"Runaways" Redux
by Constance Cochran
eilonwy@earthlink.net

This is intended as an alternate version of The Goliath Chronicles episode "Runaways," another installment in the "re-write TGC" project being done by the members of the inlink fan fiction mailing list. We respect the time and effort that went into each episode of "The Goliath Chronicles," but something, somewhere, went wrong, and some vital part of "Gargoyles" got lost in the shuffle. This is our way of trying to recapture what we saw as that vital part. In this case, hopefully, a better answer to Brooklyn's character development.

This story was already posted to the gargoyles-fans.org archive, but under the title "On Winter's Wind." It had a big, long, mushy disclaimer, which can be read in the archived version. 

Gargoyles and its characters is the property of Buena Vista/Disney. All other characters are the property of the author and may not be used without permission.

Part II

*****

"Do you think Goliath is going to be _really_ mad at us?" Lexington said, raising his arms to catch a faster air current. He shot forward, keeping pace with Brooklyn.

The two Wyvern gargoyles were in the lead, the Cadwyn gargoyles in their wake. Nine winged silhouettes shot across the moonlit sky, over houses and patches of woods, strips of highway and shopping complexes. Outside of Manhattan the air seemed colder. Far below, Brooklyn saw the ribbon of a river, its surface glittering in the moonlight, spanned by the gossamer lights of a bridge. Dark, tree-covered ridges lined the river's banks.

"Probably, " Brooklyn said briefly. He winced, already hearing his clan leader's voice giving him a lecture on responsibility. A bit sulkily, he wondered why under the stars Goliath had appointed him second in command when he seemed to think Brooklyn was such a hatchling. Well, he would worry about that later. He had other concerns now.

They had caught a strong thermal that had carried them well south of New York City. Luckily it was a windy night, and they were able to ride the currents for several miles at a time before it became necessary to find a perch, wait a few moments, and catch the next wind.

They banked left, heading south. The woods gave way to another town. Far below, a lonesome gas station stood by an intersection, creating an oasis of bright light on the dark road. By the gas islands, a dark green pick-up truck was parked, its engine running.

As the gargoyles passed over, two men in ski masks emerged through the door of the station's mini-mart. One of them held a young woman in an orange smock, most likely the night clerk, the muzzle of his gun against her neck.

Without a word, Brooklyn banked suddenly and circled, going back. He heard Lexington give a small sound of surprise. In the next instant he passed Brooklyn, streaking towards the men with the guns.

He didn't stop to think -- they never did. Brooklyn felt the familiar heat behind his eyes and in his chest, and the overwhelming, undeniable urge to protect.

Lex hit the chest of the other guy in the ski mask just as a gun went off.

*****

When the two New York gargoyles turned and dropped suddenly, falling to earth like comets, Guen, who was just behind Brooklyn, slowed in shock, then veered back to see what had happened.

Lexington was wrestling on the ground with a guy who must have been twice the gargoyle's size, if not twice his weight. A sawed-off shot gun lay on the pavement nearby, in the phosphorescent glow of the gas station's island lights. It had discharged when Lexington hit the guy, but the shot had harmlessly struck the vending machine. Brooklyn stood facing a second guy in a ski mask who was holding a young woman, threatening to shoot her as he backed up. The burgundy gargoyle's eyes were glowing a fiery white and his wings were unfurled.

Swift as a falcon, Guen gained altitude, vaguely aware that the others had turned, too, and that Karian and Birch had followed her while the other dropped to the verge between the gas station and the road. Dropping, she struck the thug facing Brooklyn in the back.

With a grunt the man fell forward, releasing the girl but not the gun.

The night clerk took one look at her rescuers, let out a high-pitched scream, and ran off into the night.

On her knees, stunned by what she had just done, Guen looked up and saw the thug standing a few feet away, his hands shaking as he leveled the gun at her. A growl rumbled up in her throat, startling her; she couldn't remember making a sound like that before.

Then Birch rammed the thug from the side. His gun fell to the pavement with a clatter. The young gargoyle landed on top of him, momentarily pinning him to the ground.

~What's he waiting for?~ Guen thought, remembering the techniques she had read about. But after his initial attack, Birch seemed confused about what to do next. The man put his knees against his chest and shoved, hard. Birch, taken by surprise, sprawled on the pavement as the thug picked up his gun and leveled it at the gargoyle, his finger on the trigger.

"No!" Karian screamed. Her eyes blazing, she clumsily grabbed the barrel of the gun.

The one Lexington had pinned pushed the small gargoyle off and reached for his gun. Lexington flicked out his tail, sending the weapon sliding across the pavement out of reach as Brooklyn picked the guy up by the neck of his parka. The lanky, white-haired gargoyle let him dangle two feet off the ground for a moment, then flung him to one side.

It was hard to see the gun while Karian struggled with the second man and Birch stood uncertainly, his talons clenching and unclenching as he decided what to do. Guen tensed her leg muscles, ready to launch herself into the fray. At any moment she expected to hear a second gunshot, see one of her rookery siblings crumple...

Before she could move, Brooklyn shoved past her. His tail flicked out and caught the second man on his exposed wrist. Screaming in pain, the human loosened his grip on the gun and turned to see what had touched him. His expression changed when Brooklyn leapt at him. The New York gargoyle flattened the crook with one swift blow.

Jaewing, Rowland, Hunter, and Tala stood in a cluster, watching with slack jaws, their eyes wide. At the glass door of the mini-mart, two humans appeared, an older man and a younger who looked like his son. Cautiously, they stepped outside, staring down at the fallen thieves.

Lexington pried a knapsack off the slack form of the first thug and unzipped it. Pulling out several wads of cash, he hopped up to the father and son.

"Here," he said. "I think this belongs to you."

In a dazed fashion, the older man took the cash.

"C'mon," Brooklyn muttered. "Let's get out of here before they come to their senses and remember to be terrified of us. Jaewing, Rowland, Hunter, Tala, come on, we're going." The second in command of the Wyvern clan began to climb the side of the gas station, digging his talons into the pristine, white-washed cement.

When they were airborne, Jaewing looked over at Guen curiously. Brooklyn and Lex were farther ahead, out of ear-shot.

"Why did you do that?"

"What do you meant?" Guen asked Jaewing.

"Attack those crooks. They had _guns_, Guen...you and Karian and Birch could've...."

"I...don't know...." Guen said.

"It was weird," Birch tried to explain. "I felt this....heat, behind my eyes. But it was more than that...we've all felt that. But they were robbing those humans, they might have killed that woman..."

"We had to _do something_," Karian finished for him.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and they were real grateful, weren't they? They didn't even thank you, and that girl ran off like we were refugees from A Nightmare On Elm Street."

"That doesn't matter," Guen said suddenly. "I'd do it again, even if they never thanked us." *****

The dark blur of woods gave way to the pattern of fields blanketed by old snow, where nine winged shadows chased each other over the smoothness like phantoms in a hurry. Then woods again swallowed the shadows, and in the distance lights glittered, a town.

Jaewing raised his wing and peeled off to the right, though, not heading towards the town but to some point a few miles outside its edges. The dark gray ribbon of a highway cut through the rural landscape and was behind them.

Lexington pumped his small, flying-squirrel style wings and spurted ahead. He could feel the strain in his shoulder muscles. Glancing back at Brooklyn, he saw that his rookery brother seemed tired as well. Gargoyle wings were designed for gliding from cliff to cliff, tower to tower, or for brief aerial attacks, not for long-distance travel. The Pennsylvania gargoyles seemed worn out as well; Birch, Karian, and Rowland were lagging behind.

"There it is," Jaewing said, pointing downward.

They glided over a border of pine trees and a stone gate with surveillance cameras and followed the line of a long drive that had been plowed, forming two snowy ruts. Standing proudly against the starry sky with the trees framing it in the background, rose a four-towered castle, its sandy stone a contrast to the white snow. Flanking it were later additions, structures that looked like authentic period architecture rather than an imitation, as the central portion was. Lexington knew a genuine medieval castle when he saw one, and this one wasn't. But it was darned close.

