooklyn's been using it for a punching bag." She muttered.
Hudson chuckled. As he did, the man bent down until he was face to face with her.
"So, you're Willow." He said with a smile. "My name's Robbins. You've been out for quite a while, and from your rather interesting description, I can assume you could use some Advil."
"Please?" Willow asked.
Robbins got up and walked out as Hudson removed the ice pack.
"I knew you'd wake up soon." He told her.
Willow knew he was trying to change the subject and didn't let him.
"Hudson, why didn't you tell us you couldn't read?" she asked.
Hudson sighed, leaning against the side of the couch. He didn't answer her, so she slowly rolled over, placing her hand on his shoulder.
"You were afraid to tell us, weren't you?" she guessed.
"More ashamed than afraid." Hudson replied after a while.
"There's nothing to be ashamed of." Willow assured him. "There are many who are illiterate. The only truly shameful thing is to remain that way."
Robbins returned with a glass of water and two Advil, which Willow quickly downed. As she finished off the water, a large grandfather clock began to chime. After the sixth chime, it stopped, and Willow and Hudson exchanged worried looks.
"6 am." Willow whispered.
Looking out the large windows, the two of them could see the sky beginning to lighten.
"Sunrise." Hudson whispered back.
The gargoyle quickly stood, grabbing the canister on a whim.
"Hudson?" Robbins called out. "Is something wrong?"
"I must go." Hudson replied quickly. "Would you be willing to let Willow rest here for the day? I'll be back at sunset."
"Sure." Robbins replied in a confused tone. "But why the sudden rush?"
Hudson didn't have time to answer. He quickly left the house, running to the large wall that surrounded it. Nestling between two of the wall's decorative gargoyles, Hudson looked back to see Robbins coming out the door after him.
"Hudson?" he called out. "Is everything alright?"
For perhaps the first time in his life, Hudson regretted having to keep his secret. His gut told him that Robbins could be trusted, but he couldn't take that risk. And so, Hudson remained silent as the sun's rays hardened his skin, turning him to stone. The noise confused Robbins, who searched for its source for a minute, before returning inside.
"Does he always run off so early?" Robbins asked Willow when he returned to the living room.
"He kinda has to." Willow replied, looking out the window at Hudson's statue. "I've grown used to it."
…
Above Robbin's house, Macbeth, his mercenaries, and the now stone Broadway, hovered in the jet, the scanners zooming in on Hudson's statue.
"There he is." Macbeth said with a smile. "And he has the scroll."
The two mercenaries brought the jet down in front of Robbins' house, the noise alerting Gilly, who began barking through the window. Willow peered out the window again and saw Macbeth step out of the plane.
"Jalapeña." she cursed.
"Is something the matter?" Robbins asked, going to quiet his dog.
"We've got company." Willow whispered.
Robbin's eyebrows furrowed, Willow tone indicating that whomever was outside was not a friend. Taking Gilly's leash, Robbin's allowed the dog to lead him to this unforeseen guest.
"Who goes there?" he called out.
Macbeth, quickly taking note of Robbins' glasses, slipped the canister out of Hudson's hand and into his coat pocket. He then approached with an air of confidence.
"I'm Lennox Macduff." Macbeth informed him. "I'm a friend of Hudson and Willow. I heard they had a bit of trouble and I came to see if they were alright."
Alarm bells were going off in Robbins' head as Gilly continued to growl and snarl at Macbeth.
"I'm afraid you just missed them." Robbins lied. "The two of them left not too long ago."
Macbeth looked past Robbins and through the living room window, where he could see a mound of blankets that seemed to be hiding a person. With a knowing smirk, Macbeth turned and walked off.
"Then I won't trouble you any further." He called as he climbed back into his jet.
Willow watched him fly off from the couch, wishing she could move without her head trying to kill her. He now had Hudson's scroll, and she would have to wait until sundown to tell him what happened, and who was REALLY behind everything.
…
By the time sunset came, Willow's crippling headache had dulled to one she could easily push to the back of her mind with some willpower and a few more Advil. She sat on the couch, impatiently waiting for the sun to sink behind the horizon.
Outside, Hudson's stone form began to crack. Soon, the gargoyle stretched, shattering the skin and howling into the night. Willow practically ran to the door, the sound also drawing the attention of Robbins and Gilly.
"What was that?" Robbins asked.
