Richard Knaak - The Citadel

Captain Bakal awaited him as he reached the base. “Brought him back alive, eh, Elfrim?”

The dragon rider, a slim man, possibly with elf blood, eyed Tyros with a cool expression. “Didn’t think so for a while. Sunfire didn’t like him. Couldn’t make out a word from where I was, but I thought I’d be climbing down alone.”

“Yeah, I thought the same.”

“Well, I am alive, as you can see,” the indignant wizard pointed out.

“And no farther with your plan,” Bakal returned. “I’ve got the horses ready. We can still make the gates before nightfall if we leave now … unless you’d like to try again up there?”

Tyros felt rather than saw the dragon rider’s smirk. Shaking his head, he went to his mount, who seemed to stare at the mage with contempt.

“Why do you ride with me, Bakal?” he asked as they rode off.

“Because you might get lost otherwise?”

“You know what I mean.”

The battle-scarred officer rubbed his chin. “Good question. You’re arrogant and ambitious and have both qualities in abundance. But I knew Leot, too, and liked the boy even though he was a mage. He was always defending you, only the gods know why. Leot also did me a favor, one that I owe him for. Owe him a lot.”

“Leot helped you?”

“Yeah, but don’t ask what! I’ve tried to pull a few strings for you here and there because of him … not that it’s done much good. Oh, and I do think you’re right about Gwynned still being in danger.”

“Is there anyone you can still turn to? Any of your superiors?”

Bakal spat to the side. “Don’t expect them to do too much for me, either. My reputation isn’t much better than yours with some. They’ll let me do what I think right so long as it doesn’t interfere with the scheme of things!”

“So we’re essentially on our own.” Tyros stared at the path ahead. Fools ran Gwynned, and if the city fell, it would be their fault, not Tyros’s. He considered departing for better climes, leaving the people to their fates.

They arrived in the city at sunset. Bakal bade him a weary farewell, explaining that he had some tasks that he couldn’t escape. “Someone claims to have seen a kender within the walls. We’ve spent manpower and money trying to make certain it’s not true. People in the market district are afraid to leave their stalls and shops!”

Tyros had met a kender once and recalled vividly how frantic he had felt after discovering afterward that half his pockets had been emptied by the short, slim creature. Most races considered kender thieves, although Tyros saw them more as magpies, creatures who stole items out of curiosity and habit. That, of course, did not mean that he wanted them in Gwynned.

With the tower gone, the mage had been forced to seek temporary lodgings at a reputable inn. While the owner had not been pleased to have the spellcaster, Tyros’s money had changed his mind. Naturally Tyros had been given the darkest, most obscure room, but that had suited him. It gave the wizard the solitude he needed.

In the market, Tyros bought food, simple fare in order to keep his brain sharp. As he entered the inn, the pock-faced, teen-aged son of the owner looked up from his sweeping, his expression shifting from disinterest to knowing grin. Tyros frowned, and the boy return to his task. The mage looked around, noticed one or two men eyeing him with speculation, but they turned their gazes away immediately when he stared back.

Tyros journeyed upstairs, slightly irritated. The rabble below recognized him as a mage, and no doubt rumors had already started as to what he did in his room. He wondered if he would have to begin looking for different lodgings in the morning.

Reaching his door, the tired mage checked to see if his security spell remained intact. Anyone trying to enter would leave an afterimage of himself once Tyros spoke the proper words. It was a spell that had come in handy over the years.

The first image didn’t surprise him. The pock-faced boy, his face revealing both fright and excitement. Disappointment had no doubt been his next emotion when he had found the door unyielding. Tyros always made certain to use a second spell to seal both the door and single window.

A second image appeared. One of the men seated downstairs. Tyros had seen him before, a fellow lodger with expensive tastes. Anger filled the bearded man’s face. A thief. Tyros made a note to find an appropriate way to teach the miscreant the danger of trying to steal from his betters.

No other images appeared. Satisfied, the tall mage whispered a few words, then safely entered his darkened quarters. He muttered another word, one that should have set the single oil lamp on his table ablaze.

Nothing happened.

“Allow me,” a low, feminine voice offered.

Light, soft green light, filled his tiny abode. Tyros blinked, his eyes adjusting quickly. A woman sat on his bed, a woman with cascading red hair and jade eyes, clad in a yellow robe with bright emerald trim that did not at all conceal her shapeliness. The light she had produced came from a sphere that floated an inch or two above her exquisite palm.

Tyros smiled. “Good evening-”

Her look precluded pleasantries. She cut him off, stating in a determined voice, “I understand that Cadrio has been here.”

Bakal didn’t like hunting for kender, but he liked it even less when he had to do it with a squad of men behind him. As he had grown older, the captain had become more independent, which, as his superiors had been wont to state, was the sticking point preventing him from gaining further promotion. Bakal didn’t care. He got things done the way he liked; he didn’t muck around like so many of his counterparts, who mostly outranked him now.

Night in Gwynned had always been the scarred veteran’s favorite time. True, the cutthroats and harlots came out then, but some of them had proven good and interesting people. Better than some of the higher-ups to whom he had to answer.

As he searched, Bakal thought about Tyros’s quest. The captain had held vague hopes that the dragons would say yes, but he hadn’t been surprised by their refusal. Still, Tyros had one thing right; Gwynned hadn’t seen the last of the invaders. The officers of the dragonarmies had always been tenacious and would be worse now, what with everything up for grabs.

A sound like that of a small child running lightly along the moist street made the veteran pause. Although kender much resembled elves, they were no larger than half-grown children. Bakal braced himself and with experienced stealth followed the faint sounds. The other didn’t seem in any great hurry, which enabled his pursuer to quickly cut the distance between them. Bakal heard a giggle that no child would have uttered.

“We’ve enough havoc with the leftover dragonarmies without having to put up with your type of hijinks, boy,” he muttered under his breath.

Now he could definitely make out breathing, harsher breathing than he would have expected from the energetic kender, but perhaps the little thief had spent the day wreaking chaos among the townsfolk. Bakal quickened his pace. Another minute, another alley, and he would have his quarry.

He pulled his dagger free. Kender weren’t dangerous, but just in case he had accidentally followed a brigand, Captain Bakal wanted to be ready.

His quarry had stepped into what Bakal knew to be a blind alley. The captain took a deep breath, looked to both sides for possible traps, then charged in.

“All right, you little thief! Keep your hands up where I can see-”

A massive beaked head looked down at him. A leonine paw swatted at the officer, barely missing. Behind the menacing avian visage, Bakal made out immense wings and a feline tail.