It didn’t matter that he was the one who had designed it.
The horse whinnied when he drew away, and he took a step back, patting it on its neck. That noise led him to wonder, though. He had come down the road, beneath the bridge above, and hadn’t seen his compatriot’s horse anywhere. It was unlike his cohort to be anything beyond punctual. It had even made its way into Kiefer’s workmanship. He was known for those quickly built towers, though they lacked any structure or panache.
As Rowan moved closer to those twin towers, he heard the rotation of wooden wheels. A look up the road showed him the approaching vehicle, and the man’s strong eyes convinced him it was his dinner appointment.
Kiefer whipped the reins, forcing that poor horse to trudge through the mud of the road. When he neared the towers Rowan had constructed, he offered a short, hasty wave. Before either of them expected, he was there beneath the bridge alongside the towers.
“I had thought you weren’t coming,” Rowan admitted. “It’s not like you to be late.”
“No, it’s not,” his coworker said. “If it weren’t for this wagon, I’m sure I would have been here by now. The horse is lazier than I would have liked.”
“No matter,” Rowan pressed. “You’re here now. I only just arrived.”
“And you rode,” Kiefer mentioned as he hopped from the carriage. “You must be hungry. Now, none of us are as well off as Mister Harding—yet. But I did bring some food and drink to celebrate our good fortune. Who would have thought a few months ago we would be heading up the Harding Company?”
“Everything had certainly happened quickly. I have to admit, I was a little surprised to receive your letter inviting me to a dinner like this. I never thought you liked me much.”
The other fellow chortled. “Well, when I’m at the block or with quill in hand, I can be a bit…inward. You and McManus and I have always been hard workers, and it’s difficult for me to separate myself from that. But I respect you both as artisans.
“That’s why I’ve asked you here, specifically,” Kiefer went on. “Of all your buildings—all the buildings the Harding Company constructed—this has always been my favorite. It marries function with form, and I’m envious every time I pass beneath it.
“When I have my meeting with McManus in a few weeks, I’ll ask him to the most impressive building he’s made,” he continued. He walked to the back of his carriage and pulled out a crate of goods for the occasion. “For now, let’s head inside, count our blessings, gorge ourselves on good food, and get drunk on wine.”
Together, they went inside, Kiefer handing off that crate to his coworker while he gathered up a bottle of white wine. After some pressing, he convinced Rowan to ascend those steps so they could eat the food with a view. Though the sun was setting, trading the crate for the alcohol was the only real push the man needed. Once they reached the top of those towers, they settled down in the center of the bridge, Kiefer gathering up the food from the crate, taking the sheet out from within, and draping it over the wooden box that once held it.
“I must say, one of the last things I would have expected a few days ago was having a picnic with you atop these towers,” Rowan jested as he looked to the east. A gentle lake abutted against the road there, a small stone bridge that he designed crossing over the part that had once flooded the road for many years.
“A lot of things have changed in the past few days,” his peer said. He popped the cork from the wine bottle and poured its contents into two glasses, handing one over to his companion. “To our good fortune, and to Harding: may he have a grand retirement.”
Out came the food, with the two workers sharing past endeavors, their first time meeting Samwell, and what they hoped to accomplish in the future.
Rowan savored the taste of a piece of freshly baked pie from that morning. The mere thought of it had him looking to the west, back to the city he called home. He didn’t notice as Kiefer settled his hand upon the knife on that crate.
The unwitting fellow couldn’t help being distracted. A wave of rolling color emanated from Argos, rolling over the forest and nearing their location. Rowan felt somehow inspired by the sight of it and turned to talk to his cohort about it.
With one quick sweep of his hand, Kiefer knocked their makeshift table aside and sprang to his feet. Rowan was quick to follow, defying his expectations of himself.
“What are you doing?”
“You really thought I would let you take my moment of glory?” Kiefer growled. “I have been here at the Harding Company since you were apprenticing for some bum in the low alleys. And McManus? He was just a gleam in some chap’s eye.” He whipped that knife across again, and Rowan just dodged out of the way. “No, this is my time to ascend to something greater, and I’ll not have you or that boy getting in my way. I had thought to let you live, to frighten you into withdrawing from Harding’s choices or into fleeing to Peritas. Ironically, this way’s just cleaner.”
He lunged forward with that blade, and his would-be victim hopped back. Though Rowan was the one who had designed and helped to build that structure, it felt somehow unfamiliar as the adrenaline coursed through his veins. Before he could protest further, he felt Kiefer’s hand tighten upon the front of his tunic.
“Now look at this,” the villainous fellow snarled. “I don’t even have to bloody my knife.” He pushed forth, and his competition teetered backward through the crenel there.
As the aurora neared the bridge, Rowan yelped and grasped at the merlons on either side. “You don’t have to do this, Kiefer. I’ll do anything you want!”
The eyes of the man with murderous intentions narrowed. Those words seemed to appeal to him, and his hand ceased pushing forward as he drew closer. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t have to do this. I want to.”
