The Gorgon

“So maybe I might’ve gone a little bit overboard with my comments to our dear leader just now.” Harlin chuckled while avoiding looking at the hulking Grasil and the large black horns that stemmed from the sides of his head. Thanks to the illusions that swirled about their heads, courtesy of Harlin’s genius and the kitsune affixed to his lower back, he could only see the man’s silhouette. It’d been a way to keep them from looking at the gorgon’s gaze, but it kept him from seeing Grasil’s frightening grimace. “But in my defense, I really am interested in meeting our dear gorgon.” Even if the dirt of the keep had stained his green shoes and coat, and an autumn breeze had tousled his blonde hair. He hadn’t even brought his comb.

“No talking with the target,” rumbled Grasil. “And this isn’t the time to be coy.” He grabbed the green correspondence gem from Harlin and attempted to get back in contact with Boreal, but let out a few grumbles and tucked it into his pocket before long. “We’ll keep him appraised when we’re done here.”

The boulder of a man peered into yet another room of the keep while Harlin kept watch in the hallway. “Huh.”

“Do you see anything?” Harlin said.

“No sign of the target. A lot of gloves though.”

“Gloves? Even though it's not yet winter?” Harlin’s eyebrow rose, and he joined Grasil inside. He made sure his fox tail was inside the room before shutting the door behind him. Tails were so inconvenient, but then again, the kitsune that his tail had belonged to must’ve gotten by just fine up until…well.

Shelves lined the interior of the room, with pairs of gloves set upon each. He plucked one from a shelf and turned it over in his hands. A yellow gemstone lay embedded in the back of each glove.

“My dear Grasil, I do believe we’ve found out how she’s able to control her petrified victims.” Gorgons couldn’t normally control their victims, after all. After speaking, Harlin slunk around the corner of the row of shelves, out of Grasil’s sight, and pocketed a pair of the gloves. He knew exactly what he’d do with these.

“I wouldn’t assume that,” said Grasil. “For all we know, it’s something to do with the poison her snake hair’s got. Puts it on her gloves the way my people back home slather it on their weapons.” Even so, his words gave way to a low hum. “But if it is for those petrified, do you think we can wrestle control of her puppets away from her with these?”

“Perhaps, but I wouldn’t know how to use these. And if I failed, she’d know. I wouldn’t be keen on facing her then.”

“Here I thought you wanted to meet the target.” Grasil snorted. Harlin blinked at the rare show of humor. If only the others were around to hear it, but they wouldn’t believe Harlin.

“Well yes, but on the right foot, Grasil. She wouldn’t be keen on someone that stole from her.” Of course, Harlin had just pilfered one of her gloves, but she had plenty. Surely she would not miss a single pair.

“You want the target to be keen on you when we’re here to put her in the ground?”

The bewilderment in Grasil’s voice made Harlin puff up.

“Of course.” It was natural to want to be liked, after all. To be regarded fondly. If only he’d been regarded fondly before all this, then perhaps…his kitsune tail flicked, and he pushed away mischievous thoughts before they could coalesce. Harlin loved jokes and tricks, but there was a time and place. All the same, he didn’t want Grasil probing further, and gestured to the change in topic that was the collection of gloves. “For someone to have made these in such quantity, they must’ve been quite a craftsman. And we haven’t run into a crafting table or workshop yet.”

“So someone made these for the target, you’re saying,” said Grasil.

“Precisely my good man,” said Harlin. “And I’ve taken the liberty of pilfering a few. With any luck, we might even be able to track down the maker.”

“I’m sure that’s all you took those gloves for, right?” Grasil’s tone was more pointed than Harlin would’ve liked. He pouted, even if Grasil wouldn’t see his face thanks to the swirling illusions.

“People do things for multiple reasons all the time,” said Harlin. “I daresay it’s part of what makes humans like us complex compared to simple-minded monsters like the target.” He turned away, not keen on letting Grasil catch a glimpse of vulnerability and tease him. Harlin teased the rest, not the other way around. “And I needn’t tell you my reasons, before you pry.”

“I wasn’t about to,” he said.

The sound of footsteps running up the hallway made Harlin slink behind Grasil’s armored barrel of a frame. Harlin would’ve no doubt looked good as a statue, but that’d be without his consent, and consent mattered more than anything else. Grasil drew his broadsword that was longer than Harlin was tall, and wider than his slender frame. He wielded it in one hand, and looked toward Harlin.

“Let’s hope your illusions work as you planned.” Grasil stepped out into the hallway. Harlin wasn’t about to risk catching a glimpse in case his illusions didn’t work. He waited inside the glove storage room, and pressed his ear to the door.

