then.
“The count is not foolish enough to leave the halls unguarded while he sleeps,” she countered, closing her eyes. “But day or night, Strahd will kill me if I stay. If I try to escape, at least I have a chance.”
Magda looked once more into the torch’s flames. In camp, with Andari’s music compelling her to dance, she would have been able to call up an image of ancient Vistani heroes. But even without the shadow play, as Madame Girani had called the flame-borne images, she still remembered the stories-tales of great heroism, of daring escapes and heart-stopping rescues.
A smile crossed her face as she called one such tale to mind, the story of Kulchek and the giant. The tales concerning Kulchek were Magda’s favorites. This particular yarn told how the wily hero had outsmarted a giant, stole his beautiful daughter, and escaped from a trap-laden castle. Andari had always hated such tales, for they were too fantastic for his liking or his limited imagination. His taunts had never lessened Magda’s love for the stories, however. Andari would take back those jibes now if he could, she thought darkly.
Her resolve strengthened, Magda tied her long red dress into a knot at her waist. She was surprised to find her hands shook only a little. Perhaps I am braver than I thought, she decided. After all, I survived the journey to the castle in the company of an undead knight. Why shouldn’t I be able to escape back to the forest? Taking the torch, she went to the door and opened it cautiously.
The light sent a few rats scurrying for their hiding places. From fissures in the stone walls, the bloated vermin watched the Vistani creep from the bedroom. On the ceiling, centipedes the length of Magda’s arm pulsed forward on hundreds of thin, clutching legs. The woman flinched at the sight but pressed on. Such mundane creatures were certain to be the least frightening thing she would encounter.
A single cobweb-covered stair led from the hall. There were no windows, no doors. Magda quietly crept toward that narrow staircase, holding the torch before her in much the same way a cleric presented a holy symbol to a creature of darkness. Before she mounted the first step, she heard something shuffling down the stairs toward her.
Without hesitating an instant, Magda headed for the bedroom. She reached for the brass doorknob, but it resisted her attempts to turn it. The sound of the creature’s heavy footfalls grew louder in the hallway as it neared the bottom of the stairs. A scream of panic welling in her throat, Magda tried the door again, but again it would not open. Somehow, the door had locked behind her. She held the torch to the right and left, but the walls appeared solid save for the few cracks inhabited by vermin and insects. She was trapped.
“Somethin’s out o’ place,” came a voice from the darkened stairway. The words were hissed in a voice that sounded like metal grinding against stone. “Somethin’ that needs light t’see.”
Magda threw her back against the solid wooden door in an attempt to break it open. The footfalls stopped, and two glowing blue eyes appeared in the darkness at the foot of the stairs. “It’s a she somethin’,” the creature said gleefully.
With a shaking hand, the Vistani held the torch at arm’s length. The creature chuckled crassly from the shadows. “Want t’see me, do you?” it asked and stepped into the circle of light.
The creature was manlike and stood about four feet tall. Rough, obsidian skin covered its thin frame, from the tip of the single twisted horn that jutted from its forehead to the end of the long, spiny tail that ran from its lower back. Its eyes were wide and staring, its nose little more than two holes, its mouth a wide, drooling chasm. With a flutter of movement, the creature folded small, leathery wings tight against its shoulders, then crouched and let its three-fingered hands scrape against the floor. As the guardian studied Magda with its blue eyes, it ran a gray, forked tongue over its pointed teeth.
“Master’ll be wantin’ you, I think,” it said. The creature spoke slowly, as if moving its jaw caused great pain. With a start, Magda realized she had seen this creature, or ones similar to it, all around the castle. It was a gargoyle, animated by sorcery, that stood before her.
The obsidian creature leaned forward and thrust a hand at Magda’s leg. With a small shriek of surprise, the woman leaped back and swung at the gargoyle with the torch. A resounding crack echoed through the hall. The flaming club rebounded off the stone-skinned arm, jarring Magda’s shoulders. The light from the cracked torch dimmed a little; the torch was magical, but obviously not indestructible.
“Want t’play, do you?” the gargoyle hissed. It crawled out of the light’s reach, rubbing its arm where the magic flame had singed it. Its blue eyes shone malevolently in the darkness.