Without any further delay, he shoved the other architect from the bridge, listening to that sharp cry enter the air. It ended abruptly, and he couldn’t keep the grin from tugging at his lips.
As Rowan plummeted toward the ground, time seemed to stop. He knew it would only be a few moments before he smashed into the stone. Still, there was somehow enough opportunity to consider just how unfortunate he had been. He never would have expected anyone to be so filled with rage and jealousy that they’d attempt to take his life. Kiefer was always considered a little strange and off-kilter, but he never imagined he would be willing to kill to get what he wanted.
There was even time to consider how foolish those thoughts were. In the grand scheme of things, regretting what he didn’t know seemed so miniscule an idea. Instead, Rowan gave into the fall, looking outward instead of inward. He watched as that aurora passed by overhead and felt somehow at peace. Gravity took him and cast him over, flipping him so he saw the world rushing toward him.
But he did not slam upon it. Rowan felt the heaviness of his fall, but he didn’t reach the ground. Instead, he glided away from it. A tremendous sound reached his ears as he looked about, trying to understand how he escaped death.
What he saw there petrified him.
On his sides, stone wings that looked like they were lined with leather sprang out. He noticed the chill in the air as well and wondered if he had already died and was snatched by some fiendish reaper to be taken to the Nexus.
As he wondered, he fell to the ground, as gentle as a falling leaf. It took several moments for him to realize he was safe there, but that chill still hadn’t left him. Steadying himself with a deep breath, he turned, prepared to face the creature that caught him.
Nothing was there in front of him, though. Whatever had caught him had escaped back into the air, he reasoned.
His head swam with thoughts he couldn’t keep track of. In mere seconds, Kiefer had attempted to murder him, and a strange creature had come to his rescue. It wouldn’t be long before the man above came down from those tall towers to see the results of that violent push. Rowan knew he had to escape, before Kiefer tried to finish the job.
With his eyes on hi
s horse, he fled to the closer of the two towers and leaned there to catch his breath. Somehow, the fall had taken the wind out of him, and he felt a greater difficulty in sprinting even that short distance.
It wasn’t until he raised his head and saw his hand against the wall of the tower he built that he understood the truth. Gray and mottled, his skin was like stone—not so different than the materials of the tower itself. Sharp claws were present instead of trimmed nails. And that arm was not the only thing that was different. As he traced his limb back toward his shoulder, he saw that huge wing again and realized it was no beast that saved him. He had saved himself…by turning into a monster.
“What have I become?” he whispered.
“He just fell,” he heard inside the tower. “We were both looking at the aurora, and he was so taken by it, he leaned over the edge of the bridge. One moment he was there, and the next…”
Rowan listened to Kiefer rehearse his lines and looked about, trying to determine what his next steps were. His horse—and the one hooked to the cart— was already squealing and kicking, as afraid of him as he was of himself.
As he considered all the strange changes, though, he understood the next course of action was already determined for him. He was rising back into the air, those sturdy stone wings flapping and lifting him off the ground. In moments, he was above the doorway, perched in place.
Kiefer drew from the inside of the tower and looked about, trying to determine where the body of his competitor had gone. Rowan remained sentinel atop the doorway, staring at the man who tried to kill him. That would-be murderer grew uneasy as he considered what could have happened. Did his victim somehow survive the fall? Did he catch onto the bridge as he fell?
“It doesn’t matter,” he snarled. “He’ll know better than to show his face again. He’s probably on his way to Peritas by now.”
Rowan kept steady on his perch, watching as the man who would run the Harding Company made his way to the horse of his victim and led it to the cart. He hitched it to the carriage beside the other one and gave one last glance at the surroundings.
Kiefer paused for a moment, looking at that gargoyle that stared at him from atop the doorframe. He narrowed his eyes, a curious glare upon his face. The man was shaking his head a moment later.
“Bastard always had weird taste,” he spat.
He wasted no more time before hopping into the driver’s seat of the carriage and urging both horses deeper into the woods.
Hopping down from that perch once the vehicle had faded out of sight, Rowan wondered what he should do. He couldn’t go on like normal, he mused. No one would accept the monster he was.
Even though Kiefer hadn’t succeeded in killing him, the life he knew was still over.
He walked toward the lake, his clawed feet digging into the wet soil there. Everything he had worn was gone, only a stone body remaining.
Rowan shook his head as that cool water embraced his new skin. Serenity washed over him as he considered walking into the depths of that lake and succumbing to the water. Could he even swim in that form? Would he be able to rise once he started to drown?
His gaze lowered, and the reflection of the starlight caught upon the water. It served as a mirror for him, too, and he saw the grotesque creature looking back at him.
A deep breath escaped those gray lips, and he accepted the end he had planned for himself. He splashed farther into the water, letting go of all his fears and inhibitions. His anger and his regret all went away as he swept his arms through the liquid.
It wasn’t until the water was up to his chest that he realized something had changed. The stone was gone, the fabric of his tunic showing in the murky lake. His skin had returned to the color he remembered, and when he looked to his sides, the wings that carried him aloft were gone as well.
“What is happening to me?” he wondered as the cold of the water reminded him of his mortality.