“Riko!” Grasil rumbled. “What happened? Is Boreal safe? What’s happening outside?”

“Grasil!” cried Riko. “It’s the gorgon! Some knights showed up and now they’re stone! What do we do?” Seeing as it wasn’t the gorgon, Harlin emerged from the room and joined his two fellow chimeras. Riko’s blue azmurfa ears were poking upright, not unlike that of a cat. Those ears always reminded Harlin of the cat he and his mother had received as an anonymous gift one day, far too fancy to be a mere housecat.

“Was Boreal still alive when you left?” said Harlin. Riko nodded. “Then I suppose we can save him. Medina would be quite brokenhearted if we left him of all people to die.”

“Let’s go.” Grasil nodded.

“You guys go on ahead.” Riko looked down at the floor. “I’d just get in the way.”

“We all need to go out there.” Grasil crouched down and took Riko’s shoulders in his meaty hands. “I know that Boreal wants to keep you safe, but all of us need to work together if we want any hope of coming out of this alive, understand? If Boreal gives you grief over it, tell him he can say it to my face.”

“Yeah.” Riko smiled at Grasil, but his ears remained perked up. “Thanks, Grasil.”

“And you’re welcome to tell our dear leader that I wanted you to sing my praises, and I need you there for that.” Harlin winked at him. Riko nodded. They ran toward the exit. Along the way, Harlin cast another illusion over Riko’s face. It obscured much of his vision, only letting him see silhouettes much like Harlin and Grasil.

They emerged through the doors of the keep, and found pandemonium before them. In the moonlight, they saw a line of petrified archers to the east, including the statue of a moustached man in the center. Before them in the middle of the grass stood the gorgon, her snake hair writhing and slithering. One of the gorgon’s arms ended in a bloody stump, while the remaining hand punched at Boreal’s guard. Behind them stood a few unpetrified soldiers, all exchanging glances and murmurs rather than help Boreal slay the gorgon. For all their talk of honor, it seemed that none of them were willing to put their lives on the line when one of the empire’s dogs lay in danger.

Grasil murmured a prayer to his homeland’s god under his breath.

When he next spoke, his voice thundered across the lawn.

“Get away from my teammate, you beast.” Harlin tensed behind his broad back, dreading that his magic wouldn’t work, and that he might turn to stone at any moment. He felt Grasil tense as well.

A moment passed, but Grasil’s flesh remained flesh. He charged toward the gorgon and swung his sword. She sidestepped that initial strike with a grace that left Harlin stunned for a moment.

“You freaks come one after another. More tricks. More thievery.” She punched him with a hand and arm that looked daintier than Medina’s. Still, Grasil grunted in pain. “Harlin, use your magic on Boreal.” That wasn’t something he could do without getting a bit closer, and if that punch could hurt Grasil, Harlin shuddered to imagine what those punches could do to him. That fear kept him rooted just outside the keep’s entrance.

It would’ve been much easier if Boreal seized the opportunity to disengage and put some distance between himself and the gorgon now that she was occupied with Grasil. But no, even after suffering that thrashing, Boreal took a barehanded swing at the gorgon’s back. She crouched down in another fluid movement, and his fist grazed the top of her head. Her hair of snakes bit into his arm, and he cried out in pain.

“Stop trying to help me, Boreal,” bellowed Grasil. “You need to retreat!”

Boreal said something, but his face was too swollen for anyone to understand.

Harlin still wasn’t exactly keen on getting anywhere near a monster that could fight the two melee members of the squad at the same time. He remained just outside the keep’s entrance. If even just one of those unpetrified knights would join the fray, that could be a good distraction too.

While the gorgon remained crouched down after her duck, the gorgon swept her leg in a wide arc at Grasil’s heel. Harlin hadn’t expected that mammoth of a man to fall, but he lost his balance and collapsed onto his back with a grunt. He’d probably been too distracted trying to talk sense into Boreal, and nobody would’ve expected a gorgon to pull out a leg sweep as though she was some kind of monk besides.

“Who are you?” Grasil grunted from where he lay on the ground. That he would break the rule and talk to the target…Harlin’s mouth fell open. Riko’s eyes widened. Even Boreal paused.

“Oh, now you care to ask about my name?” The gorgon stood up and towered over Grasil. “I’m just a monster to you people, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Boreal attempted to once again run toward the gorgon’s back, but she swung her arm behind her without turning around, and struck his side with her arm that ended in a bleeding stump. Her arm hit the side that his dragon wing couldn’t cover, and an audible crack rang out. Boreal staggered back, but did not immediately return to the fight. His hand held the spot where she’d hit, and his body swayed.