Lights glowed in its towers and windows, shedding a warm gold light over the stones of the walls and onto the snow. But something didn't seem right. The towers. There should have been gargoyles on the towers, and winged shadows circling and diving in the sky above the castle stones.

"Everyone must be inside the Great Hall, at the council," Jaewing announced, as if reading Lexington's thought.

Brooklyn glided closer to Lexington. "And they didn't think to post a watch?" He murmured.

Jaewing adjusted his wings and made a slow drop to one of the towers. One by one, the others followed, folding their wings.

"Ow," Hunter complained. "That's the last time I fly that far in one night."

The others grimaced and rubbed their shoulders. Brooklyn stretched, then folded his black wings over his shoulders. Only Tala did not seem to be in much pain, although she moved a bit stiffly.

"Welcome to Cadwyn Castle," Jaewing said proudly. "Come on. Follow me." Jaewing went over to the opening in the tower floor and started down the stone steps.

The seven Cadwyn gargoyles led Brooklyn and Lexington through their castle. It was modernized, as Castle Wyvern was, but its construction felt different, more airy and complex. But the placement of the windows, the layout itself, was familiar, and Lexington remembered Birch explaining that Cadwyn Castle was a replica of a castle on the Cornish Coast. So Cadwyn, like Wyvern, was designed to withstand the buffeting of wind and waves, and built with the protection of the sea on one side and sturdy battlements on the other. Except there was no sea here, just woods and fields.

Hunter pushed open a door and they started down a broad flight of sandstone steps.

Lexington and Brooklyn followed Guen, Jaewing, Birch, and the others, their foot talons clicking on the smooth stone floor. Electric lights on candle-like brackets lit the hall with a soft glow that was not quite like torchlight.

At the bottom of the steps there was a large tapestry hanging on one wall. Lex paused to look at it more closely, touching his talons to the embroidery. It looked very old, and portrayed a warrior in full armor, helmet on the ground beside him. The dress was odd, not unlike the armor Lexington had know in the 10th century -- the helmet cone-shaped -- and yet not like. Simpler. The warrior stood in a garden, with curls of leaves, ivy, and tiny flowers all around him. Facing him with large, black, wings cloaked was a broad-shouldered, forest-green male gargoyle with black hair and two prominent forehead ridges, dressed in a white tunic. The armor-clad human and the gargoyle clasped each other's wrists in a warrior handshake.

"Lex!" Brooklyn hissed. "Lex, come on!"

Lexington tore himself away from the tapestry and bounded after the others.

They stopped before a tall door with big iron brackets set into the wood. Birch turned back.

"It's The Great Hall," he explained. "Um...you two should probably hang out at the back of the room, wait until we introduce you..." Birch trailed off and glanced nervously at the door.

"You see," Karian explained, "We kind of didn't tell anyone where we were going, or why."

"We did leave a note," Jaewing protested. "But Birch is right. Better let us go first." Boldly, with the air of one who will face Fate with shoulders stiff, he opened the door.

The first thing Lexington noticed was sound. It wasn't noisy in The Great Hall -- not in a busy way. The inhabitants were listening to the speaker at the front attentively. There were the small rustlings, coughs, and stirs that happen in any large audience -- Lex had heard the human crowds in movie theaters and concert halls time and again. But these were not humans. They were gargoyles. Dozens upon dozens of gargoyles, of all ages, from the smallest hatchling, held in an adult's protective arms, to a light blue, white-bearded gargoyle with a build and demeanor that reminded Lex of Hudson. The small rustling this time also came from the sound of wings -- wings being tucked around shoulders with a gentle snap, or being brushed against an arm.

Lex reached up and his talons closed convulsively around Brooklyn's wrist.

"Brooklyn --" he whispered. "Look at them all!"

His rookery brother didn't look at him. His eyes were fixed on the crowd gathered in the Hall, and Lex couldn't read Brooklyn's expression.

"You two okay?" Jaewing asked absently. "Stay here a moment. Okay guys, remember now -- if we don't look guilty, maybe they won't yell at us."

The seven Cadwyn gargoyles slowly moved into the crowd leaving the two New York gargoyles in the shadow under the gallery running overhead.

Electric spotlights, not torches, lit the Hall, but still it reminded Lexington of the councils at Castle Wyvern centuries ago. He had sat and watched and listened but had not spoken, being too timid as the large gargoyles had discussed clan problems, strategies, concerns. Sometimes the hatchlings or even the adolescent gargoyles would grow restless, start nudging each other, teasing and joking until Goliath or Hudson bellowed at them to be still.

Several adults and two elders stood before The Great Hall's large fireplace, which was made of brown quarry stone. One of the adults was dark blue, like Jaewing, but smaller than Jaewing would probably be at full size. At the tips of his pale blue wings were four long, deft extra digits. He wore a tool belt and stayed at one end of the fireplace, listening with his head cocked to one side, powerful arms folded.

Next to him was a female with a build like Lexington's, of a forest green similar to the gargoyle in the tapestry. Unlike Lexington, she stood absolutely upright and seemed comfortable doing it. Her face had an elvish quality, a hint of mischief, but she, too, listened seriously. With her was a very pretty adult female with pale lavender skin and black hair.

Nearby were two humans, a tall, dark-haired man wearing wire-rimmed glasses and an attractive woman with curly brown hair. They listened with her cheek resting on his shoulder, their fingers clasped together.

At their feet crouched a gargoyle watch-dog, tawny and barrel-chested with a narrow, pointed snout like a wolf's. He had a ruff of fur along the back of his neck. The gar-dog raised his head, sniffing at the air, then let out a resounding bark.

The light blue elder had one hand to his beard and was stroking it thoughtfully, his other hand fingering the belt of his breeches as if there should be a sword there. The speaker was a slight-boned female elder with light violet skin and silvery white, long hair.

"The Brodwins are part of the clan," said the female elder. "Ben and Ivy are like our own hatchlings. But Phyla wouldn't want us to just go charging off without --"

The gar-dog raised his head, sniffing at the air, then let out a resounding bark. The speaker glanced aside sharply as the gar-dog gave an excited whine and bounded into the crowd, headed for Birch.

"Hey, Balthazar," Birch said softly, crouching so the watch-dog could lick his face. He scratched the ruff of fur. The gar-dog settled down and loyally sat back on his haunches at Birch's feet.

"And what about Phyla?" Jaewing called out in challenge. "And Hotspur? And Siward? Are you going to just let the Quarrymen have them?"

A murmur rippled through the vast room. The light blue, bearded gargoyle had a small, almost imperceptible smile on his face.

"Ah," the female said acidly. "The prodigal band has returned. So good of you to join us."

The seven young gargoyles reached the fireplace and stopped, clustered together. Huddled with Brooklyn in the shadows at the back of the room, Lexington began counting gargoyles but stopped after thirty-seven to listen to the conversation developing at the front.

"We brought help," Karian said, moving forward impulsively.

"Help?" The violet female lifted her chin and stared down severely at Karian, who had no sign of a dimple anywhere in her face. "If you truly wanted to help, you wouldn't have run off during a crisis. As if we didn't have enough to worry about."

"Well, you wouldn't listen to us before," Hunter pointed out. "We did what we needed to do to help the clan."

"What you did was irresponsible and selfish." The elder female folded her arms, not speaking sharply, but sorrowfully, as if disappointed.

"Don't you get it?" Guen moved forward next to Jaewing and Karian. "This is different than anything we've ever dealt with before. We needed to --"

"What would you know about what's come before. You're barely old enough to glide on your own."

"Age has nothing to do with it, Lorica." The light blue bearded gargoyle spoke slowly and carefully, his voice rich, somewhere between a tenor and a baritone.