Willow slid the sliding glass door to the front yard open.
"Hudson." She greeted, hugging him warmly.
"Good to see you in better shape, lass." Hudson replied after she released him.
As Gilly came and licked Hudson's claw happily, Robbin's patted Hudson on the shoulder.
"I'm glad you came back." He told the gargoyle.
"I couldn't leave this lass here by herself for too long." Hudson replied, gently petting Gilly until she settled down. "But I'm afraid I can't stay long. Willow and I need to return to our friends."
"Speaking of friends, someone claiming to be an acquaintance of yours stopped by not long after you left." Robbins told him.
"Was it a police detective?" Hudson asked, his first thoughts of Elisa, who no doubt would have been worried about them.
"No." Robbins replied. "It was an older gentleman by the name of Lennox Macduff."
Hudson's eyes narrowed.
"We know of no such man." He informed Robbins.
"I thought not." Robbins said with a small nod. "The name sounded phony, and the way Willow acted when he approached, it seemed there was some bad blood between you."
"More than that," Willow interjected. "Lennox and Macduff are two characters from Shakespeare's Macbeth."
Hudson's eyes widened. As if suddenly remembering something, he began frantically patting his belt, searching for the canister. When he didn't find it, he looked over at Willow, who shook her head sadly.
"We've got to find him, quickly." Hudson announced.
He went to run off but stopped when a realization dawned on him.
"But where do we start?" Hudson asked. "I have never seen where Macbe-, err… Macduff, lives."
"I was asleep the last time I was there, and I barely remember the way back." Willow
"Perhaps I can help." Robbins offered.
The two turned as Robbins pulls a copy of the phone book off the shelves, his fingers tracing over the pages until he finds what he's looking for.
"Here we are." He declares. "Macduff, Lennox. And here's an address."
Hudson looks at the book in surprise.
"Magic book." he says in awe.
Willow chuckles to herself.
"Aren't they all?"
…
Broadway struggled against his chains with newfound vigor as he watched Macbeth prepare to open the scrolls. Not wanting to take any chances, Macbeth was searching for every possible way to unseal the scrolls safely, just in case the famous wizard had booby trapped them.
"You've got what you want!" Broadway shouted, still pulling futilely against his bonds. "Let me go!"
"Not just yet." Macbeth replied, not looking up from his research. "Once I open these scrolls, I'll need someone to test the spells out on. And who better than one of the last remaining gargoyles."
With this realization, Broadway struggled even harder.
…
In the wooded area surrounding Macbeth's castle, Goliath, Brooklyn and Lexington all gathered. They could see the two mercenaries from the ship walking along the battlements of the castle walls, armed with high tech weaponry and night vision goggles.
"What now?" Lexington asked.
With a loud thump, Hudson landed behind the trio, Willow safely in his arms.
"Now we go in." He replied as he set Willow down.
Brooklyn practically tackled Willow in a hug as Lexington and Goliath both approached the old gargoyle.
"You two are alright!" Brooklyn exclaimed.
"We were worried about you." Lexington added.
"I'm no worse for wear, though Willow's got a bit of a bump." Hudson explained.
Brooklyn released Willow and brushed her hair aside to see the large bruise, and fair-sized knot, on her forehead.
"Trust me, it looks worse than it is," Willow assured them all. "And I'm on so much Advil right now you could drop Broadway on me and I wouldn't feel it."
"Speaking of Broadway, where is the lad?" Hudson asked.
"We have to assume the worst." Goliath replied. "That Macbeth has him prisoner and may be planning to use him as an unwilling subject to whatever those scrolls hold."
"Then what are we standing around here for?" Brooklyn asked. "We need to get in there!"
…
Macbeth had finally found what he believed to be the safest way to open the scrolls. Mixing the necessary ingredients together into a strange red solution, he poured it into a clay bowl, which then began emanating puffs of thick purple smoke. Before Macbeth could continue, his mercenaries called out from the battlements.
"We got trouble!" the male merc shouted.
He looked up just as the silhouettes of the gargoyles could be seen on the horizon.
"Then take care of it." Macbeth replied, turning back to the scrolls.
The two mercenaries scrambled into action, activating a pair of laser guns that looked like they belonged on the Millennium Falcon. Taking their positions, the mercenaries began to open fire on the gargoyles, who dodged and weaved through the laser blasts. As they flew, they could see Broadway chained to a large pedestal near where Macbeth was working.
