*     CHAPTER THREE     *
                   *     Eagle of Arabia     *
Time: 1998-2030
Place: Avalon

     Christyne, robed in her new white blouse with gold trim and
her new sword, placed her hands on her hips and twitched her tail
with annoyance. "You wanted to see me?"
     The two gargoyles hanging in mid air in the middle of a
guest suite suddenly came alive. "What is the meaning of all this
humiliation?"
     Christyne leaned against the doorpost, enjoying her mate's
sense of humor. "I imagine someone didn't want to deal with you
as soon as you demanded it."
     "Do you have the power to let us down?"
     Christyne clapped her hands, and the two gargoyles collapsed
onto the floor below. They recovered quickly, standing. Christine
draped her wings and closed the door behind her. "Now, once more.
You wanted me?"
     Before Christyne stood a very beautiful blue gargoyle with
an enormous mass of red hair, dressed in loincloth, gold jewelry,
and a crown. She was flanked by a very bright yellow and orange
gargoyle with peach feathered wings.
     "Do you know us?" the blue one inquired.
     "Oh course, my queen. It has been a long time, hasn't it?"
     "Our quest has been long, now that we have learned you live
again."
     Christyne scowled, and walked up to this blue one. They
faced one another for a few moments, until suddenly the blue
gargoyle cried out, holding the sides of her head.
     "You left me to die, you *highness*. To the mercy of the
*humans* you so despised! I lost my life to them that day! I may
have well have been shattered with the rest of my clan!"
     "I was... trying to teach them... a lesson..." she retorted
desperately.
     "Oh, I'm sure they've learned, now that each of them occupy
another plane of existence! You betrayer!"
     "LEAVE OFF!" the sun-bright one demanded.
     Christyne scowled at her. She was very modest looking, but
Christyne could sense a hidden power in her. "Very well. I do not
know you, but do not interfere in the coming battle."
     Christyne twirled. "I have patrol duties to see to. You may
stay here as long as you like. Just don't get in our way."
     With that, Christyne vanished in an array of magic.
     "It seems much has changed from what we knew of her." the
blue one muttered as the other helped her to her feet.
     "Yes, Cearda. Be patient. She will come around, eventually."

                          *     *    *

     They came upon her upon the pathways through the woodland,
glaring with high head at the three who happened to stumble
across her. She was dressed in her skimpy leather loincloths, and
bore a thin gold wire about her brow. A powerhouse of violent energy.
     "Well, my queen?" she asked, arms folded expectantly.
     Demona stopped short. "Malcora!" she exclaimed with
surprise.
     Malcora swung her wings before her with grace, bowing. "At
your service. You wished to speak with me?"
     "Speak with you? Since I learned you were alive, I've been
waiting to see you! Why did you turn us away at Avalon?"
     Malcora raised an eyebrow. "It was a battle I had to fight."
     Cearda stepped forward. "Are you immortal?"
     Malcora's attention turned to the sun-bright gargoyle.
"Cearda, always a pleasure sister." she bowed again, "I am
neither immortal, nor mortal. I live within time, but see beyond
it."
     "Are you yet mated, sister?" Cearda put in.
     Malcora nodded. "I have walked among the humans and the fey
for the last three hundred years, and I have taken a mate." she
focused her attention on Demona. "My offspring will greatly
enhance the clan. I have come to you, and you requested of me on
Avalon."
     "Be by my side once again, Malcora. As we did fighting the
Hunter, long ago." Demona encouraged.
     Malcora's stare was cold, direct into Demona's green eyes.
"You allowed my clan to fall into the hands of the Hunter. You
betrayed me to the humans. I have come to remove something of
mine from your possession, that you may not betray it, either."
     "What have we which is yours?" Demona inquired.
     "The egg that Tigris laid. Where is it?" Malcora responded.
     No one replied. Demona and Cearda exchanged nervous looks.
     Malcora, slyly as a snake, turned her head to the quiet
third member of their party.
     Iolair felt her heart seize up, gone cold.
     Eyebrows furrowed, Malcora pinched the flesh between
Iolair's loincloths, on her chest. Malcora seemed disappointed.
     "Demona, don't you feed your underlings? If she ever came to
term, she would die in travail." Malcora accosted Demona. "She
would have little strength in love making."
     Demona scowled. "Iolair is not mated. Her mate died a month
ago."
     Malcora sighed. "Feed her more before she mates again."
     Cearda wasn't sure if it were a laughable remark, or an
offensive one.
     Malcora withdrew a small envelope from her bodice, and
handed it to Iolair. "When you encounter by brother Matthew, will
you deliver this to him?"
     Iolair numly nodded, and accepted the envelope.
     Cearda remained on the mountainside as Demona took Malcora
down inside to the rookery. Iolair glanced at Cearda for a
moment, then tore the letter open with a talon.
     In calligraphy, a short letter read:

     "Dear brother,
          There are two futures
               and one past
          Tigris who mated Laser Ice
               died in a lie created by Demona.
               Your destiny lies with us.
          Tigris lives in the future you shall live.
               When your duties to Demona expire, please see her.
                                                  Lady Christyne"


     "I don't understand." Cearda announced.
     "She's telling me the Tigris that died was a creation of
your..." she nodded to Cearda, "and Demona's minds, and that she
is burning to see me." Iolair stomped on the letter, and let out
a snarl of anger. "I need more time!"
     Cearda touched her shoulder, and she straightened. She
paused long enough readjust the tight fit of her bodice once more
before continuing the glide down to the rookery.


     It was too late.
     Demona held up the egg for Malcora.
     "Excellent!" Malcora exclaimed. Malcora promptly pulled out
a laser pistol from her belt.
     She fired it at the egg.
     The egg exploded into shards, and small bones. One small
gargoyle skull remained, and Malcora ground it under her heal.
     "Very good. Call me if you need me, Demona."
     With that, Malcora pursed her lips together and blew out a
string of flame. The flame enveloped her body, twirled, and both
she and her fire vanished from the rookery.
                      *     Perotessa     *
     "I will hunt her down tot he ends of the EARTH!" swore
Demona.
     Iolair looked on in shock, sorrow, and kindling rage. "Why?"
she asked. "Why?"
     Cearda growled softly, her tail twitching. Suddenly she
whirled to face
     Demona. "My Queen!" she announced. "You have your quest and
we have ours!"
     "Ours?" queried Demona.
     Cearda nodded.  "It appears that Iolair received a
communique from Tigris requesting her to see her.  Therefore, it
is in my opinion that you should see to the murderer and Iolair
and I will see to Tigris."
     Demona sputtered in confusion. "What? now?! Why?!"
     "Questions need to be answered.  As for how..." she looked
at the staff of her halberd. "Take the halberd that you gifted to
me.  Hunt down she who dishonors and shames the clan by her
despicable behavior.  I and Iolair must make amends and give
explanation to Tigris."
     Cearda handed over the halberd.  Demona clutched it tightly
then nodded. "Very well.  Good luck." The chieftess of Clann na
ochter oidhehe bheithir closed her eyes and chanted a small
spell.  The blade head of the halberd burst into flame.  She
opened her eyes, grunted in satisfaction, and (sketched) a circle
in the air with the flaming halberd; creating an otherworldly
portal.
     "I will be victorious!" she vowed and stepped through.
Promptly disappearing.
     Iolair began to physically shake.  Cearda placed a steady
hand on her shoulder.  Iolair stilled for a moment then whirled
around, striking the hand from her.
     "Don't touch me!" She snarled. "This is AFTER ALL, your
FAULT!"
     Cearda growled softly. "We won't get anything done if you
continue this."
     she warned.
     "How should I act?! I've just lost-"
     Cearda hauled off and slapped Iolair.  The sound of the slap
rang and echoed around the rookery.
     Iolair looked at Cearda in shock.
     "Are you over it now!" She asked testily.
     Iolair just blinked."I... I... don't know-"
     Cearda turned away from the younger gargoyle. "Do you think
I don't understand loss?  That I don't understand pain? I do FAR
TOO WELL!" she gave a bitter laugh. Her right hand stealing up to
the Stone. "You work through your grief young one. Else you'll
let it drag you down and you'll accomplish nothing!  And we have
work to do.  You can grieve later."
     Iolair didn't understand but put a stop to her tears and
quit sniffling.
     "What do we have to do?"
     "WE have to talk to Tigris.  We have to know what she knows.
War isn't everything; Demona knows that."
     "How do we find her?  Hell where are we?!"
     Cearda whirled toward the younger 'goyle.  Iolair took a
hasty step back unsure as to her emotions.  "We'll use the Stone! 
Who says Demona is the only one who can cast spells?" She
sniffed. "I've knowledge. And I know people!"
     She smiled mysteriously.
     Iolair frowned slightly. "Who?"
     "A recent acquaintance." Cearda said breezily. "A fey. 
Someone who just might help us." She turned away slightly
mumbling "Hopefully." She closed her eyes; her taloned hands
clutching the Stone of Long Life and knelt on the sandy floor.
"Now be still." she commanded. "I'll need to concentrate."
     Iolair nodded and stepped back settling down to wait on a
mid-sized rock. As she watched and waited she could hear muted
mantras, spoken emphatically with good meter.  The words she
couldn't make out; which was odd considering she herself was a
fair mage in her own right. One word that she did understand, and
that kept being said over and over again was "oidhche"; night.
     "She conjuring in Gaelic?  Why?"
     Iolair didn't have long to wonder as a flash of light
exploded from the Stone and slowly began to envelope Cearda in
it's Topaz light. Uneasy, knowing that 'strange magic is
dangerous magic', Iolair arose from the stone she had been
sitting on and stood up.
     But even that wasn't enough to save her!
     A jagged lightning bolt snaked it's way across the space
separating her from Cearda.
     She cried out more startled than hurt.  She felt "Compelled"
to join the kneeling Cearda; she put her hand on Cearda's
shoulder and was instantly transported inside the same vision the
Red-Gold gargoyle saw.