As he raced back out of the lake, new possibilities came to mind. He could return to the Harding Company camp, but his appearance there would mean Kiefer could attempt to finish the job he had started.
But Kiefer had revealed something to his would-be victim before he had thrown him off the bridge between those towers. There was one more thing standing in his way if he was to be the sole leader of the construction outfit.
“He’s going after McManus next,” Rowan acknowledged.
*****
That cloak was drawn up over his head, and he peered at the tower in the center of the square. It was one of the more impressive towers the Harding Company had built, and it was what he considered the young lad’s crowning achievement.
Rowan kept his distance, knowing there was no other place Kiefer planned on doing his dirty work than there. He appealed to his hubris when he was at the twin towers in the forest. McManus had even more pride than that.
Would he truly try to shove him from the top of that tower, though? the man wondered. Could Kiefer truly attempt so heinous a thing in a place so public?
He received his answer only a moment later. Two men walked into the district, and he was familiar with both of them.
The pair of architects from the Harding Company walked up to that tower in the square, with Kiefer pointing out various parts that weren’t even noticeable in the darkness. They circled around the structure, and the man praised the lad for various things, including the symbol of Argos upon the rear of the tower.
“They can see that all the way from the castle, I’ll wager,” Rowan heard his would-be murderer say.
For a few moments, they lingered outside the tower, with Kiefer looking about to see if any guards were patrolling. The lone onlooker, disguised beneath his cloak and seeming to look elsewhere, wondered if his coworkers would proceed into the tower at all.
Finally, Kiefer led the boy around the tower again, and when they weren’t seen venturing back toward the eastern entrance of the city, Rowan knew that time was running short for the lad.
He stood from his seat and ducked into a nearby dark alley. There, he swept off his cloak, allowing it to fall to the ground. Rowan didn’t need that disguise any longer. He had a better one.
At once, a spasm jerked and flexed his body. A mottled-gray texture covered his skin, and he felt the sudden weight upon his back. Those stone wings were ready to be used, fluttering with a mere thought. He had grown used to his new appendages and his alter ego. The prior days were spent training his body so he could utilize it as a weapon or a shield.
With that thought in mind, he looked once again to the tower, just past those shadows.
Rowan leapt upon the wall of the nearest building. The stone claws of his strange body caught the sheer edge, and he held fast. His wings buffeted the air, giving him lift as he soared onto the adjacent building. On and on he went, until he scaled the two structures and stood upon a roof that had a fair view of the tower McManus designed.
His scarlet eyes caught the appearance of the two men atop that edifice, but they were too far for him to hear. His former companions did not have the heightened vision necessary to see him in the darkness atop that building—not even when his wings spread wide and he took to the sky.
“No doubt you’re aware Mister Harding will be selecting one of us to be in charge—truly the new owner of the Harding Company,” Kiefer said.
The younger lad nodded. “He told me he would make his decision soon.”
“And what if I told you I could make his decision easier for him?”
McManus arched an eyebrow and turned to his companion. He didn’t notice the knife drawn, but the glint of starlight upon it was not lost to the fellow who was aloft above them.
“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” Kiefer said. “But I’ve wasted too much time to let some child take the spot that is rightfully mine.”
Before the lad could protest—before he even truly understood what was transpiring—a loud thud reverberated behind him.
Rowan dug those stone claws into the me
rlon he perched upon and pointed those bright, red eyes toward the man who tried to kill him.
“You won’t be hurting anyone else,” he assured.
Both men turned to see the winged monstrosity. Rowan didn’t wait for a further reaction, though. He clutched the innocent lad about his shoulder and heaved him to the side, knocking him from his feet with the strength he had in that form. With the way before him clear, he hopped down to the stone roof of the tower and stood before Kiefer, judgment clear in those scarlet eyes.
“What are you?” the would-be murderer asked.
“Your greatest failure,” Rowan returned.
Despite his fear, Kiefer lunged forward with the knife, aiming for the belly of that beast. His jaw dropped as the blade cast off to the side, the stone impervious to such a miniscule attack.
Rowan swiped across with his hefty arm, knocking the knife from the attacker’s hand. It soared through the air, careening down from the tower.
Kiefer recoiled, cowering from the beast that meant to punish him for his crimes. He leaned upon the crenellation, never passing a glance at the scared lad who he had sought to kill.
“Your time with the Harding Company is over,” Rowan said.
He wasn’t sure if it was that familiarity that informed the man or some part of his normal voice coming through, but Kiefer cocked his head, as if to try and distinguish if his suspicions could be correct.
Rowan took another small step forward, and the man who tried to kill him balked. That subtle movement was all it took to seal his fate, though. With his weight upon his arm, distracted as he was, he lost his grip on the stone crenel. As he slipped, he tumbled backward from the peak of the tower. Rowan reached out for him, but it was too late.
Both survivors remaining there heard the sickening thud on the ground below, inciting startled voices to rise into the air. The stone beast bowed its head but slowly turned to gaze upon the other man who still trembled upon the roof of that tower, huddled against the crenellation.
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