"They shouldn't have gone, Morgan." The other elder shook her head, her white hair falling forward.

"Please," the human female reached out her hand. "Can't we argue about this later? What about Phyla and the others? Jaewing's right. You can't let the Quarrymen have them."

"Anna, your children..." Lorica began.

"They won't hurt them," Anna said, as the human man put his hand on her arm as if steadying her. The curly-haired woman clenched her hands into fists. "I'm terrified for Ivy and Ben, but as I tried to tell you before, The Quarrymen won't hurt a human child. It's the gargoyles they hate."

"We could attack their headquarters," the forest green female suggested. She curled one hand into a fist and swung it in emphasis. "Plan a sneak attack, set a trap, they'll never know what hit 'em."

"Yeah, if we knew where it was," someone called out.

Lorica shook her head. "We can't do that. What if we fail, and are caught at sunrise?"

"What then?" The forest green female asked.

"We need to think," Lorica said. "We can't risk..."

"I don't believe what I'm hearing."

All heads swivelled to the back of the room. Lexington, who had barely realized it was Brooklyn who had spoken, watched as his rookery brother moved forward out of the shadows. His voice, when he spoke, was low and strong.

"Brooklyn," Lex whispered nervously, "What are you _doing_?"

But Brooklyn ignored him. He strode forward, wings cloaked over his shoulders. "Your leader is a captive of The Quarrymen. The children of your human protectors are in danger. And you want to sit around and _think_?"

"And who might you be?" Lorica raised her eyebrows disdainfully.

Brooklyn raised his head proudly, his white hair tumbling down his back as he stood up straight, to his full height. "My name is Brooklyn. I am second in command of the Wyvern Clan."

"This..._hatchling_...is a second in command?" Another elder called out.

Brooklyn fixed the gargoyle with a steady glare. The elder was a male of a striking pewter color with greying brown hair, and he was big and broad-shouldered, like Goliath.

"I was hatched one-thousand and thirty seven years ago," Brooklyn said quietly. "How old are you?"

Guen put her hand to her mouth as if stifling a laugh. Several of the gargoyles, and the two humans, looked quizzical. Then an expression of sudden realization dawned on the man's face and he adjusted his glasses, staring hard at Brooklyn as if not quite sure he was real.

Still in the shadow of the gallery, Lexington shook his head, eyes widening. He and Brooklyn had been hatchlings together, rookery brothers. But Brooklyn seemed -- different. It had been happening more and more lately, and had started with that mess with Fang, Talon, and Maggie while Goliath was still away. But this...Lex felt as if he no longer knew his rookery brother quite so well. He was remote, intimidating somehow, yet benevolent. Like...Goliath.

"Jaewing, what do you know about this?" The pewter-colored elder turned to the young gargoyle.

Jaewing grinned shamelessly. "Everyone, this is Brooklyn. Brooklyn, this is the Cadwyn Clan."

"What is he doing here?" Lorica asked.

"He's the help we were talking about," Birch said timidly.

With a flick of his wings, Brooklyn bowed in Lorica's general direction, taking in the whole group clustered at the fireplace. "It is an honor to meet your clan. My rookery brother Lexington, a swift and clever warrior, is here as well. We want to help in any way we can." He gestured formally towards the back of the room.

Lexington swallowed, but realized he had no choice. He stepped out into the light, feeling terribly self-conscious as he moved towards the front.

Lorica looked him up and down as he approached. The skin between her forehead ridges crinkled doubtfully. Then she turned back to Brooklyn.

"And what do you propose to do about this mess, hatchling?"

"Find a way to save Ivy and Ben and your clan leader. Nothing else matters. Sometimes you do have to be cautious. My leader taught me that. He also taught me that sometimes caution isn't the most important thing. Protecting clan is."

A powerfully built, pewter-colored male gargoyle with fuschia lining to his wings and a narrow beaked face spoke up. "I'd hardly call walking into the Quarrymen Society's trap protecting clan!"

"You do what you have to do," Brooklyn said quietly.

"You talk as if this were a war, boy," said the gargoyle with the tool belt.

"Isn't it?"

A murmur of conversation rippled around the great hall. The two humans came over to Lorica and began to speak with her in low voices. Occasionally Cal or Anna Brodwin would glance over at Brooklyn and Lexington.

Birch, Karian, Jaewing, Guen, Hunter, Rowland, and Tala stood on either side of the New York gargoyles, flanking them like an honor guard.

Brooklyn stood listening to the hum of argument, his eyes traveling over the audience of gargoyles, lingering there as if trying to memorize the color and characteristics of each one.

With four more doggoyles crouched beside them, several hatchlings were peering over the railing of the gallery above, pointing and whispering. Lexington caught the eye of one of them and grinned. The hatchling's shining black eyes widened at being caught, and he and his companions ducked back.

"I know what has to be done," Brooklyn said suddenly, low and carrying.

Startled, Lexington turned to him. "Huh?"

"Listen to me, please!" Brooklyn raised his voice. The murmuring faded somewhat; Lorica and the others at the front turned to look at him.

"Well?" Lorica folded her dark lavender arms and looked archly down at Brooklyn from her slender height.

"We send a message to the Quarrymen telling them we'll make the trade."

"Make the trade?" The lavender female echoed. "'Do what you have to do,' and that includes you, a stranger to this clan, coming here and telling us we have to put our lives in danger."

Several of the Cadwyn gargoyles opened their mouths to speak, but Brooklyn cut them off. "No. Not yours. Mine."

The room went silent.

Morgan shook his head. "We can't let you do that, Brooklyn."

"But my clan has dealt with the Quarrymen before. We know how they think. It's the only way that makes sense -- we can save the kids and put someone on the inside with your leader."

The pewter gargoyle snorted. "And I suppose you'll break Phyla and Hostpur and Siward out single-handed."

"He's daft, Raeven," Lorica said. "That's what comes of giving younglings too much free reign."

"Not alone," Lexington blurted. "I'll go with him."

"No, Lex." Brooklyn turned and put his hand on his rookery brother's shoulder. "I'm not letting anyone else take this risk. Besides, I need you to--"

Lexington reached up, closed his talons around Brooklyn's wrist, and removed his hand from his shoulder. "Never mind."

"Lex, I--"

Whatever he was going to say was drowned out as the Cadwyn gargoyles surrounded Brooklyn, firing questions.

Crouched on the stone floor, Lexington watched as Brooklyn completely vanished from view behind the wall of gargoyle bodies. Jaewing and the others had been jostled aside and were now dispersed, telling their rookery siblings of their journey. Guen had vanished completely.

Suddenly he felt someone tap him on the head with one talon. He turned sharply and saw that it was Brooklyn.

"What do _you_ want?" Lexington said rudely. "Shouldn't you be busy telling everyone how you're going to save the day all by yourself? Anyway, it's a stupid idea, you're going to get yourself killed, but _I_ can't stop you."

"Arrrgh, Lex, will you knock it off and let me explain?"

"Hey, look, I get it. You don't want the runt to get hurt."

A low growl rumbled in Brooklyn's throat. Lexington took one step backwards, startled.

"The reason why you can't go with me is that I need you to lead a scouting party," Brooklyn explained, less than patiently. "That's the plan -- you and the fastest gargoyles here will follow the Quarrymen when they take me. That's how we'll find their HQ, and where Phyla and the others are. I want you -- you, Lex, no one else, got it? -- to be in charge of that. If the scouts lose sight of the Quarrymen, it'd be very bad. It's not that I don't trust Jaewing's clan. But who do you think I'd rather hand my life to? Them...or you?"

Lexington scratched a talon down a pillar, dislodging a few flecks of stone. "Oh," he said.

"Now, go get your scouting party together," Brooklyn continued. "I'll tell the others to get ready for a fight."