     At first all she could see was golden light; as if in a fog. 
Then the fog cleared and she stood shoulder to shoulder with
Cearda. The elder gargoyle was as looking about rather testily
for something or someone.
     "Who summons me?!" cried a very incredulous voice.
     "I Cearda, second to Demon of Clann na ochter oidhche
bheithir."
     Iolair looked about wildly, trying to find a body to house
the voice. The real disconcerting thing was, was that her voice
came from everywhere!  All around them and they themselves
weren't on *Solid* land! It was all just an illusion as if part
of a dream.
     There was a pause as if the voice was trying to figure out
who Cearda was then:  "Oh! Oh yes!  I remember you!  'Tess
introduced us didn't she?!"
     "Your memory serves you correct.  We meet through your
sister Perotess."
     Above them a face, almost as large as three gargoyles
standing wing tip to wing tip materialized.  A kind enough face
at first but most defiantly Fey.
     "Who is your companion Gargoyle?  And why do you summon me?"
     Cearda stepped forward her wings outspread and bowed low, "O
Sylph, mistress of the elements; Mistress of travel between time
and space.  We humbly ask your help in a mission of great
importance. This is Iolair. She has kin and loved ones on the
Magical Isle. She has been requested by one such lover to return. 
But as you know we are very far from that place.
     "We beseech you then Sylph, to help us.  If you would be so
kind as to transport us toe to the Wonderous Isle, we would be
most grateful."
     Sylph's light brown eyes flicked from Cearda to Iolair then
back to Cearda.
     She frowned heavily, opened her mouth to refuse then, then
clicked her tongue thinking of another way.
     "Very well.  I will transport you. And I will send along two
companions and battle mates to help you if you come across any
trouble."
     There was a blinding flash of gold light. When Iolair could
see again she saw a tall dark blue skinned male gargoyle who had
long black hair.  And a doggoyle which came to the male's waist. 
Grayish in color with a splash of red on it's muzzle.
     "Riabhaich!" cried Cearda, she then rose her eyes to the
second gargoyle.
     This time her voice wasn't as joyous."S...S...SIAN!?!"
     "Good luck on your quest!" sneered Sylph. 
     Everything suddenly went black and Iolair had the sensation
of falling; she screamed.
     "And never call me to transport you anywhere?!  What do I
look like?  The transit authority?!?!"
     Iolair spread her wings instinctively to catch a nonexistent
updraft! And was rudely reminded that she wasn't airborne. As her
bottom smacked into something hard.
     "Where are we?!" yelped Iolair.
     Ria's began to bark, his hackles rising.  Confused and
waiting for their eyes to clear, the others made sure that
nothing was broken then:  "Oh! Great going Cearda!"
     "Shut up Sian!" Cearda came back with savagely.
     Iolair put a hand to her head and looked up into the
oncoming headlight of a car.
     "Oh my G-LOOK OUT!" she screamed.
     Cearda looked, got up and yanked Iolair to her feet and
subsequently out of the way.
     "Hey you idiots, get out of the street!" yelled the
indignant yet slightly inebriated driver as he drove by.
     Cearda watched the car slither off down the street. "Where
the hell are we?!"
     "What the Hell is THAT!" cried Sian.
     They looked and saw a white triangular building stretching
up toward the night sky.
     "Oh no!" moaned Iolair.  "Oh no! no! no! no! no!"
     "What?!  Where are we?  What's wrong?"
     Iolair sank to her knees and put her head in her hands. "I
think I know where we are.  We might at well kiss are asses
goodbye!"
     Iolair looked up and down the street. "Come on this way. 
Let's see exactly where we are."
     She stood up and started down the street in the opposite
direction that the car went.
     As they walked down the street, they came upon a bank of
newspaper machines.  Iolair stopped and looked at one reading out
loud:  "The San Francisco Chronicle. January 27th nineteen
ninety-seven."
     "San Fra-what?!" said Sian.
     "San Francisco. We're in, what for me, would have been
modern day California." explained Iolair.  Then she got really
excited then a crestfallen look came over her face. "And I am a
gargoyle!" she wailed.
     "Not only that! But I am a FEMALE gargoyle! Ahhhhh! Damn my
luck!"
     Cearda frowned then baped Iolair. "Get a grip!" she snapped.
"We've got to figure out where we are and what we're going to do. 
And why did Sylph send us here AND!  How are we going to get
back?!"
     "Sounds like you've got your hands full." sneered Sian. "And
looks like you'll be doing it alone!"
     Cearda turned on Sian her eyes lighting up to gold. Beside
her Ria growled looking from Sian and back to Cearda unsure where
his loyalties lay. "What? You want to stay here on this street,
waiting for human to smash you?" Cearda asked sarcastically.
     Sian thought about it for a moment then let his eyes drop.
"Well no... but it beats having to follow your orders!"
     Iolair stared at he battling gargoyles and realized that no
love was lost between Cearda and Sian. She also made a mental
note not to get into the middle of any of their disputes.
     As they walked down the street she tapped Cearda on the
shoulder and asked. "Why are you so upset with Sian?"
     Cearda snorted, "We have a history." she said testily.
     "Really?" said Iolair curious, "What?"
     Cearda whirled to Iolair and snarled. "He's my mate!
Alright!?"
     Iolair gapped. "How can that be?!  I thought Krieger was
your mate?"
     Cearda sighed and tried to let the tension drain out of her. 
"Krieger is. Oh it all happened a long long time ago. Let's just
leave it at, we flew under a Breeder's Moon and *_I_* wish we
hadn't. OK?"
     "Uhm... well... ok."
     They came to the street corner and Iolair looked up at the
street sign.
     "Ok, I've some good news and I've got some bad news."
     "What's the good news" asked Cearda.
     "Well I know where we are at.  We're on Montgomery and
Washington Streets."
     "Thats the he good news?" puzzled Sian.
     "Well that and it's ninety ninety seven.  So I kinda know
exactly what's going on. The Bad news is:  we're gargoyles in
nineteen ninety seven in a strange city."
     "And this is suppose to make us feel better." said Sian.
Cearda glared at Sian then said, 'come on out of the light. At
least we know where we are that's something."
     She looked at Iolair who sneaked a peek at Sian and sighed.
"I guess I ought to make a few introductions. Iolair this is Sian
and Riabhach. Sian this is Iolair, formally known as Eagle of
Arabia."
     Sian gave Iolair a look like "yeah whatever!"
     Ria was more welcoming, he sniffed her and than allowed her
to stroke his ears.
     "So now what's the plan?" asked Sian.
     "Well we're stuck in a time period we know nothing of. And
as of right this moment we've no way of getting back to our
correct time. So I think the first thing we should do is find a
place to sleep the day away."
     Sian groaned "And were do you propose to do that?!"
     "If I could make a suggestion?" said Iolair.  Cearda turned
to the younger garg and nodded. 
     Iolair pointed upwards to a fairly tall building. "How about
up there?"
     You can't see anything from down here and it seems in a good
location."
     Cearda checked out the building then nodded. "Looks good
come on."
     Then she stopped and looked at Sian, "That is unless you
have another suggestion."
     Sian shook his head. "Oh no! Not me!"
     "I am surprised." Cearda said sweetly.
     They climbed up the building one after another then perched
along the edge. Just as they began to settle in for dawn Sian
asked, "So what do we do tomorrow nigh, Cearda?"
     "Why are you asking me?"
     "Unless this 'chick' over here knows something you don't, I
am thinking that you're in charge."
     Iolair began to nod. "Well he's right. I don't know much
about this city at all. I've never been to S.F."
     "But this is your time period!" argued Cearda.
     Iolair shrugged. "Never the less... it's not my city."
     Cearda glowered. "Ok... ok... since I am the eldest and the
most experienced I guess I'll lead."
     "Oh great... and before you know it we'll be in another
mess." grumbled Sian.
     Cearda turned on him. "Well if you were going to complain
about it then why-"
     The sun rose.