"Willow-" Goliath started.
"I got him!" Willow replied.
Brooklyn swooped past the guns, depositing Willow in some of the courtyard's shrubbery before taking to the skies once more. She slunk through the plants, making her way closer and closer to Broadway. Back up in the sky, the gargoyles were having a bit of trouble.
"We can't get passed them!" Lexington exclaimed.
"I have an idea." Hudson suggested.
The mercenaries watched the gargoyles seemingly disappear. They scanned the skies, searching for any sign of the elusive creatures. They didn't have to look too long, for suddenly, Goliath landed right on top of one of the guns. Grabbing ahold of the mercenary, he tossed him off, then smashed the gun to pieces with his bare claws. The mercenary's partner prepared to level a shot at Goliath's head. Luckily, Hudson got their first, ramming the side of the gun, causing the shot to go wild, hitting part of the castle wall.
As Hudson dealt with the remaining merc, Macbeth dodged falling rubble as he applied the seal remover to the scrolls. Broadway watched him work, his face a mask of anger and hatred, one that quickly melted when he saw Willow slinking closer. As Macbeth opened the first scroll, Willow picked up one of the smaller chunks of rubble, sneaking up behind him.
"He was a scraggly youth when I first met him, the future King Arthur." He read, growing more confused with each word. "Had I not known what his destiny held, I would have laughed aloud? What is this? Where are the spells?"
He was so distracted that he didn't see Willow coming until she brought the piece of rubble down on the back of his head. He fell hard as Willow scooped up the scrolls, quickly moving out of his reach. Macbeth went to attack her but stopped when she held the scrolls out over the burning flames.
"You so much as touch me, and I drop these into the fire." She threatened.
Macbeth scoffed, waving her off.
"Go right ahead." He told her. "Those scrolls are useless to me."
Willow raised an eyebrow.
"What?" she questioned.
"Those aren't Merlin's spells like I believed they would be." He scoffed. "They're his bloody diary!"
Willow pulled the scrolls away from the flames, a look of shock on her face.
"His diary?" She asked.
"Exactly." Macbeth grumbled, leaning against the base of Broadway's platform. "Absolutely worthless…"
"Worthless?!" Willow exclaimed. "These things are priceless! They're the life of Merlin told in his own words!"
"She's right!" Broadway called out.
Willow blinked in surprise, looking up at Broadway.
"I am?" she questioned.
"Yeah!" Broadway nodded. "If those scrolls tell stories like the one Macbeth told me last night, then there's no way anyone can destroy them!"
"He's right." Hudson said in agreement. "Losing something like that would be a terrible waste."
Macbeth seemed to mull this over, before letting out a sigh and fishing something out of his coat.
"You're all trespassing." He declared, pressing a small button on a small remote from his pocket. "Take the scrolls and leave this place."
The chains binding Broadway suddenly fell away, much to everyone's surprise. Deciding not to look this gift horse in the mouth, the gargoyles quickly took to the skies.
…
Flying over Manhattan, Willow held the scrolls in her arms like a precious treasure, a large smile on her face.
"I can't wait until the museum fully translates these texts." She said with a starry look in her eye. "If only they had been written in English rather than ancient Celtic."
"I can read the scrolls as they are." Goliath told her. "Perhaps before we return them, I could read them to you. To all of you."
"No thanks lad." Hudson called out. "We'll read them on our own time. Once Willow teaches us how."
Willow smiled at Hudson, who gave the girl a knowing wink as the clan returned home.
…
Later that night, Robbins sat in his home, a braille version of the newspaper in front of him. Setting it down, he looked over at his dog and smiled.
"You know Gilly, all this fuss over those scrolls has gotten the old juices flowing." He told his companion. "There may be another book in me yet."
Robbins picked up an old voice recorder, hitting the record button with a smile on his face.
"The Sword and the Staff: A Book of Merlin." He began, clearing his throat slightly. "The written word is all that stands between memory and oblivion. Without books as our anchors, we are cast adrift, neither teaching nor learning. They are windows on the past, mirrors on the present, and prisms reflecting all possible futures. Books are lighthouses, erected in the dark sea of time."
Standing outside the window of Robbin's home, Hudson listened to the dictation, a pleased smile gracing the old gargoyle's face.