*****

The door was bronze, some once-decrepit item Anna Brodwin had picked up at an antiques auction as a gift to her husband to restore. Now it was polished clean, its smooth, undecorated panels sharply defined. Its hinges creaked when Guen pushed it open.

In contrast to the warmth and noise of the Great Hall, here it was cold and quiet. She flicked a switch and the track lighting came on, drowning the blackness of the night beyond the tall windows. The room was high-ceilinged and vaulted, a mere fraction of the scale of the Great Hall, its walls and floor of stone. The light touched the glass cases that were the only structures in the room, making the old metal they contained gleam.

Gargoyles protect.

She had know that all her life, they had all known it. But so far, for the most part all that had meant was guarding a secret.

Guen stopped before a rectangular case held closed by a silvery metal lock. She grasped the lock in her talons and yanked. The metal broke away in her hands like hard maple sugar candy. Then she gently opened the glass door and took down a 16th century sword encased in a scabbard of dark brown, tooled leather with maroon trim.

There were heavier swords in the collection, swords of legend. One was rumored to date back to the time when the clan lived in the Cornish cliffs in England. But they didn't suit her. And the light blade she had chosen would do nicely for the coming battle.

*****

The Quarrymen had left a phone number to call with their answer. Anna made it, seated at the desk in her study. Clustered around her chair as if to support her were Cal, Brooklyn, Guen, Lorica, the small, elf-faced gargoyle, whose name was Emilia, and the gargoyle with the tool belt, Hopper. Both Anna and Cal were dressed in black jeans, sweatshirts, and sneakers. On the table by the couch was a cardboard box holding several wireless communication sets.

Brooklyn noted the sword Guen now wore belted at her waist, but he didn't comment.

"One," said Anna. Holding the black cordless phone to her ear, she stared down at the papers littering her desk as if not really seeing them. "No. Let me speak to Ben. Dammit, put him on now!" The dark, curly-haired woman sat up straighter in her chair. "Ben? How's Ivy? Are you all right?"

Cal reached down from behind Anna and took the phone from her. "Ben, it's Dad. Listen to me, just do what they say. We're getting you out of there. I know, son...no, look, I promise we won't let anything happen to the gargoyles....hello? Ben? Ben!..." He swore and hit the hang-up button.

Dully, Anna spoke. "We're to have one gargoyle, alone, at the field at the intersection of route 413 and Old River Road, in one hour from now. In return, they'll release Ben and Ivy at the mill."

"That doesn't give us much time until sunrise," Brooklyn said. "Just a few hours."

"It will have to be enough," Lorica said grimly.

"Brooklyn," Cal turned to the gargoyle. "I want to thank you for doing this." He held out his hand, and Brooklyn shook it.

Hopper went over and in a business-like manner removed a few items from the box. "Now, we'll be putting a small listening device on you," he said to Brooklyn, taking a screwdriver from his belt and making an adjustment. "You can't hear us, but we'll hear everything that happens once you're captured. Lexington's scouts will keep in contact with us over at the mill. We, as well as Lexington, will also be able to contact the castle. This equipment is pretty powerful, we were lucky to get it on such short notice."

Brooklyn nodded, and stood still as the gargoyle placed a tiny aural device in his ear.

Cal picked up a microphone and headset. As if weighing them, he held the devices in his right hand. "Okay, let's go test this."

"Hopper, let's go get Morgan and the jeep. We'll meet you out front, Cal."

Anna and the gargoyles left the room. Brooklyn was about to follow Cal when Guen suddenly spoke.

"Hey, Manhattan!"

He turned, brow ridge raised in amusement at the name.

Guen crossed her arms, holding her elbows in her palms. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"Anything you say, Penn. Just make sure the cavalry's ready." Then he grinned, and was gone.

*****

"MacGyver, this is Braveheart, do you read?" Lexington put his talon to the ear piece and heard Hopper's voice, crackly over the device.

"Read you loud and clear, Braveheart. We're in position, how are things looking at your end?"

"Quiet and ready," Lexington answered. "You?"

"Same."

Lexington crouched in an oak tree at the edge of the field along with Aemelia, Hunter, Rowland, Karian, and Tala. The field was quiet in the night, the hard-packed snow glowing faintly. The night had grown sharply colder, and feathery, ghost-like clouds began to blot out the stars.

In the middle of the field stood a brick-colored, white-haired figure with cloaked black wings.

Unconsciously, Lexington dug his talons into the bark of the tree. With his free hand, he changed the frequency on the listening device. "Pendragon, this is Braveheart, do you read?"

"Pendragon here. The troops are ready and waiting for your signal."

"Okay, stand by, Pendragon."

Down the empty stretch of nearby road came the faint hum of a vehicle. It grew louder, and then a black van, its headlamps dark, turned off the road and began to rattle and bump over the dead field. Brooklyn turned and faced it, back straight.

Lexington hit the frequency switch again. "Okay, MacGyver, they're here."

"Right, we'll tell the home base."

The van stopped, backed up, and turned around. Twin tracks cut the snow from the road, across the field. Still Brooklyn didn't move. Karian glanced at Lexington, who met her eyes for a moment and turned back to the field.

Two men in the royal blue Quarrymen uniform and hoods climbed out of the van. They both held some sort of gun. They went around to the back of the van and opened it, letting out four more similarly garbed figures.

"Six?" Tala whispered in disgust. "They sent six to capture _one_ gargoyle?"

"That's how they think," Lexington whispered back grimly. He dug his talons into the tree trunk again, unaware that a pile of shavings had gathered in the snow at its base.

The two with the bulky guns approached Brooklyn from the front, while the other three Quarrymen moved in from behind.

And the gargoyle stood still.

"Hey, fellas," Brooklyn addressed them, spreading his arms. When the Quarrymen's fingers went to the triggers of their guns, he lowered them. "We made a deal, right? I'll come with you quietly, you don't need to--" His voice cut off with a startled shout as one of the blue-hooded figures fired.

A net attached to a weight shot out and enveloped Brooklyn. It took every last piece of will for Lexington to remain in the tree. His wings twitched. Out on the field, Brooklyn sank to his knees in the snow, the clinging, plastic-like substance weighing him down, tangled in his hair and horns.

The three came up, tugged at the netting, and heaved the red gargoyle into the open van. There was a thud that made Lexington flinch, and the van lurched.

"Okay, they have him," Lexington whispered urgently into the mic. He tensed, ready. If Ben and Ivy were not released, he and the other would try to free Brooklyn.

"I see the kids," Hopper said over the comm device. "They're letting them go...we have them! They're okay!"

Lexington gave the other gargoyles in the trees an "OK" sign with his talons.

Below them, a hooded figure slammed the van's back door shut. Then he joined his companions inside.

"Easy now," Aemelia said, as Lexington poised to take flight. "Wait for it -- we don't want to be spotted."

The van drove off the field. When it reached the road, it sped up. Lexington dove from the tree like a small, dark green missile, caught the wind, and streaked after the van. The others were just behind him.

A tan blur skimmed suddenly past on his right. Tala. She took the lead and held it effortlessly. Lexington, who had always been one of the fastest gliders in his clan because of his light weight and maneuverable wings -- and was now _the_ fastest -- was already using his skills to the fullest and couldn't match her.

Rowland came up on his left. "No one can catch Tala," he called into the wind. There was grudging admiration -- and wistfulness -- on his face, and something else Lexington couldn't quite read. "But I'm working on it!" He added.

They trailed the van for miles. It turned off onto a dirt road that cut through the woods. The trees cleared, and ahead there appeared a large clearing where the dead stalks of overgrown grass broke through the crust of snow. In the center of the clearing was a red barn with a stone foundation. It looked as if it had been repaired recently, and freshly painted.

The van stopped, and Lexington signaled to the others to land just within the protection of the trees.

Two rotweilers came galloping around the corner of the barn, barking in a frenzy at the van.

"Oh, boy," Lexington breathed. "If they smell us, we're puppy chow."

