The Dark Mountain

t's a long story, how I came to settle in this mountain the soft-skins call Shadow Berg. Strange...to name a place outside one's world. They do not come to the ice mountain, for it holds nothing they would desire. Their ships cannot pass through the ice drifts. And they do not feel it when the Berg is about to shed her skin. She does not speak to their kind. Only to us, the gargoyles.

But come inside. It is always dark this season, but the Berg lights her belly for us. Haha...it shocks you? The light lives within her. She told me, these are the creatures that live in the ice that falls from the sky. She has accepted them into her embrace and they illuminate her crystals. Yes. Because I feed from the Berg mother, my skin glows dimly as well. Here, taste her. Have you ever tasted such a fine white granite? Do not fear the little creatures...they are no parasites, like the lichens on your wings.

You have the look of one from the Fiery Hills! Such wonderful olivines and obsidians there. It is truly something to dine on the rock that flows. What's that you have? Pumice? Ha! How does one survive on such insubstance? Ahh, yes...my story.

I was born of an ironclaw and slatefang, in the Serpent's Bones. That cavern stretches far beneath both the forest and valley. Many pale, fragile creatures crawled and scurried through the darkness. I grew to enjoy listening to them as I sipped on the dripping quartz. I did not venture out from my home until the soft-skins came. It was those short, furry soft-skins who ignore the Earth Father, chipping away at the Stone Ones. I felt them coming through the Bones, and they drew ever closer.

But I was not ready. The Bones told me that I must sharpen my claws elsewhere. One day I would return. But I listened and let him guide me to the windy lands above. My adventure would start abruptly.

But finish your meal. Then I will truly begin my tale.

Strange creatures, dragons. Its skin sparkled like crystals in the sky's light, yet bent and twisted like the hides of the soft-skins. When I stepped into the clearing, at first, it did not notice me. Gargoyles have no scent to taste. And long I stood there, watching it blow flame and ice from its nostrils, then shaping both fire and water with an unseen hand. Fire resided in ice and yet would not melt it. A ship of glass sailed across the wind with little flame monsters scurrying about in its belly....until the dragon twisted its head slightly and the ship burst into a thousand colors.

It was then I noticed the dragon had spotted me. The ship had sailed by my path and led its eyes to me. The serpent called out to me in a voice that resembled thunder reverberating in a metal dome. It might have been a growl, but I felt as if it were truly speaking to me. Regardless, we stood there in silence, staring for some time.

I have always thought time must pass more rapidly for blood-born creatures. The dragon quickly became disinterested. I hear they dislike other soft-skins, but wise creatures take no offense to stone. So I continued along my path down the bluff and watched the dragon no more.

As you know, the fire-globe of the firmament can disorient the young adventurer. There was no such light inside the Serpent's Bones. So my footsteps were clumsy as I crawled quickly down while pondering the light above. Soon enough, I slipped and fell into the world beneath the bluff.

It was a black world. Not at all like the darkness inside the Bones. The darkness here was alive. The water stretched to my wings. It looked like blood seen in twilight and swirled slowly as if to lead intruders to its poisonous heart. The trees slumped in mourning of a beauty lost. Oily eels slithered this way and that, in search of prey.

I knew instinctually not to disturb the silence, so I move slowly. As the fire-globe began to give way to the ice-sphere, I saw a fire illuminating a far section of the swamp. I drew closer and saw wild movements all around it. They were small soft-skins. Their bodies were a sickly green and twisted unpleasantly, as if by some inner evil. One by one, they danced before the fire and released a terrible scream. The screams bode of pain and anger...of hate.

Goblins!

Another terrible scream from the goblin camp brought it back into focus. This scream had not sounded like the rest. It was more fearful, agonized.

After a moment's hesitation, I buried myself deep in the grimy water. Rising, I inspected this new camouflage until I was satisfied that the muck would serve its purpose. Slowly, I crept closer to the camp and crouched low behind one of the cursed trees.

I heard the scream again. And this time, I could see, it was certainly not a goblin. I had not seen goblins before, but one can recognize them simply enough from the stories. This creature shared none of their diseased appearance. Its skin was like pearl. Sandstone colored fur dangled lightly from its head and fell all about the creature...some of it shimmering in the firelight. Its limbs were longer than those of the goblins and moved with a striking grace. The creature was being held in a cage. It continued to scream, at the satisfaction of its goblin captors, and was transfixed by something happening at the camp's fire.

I peered searchingly into the fire and realized there was something spinning slowly above it. I had heard some of the soft-skins burn their food. Perhaps the pretty creature did not want its food burnt with the rest? I looked again. This time, it was obvious.