Keeping the torch between her and the creature, Magda edged toward the stairway. She attempted a prayer to the spirits of her ancestors, but a lump in her throat held the words back. Only a strangled gasp escaped her lips.
One step, then another. The Vistani watched the gargoyle’s ice-blue eyes as it retreated from the torchlight. A hope flared in her heart; the creature was leaving! That hope was crushed almost the instant it sprang to life. Without warning, the gargoyle rushed into the torchlight. Its face held a horrifying expression-eyes bulging, fangs bared, and mouth gaping wide. A terrible, grating scream split the air as the creature lurched past the Vistani.
With speed Magda had no hope of countering, the gargoyle raked one taloned hand across the woman’s shoulder. Three thin lines of crimson appeared almost instantly, marking the path of the claws. The shoulder began to throb, but the pain was nothing compared to the sickening smell of offal and decayed flesh coming from the creature’s hot breath. Gagging, Magda brought one hand to her mouth and fell back against the wall.
Taunting laughter sounded in the hallway, as the creature circled Magda with deceptively heavy footfalls. The Vistani, disoriented from the pain in her shoulder, stumbled along the wall. Her hand brushed across a centipede, and the creature curled around her arm before dropping to the floor and pulsing into the darkness. Magda barely noticed.
“Don’t want t’play no more?” the gargoyle hissed facetiously.
Magda had her gaze fixed on the creature’s bright blue eyes, so she almost ran into the end of the hallway. Somehow she’d gotten turned around and, instead of the stairway, she’d reached a dead end of stone and mortar. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and the torch nearly dropped from her hand.
Seeing its opponent drop her defenses, the gargoyle burst into the light. Magda reacted swiftly, though, and thrust the torch into the creature’s ice-blue eyes as if it were a long-bladed dagger. A look of horror flashed across the monster’s face as the magic flame licked at its eyes and insinuated itself into its nose and gaping mouth. A stench of burned flesh and corrupted earth erupted in the hallway.
“What, no more playing?” the Vistani shouted as the gargoyle careened off the wall next to her, its talons tearing at its scorched, bubbling eyes. Magda found herself laughing uncontrollably at the howls of torment that erupted from the darkness as the creature ran away. When she realized what she was doing, the laughter stopped and tears began to stream down her face.
“I will not let them do this to me,” she whispered. “I will not go mad. I will not be like them.”
Magda pushed herself off the wall as a low, grinding sound caught her ear. She held the torch low, close to the noise. There, where the stone met the floor, was a short space scraped free of dirt and dust. The wall had moved! Carefully placing the torch at her feet, Magda pushed with all her might. The sound of stone grinding against stone grew louder as a section of wall slid backward.
After retrieving the torch, the Vistani ducked through the low portal into the short corridor that lay beyond. Two sets of double doors lined this hallway, and weak daylight seeped under the doors to Magda’s right. Relief and hope made her heart beat faster. With renewed vigor, she clutched the torch and started for the doors.
“Tryin’ t’get away,” a voice slurred.
Magda turned to see the gargoyle crawling from the secret door. The gray tongue lolling from its mouth was blistered. The obsidian skin around its nose had cracked open, and gray liquid oozed from the wounds. Its eyes had sustained the most damage. One socket gaped empty, though the deep scratches seemed to indicate that the gargoyle itself had clawed the organ out. The other eye was no longer blue, but rather clouded and milky white. The gargoyle could plainly see well enough, though, for that one remaining eye was trained squarely on the Vistani.
Magda ran and pushed through the ornate double doors. The room beyond was huge. Sunlight filtered into the hall through cracked and broken windows, their iron frames hanging askew. There was no furniture there save for a huge throne sitting atop a raised platform. Magda looked desperately from right to left. Two sets of stairs, separated by a narrow wall, ran down from the throne room.
The sound of the gargoyle shuffling down the hallway had just reached the Vistani’s ears when she bolted toward the stairs. Her bare feet kicking up little swirls of dust, Magda raced across the grimy floor. It shouldn’t be hard to outrun the gargoyle, she told herself as she stumbled down the first steps. She had injured it enough to
