Richard Knaak - The Citadel

The captain shrugged. “A spell.”

Before she could correct Bakal again, Tyros leapt in. “All right, Serene. We’ll meet you there.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you.…” The glow around her began to fade, and as it did Serene herself started to vanish. Her gaze fixed on the wizard’s and remained there until she had completely disappeared.

“Mages and clerics!” Bakal finally uttered. “Give me swords anytime! At least steel is good, honest, and stays where you put it!” He turned to his men and shouted, “You heard her, lads! Let’s ride!”

Tyros noticed that the men only paid attention to the captain, barely even noticing the mage. They had to be soldiers from Gwynned. He had suspected that Bakal would opt for such a choice, but decided to say nothing. In reality, Tyros cared little who the captain chose; he had his own plans for when they reached the citadel. If he could gain access to the Wind Captain’s Chair, then he could seize control of the fortress himself. Control it, and he not only rescued Leot, but brought fame to himself. If Bakal helped him, fine.

They rode toward the eastern mountains, the sun rising shortly into their journey. The low hills began to give way to even rockier, sloping landscape, one that forced them to slow down. Tyros knew that the chain of mountains ahead hardly compared to the one bordering Hylo, but it still left an impression. He thought it a shame that most maps beyond Northern Ergoth did not even acknowledge its presence.

Bakal led them to the peak in question, a vicious-looking thing that, while not as tall as Sunfire’s home, rose almost vertically on the western face. Tyros hoped that they wouldn’t have to climb it.

The veteran officer looked around at the few shrubs. “Well, we’re here! You see any sign of the cleric … or anyone?”

“I’m right here, Captain.”

The redheaded woman stood off to the side, looking as fresh and relaxed as she had earlier. Jade eyes twinkled at the men’s startled expressions.

Bakal could only frown and say, “So you are.”

“You’ll have to dismount if you want to reach where we need to go. You can lead the animals in on foot.”

The men dismounted, then followed Serene through a narrow opening leading into the mountain chain. They wended their way along the passage for some time, noting that the rocky walls quickly grew high. Bakal muttered something about ambushes, but Tyros paid him little mind, trying to keep his attention on the uneven path. Serene hadn’t been jesting when she had said that they would have to go on foot.

Shadows obscured much of the features of the narrow valley through which they journeyed, but the wizard could see gaps high up in the nearest mountainside, caves suitable for great birds but impossible for any man to reach. As if to verify his notions, a vast winged form suddenly darted out of one, disappearing into the neighboring mountains before Tyros could make any identification.

For what seemed another hour, the group traveled. At last Serene led them to a ridge, more a miniature mountain, that took the better part of their remaining strength to ascend.

“How much farther?” the captain finally grumbled.

“We’re nearly there,” was Serene’s only reply.

Sure enough, only a few minutes later the cleric paused in the midst of a clear gap between peaks and planted her staff in the earth. None of her companions at first believed that they had come to the end of their journey, not until she finally announced the fact out loud.

“This is it?” Bakal’s gaze fixed on Serene. “I don’t see anything. I don’t like that.” His men muttered agreement, some keeping their hands by their swords.

“Stay your weapons!” The cleric raised her staff. “This is no trick!”

Having come this far, Tyros did not want to have to turn back to Gwynned empty-handed. “Keep them under control, Captain.” To Serene, he asked, “Where is your friend? The sooner he makes himself known, the sooner things will calm down. Is that not correct, Captain Bakal?”

“That depends on-”

“Is it okay to come out, Serene?” a high-pitched voice suddenly interjected. “I mean, I’ve waited and stayed quiet just like you said, but it’s been an awful long time, and they won’t like waiting.”

Bakal backed away, shaking his head in dismay as the final member of their party emerged from behind a small outcropping. “By the Blue Phoenix!” he sputtered, using the Ergothian title for Habakkuk, god of the sea. “It’s a blasted kender!”

Everyone but Serene reached to protect his personal belongings even though the kender stood some distance away. The size of a half-grown child, he looked harmless enough, with his cheerful, elflike face and long, black hair tied in a topknot. He carried no weapon save a dagger and a sling in his belt and wore simple green traveling clothes. Tyros judged him to be relatively young. Belatedly it occurred to him that the race was favored by Branchala, so it stood to reason that of all humans, a cleric of that god would be able to tolerate the mischievous creatures.

Still, what sort of help with transportation could a kender offer? Tyros would have rather accepted the aid of a gnomish machine.

“Behave, Rapp,” Serene replied quietly. The kender gave her a hug, which she returned with a smile. The cleric rubbed his head with obvious affection. “Now, it wasn’t all that long a wait, was it?”

“No, I suppose not.” Rapp’s eyes said otherwise. Kender were notorious for their short attention spans. Waiting for Serene must have been agonizing for him.

“Let me get this straight,” Bakal snarled. “We’ve come all this way to meet this little thief? You’re the one people said they saw in the city, aren’t you?”

The redheaded woman looked down at her friend. “Did you go into the city after I pleaded with you not to, Rapp?”

“Well, no … not much … but it was only at night! I’m sure no one saw me, or at least only a few …”

“Rapp, what am I going to do with you?” She sighed. “Before we leave, I want to see everything you’ve got in your pockets and pouches, and, yes, I mean everything. If it doesn’t look as if it belongs to you, it goes back to the city. Understood?”

“Yes, Serene, but I don’t think I took anything, although I did notice a few pieces that must’ve fallen in my-”

“Never mind.” Serene looked around, as if seeking something. “How are they doing, Rapp?”

“They’ve fed, Serene! I found them a nice place to hunt fish.” He looked at Tyros, who backed away from the suddenly advancing kender. “They like fish. Did you know that? I never did, but I’ve learned so much from them. My name’s Rapp. What’s yours?”

The anxious spellcaster found himself shaking hands. He pulled his away, checking at the same time to see if Rapp had somehow gotten into his pockets. “Tyros … my name is Tyros.”

“Are you a mage? You must be a mage with a robe like that! Can you do a trick for me?”

“Make him disappear,” Bakal suggested.

The veteran likely regretted speaking, for now Rapp honed in on him. “Can he really do that? I’d like to see that! My name’s Rapp! That’s short for Rappskali-”

“Get your hand out of my tinder pouch!”

Serene tapped the stony earth with her staff. “Rapp! Come here! You’re bothering Captain Bakal!”

“I’m sorry! Was I bothering you? I didn’t mean to!” Mercifully, the spry kender obeyed her, hopping back to her side.

“I’m for leaving,” one of the men in back growled, “before that little cutpurse strips us of everything we have!”

“You’ll stay where you are!” roared their leader. He turned on the cleric. “But if he doesn’t produce transport …”