The driver side door of the van opened, and the driver spoke a sharp command. Whining, the dogs settled restlessly onto their haunches. Lexington reflected in satisfaction that Bronx would probably eat each dog in one gulp.

The Quarrymen opened the back of the van and hauled Brooklyn out, pulling him roughly to the snow.

"Such luxurious transportation," Brooklyn said sardonically, glaring up at the men. "Thanks."

Ignoring him, the driver gestured with his gun towards the barn. "Get him inside with the others. And Jackson, see if Castaway transmitted that data yet."

Lexington must have started at the name because Karian gave him a concerned look. "Lex?"

"John Castaway," Lexington said flatly, his eyes never leaving the group by the van. "Hestarted the Quarrymen. He's helping them."

One the men keyed a security code into a pad next to a metal door. There was a buzz, and he pushed down the handle. Cold fluorescent light from within flooded out onto the pale snow. The others shoved Brooklyn inside, and then the door latched closed with a heavy, permanent-sounding click.

"Pendragon, do you read, this is Braveheart."

"Braveheart?" Birch answered immediately.

"We've found them. It's a barn at the end of a dirt track, off of..."

"Hansen Road," Karian supplied.

"Got it," Birch said. "Guen's already on the move. We'll be right there."

Lexington turned to the others. "I'm going to take a look inside."

"Hold it." Hunter put his hand on Lexington's shoulder. "What about those dogs? What if you get caught?"

The dogs were sprawled on the snow, panting comfortably. The gargoyles were upwind.

"Brooklyn's my rookery brother," Lexington said. "If you think I'm going to just sit here not knowing what they're doing to him..."

"Whoa, there," Aemelia interrupted. "Okay, Lexington. But you aren't going alone. Tala, Rowland, Hunter, you'd better go with him and protect him from himself. We'll watch for the rescue squad."

"What about the dogs?" Karian asked worriedly.

"Leave that to me." Tala got to her feet and unfurled her wings with a snap. Before Rowland or the others could object, she stepped out of the trees, a tawny shape against the snow.

She cupped her hands over her mouth. "Here, puppy, puppy, puppy!" She called.

The dogs snapped to attention and growled.

"Come here, puppies," Tala said, in the baby-talk voice humans often used for adorable pets -- only the rotweilers were far from adorable. "C'mere," she patted her hand on the thigh of her jeans.

The dogs got to their feet and let out violent snarls, sniffing fiercely at the cold night air, forelegs tense.

Without warning, they bolted towards the young female gargoyle. She darted back to a stout tree trunk, climbed halfway up, and leapt off. Her broad wings spread to the fullest, she skimmed low to the ground, just over the dogs. They leapt at her, snapping, missed, then dashed after her.

Next to Lexington, Rowland crouched tensely, as if ready to leap to her aid if she fell.

Tala reached the far side of the clearing and gained a tree branch about ten feet in height. Crouching there like some large, odd, bird, she grinned down at the dogs. They half-sat, jaws open, their bottoms wriggling in frustration because they could not reach her.

"Yes, you're such stupid puppies," she cooed. "Yes you are!" She grasped her tail in her free hand and dangled it down. The dogs jumped, and she jerked it out of reach.

"Let's go," Hunter said. Quickly, he, his twin brother, and Lexington scaled a tree and leapt.

In the relatively sheltered clearing, it was difficult to gain height, but like Tala the three small gargoyles flew low over the clearing and landed beyond the barn, out of the sight of the dogs.

They could still hear Tala teasing them, keeping them distracted. "Oh, what an ugly dog, yes he is!" There was a snarl and an empty sounding *snap*.

The only visible access to the barn besides the metal door seemed to be several small windows, high up on the wall. There were two on the far side.

Lexington had to stand on Hunter's shoulders while Rowland kept a look-out. Through the newly glazed windows, he saw a large, main room lined by partitioned rooms. In one corner a bank of computers and printers stood near several pieces of medical testing equipment and lab supplies. Out of a dot matrix printer churned paper covered in data.

There were over a dozen Quarrymen, sitting before the computer terminals, or at tables. Some were reading what looked like reports of some kind, others just kicked back. There were boxes of take out Chinese food and pizza scattered amid laser guns, tranqs, and electrified hammers. The hayloft of the barn had been refurbished, and Lexington saw rows of cots where men and women, their heads and identities bared of the hoods, lay in sleep. They were of varying ages and races. They looked peaceful, ordinary.

At the other end of the room was Brooklyn. He was in a zoo-like cage, about 8' by 10', with a steel roof. Judging from the wires that crawled up the white-washed walls, Lexington guessed that the bars were electrified. The white-haired gargoyle was free of the netting, and stood watching the Quarrymen.

There were two other cages, one on either side of Brooklyn's. In one there were two males. One was broad-shouldered and almost as tall as Goliath, with brown-orange skin and a coarse ruff of brown hair run through with gold. The other was smaller, but muscular and burly, his skin a golden yellow, with curly brown hair. Two surprisingly elegant, small horns rose from his forehead. In the other cage was a lone female with long, flowing black hair and powerful looking wings lined with a dark brown that echoed her hair and contrasted with the paler brown of her skin. Lexington realized it was Phyla, the clan leader. She stood quietly with her hands in front of her, the talons of one wrapped about her other wrist. Her face, though delicate, held a deep calmness that reminded Lexington of Hudson.

Lexington wished he could hear what the Quarrymen were saying. Then he remembered that he could, and changed the frequency on the comm device, picking up on Brooklyn's signal.

*****

As the Quarrymen disentangled the net from his body, a third gave him a vicious shove. Brooklyn stumbled into the cage and fell against the rear bars before he could stop himself.

A jolt that was unbelievably unpleasant, not quite searing pain, raced through his body, making his heart pound. He roared, his eyes burning. He fell to the floor as the tremor of the electric shock left his body.

"Remember that, gargoyle," one of the men said, practically spitting out the last word. "You won't be getting out of there soon." He slammed the cage door shut.

"Castaway wants blood and tissue samples from that one," a hooded figure seated at a computer terminal said. "He says this one's not local -- it's from _his_ neck of the woods."

Left alone, for the moment, Brooklyn gingerly got his feet and tried not to think about the tissue and blood sample taking process.

In the other cage, Phyla's looked at him curiously. "Who are you?"

He turned to her. "I'm Brooklyn of the Wyvern clan -- I'm here to rescue you."

Behind him, one of the two male gargoyles in the other cage made a derisive noise.

The female raised her brow ridges. "Ah -- I see. You do know, don't you...that you're also trapped inside an electrified cage?"

Brooklyn shrugged. "Oh, that. Don't worry, help's on the way. You must be Phyla. And which one's Hotspur and which one's Siward?" He asked, gesturing back at the males.

"The big one's Hotspur, and that's Siward," she pointed.

"Nice to meet you," Brooklyn said, turning. "Wish it could be under...better...circumstances."

Hotspur nodded, looking a bit skeptical, but polite, and Siward grunted.

"How do you know..." Phyla broke off. "Wait -- you traded yourself for Ben and Ivy, we heard the transaction over their CB." She frowned. "Bad enough any member of my clan is in danger for my sake," she said, glancing at the males. "But a stranger...you are a brave one, Brooklyn of the Wyvern Clan."

"And how, exactly, do you propose to get us out of this, oh, brave one?" Siward folded his burly arms.

"You sound like Lorica," Brooklyn muttered. "Your clan knows where we are, now," he said aloud. "If all goes well, they're going to break us out."

"_If_ all goes well," Siward echoed.

"Are you mad?" Phyla's voice was quiet but dangerously edged. "You're going to get my clan killed, stranger."

"You underestimate them," Brooklyn replied.

The Quarrymen at the computer gestured his companion over. "Look at this," he said, tapping at the monitor screen.