On the far side of the fire, a few strands of sandstone colored fur hung from the end of the meat. It must have been a companion of the creature.

The goblins danced and cheered and poked the meat with spears. Occasionally, they would tear off bits and eat them hungrily. Others would toss scraps to the creature which, horrified, jumped back from the meat.

I had not seen these things before, so I decided to remain and observe the green beasts a while longer. One by one, they stopped dancing and layed down against the logs. One by one, they closed their eyes and ceased to move.

I had heard of this....sleep. I have often wondered what it must be like to "tire", to be drained of power as the fire-globe finishes its descent into the abyss. Likewise, what would it be like to need rock...and not merely desire it? It must certainly be strange to be a soft-skin. Ha! but I rant...

They all fell asleep...but the pearl-skinned creature remained awake. It seemed to have a well inside of it, because water trickled forth, very slowly, from beneath its top-fur. I knew of the blood that feeds these soft-skins' limbs, but I did not realize they possessed fountains of water as well. I have since learned this is called "crying" and that it is quite difficult to summon the water...as is evident by the shaking of their bodies and strange noises. Though I am not sure what purpose the water serves, as they do not drink the water that they summon. I payed it only a moment's thought. Then I moved slowly around the tree and behind the creature's cage.

Its head rose abruptly and I could hear the fountain seal itself. I stopped. The creature shifted its small, pointed ears slightly. The ears could apparently not twist and tilt like those of other animals. Slowly, it twisted its gaze around behind it. When it looked upon me, it seemed somewhat startled, but not afraid. I have been told that an immobile gargoyle is often mistaken for the stone sculptures many of the soft-skins are quite fond of...so I remained still.

I could see now that this was a female. She was not wearing an animal hide like the goblins were, but was crouched as if to shade her skin from view. She had done so all night. Then the creature made a sound. It was the sound of a soft wind flowing through the branches of an elm tree. It spoke again, but I did not understand. She seemed to understand this...and began to sing.

The singing of soft-skins is something to be desired. The grating rocks of the gargoyle voice were not made for such long and elegant sounds. It is the sole part of our form I wish the Earth Father had molded more like their forms.

A strange thing happened. When she began to sing, I felt a searching in my spirit. Something called to it, and was feeling around for a way in. Invisible hands reached within me. Grabbing, then releasing, then fumbling through other crevices of my soul. Eventually, she found her way.

"Please! Release me!"

Now, when I watched as fire and ice played together for the dragon, that was wondrous and captivating! But this whisper upon the ear of my spirit called forth my instincts like the creature had struck out at me with claws. Without thinking, I growled.

And the goblins awoke. Their heads leapt up from the logs and their eyes scanned the edges of the camp. Two were wide awake, but the other three could not shake the sleep immediately from their eyes. But they yelped and hollered until all were searching for the source of the commotion. Among the foliage, I had blended in well with the surrounding marsh. But now their eyes quickly found me...a black patch of swamp that had crawled into their camp. Jumping up with short spears in hand, the goblins sprinted forward...but remained at a distance. It was clear they had seen nothing before like this monster before them.

I raised my body up, spread my wings and roared! One goblin stumbled backward and fell over his log. The others cowered as well. But one of them, obviously the leader, seemed angered by his initial fear. With a voice that sounded half-strangled by hatred, it howled back at me. The others took heart in their leader's rage and ceased their slow retreat.

The leader would have to die first. With a great lunge, I fell upon him! The head of his spear scraped against my side, but it was brittle and snapped harmlessly in two. My claws met his shoulders and my weight bore him helpless to the ground. Already two more goblins were stabbing at my neck and my wings. But I ignored them. As he screamed up at me, his hatred seeming to overpower his pain, I took half of his head and face into my mouth and tore it from his body.

One spear immediately ceased to jab at me, but I swung out at the spear that attacked my wing. My arm knocked it aside as my claws tore into the chest of its user. It was just deep enough to be a fatal wound. Looking back into the camp, I could see the other goblins hurriedly disappearing into the marsh.

It was my first battle. Even though they were half my size and bore only shoddy wooden weapons, my mind was not steady again for some time. When I was calm once more, I looked back to the female.

She stared at me as she had stared at the goblins when they growled and threatened her. The water once again seeped from the corners of her eyes. The voice that had whispered inside of me was silent. For a long while, we simply stared at one another in silence, immobile.

