By Meredith Ann Pierce
Booklet of the Darkangel Trilogy! Aeriel has damaged the spell at the vampiric darkangel often called Irrylath and lower back him to his human shape, however the White Witch keeps to hang-out his desires. to avoid wasting her love and the realm they dwell in, Aeriel units off on a quest around the Sea-of-Dust, to unravel a mysterious riddle and assemble six magical steeds. Pursued through the White Witch and haunted through her six final darkangels, the previous slave lady seeks out an old oracle who can assist her have the option to defeat her enemies.
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Additional resources for A Gathering of Gargoyles (The Darkangel Trilogy)
She turned again, walked along the road, shielding her eyes from low Solstar's glare. She raised the hood of her traveling cloak, glanced over one shoulder, her hand lifted to wave, but the keeper had already vanished, back into his lighted tower. Aeriel fared steadily north. The road threaded along between the wood's edge and the brink of the cliffs overlooking the shore. She walked for a very long time with neither hunger nor fatigue. Sometimes she unwrapped her bandolyn, reciting the tales she had learned in Isternes, how the young Lady Syllva had been courted by a stranger, a bold prince of Avaric, and gone with him for a time to be his wife in Westernesse, and other stories.
Aeriel stared. She had never seen such a thing. The girl sprang up, did two handsprings upon the hearth before flipping back to her feet with a gesture first to herself, then to her companion. "Nat and Galnor, traveling players. " Her companion caught all six olives then, seemingly at once. He tossed three to Nat, who offered Aeriel one. Aeriel accepted gratefully, bit into the dark, salty flesh. Her hunger and thirst were beginning to return. She laid her bandolyn upon the floor and glanced about to see when supper might be served.
Aeriel's limbs gave out. About her legs, dry spume ran like water through the interstices of the rocks. She rolled onto her back, stared up into the black dawn sky. A huge head, fringed with vermilion feathers, rose from the Sea and stared at her with serpentine, unblinking eyes. That image of the serpent's eyes re-mained in her dreams until Aeriel awoke. It was day. She lay on the warmth of hard, scaly shore. She brushed the dust from her eyes and raised her head from the dry shingle. Light lay upon the headland now, though the broad beach below was still in shadow.