     A statue of a gargoyle with feathered wings crouched in the
mid-day sun. Cearda was asleep yet awake. Her thoughts flickered
from her disgust with Sian to her fear yet curiosity and her
concerns about this new time. This new world.
     She feared that she had made a grave mistake.  Asking Sylph
for assistance didn't seem like the smartest thing she'd ever
done. And now she had ensnared Iolair in this debacle. Not only
were they separated from friend and allies, they had no idea how
to get home or what they would have to do to appease Sylph enough
for her to send them home!
     The one burning concern that raged through Cearda's veins
was to find a way to help and protect those in her care.  And
there was only one way she knew how to do that.
     An observer would never be able to explain what happened
next, much less understand it.
     At the gargoyle's throat a golden light flashed; broke
through the stone 'skin' then began to pulsate much like a
heartbeat.  The pulsating began to quicken, then light hairline
fractures began to cross and double cross the statue.  Pieces of
stone flaked off then growling, the whole 'structure' rose from
it's crouched position slowly.  It rolled it's shoulders and
flexed it's wings.  It gave one short cry as the stone exploded
off its golden glowing form.
     Cearda jumped down from the ledge she had occupied.  Out of
sight from any one who just might see her from below, she shook
out her wings, blinked and squinted in the strong and alien
sunlight, then clutched a hand over the Stone of Long Life.
     The Stone still beat in time to Cearda's own heart. She
sighed, gathering together her own meager powers and rewording
her request. Prepared, she rose her face to the light and said: 
"Through the Stone of Long Life, of who I am Keeper, I call upon
the form of humanity!"
     The Stone warmed from pale gold to deep bronze.  It bathed
Cearda's gargoyle body in it's light then gave a second blinding
burst of light. Cearda gasped at the suddenness and fell to her
knees with the air knocked out of her.
     The pulsing of the Stone slowed then stopped; slowly the
golden lightbegan to die till all that was left was a spark deep
within the Stone's heart.A lock of butter blonde hair fell into
Cearda's face.  With a hand as paleas milk lightly kissed with
gold, a five fingered hand, her hand brushed it back.
     She rose and stood, a bit unsteadily on her human feet. 
     She looked at her human hands then down at her human body.
"Yes", she said lapsing back into her native Gaelic. "This will
do very nicely."
     She turned and looked at the crouching Sian, Iolair, and
Riabhach. "Worry not my friends, I'll return to you soon."
She walked to the roofs access door and slipped into the
building.
     It never occurred to her that the language might be
different.  So when she did stop the first person she saw and
asked them: "Hello, my name is Cearda. Can you help me?" The man
gave her a strange look and said: "I am sorry, I don't speak...
whatever that is." he shrugged and walked away.
     Cearda didn't understand what he said, but she got the jist. 
The next person she saw she tried her question in 12th Century
French.
     The couple didn't understand her, shook their heads and went
on their way.
     Cearda frowned.  Her opinion of humans, which had never been
very high in the first place, now dipped to an all time low. How
stupid could they be?!
Having no idea how this human society worked and not
understanding one word that was being spoken, she began to
discreetly follow people who seemed to know where they were
going. She followed a sharply dressed woman into an elevator. 
Not knowing what it was, and promptly screamed with it began to
go down.
     When the doors opened, she bolted for safety and ran full
against a man who clutched a cane.
     "Pardon me." she stammered in the archaic French.
     "Not at all." said her captor.
     Surprised that she had finally found someone who understood
her, she took a step back and looked at the man.
     He took a step back himself and executed a small bow.
     "Allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Anton Scenarios. 
You look like you could use assistance.  Would it be presumptuous
of me to off my services?"
     She blinked, then gave Scenarios a hesitant smile. "My name
is Cearda. I... I would be grateful for your help.  As you can
see my circumstances are...dire."
     Scenarios offered her his arm, she awkwardly took it.
"Luckily my hotel is close by.  If you would allow me..."
     "Thank you Mister Servarous."