"Well, well," said the other man, who had been driving the van. He had a deep, oddly pleasant voice. "I guess we'd better take his advice, then. Cole, give me a hand."

He unlocked a metal cabinet and pulled out a length of new chain and several pairs of manacles. Gathering them up, he and his companion went over to Brooklyn's cage.

"What are you doing?" Hotspur said sharply, taking a step closer to the bars.

"We've just been told interesting things about this one." The second Quarryman keyed in the sequence to unlock Brooklyn's cage with one gloved hand, holding a tranq gun in the other. "He's going to have to be put on a leash."

"Behave yourself," the pleasant-voiced man told Brooklyn. "Or we'll have to tranq you, and I don't think you want to be out cold just now."

A low growl rumbled up in Brooklyn's throat, but he permitted the man to close the manacles around his wrists and ankles. Then he threaded the ends of the chain through two metal brackets bolted to the floor, and padlocked the whole thing into a big loop. It was true -- he couldn't do any good unconscious. And now he couldn't leave the cage even if the door was unlocked.

The strange thing was, the way the pleasant-voiced man had spoken had implied that he had thought about Brooklyn's thought processes. Some Quarrymen he had encountered barely acted as if they were sentient -- no better than dogs. But others, like this one, and like Castaway, reacted as if aware of a clever, reasoning, creature. Evil, but reasoning.

Brooklyn wasn't sure which attitude was worse.

*****

Outside the window Lexington drew back his fists to break the glass. Hunter's voice halted him.

"Lexington! What are you doing? They'll be here soon."

"They're chaining Brooklyn up!"

"Lexington, it'll be all right," Rowland said soothingly.

Lexington bit his lower lip, watching as the Quarryman locked Brooklyn's cage. At least this time, he had been able to see the placement of the keys pressed to unlock it.

The three gargoyles outside the barn waiting, as the heavens lowered with clouds that promised snow, and the blackness slid closer to dawn.

*****

"What do we do with them?" The Quarryman asked, once more seated at the computers.

The Pleasant-Voiced Man (as Brooklyn had begun to think of him) leaned with one hand on the counter-top, reading over the computer screen over the other man's shoulder. "Destroy the two adult males at dawn."

In the other cage, Brooklyn heard Phyla say softly, "No!"

The Quarryman leader continued: "The younger male and the female we'll keep for testing, and as a bargaining piece to get the others. We can't let them know we've killed the other two -- let them think they're still in our custody." He glanced over his shoulder at Brooklyn, then turned back to his comrade. "Castaway has asked me to hand that red one over to him in a few days. I'll do it -- without him, this operation would never have gotten off the ground."

Brooklyn began to pull at the chains, ineffectively. They were thick and heavy, adequate to contain a Goliath.

"Might as well start with testing now, though," the human added. "That way we can use all four. And save the remains of the males for study." His voice was serious, thoughtful. The blue hoods robbed these humans of expression. It unnerved Brooklyn -- all he had to go on was body language, and their eyes. It was like fighting an enemy without a face.

The man at the computer nodded and typed something.

Three Quarrymen got to their feet to help their leader as he approached Phyla's cage. Cautiously, one of them keyed in the numbers to unlock the door while another trained a tranquilizer gun on the gargoyle. Phyla watched them with a cold, dignified, defiant look, standing tall in the middle of the cage.

Another human, a woman, approached Phyla with a second set of chains similar to Brooklyn's. Suddenly the expression on Phyla's face dissolved into rage. Unfurling her wings, she threw back her head and let out a battle scream, her eyes blazing red.

The human female with the chains took a halting step back. In the other cage, Hotspur let out a bellow, and Brooklyn called out a warning, "Phyla, don't --"

The other Quarryman steadied his gun, and fired. The dart took Phyla in the thigh, penetrating her jeans. She faltered, her eyes still bright, then yanked the dart from her leg and threw it at the Quarrymen. They ducked. Phyla lunged at the group, then staggered abruptly, putting her hand to her head, then sinking to her knees.

"Phyla!" Hotspur unthinkingly hurled himself at the bars. There was a zapping sound, sparks, and the large gargoyle roared in pain, his eyes twin lanterns as he staggered back. Brooklyn knew the look. Hotspur was beyond reasoning now.

It took all four Quarrymen to lift the limp Phyla. Her chestnut hair trailed towards the floor as they carried her to a metal gurney and placed her upon it.

Siward's eyes were glowing as well, but as Hotspur threw himself at the bars again, he wrapped his arms about his rookery sibling's shoulders, restraining him.

"Hotspur! You're not helping her. Stop, you'll hurt yourself."

Hotspur looked at his rookery brother, then through the bars at Phyla. One of the Quarrymen had taken out a needle and syringe and was preparing to extract a blood sample. Phyla lay still, her eyes closed, her breathing rapid but steady. Her tail dangled off the end of the metal table.

Brooklyn eyed the wires on the wall, but they were out of his reach. There was no way to short-circuit them. The Quarryman pushed up the sleeve of Phyla's sweater and stuck the needle into her arm, drawing blood into the vial. Brooklyn pulled hard at the chains. They groaned, the manacles cutting into his skin.

And then, with a shattering crash, eight gargoyles came through the barn windows, sending glass flying, and the air was filled with the raucous peal of an alarm.

The room sprang into chaos. Glass littered the floor. The Quarrymen dove for their weapons and turned to face the gargoyles.

Lexington, Hunter, and Rowland, dropped in through one of the broken windows and more gargoyles arrived in their wake. Brooklyn saw Guen, her light-weight sword raised, her eyes alight, dropping down on an unsuspecting Quarryman. She landed, struck him on the head with the pommel of her sword, and leapt forward as he slumped to the floor.

Some of the humans panicked and began firing their non-projectile weapons indiscriminantly. Red lines criss-crossed the room and made scorch marks on the newly painted walls. Jaewing ducked a hammer someone had hurled at him. The electrified device struck the television that sat on a small cart, shattering the screen.

The resting Quarrymen in the loft came awake and started for the ladders, the hoods hastily pulled on as they fumbled for weapons.

"Hunter, Rowland, the ladders!" Lexington yelled. He spotted a hammer lying abandoned, picked it up, and dove at the wooden ladders giving access to the loft. The wood splintered and broke under the impact, stranding the humans above. Using their strength alone, Hunter and Rowland pulled at the other two ladders, wrenching them from their moorings.

Two Quarrymen fell and hit the lower floor. They lay where they had landed, groaning and clutching injured limbs. As more gargoyles seemed to pour into the barn, Lexington shoved through the cabal to Brooklyn's cage.

"Brooklyn, are you okay?"

Brooklyn nodded. "Just get me free."

Lexington frowned, his forehead creasing as he studied the keypad. Then, quickly, he punched in a sequence of numbers. The lock buzzed, and unlatched.

"Lex, behind you!"

He saw Lexington turn, but too late, as a Quarryman grabbed his wings and yanked hard, pulling him back and to the ground. The human pinned the small gargoyle, digging his knees into Lexington's chest.

"Guen!" Brooklyn pulled against the chains in frustration. He saw her look up, then dart over to the cages. "Help him!" He could see Lexington gasping for breath, trying to get free. The Quarryman grabbed up a hammer and switched it on, raising it above Lexington's head.

Then the human let out a yelp, as Guen struck him from behind with her hands joined together into a fist. He tumbled off Lexington, as the small gargoyle got to his feet and turned as two more hooded figures came at them. But he was ready this time. Dancing from one foot to the other, he kept them guessing what his next move would be, then struck out with his tail, making one human fall against the other so that both went down.

Guen was beside him, ready to spring on the humans, but Lexington pointed at Brooklyn. "No, get him out."

The light rose-brown gargoyle turned and stepped into the cage with Brooklyn. Sheathing her sword, she joined her strength to Brooklyn's as he pulled on the chains. They creaked and strained but didn't break.

