Richard Knaak - The Citadel

Tyros blurted out words of magic. The gargoyle recoiled as sparks of lightning burned his fingers. The mage amplified his spell, forcing his adversary to leap back.

“Move aside, boy!”

A massive figure darted past the startled spellcaster. It was Bakal, his sword drawn. Bakal lunged for the monster, which fluttered a few feet in the air, then dropped. Talons sought the veteran’s face, but the captain rolled under them, and as the gargoyle passed over him, Bakal thrust up with his blade.

The savage creature hissed, then dropped to the ground, its life fluids mixing with the rain. Captain Bakal rose, and Tyros noticed that a new red scar had been added to the others, this one across the soldier’s forehead. Bakal seemed not to notice, intent on dealing with his foe. Any trace of drink had vanished from the veteran’s face.

Tyros suddenly realized a golden opportunity was slipping through their fingers. “Wait! Don’t kill it!”

“You’d rather he killed us?”

The wounded gargoyle took matters out of their hands by rising up into the sky. Bakal swung but missed. Tyros tried to keep an eye on the airborne monster, a spell already in mind. If he could cast it before the gargoyle got too far away …

Too late. The mists swallowed up his adversary, rewarding Tyros with nothing but a face soaked by the storm.

“You see him?” Bakal demanded, joining Tyros.

“He’s gone. Probably a mile up by now. I wanted him alive!”

“And how by Kiri-Jolith was I supposed to know that? Besides, I doubt that thing would’ve let itself be captured!”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s gone.”

The captain tried to shake the rain off. “I don’t see how it could’ve even gotten up in the air! Not with that belly wound!”

“How much do you know about gargoyles?”

“Good point.”

They were startled by a heavy thud just a few yards from them. The two turned, Bakal’s blade ready and Tyros with a spell on his lips.

The mangled form of the gargoyle lay sprawled in the street. Tyros swallowed. Although suffering a gaping wound, it had clearly made it to a considerable altitude before succumbing. The results of the drop were not at all appetizing.

“You can forget about questioning him,” Bakal remarked.

Despite the horrific condition of the gargoyle’s corpse, Tyros approached the still form, his mind racing. “What do they want of me? If only I could have questioned it.”

The drenched soldier joined him. “You might be asking the wrong question, boy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came out just after you, mage. I got a little curious about your intended love there and thought I’d join the pair of you before you made too big of an ass of yourself.”

“Your point, Bakal?”

“My point, mage,” the graying warrior returned, poking a thick finger in the spellcaster’s chest, “is that the gargoyle landed with his back facing you. He wasn’t after you. See?”

“Not after me?” Tyros replayed the moments prior to the leathery beast’s appearance in his mind. “He was after her?”

“That would be my guess. Your hot blood got in his way.”

Tyros looked in the direction that the woman had gone. If she had heard the struggle, she had chosen to ignore it, and in such weather it would be impossible to find her now.

“I don’t know about you, mage, but I’m heading back to the inn. I need to dry my outsides and wet my insides while I think what reason these gargoyles have for trying first to snatch you and then a cleric of a god like Bran!”

“Bran?”

“The woodland god, boy! You know, Branchala.…”

General Cadrio had spent many a night on the battlefield, sleeping to the mournful moans of wounded and dying men. Yet here in the silent walls of Atriun, a sense of unease had assailed him all night. The lanky commander didn’t blame the castle for his restlessness; that fault lay with Valkyn. Few people other than Ariakas or the Blue Lady had ever unsettled the vulpine-visaged soldier as much as the deathly cheerful spellcaster did.

Now, dressed and impatient, Cadrio departed his chambers. Two sentries outside his door stood at attention. Even in the sanctum of a so-called ally, Cadrio took no chances.

“The pig was just here, sir,” one guard informed him, meaning Lemual. “You left orders not to be disturbed before this hour, so I sent him away, General.”

“You did quite right, Syl.” Cadrio’s alert eyes took in his surroundings. “And what did that poor excuse of a cleric want?”

“To tell you that the wizard wants to see you in the courtyard.”

“The courtyard?” The general had expected to finally see what lurked below the castle. “Curious.”

His guards flanking him, Cadrio made his way to the courtyard, wondering what Valkyn had in mind. The commander wore his helmet but kept the visor up. Outside, the rest of his men awaited him, weapons at attention. They filed into place as their general passed, creating a small but efficient fighting force ready to react at his command.

As they emerged into the courtyard, Cadrio noted Valkyn at work on a tripod with two small gems at the top. The wizard was being aided by two gargoyles, which had to be Crag and Stone. The pair reminded him that there were other creatures about, probably watching his group from above.

“Valkyn! Another delay?” He had the satisfaction of seeing that his arrival had slightly startled the robed figure. Good! Let Valkyn see how it felt.

The wizard, of course, recovered quickly. “By no means! You are just in time, my general.” He turned his attention to the gargoyles. “This is ready now. Take it out to the spot marked. Position it carefully. Understand?”

The pair nodded. Crag tried to shove Stone aside and take hold of the device, but the other gargoyle would have none of it, snapping at his larger counterpart. The two might have fought, but Valkyn suddenly reached into the confines of his robe and pulled out a dark red wand with a small golden sphere made of crystal set at the end. Stone saw the wand first and immediately subsided. Crag, intent on his rival, yelped in sudden pain as the bearded mage touched one of his wings with the sphere.

“I will brook no more of this. Go!”

Chastised, the two gargoyles quickly lifted the device.

“Gently! Gently!”

Now more cautious, Crag and Stone fluttered into the air, the tripod between them. Cadrio watched the creatures vanish over the wall, curious as to the item’s function but determined not to ask.

“Always fighting with one another,” Valkyn remarked. “They can be like children.”

Children? These monsters? The general recognized deadly rivals. Those atop the castle were a different band than those lurking in the wooded garden. Only the wizard’s power kept the groups at bay, but Cadrio wondered if that would someday prove insufficient. As with so many things, Valkyn played a risky game when it came to mastery of the creatures.

“Lemual should be done soon, I think, and then we can all ride out to the safety point and begin.”

Interest replaced concern. “You’re certain you can deliver what you promised? You can give me the weapon I need?”

Energetic blue eyes gazed his way in amusement. “I would stake my life on it, my general … and I do, don’t I?”

Some of Cadrio’s men shifted uneasily, all too familiar with their commander’s preferred method for punishing failure. No doubt they imagined Valkyn’s head on a pike. “We’re allies, Valkyn, a precious commodity in this war.”

“The war is over, my general. This is for our own personal gain. My research and your empire …”

The statement led General Cadrio to ask a question that had nagged him since Valkyn had first materialized in his tent shortly after the emperor’s death. “Why me, mage? I know why I agreed to this alliance, but why did you choose me? You could’ve sided with the Blue Lady, Kitiara.” Cadrio imagined her lithe body, a tool used to entice so many to her banner. “She would have rewarded you handsomely … in more than riches.”