     Indeed Servarious' hotel was only three blocks away. They
walked through the lobby and into a second elevator. This time
Cearda was able to suppress he scream yet clutched Anton's arm a
bit tightly and twittered nervously.  He smiled a bit
indulgently.
     Upon exiting the elevator, he escorted her to his hotel
room, unlocked the door and let her enter before him. He slowly
closed he door behind himself and studied the statuesque blonde
Amazon who now prowled about the suite. "Now my dear.  I think it
is time for you to confide your circumstances to me."
     Cearda, who was looking out at the city from a large sliding
glass door, half turned toward him; a look of unease on her face. 
She shrugged. "What's to tell. I was abandoned here in... San
Francisco." she said the name awkwardly, paused then continued.
"I've no possessions with the exception of those on my person.  I
know no one and have no way of finding my way home."
     Scenarios frowned slightly. "How can that be?" he gave her a
sly look. "Please relate to me how it is you speak 12th century
French?  It is after all the 20th century." he smiled seeing her
start.  "You are such an enigma Cearda.  Indeed, I belive Demona
would be very interested in you."
     Cearda's amber eyes narrowed.  "You know of Demona?" she
asked slowly. "Indeed I do." chortled Servarious. "In fact, it
doesn't escape my powers of observation that other than your
human form... your dress greatly resembles that.. of.. my
employer."
     A cunning light entered his eyes.  He sidled closer to the
uneasy Cearda and purred, "So why don't you tell me true...
You're a gargoyle are you not?" Cearda frowned greatly. Looked
down, sighed then shrugged. A small smile flickered over her
face, then her right hand shot out grabbed his shirt front and
jerked him close to her face as she snarled. "And you're a worm
are you not?"
     She swung him around and smashed him into the wall.
     Anton's sight swam as he slowly slid down the wall. The last
thing he saw before his sight went black was Cearda's shadow.
Well that answered that question!
     The shadow was that of a beaked gargoyle.

