Richard Knaak - The Citadel

Still smiling, the ebony-clad mage entered the castle. A torch set in the wall to his right burst into flame as he strolled past it, another just ahead doing the same. All along his path, the rooms and halls lit up for him, darkening again once he had departed. Had his teachers seen all this, they might have wondered how he could possess such power. Valkyn’s gloved hand caressed the wand at his side, the sphere briefly glowing stronger. Limited by their own preconceptions, the orders, even his present one, might have found his methods … horrifying?

He went not to the lower depths of Castle Atriun, where the two shadows awaited him, but rather to the very top, to where the Wind Captain’s Chair stood. Although the way seemed simple and safe enough, Valkyn could sense each of the trap spells installed along the path. Others would find the trek to the tower much more lethal.

The door to the tower opened before him. A figure standing on a platform in the center turned its head to look. Another of his servants, this one slightly more gaunt than the others. The cloaked shadow did not acknowledge him as the rest did because he could not bow or otherwise move. Monstrously thorough, Valkyn had just a few hours before made his servant a very part of the mechanism that controlled the flight of Atriun. Where there might have been feet, the folds of the thick robes melded into two dark circles positioned between a pair of intricately carved pedestals. The ornate silver pedestals, four feet high and with myriad designs and magical symbols traced in gold carved into them, had each been topped with a great gleaming crystal much like the one at the end of the wand. The pedestals, roughly a yard apart, would have been worth a fortune even to those with no magic.

No one would have wanted them as they were, however, for as with the feet, the hands of the servant, in part covered by robes, had become one with the crystals. Even Valkyn couldn’t tell where his puppet ended and the device began. Valkyn felt that his alteration made for smoother, more natural control … and certainly his servant could not argue the point.

“All is well?” He expected it to be so, but it always paid to ask, just in case some small fault had come into play.

The hood turned so that the creature looked to the north.

“Yes, I know. They still follow us. Pay them no mind unless they try to enter the cloud cover. Then we shall deal with them.”

Cadrio’s pet dragons flew far behind, no doubt at the general’s request. Valkyn would let them follow so long as they did not interfere. For now, he had Norwych to consider.

The city lay on an island near the opening of the New Sea. Norwych had much in common with Gwynned and, in fact, had been settled by Ergothians just after the First Cataclysm. Not quite as large as the Northern Ergothian seaport, it still remained a viable target with which to test Castle Atriun.

That he felt nothing for those who might die did not make Valkyn evil in his own eyes. Few among those alive did he consider as more than peripheral existences. His brother he had cared for even if Krynos’s tendencies for violence had seemed a wasteful use of energy. What mattered to the mage was his work. Norwych would open up new doors for that.

“Keep a steady course,” he instructed unnecessarily. The shadow servant could do nothing but obey his directives.

Valkyn left the tower, descending finally into the depths of Castle Atriun. A few gargoyles on sentry duty bowed their heads as he passed, their wings wrapped around them in deference and fear. He ignored them as he ignored the very air he breathed. With each step, anticipation built, just as it always did when he had work of a delicate nature to perform.

One of the shadow servants greeted Valkyn at the door to his innermost sanctum. The hooded creature shifted uneasily, then opened the door for him. A blaze of light shot forth into the darkened corridor, briefly forcing Valkyn to wait for his eyes to adjust. From within the chamber came a muffled groan.

Valkyn clasped his hands together, eagerness rising. “Now, shall we begin?”

Come meet me at the inn where I now stay .

That was all Tyros’s note had said, which did not please Captain Bakal at all. He still had nightmares about the griffon and found himself checking every darkened alley. Of the kender rumor he had discovered nothing, which further soured his mood. He hoped Tyros had a good reason for summoning him.

He entered the inn and walked past the owner without greeting. The officer threw back the hood of his cloak and marched up the steps, quietly cursing the man below for giving Tyros the farthest room. With all he had been through, Bakal did not need to be climbing steps.

At last reaching the mage’s door, the captain nearly touched the handle, then recalled Tyros’s warning about spells. Bakal knocked instead on the wall next to the door, at the same time calling, “Boy! Mage! Open up!”

The door swung open. What stood before him was not Tyros, but rather a vision of crimson-tressed wonder wearing a very becoming clerical robe.

“There’s no reason to shout,” she reprimanded.

Bakal gritted his teeth and entered. “Girl, after what I’ve been through this last couple days, that’s the best I can do!”

She closed the door behind him, and only then did the captain see Tyros, who sat on the bed. “Good to see you, Captain. You remember Serene, from the tavern?”

“I do.” Bakal had no patience for pleasantries, though. “Now, tell me why you wanted to see me.”

“If you will sit down, I will explain.”

Bakal noticed that there were now two chairs where there had been only one on his last visit. He grabbed the heftier of the two for himself, then brought the other one to the cleric. “My lady?”

“I don’t know if I should even be here,” Serene muttered. “I should be on my way after them by now.…”

The soldier didn’t follow her statement, but Tyros evidently did. He stared at the cleric. “Serene, Captain Bakal may be able to help us, or at least help you.”

“I don’t need help,” she insisted. Nonetheless, the young woman finally sat and told her story to Bakal, who refrained from many obvious questions as he listened. By story’s end, he decided that he believed her for the most part, but she had purposely left out details of some import. Whether Tyros realized that or not, Bakal didn’t know. For the time being, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

“An interesting and tragic affair,” the soldier finally commented. “So this General Cadrio is the commander of the invaders. I know that name, mostly from reports in the east during the war.”

“You heard what she said about her wizard?” Tyros interrupted. “Taken like the rest! Don’t you see? That means Leot is probably alive as well!”

“A presumption, boy.” The captain ignored the mage’s look. He had offended far more important people. “But I suppose it has some merit.” He leaned back on the chair. “Suppose you tell me now what it means to me.”

Tyros leaned forward. “Serene has a way to reach the flying citadel.”

The weary black eyes became slits. Perhaps he hadn’t been wasting his time here after all. “I’m listening.”

“I know … someone,” she began very slowly.

Bakal mentally tensed. Again the omissions.

“He has a way for us to get up there-a risky way, but one that should work.”

“And what’s this risky way, girl?”

“You’ll have to see it for yourself, I’m afraid.”

He looked at the mage, who shrugged. “She won’t even tell me much, but I believe her.”

Bakal wondered if the great Tyros had become too enamored by this fiery-haired beauty. The captain cared little to take anyone’s word on faith, even a cleric’s. Still, what other options did he have at the moment? “So what do you want from me, and why should I give it to you, especially considering that you haven’t really said much about your transport?”