Then I spat the goblin's head from my mouth, the blood already seeping into the cracks in my skin, and moved toward the cage. The creature's eyes widened in terror, but she dared not move. I looked at her a second more...and with the back of my hand, broke the fragile cage, which was merely strands of hard vine. Then I stepped back.

The creature seemed confused by this. She looked blankly her broken cage, then at me, then back again. Finally, her hands reached hesitantly at the vines and she pulled herself through the opening I had made.

Upright, she was clearly taller than the goblins. Her body had an elongated appearance, as graceful as her movements. Her skin was indeed like pearl, but did not shimmer as pearl does. Her eyes, still wide and puzzling, were the color of rose-quartz in the dim cavelight of the Bones. They were a kind reminder of my home. Soft-skins have always seemed to be at a loss read the inner workings of the gargoyle mind. Our faces lack the expression of theirs. But she seemed to notice the comfort I had drawn from her eyes. She moved more peacefully, though she continued to shade her body with the long fur from her head. I have often wondered what the softskins hide with their hides and their metals.

She began to sing again. And once more, the invisible hands moved along my spirit, until I heard the voice.

"You have saved me. I thank you." When I did not respond, she continued. "I have not seen one of your kind before. What are you called?"

I was about to speak, but then I thought, "She is in my mind already. So why should I need to speak it aloud?" I told her my name.

Or so I thought. She continued to stare at me expectantly. Perhaps she could not read my thoughts after all. Her thoughts came clearly enough to me, but she could take nothing from me. "All the better" I thought. So I spoke my name aloud.

But that did not appear to help either. "Well then," she said...thought....(it was certainly an odd experience! Ha!), "I am afraid I could never speak a name such as that. Hmmm... Will you permit me to give you a name in my own tongue?"

It was an odd notion. Doubly odd because I could not understand why I was still there with the creature, aside perhaps from those home-calling eyes. But I agreed...and, after some thought, lowered my head slightly to show that I agreed.

She was obviously unsure of my gesture's meaning, but chose to proceed anyway. "Hmmm.... How about... Durlkar? It is not of the Elvish language, but I believe I remember one of the Elders saying it means 'rock' in Orcish. And our own word for it seems too elegant for one so.....such as you. Durlkar. Will it do?"

I could not speak a soft-skin's language, so what did I care? Again, I lowered my head. And again, she hesitantly accepted the gesture as confirmation. "Well then. My home is far, far from these twisted lands" she said with disdain. Her voice no longer needed to search for my soul, but seemed to know where to find it. "So... Where shall you lead me? I wonder."

Apparently, I had acquired a pet.

Now, barely twenty hands from the water, she was asleep. Yes, asleep... though we had not travelled half a day. I did not wake her, and continued on.

This area was sparsely forested with tall, wide trees that were strangely twisted, but elegant still. They were the same pearl color of the elf skin. Their bark was surprisingly visible in the soft light of the ice-sphere. There was another resemblance, though I could not mark it. No shrubs grew among the roots of the trees, but the forest floor was thickly padded with a lush green clover. For all its sparsity, there was an indescribable feeling of life about these woods. It was as if the life-force of the trees was held between them like an invisible net. Perhaps the strangest part of it was that the life-force penetrated even me....a creature of stone.

The spaciousness allowed me to move quickly through the forest. Soon, interesting structures became visible above me...as well as movement. I slowed, but did not stop. The advantage was mine. Though the treetops, far from my view, blocked much of the sky's light, the movements of the creatures above were clearly illuminated. Being a dark stone in the darkness below, I was certain to be difficult to mark.

Still, the creatures seemed to be following me all too easily. And I soon came upon further structures. The buildings were stretching ever closer to the ground, twisting around and down the trees. I finally chose to stop where I was. The shadows above stopped as well.

And there we all remained until the fire-globe rose once again. Of course, I was crouched into a ball with my wings draped over me, so they saw nothing more than a large boulder. From their silhouettes, they were likely small creatures like the goblins. But here there was a city full of creatures. And, more importantly, there was a strange magic living in this forest.

I could hear them very slowly coming down from their tree city and stepping around me softly and carefully. Some grew brave and prodded my wings with their weapons. It was difficult not to react. The magic of the woods apparently lived in their weapons as well. But I did not move. And they began to speak.

Their voices sounded familiar. Hauntingly familiar.

Shouts rose up somewhere far behind me. One after another, new voices joined in the shouting. Some sounded alarmed, all surprised, but most joyful. The shouts were soon accompanied by music descending from the city above. And singing.

Singing! It was the same as elf's!

The shouting grew closer until it was right on top of me, and all fell silent. Patiently, I waited.

"Durlkar?"