     Cearda watched as Servarious' eyes rolled back into his
head.  Satisfied that he was unconscious moved away and began to
look around the suite. So the little worm worked for Demona, eh? 
Then maybe he could guide her to Demona. Yes, maybe. Of course,
that would be *after* he woke up! She snorted in amusement and
began to rifle through the desk.  She found the telephone book,
stationary, a menu for room service and a welcome guide to S.F.
She discarded all the items with the exception on the menu. She
was starving!
     Thought she didn't speak or read a word of English, she did
know what numbers were and could make out a few words on the
menu. She began to wonder how she was going to get in contact
with anyone when the telephone rang.
     She jumped, spun around, then seeing what was making the
sound knocked the phone to the floor.  It ceased ringing but the
receiver had been knocked off it's cradle.
     "Hello?" said the caller?
     Cearda cocked her head at the voice. "Hello?"
     She picked up the handset. "Hello?" she said tentatively.
     "Room 623?" asked the caller puzzled, he wasn't expecting a
female in the room.
     "Oui." answered Cearda shrugging.
     The caller, still puzzled, yet getting his senses back
continued this time in French.  "Is Monsieur Servarious
available?"
     Cearda glanced over at the prone form of the "good" doctor.
     "No he is not." she snickered.
     "Well when he does become available, could you please tell
him to call the front desk?  He has some messages."
     "I'll tell him."
     "Thank you madame."
     "Uh... Could you help me?"she blurted.
     "I am at your service."
     "I would like to order from the menu..."
      The voice on the other side of the line paused then said,
"You'd like Room Service.  Just a moment, I'll transfer you."
There was a click then a space of dead air then a ring.
     The phone was answered. "Room Service."
     "I would like to order from the menu." she said this time
with more assurance.
     "Alright.  What would you like?"
     "A number two and a number five."
     "'Ok.  And how do you want your steak cooked?"
     "Rare." she said, thinking happily to a raw bloody steak.
She licked her lips. "And your room number."
     "623." she said.
     "Ok.  Thank you." said the voice. "Your entrees will be up
within 30 minutes.  Would you like something to drink?"
     Cearda shrugged. "water?"
     "Pierre, Evian, or Crystal Mountain?"
     "Evian?"
     "Very good. Thank you for your order."
     There was a click and the phone went dead.
     Cearda looked at the handset then righted the phone and
placed the 'set back in it's cradle. Such wonders in the future!

