Richard Knaak - The Citadel

“And why is that?” Tyros had to ask.

“Because that will draw out Gwynned’s forces, and I can then study the full effect of my creation in an actual battle. Norwych was interesting but far too easy a target. To fully understand the potential of Atriun, I need Gwynned.”

Tyros’s eyes flickered to the wand, which seemed dimmer. He tried to stall Valkyn. “And then what happens? You conquer the rest of the world, Valkyn? Become the new emperor?”

The goateed spellcaster smirked. “I suppose I’ll have to carve out some kingdom of my own, if only to allow myself the freedom for my experiments. I already have the plans in motion to create more citadels such as this one, citadels that, with a bit of work, will make even Atriun seem clumsy and pathetic.”

Tyros recalled Leot. “But you will need more wizards, won’t you? Your foul device can’t function without them.”

“Very good. Almost correct, just as you were almost correct in assuming that without your friend chained to it, Castle Atriun would lose its abilities.”

The crystal on the wand had definitely grown dimmer. Tyros gripped his staff, ready to charge. Valkyn still no doubt had magic of his own, but how powerful would he be without his toy?

“As you and others have already noted, Atriun is weakening, but it’s hardly ready to plummet to the earth.” Valkyn held up the wand, the crystalline sphere suddenly ablaze. He chuckled at Tyros’s disconcerted expression. “I’ve cast the spells so that the castle itself stores some of the magic, giving me a reserve.” The sinister smile grew wide. “And once you’re chained in your friend’s place, I shall be able to draw more power than ever.”

He pointed the wand at Tyros.

In desperation, Tyros raised the staff, already feeling his skin tingle. To his surprise, however, the tingling ceased and the piece of wood in his hands began to glow slightly of its own accord.

For one of the few times the crimson mage could recall, Valkyn frowned. “You found that staff in my sanctum, didn’t you? Here I thought you’d managed to retrieve your own pathetic staff.” The elder wizard shrugged. “A temporary measure at best.”

“Stop this!” Serene ran between them. “Valkyn, if you ever loved me, don’t harm him!”

The dark mage pursed his lips. His brow furrowed. “No, I don’t think so.”

Valkyn gave the wand a turn. Tyros felt the floor beneath him dissolve. His legs sank down to his knees.

Tyros brought Valkyn’s staff down on the floor, trying to use the magical artifact to pull himself up. Instead, the staff sparked and the floor partially solidified, enabling the younger spellcaster to push himself free.

His head began to throb. Even the use of the staff’s magical properties activated Valkyn’s dark curse.

Serene seized the older wizard by the arms. “Don’t do this!”

“I’m tired of your begging, my sweet serenity,” Valkyn said, almost sadly, “and since it seems that’s all you can do now, you should go elsewhere.”

The cleric vanished, her mouth still open in protest.

“What did you do to her?” Rage drove Tyros. Had Valkyn killed Serene?

“She’s in another, more secure chamber, where she can mull over her indiscretions. Now, shall we put an end to this?”

Valkyn reached out with one gloved hand, fingers spread wide. He began to make a fist, and as he did, bonds of pure shadow formed around Tyros, squeezing him as if he stood in his foe’s palm.

The embattled wizard raised the staff, touching it to the shadowy fingers. This time, though, Valkyn’s tool did not save Tyros. Instead, the staff fell from his constricted grip, clattering to the floor. Tyros could barely breathe.

“Much better,” murmured the ebony-clad figure. Blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “It might have been interesting to see what you would have done against me if not for my spell.”

“You like experiments. Find out!”

The castle shook. Valkyn spread his arms. “Alas, we have no time. Cadrio is making himself something of a nuisance, and I have an army to take control of.” The smile came again. “And you must now take on the role I’ve reserved for you, since as I understand it now, you escaped my gargoyles in Gwynned. Time, Tyros, to take your friend Leot’s place. I trust you’ll last a little longer.…”

* * * * *

The clouds had thinned.

“Stand ready!” Captain Bakal ordered. This had to be the moment on which the gargoyle had been harping all this time. If Stone’s explanation made sense, then Tyros had accomplished at least some of his work, and now Bakal and his men had to begin their part.

Stone had guided them to the stairs that led to the Wind Captain’s Chair but had left it in the humans’ hands from there. The gargoyle had said only that he had another task.

No one met them for the first half of the climb, which surprised the scarred soldier. Where were all the guards? He had heard some commotion outside, but surely at least one of the robed creatures would have remained to protect this tower.

Bakal looked around for the kender. “Rapp!”

“I’m trying to keep up, Bakal, but these steps are big!”

Despite his energy, the kender had fallen behind more than once, the high steps forcing the tiny figure to climb at twice the pace of the humans. That wouldn’t do. Bakal needed the kender up front, in case the entrance to the Wind Captain’s Chair was locked.

“Frankel! Take the lead!” Bakal slowed, allowing the man to pass. The captain reached for Rapp, intending to carry the kender under his arm if necessary.

Rapp reached for the officer’s outstretched hand, then looked past him, eyes wide. “Bakal! Behind you! He’s-”

Captain Bakal turned, but it was too late. Frankel put his foot down on a seemingly chipped step, a step that suddenly glowed brightly.

“Frankel! Get ba-”

A flash of light enveloped the lead man. One second Frankel stood in front of them, arm raised to shield his eyes. The next second the light faded, and with it, the man. No sign of the soldier remained, not even his weapon.

Magic. Black Valkyn’s magic. Bakal had yet to see the man, but he hated him. Twice now good soldiers who had taken the veteran’s place at the point had perished. Given the chance, Bakal would have been willing to pay with his life if only he could cut Valkyn to little ribbons and feed him to his pet gargoyles.

“Probably poison all of ’em,” he muttered. The officer studied the next few steps. Determined not to risk his small party, he stretched his sword over the step where Frankel had perished. When nothing happened, Bakal reached up and gently tapped the next step. Still nothing.

“From now on, each step gets tested first, and I stay at the point.” The veteran glanced at Rapp. “Keep behind me, with one step between us. Got it?”

He studied the stairs again. If he was wrong, there would be no second chance. Taking a deep breath, the captain judged the distance over the trap and leaped up.

Bakal landed squarely on the step above the trap. “All right,” he called, looking back. “Just keep your eye on me.”

A roar shook the staircase, the entire building. Bakal had to fall against the wall or risk dropping back onto the deadly step. Bits of masonry pelted the soldiers.

“What in the name of the gods was that?” someone shouted.

“Sounded like a dragon!” came the reply.

“Captain!” the first man called. “Gargoyles!”

Two of the creatures flitted through windows near the top of the staircase. In their hands they carried nets similar to the ones used on the griffons. Bakal’s heart sank. In such tight quarters, the nets would prove extremely effective.

“Gargoyles at the rear!” a soldier called.