Free to Fly


Ten years after the massacre, Demona returns to Wyvern, only to decide that once again flight is the only answer to her problems.....

A "hi!", combined with thanks and apologies to Brian McCrary (awe inspiring writer... go read his fic!!!!). I'm not sure if I'm treading too close to his concept of seeking the dawn, which was a part of inspiration for this fic. Hopefully it's not too close.

DISCLAIMER: Gargoyles, Demona, Goliath....and everything but the song belongs to Buena Vista and the Great Mouse. No infringement is intended, no profit is being made, so please don't sue! The song is "You Can Still be Free," by Savage Garden. Lovely song, not mine. Again, no infringement is intended, no profit is being made. Please, no sueing either!!!

Cool breeze and autumn leaves
Slow motion daylight
A lone pair of watchful eyes
Oversee the living

Ten years.... Dragon, had it really been that long? She stared around the castle ruins, each stone shoving another wave of memories to the surface of her mind. So much had happened here. So much life....

So much death.

She paced around the battlements, reverently avoiding the piles of rubble that bore curved surfaces of faces, armor, clothes. Memories. All around her, it seemed as if the dead screamed soundlessly, finally venting what they had been denied when they had been struck down in their sleep, stone only now telling of agony. Male and female, young and old, so many gargoyles, so many dead.

All because of those damn humans.

Feel the presence all around
A tortured soul
A wound unhealing
No regrets or promises
The past is gone

She stopped before the one of the six statues, gazing up at the stone form of the old gargoyle that had been her mentor. He still stood on defense, clutching a sword that he must have taken from some Viking, hopefully now long dead. The old soldier had gone to his long sleep a true gargoyle, not old and weak as she had feared - how long ago, now? - when they were chasing the Archmage. Her eyes traced the scar he bore over his eye, remnants of that evil human’s magic, then moved on.

What a pity. The trio of young ones, exuberant, overeager, perhaps too carefree. Now no longer able to be the warriors they had showed such promise to be. The beaked crimson one, headstrong but clever, with clear leader potential. The small green male, swift and agile with a mind even more quick and dexterous. And the large blue one, always kind unless in the midst of battle rage. She sighed once, wondering for just an instant what might have been.

Even the guard dog, faithful to the last. She spared his stone form a quick, almost absentminded pat on the head, then moved upwards.

There was only one left.

But you can still be free
If time will set you free
Time now to spread your wings
To take to flight

Goliath. Why did she always have to think of him in terms of that silly name the HUMANS gave him? She moved in closer, taking in every nuance of his sleeping form. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to have him move, break the stone prison! In her mind she could see it, as he stirred, roared that battle cry that had greeted so many of their enemies, then turned, bringing her once more into that protective embrace. There, she was safe from everything, and nothing could come near, disturb her world, nothing could harm her....

But it could not be.

It never would be.

Her love was destined to sleep away until time itself ended, unless some miracle happened. The castle rising above the clouds? It would take a miracle indeed.

She covered the last of the distance, reaching up to trace a gentle hand across his noble, brooding features. "I’m sorry, my love," she finally declared. "I cannot do this anymore. Ten years...." She looked away, shamed at her weakness. "This is the last time I will visit Wyvern Castle." She leaned forward, bestowing her customary, but now final kiss upon his brow. "Farewell," she whispered, and turned towards the night. A simple leap, the rustle and snap as her wings flared to catch the night breeze, and she was airborne.


The life endeavour
Aim for the burning sun
You're trapped inside
But you can still be free
If time will set you free
But it's a long long way to go

She did not look back at Wyvern, the remnants of her clan as she embraced the night. She was still unsure of what she would do now, all she knew was that she had to leave her yearly pilgrimages behind. No more. They were more torture than tribute now.

But it still left the question of what to do, where to go. She had never really traveled far from the castle, remaining in the area for sentimental reasons. Were there other clans, other gargoyles out there? She’d never heard of any. Perhaps she was the last. To find out, she would have to continue her current course.

Dragon, this all felt so permanent!

Well, perhaps it should be. A burst of black humor twisted her lips into a sardonic grin. Perhaps she should just continue gliding, moving throughout the night until sunrise, trapping her in the same stone that kept her love and clan asleep.

Perhaps in that time, before falling completely to the ground, she would see the sun. Or maybe she would find it after the fact, once her body mirrored that of her sisters and brothers.

There was only one way to find out.

Keep moving way up high
You see the light
It shines forever
Sail through the crimson skies
The purest light
The light that sets you free
If time will set you free

She didn’t expect to be so hungry. It couldn’t be past midnight, but she was starving. Well, perhaps not starving. She’d been that too much in the recent past to rate herself so low. A grumble from her stomach ended the debate. Hungry indeed. That covered it.

Not that it would matter, in the end. Not her empty stomach, not her aching wing muscles, not her hurting soul. She entertained herself with possible visions of the future, wondering what came after the skies turned lavender and crimson....

HIS colors. The tones of his skin and blood.

She suddenly decided death was no black specter, not the way those stupid humans portrayed him.

Death was surely a more gaily colored figure, robed in the bright colors of the sun.

Sail through the wind and rain tonight
You're free to fly tonight
And you can still be free
If time will set you free

Rain. The gray clouds snuck up on her, taking the distracted female by surprise as she wind-danced her way further east. Yet somehow it seemed appropriate. It had rained, that night, ten years ago. It had rained when she left Wyvern the first time.

This seemed so right, so fated. She happily ignored the growing pain in her back and stomach, embracing the storm-brought winds to glide into the night, towards the sun. Beneath her, Scotland drifted by, hills and villages drifting past as she neared a collection of mountains.

And going higher than the mountain tops
And go high like the wind don't stop
And go high

Almost time. She wanted to laugh, to cry, scream and dance and a hundred other things. Instead, she simply glided onwards, angling upwards to glory in the sun for a few seconds longer before smashing to the ground. She welcomed her fate. What was left? No clan, nothing to protect, no reason for the last gargoyle to continue. The humans that had killed her clan were dead or gone, lost to her and revenge.

She refused to be alone any longer.

Free to fly tonight
Free to fly tonight

She was almost amongst the clouds, perhaps minutes away from the dawn. Reveling in the security of her decision, she looked down, taking in details of the earth. Where would she land? Rock, grass, water? A human’s hut, perhaps? That would be sweet revenge indeed.

The thought made her falter a moment, making her lose the wind enough to spill her a hundred feet or so lower. She spun around to catch it again, finally stabilizing to face the west. Her eyes caught a nearby motion, and she fell again, this time in shock.

Impossible. Too ironic. Simply too clichéd to be real.

Yet it was. It had to be.

A gargoyle.

Far below her, hurrying towards what might be a cave within the mountains, there glided the distinct form of a gargoyle.

She wasn’t the last.

She spilled more air from her wings, diving like a hawk in her haste to meet the other. If there was one, there could be more. She had been a leader once, she could be a leader again.

She would not be the last.

Free of doubt, free of suicidal thoughts, and now, even free of gravity, she flew downwards to her destiny.

This way to the fiction

Through here lies the main page

Any questions? Complaints? Screams of outrage that I actually consider myself a writer and/or dared to show this in public? Tell me! Send it all to! I love mail!!!!