     Five hours later, using a T-bone to pick her teeth, Cearda
looked out over the darkening city. She spared a quick glance to
Sevarious. He moaned and began to come out of his stupor. Sighing
she tossed the bone over her shoulder and went to crouch by his
side.
     The first thing Scenarios saw when he finally opened his
eyes were two golden amazons.  He blinked and they solidified
into one.
     The hellion one.
     The gargoyle in human form.
     He gasped and tried to get away.  Failing that, he pressed
himself up against the wall and whimpered. "What do you want?"
     "Many things." Cearda said brightly.  Her temper eased now
that her stomach was full.  "But first things first!  You're
going to help me."
     "How?"
     "Oh... you'll see!"  She looked over her shoulder and
watched the sun begin it's descent.  "We have to go now.  I am
sure you'll not be missed." She smiled nastily.  "If you try
anything, be assured,  I WILL kill you." Scenarios blinked.  
"Good we understand each other."
     She rose and pulled him to his feet.  Running on his toes
and the balls of his feet, he followed her.  She unlatched the
glass door and stepped out onto the brief balcony. Servarious
gave one choking: "What...what are you doing?!" She shook him
savagely; his head snapped on his neck.  He said nothing more.
     Cearda took a deep breath then climbed to the top of the
railing... the last rays of the sun touched her then slid away. 
She laughed then flung herself and her terrified passenger over
into the abyss. Scenarios screamed and squeezed his eyes tightly
shut. He wrapped his arms around Cearda's neck hiding his face in
the hollow of her throat. He felt her 'non-existent wings catch
air and lift them up into the twilight sky.
     A rumbling growling laugh vibrated deep in Cearda's chest.
Scenarios dared a look and watched the buildings twist, turn,and
slide by. He looked up at Cearda and saw what her shadow only
hinted at.
     A red-gold gargoyle, beaked; with cream colored blonde hair.
She opened her mouth and gave battle cry. Scenarios echoed it
with a scream of terror. Cearda wheeled around taking her burden
and her story of all that had transpired, back to her waiting
companions....
                   *     Eagle of Arabia     *
     Dark shadows flickered inside and outside of the dreamer's
vision, but she knew what she was going to see, and had no desire
to see him again.
     The was a twisting sensation within her belly, and she
nearly spit up. She suddenly beat backwards with ferocity, but
the other gargoyle's arms held hers with great strength. Was was
her own strength? Why couldn't she beat him and make him stop.
His claws only held tighter against her skin, and stretched and
bruised them.
     No! She couldn't! Why wouldn't he just leave her alone? What
foul, twisted work of desire could possibly motivate this
bastard? Curses! If he valued his things, he should keep to
himself before she came and cut them off!


     There was a laced snarl and roar as Iolair flung herself
backwards out of her stone form, as though to attack someone
behind her. Seeing no one, she clenched a fist, and bit it.


     The wingless form beneath the Doctor Sevarious was quite
reassured that the her captive's mind was unable to comprehend
what was happening, and even allowed herself to laugh slightly to
herself. It was a laugh that did not last long.
     Approaching the building that the small clan had chosen to
roost on, Cearda was nearly piled into by another gargoyle
swooping off of the railing of the skyscraper and hurrying into
the night on a warm layer of wind.
     Cearda pulled up short, and action that looked to the dazed
doctor as a simple rising in the air and coming to a stop.
"Iolair!" Cearda shouted.
     From above, Sian shrugged, and looked after Iolair. "What
was I supposed to do? Stop her?"
     Cearda snarled, and recaptured her updraft back up the
building, grasped the concrete and pulling herself over the lip.
"Hold this." Cearda barked at Sian, who gave the doctor a wary
look.
     "Nice feet." Sian muttered at Cearda. "You keep these insane
ones as your companions now?"
     Cearda resisted the urge to bite back at him, but leapt
again into the wind. "Wait here."
     "Who died and left you king, anyway?" he shouted after her.


     There was a quiet laugh far off into the woods, Cearda heard
it. It was Iolair's voice... only male, and younger.  Looking
through the trees, Cearda saw two younger gargoyles. One eagle-
headed and unmistakable, the other the was the forest green
mystery that Cearda had never actually know, but couldn identify
as the younger Tigris. The two children played around the trees
with youthful glee, totally unaware that she watched.  
     "Hush! There may be humans about. We can't let the elders
know we were out."
     Of course, she stood downwind from them, and had meant for
them not to find her... until now. Not entirely sure why, Cearda
entered the glade between the trees.
     She had stood there for a few moments before the moonlight
in the trees shifted enough for the two youngsters to notice.
When the young eagle-headed one spotted her, he suddenly bolted
for the tree branches, the young one soon following close behind.
     "Peace! I do not mean you harm."
     The two young ones paused.
     "I am searching for another of your kind, a teel female like
you, eagle-child." Cearda said.
     The two hesitated, and shook their heads.
     "Do I know you?" the small gargoyle boy asked.
     Cearda looked at him. It was Iolair certainly, but only
about six or seven years of age. He and Tigris had known each
other as children? Certainly there was much she need to learn
about the two of them. "No, but I suspect you will learn of me...
later."
     Probably not fully understanding her meaning, the two
nodded, and scampered into the trees. Cearda considered following
them, but when another sound came to her ears, she knew there
would be no need.