"The keys," Brooklyn said, and Guen darted out, found an unconscious Quarryman slumped across a table, and took a key ring from his belt. Then she unlocked the manacles.

Brooklyn rubbed gingerly at his wrists, which were reddened and bleeding slightly from pulling against the chains. They stung.

"Here," said Guen. Pulling her sword, she cut off two strips of cloth from the hem of her t-shirt and tied the cloth about his wrists.

Lexington had dispensed with the two Quarryman and had opened the other cage. Siward and Hotspur made for the gurney, where Lorica was already at Phyla's side.

"She'll be out for a bit," Lorica said grimly. "But she'll be okay." In a manner that suggested the scolding of mere hatchlings, she made shooing motions. "Go on, they need your strength now. I'll guard her."

Siward sent one last look at Phyla, then darted back into the fray. Hotspur hesitated longer, then reached down, brushed the strands of dark hair from her smooth forehead, and left her.

Several Quarrymen had noticed the cages were open. Back to back, Guen and Brooklyn stood ready for them.

With a battle scream, the young female gargoyle grabbed the first one by the scruff of his jacket and tossed him over her shoulder. He hit the wall, slumped down, and lay still. The others hesitated, while two more advanced on Brooklyn.

Distracted, he didn't see another one come from the side. The woman struck at his back with a an electrified hammer, a glancing blow but enough to cause pain and unsettle his balance. The others jumped on him, trying to bring him down. His eyes blazing in fury, Brooklyn shook them off, roaring. Another blue-hooded figure let loose with a flying barrel kick that knocked the red gargoyle into the computers.

The monitors toppled, their screens breaking. Sparks flew, and in the innards of one flames licked up and caught the stream of paper trailing from the dot-matrix printer.

Scrambling to his feet, Brooklyn saw a Quarryman aiming a laser weapon point-black at Karian's back. Shouting a warning, he started for the hooded human. Out of nowhere, a lantern-eyed, coffee-brown gargoyle launched forward, fire-extinguisher upraised in both hands. Birch. He struck the Quarryman across the back, and the man fell, his gun falling to the floor. Without missing a beat, Birch unhooked the nozzle of the extinguisher and sprayed it at the growing fire. Brooklyn hardly recognized the quiet, most timid member of the seven who had come to New York. His face was smudged with some kind of dirt that he had picked up during the fight. Pieces of glass were caught in his hair, and his eyes had the same battle-wild look Hotspur's had held earlier.

Someone had opened the barn door. Blue-hooded figures were fleeing outside. Pleasant-Voiced Man was yelling orders, coughing, but only a handful of his troops paid any heed.

The extinguisher foam had only put out the fire around the monitors. It had already spread too far. A haze of smoke drifted down from the loft, and flamed were spilling across the underside of its floor like liquid.

Hotspur returned to the gurney and took the still unconscious Phyla in his arms.

"Lorica, start getting everyone out. I'll be right back." Before she could object, he bounded for the door with Phyla.

The heat from that end of the room drove every living creature back like a palpable force-field. The fire had reached the barn roof, and small chunks of burning wood were falling like pieces of the sky.

"Out!" Lorica yelled over the crackling roar. "Everyone out, now!"

Hunter and Rowland started to obey, then stopped over two limp Quarrymen. The twins' eyes met, then each grabbed a human under the shoulders and pulled them out the door to safety. Hotspur's broad form appeared in the door, and he began summoning the members of his clan with a penetrating bellow. All the humans were out of the building, either fleeing under their own steam or carried by gargoyles.

It was difficult to breathe through the haze of smoke. Coughing, Brooklyn heard Lorica shout at them to hurry. Brooklyn gave Lexington and Guen a shove towards the door. He saw their forms, dim through the smoke, go through the door and outside.

He was just a few paces behind them when he heard the wrenching crack from above. Instinct told him to continue forward. Something heavy struck him across the back. He felt a singe of heat...

Then nothing.

*****

When he came to, he was lying on something cold and white. His mind struggled up from a confused, misty place, his vision focused, and he saw bare tree branches lacing above him, etched a darker gray against the clouded night sky. No, not night -- pre-dawn, still black but with an eerie back-lit quality. After the noise and heat and shouting and pain, the world now seemed preternaturally peaceful and hushed.

He heard someone breathe a sigh of relief somewhere nearby. Turning his head, he saw Lexington crouched at his side.

"Man, I thought you were a goner!"

"What --" Brooklyn winced as he tried to sit up, and thought better of it. He realized he was lying on snow. "What happened to me?"

"A beam fell on you. We were already outside. Siward went back in and carried you out."

There was the crunch of footsteps in the snow, and Guen knelt opposite Lexington, her sword sheathed. Her brown curly hair fell freely over one shoulder as he looked down at Brooklyn. "You didn't listen to me, Manhattan. I told you to be careful."

"Hey," he said, trying to shrug while lying down. "I couldn't let a day's stone sleep go to waste." A rivulet of warm pain tingled across his back and he shut his eyes.

"Brooklyn?" Guen said quickly.

"He'll be okay," Lorica's voice said calmly. Brooklyn opened his eyes. "It'll hurt a bit, but luckily the beam was only smoldering, not in flames. You have only first degree burns and one heck of a bruise." The dark-violet gargoyle glanced wryly at Lexington. "Hotspur had to practically sit on this one while Siward went in after you." Oddly gentle, the elder female knelt and put her talons on Brooklyn's shoulders. "Can you get up?"

With Lorica's help, he painfully and stiffly got to his feet.

They were in the woods. The gargoyles of the Cadwyn clan were gathered, inspecting bruises, tending to each other's small injuries. Jaewing was bleeding from a cut on his cheek, a cocky tilt to his head as Karian dabbed at the cut with a piece of cloth. Hotspur knelt on the snow, holding the sleeping Phyla against him. Tala sat on a rock, methodically shredding a blue hood in her talons.

In the east, through the trees, hovered a faint red glow that was not the dawn. But beyond it, the sky was lightening.

The sound of four wheel-drive and snow tired cut into the breathless silence. The weary gargoyles raised their heads and tensed, ready for another attack. Then headlights cut through the trees and the Brodwin's Jeep came into view. It stopped, unable to continue further as the track ended and the trees became denser.

Morgan and Hopper leapt from the back as Cal, Anna, Ivy, and Ben climbed out the front and hurried towards the gargoyles. The jeep's headlights illuminated the woods, cutting a white beam across the trees.

"Is everyone okay? Is anyone hurt...oh, Jaewing."

"Ah, just a scratch." The royal blue gargoyle said, obviously enjoying himself immensely as Anna took his chin and with deft fingers inspected the wound.

Cal let out a quiet curse, and Anna looked up sharply. Then she saw what he had seen -- Phyla nd Hotspur. Forgetting Jaewing's noble wound for the moment, she scrambled after Cal over the snow to Phyla.

"She's drugged," Hotspur told them.

Anna took Phyla's limp wrist between her fingers and checked the gargoyle's pulse. Then she nodded. "She'll be fine by tomorrow night."

"Speaking of..." said Morgan thoughtfully. "I can feel the dawn coming."

Something cold and wet touched Brooklyn's beak. The beams of the jeep's headlights captured the light flakes of snow that were appearing, as if by magic, out of the sky.

Reassured of Phyla's condition, Anna turned her attention to Brooklyn's wings and back. She said nothing for a moment, then let out a long breath that was not exactly a sigh. "That could have been very bad indeed, Brooklyn," she said, moving around to face him. "If those had been third or second degree, I don't know if even a stone sleep could completely heal them. How do you feel?"

"Bit sore," he said. "Otherwise okay."

"Good." Anna reached up and pushed her dark hair out of her eyes with a gloved hand. She looked haggard for a moment, but smiled at Brooklyn faintly.

Ben, after checking on Phyla, had gone over to Jaewing and the two were talking in low voices. Ivy, after crouching for several minutes next to Phyla, staring into her face, finally stood up and stepped lightly over to Brooklyn. She stepped through the car light beams, causing the snowflakes clinging to her disheveled braids to shine.