Then Boreal snarled incomprehensible ravings. Harlin couldn’t tell if Boreal had gone mad from the poison in those snakes’ fangs, or was spouting whatever came to mind now that it looked like they might all die. The gorgon paused for a moment, rather than immediately smash Grasil’s head in with her foot.

Even with the tremble in his voice and a nervous shiver wracking his body, Riko drew his sword. It was smaller than the others’ issued weapons given he was a good deal shorter than the rest of the squad, more of a dagger.

“You’re not serious, are you?” said Harlin. “A little mouse like you is gonna die.”

“Everyone thinks I’m useless and stupid anyway. Get in there and help Boreal.” Riko gulped down, and charged through the grass and weeds toward the gorgon.

Harlin winced, but a distraction was a distraction. And if the weakest of them was willing to put his life on the line, then he didn’t have much of an excuse. While Riko charged the gorgon, he went to Boreal. Thanks to the veil that shielded him from the gorgon’s gaze, he couldn’t see the fine details of Boreal’s face. But he could hear the panting.

“For now, let’s keep you safe from that gorgon’s gaze.” Harlin let the mischief from the kitsune tail permeate through the rest of his body and soul, and channeled it into a black and white illusory veil over Boreal’s face. “There you go.”

There was a cry of pain from the gorgon, and then a yelp from Riko. A loud crunch of bone, and Riko spoke no more. Harlin chanced a look over. The gorgon’s heel bled from a fresh slash. Riko lay in a crumpled and motionless heap beside her foot.

Between the distraction that was Boreal’s raving and now Riko’s charge, Grasil regained his footing, and stood up. His arms wrapped tight around the gorgon, pulling her into a bearhug.

“You think a man like you can hold me?” The gorgon began pushing his arms away from herself.

Grasil let out a bestial roar in response. His must’ve called upon his magic, as his skin turned black as the void. Grasil grew even taller, and his muscles swelled. The horns upon his head grew in size, and his teeth turned razor sharp. The increase in size granted him a surge of strength, and Grasil closed that gap the gorgon had begun to make in the bearhug.

She struggled and snarled. Her snakes bit every inch of his face and chest they could reach, but he refused to let go.

Harlin had been issued his own sword as well, and could’ve possibly sunk the blade into her back just then. But if a surge of adrenaline helped her break free at the worst possible time, and he was within range of a punch or kick, or one of those snakes and their venomous bites…he couldn’t muster up the nerve to take the risk. But luckily there was someone who would. He pressed the hilt of his sword into Boreal’s hand. The hand closed around the weapon.

Boreal stepped toward the gorgon, one hand holding his side where she’d struck him before, and the other holding the blade. The sound of his approaching pants made the gorgon twitch, but the strength of Grasil’s bearhug meant that he couldn’t turn to face Boreal.

But after a moment, Grasil’s bearhug began faltering, probably from the sheer amount of venom coursing through the man’s veins after the many snake bites.

Boreal closed the distance on shaky footsteps, but he nevertheless closed it.

“I’m not letting it end here!” The gorgon shrieked. She broke out of the bearhug and punched Grasil in the stomach. The attack knocked him to the ground. The gorgon spun around to face Boreal and raised those terrifying fists to crush his skull in.

And they would reach before the blade struck if nothing was done.

“Ugh, you owe me a drink after this!” Harlin rushed toward the gorgon’s left side, his hand raised. With a flick of his kitsune tail, he cast an illusion upon her face, much like the veils he’d cast on his squadmates’. But this allowed no light in. Even though he’d rendered her essentially blind, she would’ve heard his footsteps on the grass. He knew what would come, and he readied his slender frame as best he could. Her fist connected with his jaw with a crack. Red hot pain flashed through his face, and he lay upon the grass in a daze.

The sound of a blade slicing through flesh greeted his ears. It sounded like the sweetest of birdsong after everything they’d been through, and the finale to that musical piece came in the form of a body crumpling to the grass. The snakes’ hisses dwindled into nothing.

The next day, a feast was held. The town to the east spent many hours singing the praises of those that’d been willing to lay their very lives on the line to protect them. Seated at the head of the feast, the local lord raised his goblet of wine.

“A toast to the Knights of Duskflower for their valor in slaying the monster that has loomed over town, and a moment of silence for their late leader Maelon. Without his timely intervention, that gorgon would’ve surely come here and made us all into her stone playthings.”