     Iolair herself entered the clearing, facing Cearda. The was
evidence of tears upon her cheeks, hastily wiped away. Cearda
considered her with a new opinion.
     "I'm sorry, but these things had to happen. History had to
fulfill itself." Iolair said in a small voice, as though
admitting a grevious sin before a priest.
     "This is a part of your history?" Cearda asked.
     "Yes. Before this night is out, Malcora will tell me the
tales of the Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir she knew, of
Demona, of you, and of Drake Castle. In another nine months
Tigris will be severely wounded by the gunshot of a gargoyle
hunter. That is the time when I left. I stayed some time at a
castle within a realm of fairy, but upon the day I slew a human
woman there, I was banished, and found Demona."
     "At Perotessa's tower?"
     "No, that was many years later. Demona already knew me then.
Demona found me while I was still young I was a gargoyle, and one
full of broiling hatred against human kind. When I learned who
she was, I ran away in fear."
     "Why did you need me here?"
     "You cannot cheat fate. You had to be here, because without
time will feed back upon itself." Iolair explained in a low
voice.
     "Then this is not your time?"
     "It is, but not any longer. The Malcora that sent that
scroll from Tigris to us came back in time from about the year
2031. One day you are going to have to visit Avalon again with
Demona, for Malcora will one day rejoin the Clann na ochter
oidhche bheithir there."
     Cearda nodded. "Was that your task? To make this small event
in time transpire."
     "Yes. Without the knowledge of Demona, I would have followed
her since my first youthful encounters with her in only five
years from this time now. Time would have..."
     "Yes, I know." Cearda cut her off. "Will you rejoin your
clan now?"
     "I've no means to return to them yet. In the year 2010 they
will come searching for me, and find me after leaving Demona's
illustrious company. Tigris and I were married immediately, and
it was years before I accepted the quest that The Stone of
Destiny demanded of me. It was the one who sent me to the
footsteps of Perotessa's tower."
     Cearda was satisfied. "Then that was the reason we were sent
here?"
     "Yes. Although what we do next is undecided."
     Cearda scowled. "You never said you were married."
     "Do you think I would have lain with Tigris in that pool if
we had not been?"
     "Did you have any eggs when you left her?"
     Iolair turned away, and began for the trees. Cearda scowled,
and ran after her. "Iolair, curse you! Did you or not?"
     "And betray them to be destroyed by Demona in revenge for
the god-forsaken artifical creation of some unknown fantasy
called 'Laser-Ice'? I don't think so."
     Cearda snarled. "You never struck me as motherly."
     "Fatherly!" Iolair snapped back. "I think I shall never
return to the roost until I have this disgrace taken from me."
     "Being a female is not a disgrace Iolair. Just look at
Demona."
     Iolair did not answer, but glided out of the treetops.
Cearda cursed her luck and followed. However Iolair was not
trying to move so quickly this time, and Cearda fell in beside
her.
     "Malcora is on Avalon with her husband -- the fey. Demona
will find them soon enough. Tigris is not on Avalon, but in a
place of her own choosing. Demona will discover that real fey
don't fall for tricks with iron so easily." Iolair spat.
     "Why do you hate us so much?"
     "You live to hate, that is all the reason I need."
     "You're a hypocrite, Iolair."
     "I'm a liar too, but it's up to your imagination to know
what one small detail I have lied about. You'll never guess
correctly."
     "Then I would do be to assume it all as truth." Cearda said,
taking on her wise clan leader tone again. "The Clann na ochter
oidhche bheithir has no quarrel with your family, and since you
are now of Clann na ochter oidhche bheithir, they are as well.
Not even Demona would be foolish enough to slay her own."
     "She can't. Demona can't fight Oberon and the whole of fey
that Malcora and her husband would bear against her. Malcora
still hates Demona for the death of her clan!"
     "Demona must follow her own path, no matter how many
pitfalls she must suffer. She does have a destiny." Cearda
reassured her. "The family of Tutela is not destined to be killed
by anything but old age and time -- this much I have foreseen. It
is Demona who will meet death (several times) before her dealing
are through."

     Cearda looked at the entire situation of the roof as rather
amuzing. Sian leaned idly laughing as Ria tried to force
Sevarious to step backwards off the roof.
     "Your little human friend talks too much. Ria got annoyed
with him."
     "He's no friend of mine. He's only heard of Demona and may
know where we go from here."
     As Iolair touched down on the roof, her skin crawled as she
remembered the nightmare she'd had about Kreiger. With barely
suppressed violent fury, she avoided all contact with Sian at all
costs. She knew what males thought. They wouldn't have the
chance.
     Taking her little man in paw, Cearda glided off the roof.
"Is everyone coming? I want to finish before the sun rises."

                DASHA ARIEL DEMEREDITH CLANCEY
    The ball is spinning, but the gargoyle is unconscious...
 "Did you say *that* human, or that *human*? Oh, nevermind. I'll
       figure it out. This just might be fun after all..."
                          http://dwsu.web.com
                     (Cadence@inQuo.net)