"Morgan and Hopper told us what you did," Ivy said simply, looking up at Brooklyn.

"Just trying to help a fellow clan in need."

Suddenly Ivy stepped closer and wrapped her arms around Brooklyn's torso, careful not to touch his back. "Thank you," she said in a fierce whisper, hugging him.

"Uh..." Taken aback, he tentatively patted the child on the head, unsure of what else to do. "You're welcome."

The girl briskly moved away and scurried across the snow to Jaewing and Ben, as if nothing had happened.

The snow was coming thicker, falling in soft, small flakes that promised to stick. The sky had turned to a muted, slate gray color, and now in the east the light beyond the barn fire was tinged with rose.

"Gliding's no good," Hopper said. "We might turn to stone in the air. And I doubt Brooklyn could manage it right now, anyway."

"We should get as far from this place as possible," Hotspur said, looking up. He lifted Phyla in his arms once more, getting to his feet. "We walk, until the sun overtakes us."

"Someone should drive the Jeep home," Cal said. "Otherwise the engine'll die out here in the snow."

"I'll do it," Ben called out promptly.

"Thanks anyway, never mind," his father said sternly.

"I will," said Anna. "Perhaps Balthazar and I will take a walk, come back and meet you half-way." She stood on tiptoe and kissed Cal on the mouth, then started for the Jeep.

"Poor Balthazar," said Cal. "He's probably going crazy right now, looking after the hatchlings and waiting for everybody to come back."

As the jeep's engine revved and Anna drove away, Lorica looked at Cal doubtfully. "Cal, you and the children aren't going to --"

"My uncle would have," Cal said, cutting her off.

Quietly, the band of warriors and their human protectors began their march through the trees. They had gone about a mile when the pre-dawn subtly changed to early daylight. Hidden beyond the snow clouds, the sun's attainment of the horizon was marked only by a pale rose. It was enough. The dawn raced up and enveloped the gargoyles, while snowflakes swirled and hovered, muting the sound of solidifying stone.

Most of the Cadwyn clan, as was their habit, selected quiet, thoughtful poses. Guen, Morgan, Lexington, and Brooklyn froze into sleep partially crouched, talons curled, mouths open in silent snarls as a warning to any who dared violate this gathering again. Hotspur turned to stone standing upright, Phyla turning to stone in his arms.

The three humans stood close together, the man with his arms across each of his children's shoulders. Together, they watched the change take place in silence, almost awe, although they had seen it countless dawns before.

In the quiet woods the statues stood, with fierce or serene faces, inhuman but beautiful, graced with wings. The humans began their day-long vigil as the snow settled over the stone figures like a benediction.

***** EPILOGUE Cadwyn Castle That night, one hour after sunset

Brooklyn looked doubtfully down at the cordless phone held in his talons, took a deep breath, and dialed the phone number for The Aerie Building. The phone rang twice before someone answered.

"This is the Xanatos residence. May I help you?"

"Hi, uh, Owen, it's Brooklyn. Can you put Goliath on?"

"One moment."

Nervously, Brooklyn drummed his talons on the glass coffee table, saw the others looking at him, and stopped.

"Brooklyn!" Goliath's deep voice sounded in his ear, and he suddenly remembered he had never spoken with Goliath on the phone before. It felt odd.

"Hi, Goliath. Did you get my message?"

"Yes," Goliath said, sounding annoyed. "Are you all right? Where is Lexington?"

"He's right here. He's fine. Everything's okay now."

"Brooklyn, tell me, what under the stars happened? You said you had gone to Pennsylvania....where, _exactly_?"

"Hold on." He put down the phone. "What town is this, anyway?" He asked Guen.

"Stone Glen," she said, with a small smile.

"Stone Glen," said Brooklyn. "I think it's somewhere north of Philadelphia. We had some trouble with the Quarrymen out here. They're working with Castaway long distance. They captured the Cadwyn Clan's leader, but we got everyone free."

There was a long silence from Goliath. "And what happened to the Quarrymen?"

"Not sure," said Brooklyn, turning to peer out the window at the last embers of the sunset that peeked through the trees under the velvet night sky. "There was a fire...their headquarters burned to the ground. Most of them scattered."

He heard Goliath let out a short breath. "A fire? Was anyone hurt?"

"No," Brooklyn said. "Lexington and I are leaving in a few minutes. But I wanted to call, make sure you weren't...angry."

This time the silence held surprise in it. "Brooklyn, I...did you say Cadwyn..._clan_?" When Brooklyn made an affirmative sound, Goliath exclaimed, "Brooklyn, how many are there? Where do they live?"

"Oh, they live in Cadwyn Castle. It reminds me of Castle Wyvern, only it's from England. Apparently it's a replica of this castle in Cornwall." Brooklyn glanced down at Lexington, and grinned. "Their ancestors were supposedly allies of King Arthur. Anyway..."

"Brooklyn, how many?"

"Lexington counted up to, oh, thirty-seven before he had to stop. We were kind of busy. But it's got to be way more than that, he hasn't counted the hatchlings yet."

"Hatchlings?" Goliath's voice sounded odd.

"Listen, Goliath, we'll fill you in when we get back. Should take us about three hours --"

Lexington yanked on his arm. "Let me talk to him." He took the cordless phone from Brooklyn. "Goliath? It's me...yeah, I'm okay....no...Goliath, you should have seen him! They didn't know what to do, but Brooklyn thought of this plan..."

"Act, Lexington, no!" Brooklyn hissed and tried to wrestle the phone away from his rookery brother.

Guen reached out and placed her hand on his arm, then shook her head. She gestured with her head towards the door.

Mortified, he followed her out of the study into the stone corridor. Faintly, he heard Lexington's voice behind him: "There he was, Goliath, all alone in the field. The Quarrymen got there, and..."

Brooklyn flinched, and let out a groan. "I'm never gonna live this down," he said, leaning against the stones.

"He obviously thinks highly of you," Guen said, watching him with a gleam of amusement in her dark eyes. Her hair tumbled around the slender horns on her forehead and down her back.

"Goliath's gonna go ballistic when he finds out what I did."

She chuckled -- a rich, sympathetic sound. "So, hero, time to go home and face the music?"

He sighed, and straightened. "Yeah."

Reaching into the pocket of her jeans, Guen pulled out a folded piece of paper, took his wrist, and pressed the paper into his palm.

"What's this?"

"My e-mail and snail address. So you can write to me."

Brooklyn stared down at the folded piece of paper in his hand. "W--write to you?" He stammered.

"Yeah, you know, write, as in pick up a pen, tell me how the thermals are, put it in an envelope...the usual."

He reached up and scratched at his hair. "I..."

Suddenly Guen's eyes widened and she clapped a hand to her mouth, then lowered it. "I'm sorry, I almost forgot, you were raised in the tenth century, weren't you? I know most people, even royalty, couldn't even read back then, let alone write. Unless they were clergy."

It was his turn to laugh. "Easy, Guen. I can read and write. In fact, I learned Latin when I was a hatchling. You just...surprised me...okay, I'll write to you. If you'll write back."

"And how would I address the letter? I can't very well make it out to Brooklyn the gargoyle, The Aerie Building."

"Send it to me care of Owen Burnett," he said suddenly. "Let me write it all down for you."

He turned to go back to the study for a pen and paper, but Guen suddenly stepped over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Thanks for helping my clan, Manhattan," she said. She looked into his face for a moment, then moved quickly past him into the study.

"Any time, Penn," he answered. "Any time."

THE END

Author's note: The geography of the area of Pennsylvania I'm using is a hybrid of the real and the imagined. It probably did not snow in Pennsylvania at the end of January and the beginning of February in 1997; I know it didn't in New York. For the purposes of this story I am saying it did.