Richard Knaak - The Citadel

A manic force crashed against the doors. Bakal heard a roar that could only have come from Crag.

Both doors went flying as the huge gargoyle threw himself at them again. The captain took hold of the hand scythe.

With a savage roar, the gargoyle flew at Bakal.

The soldier brought the scythe around just as Crag fell upon him. The curved blade caught the monster across the muzzle. Only Captain Bakal’s experience and strength enabled the rusting blade to dig into the hard, leathery skin.

Dark blood splattered Bakal, and he had the satisfaction of hearing Crag howl in pain. The soldier kicked with all the force he could muster, sending the gargoyle falling backward into a pile of rotting bridles and wagon gear.

Knowing that the scythe wouldn’t serve him well enough to slay the monster, Captain Bakal dashed past the gargoyle and out the doors. Even though he knew that Crag would soon be on his trail again, Bakal had only one thing on his mind. With Valkyn occupied with the battle and most of the gargoyles in flight, the Wind Captain’s Chair would be less defended. This time Bakal would be ready for the traps on the stairs.

This time Bakal would make it to the top even if it killed him.

* * * * *

Cadrio glanced back and saw the desperate figure racing into the castle. “Your pet gargoyle hasn’t done a very good job, Valkyn. The Ergothian’s inside the castle!”

“He’s probably heading to the tower again.” To the wizard, one soldier meant nothing. He saw Bakal as no threat; what could the man do? Still, best not to leave anything to chance. “Deal with him, then, General. I prefer to keep matters tidy, which seems at the moment beyond Crag’s capabilities.”

Even as he said it, the gargoyle flew into sight, searching for his prey. He headed toward the castle, but at the last moment turned right, vanishing into the wooded garden.

“Fool of a beast!” the general said with some satisfaction. Cadrio drew his sword, then turned to the mage. “What about Crag? Will he attack me, too?”

“Crag knows I suffer you to live for now, General Cadrio. He’ll not touch a hair on your head if he knows what serves him best. If necessary, slay him. I’m growing less fond of gargoyles; they either turn incompetent or traitorous. Perhaps I could capture some kyrie next time and turn them to my purposes. For avians, they’ve always seemed an intelligent race.”

“You want the Ergothian alive?”

Valkyn pursed his lips. “No … we’re past needing him.” A sound from below, one that both men knew to be that of a catapult launching its missile, made the black mage smile. “Run along now. I must concentrate my full efforts on Gwynned, so you’ll need to rely on your own resources and ingenuity. Be quick about it, though. I may have need for you here shortly.”

As Cadrio dashed toward the steps, Valkyn returned his attention to the battle below. More catapults had gone into action, and from where he stood, the wizard could see that they would strike his own forces with tremendous accuracy. The defenders were good-very good. The quake that had shaken Atriun and allowed the prisoner to flee had been the result of an exceptional shot that had struck the underside of the citadel. Valkyn had taken the citadel higher now, so there would be no repeat of that incident.

Now it was his turn.

Still holding the wand, he clasped his gloved hands together almost gleefully. “Well, then!” he whispered to the unknowing masses below. “Shall we show you true power?”

He held up the wand, briefly caressing the crystal on top. So much magic, and all his to control …

The clouds rumbled and spread. A flash of lightning paid homage to its master. Valkyn smiled at the quickly darkening sky, then peered down at the hills where the enemy catapults stood.

“Yes. You’ll make a most suitable first target.…”

The wand glowed.

* * * * *

Music from thin air .

Serene’s heart leaped at the heavenly sounds. Her prayers had been answered. The Bard King had not abandoned her. Serene sang and played, rejoicing in the sensation of goodness that filled her.

The doors to her chamber flew open. Serene’s song faltered as a gargoyle leaped inside, eyes burning bright. She rose from the bed, certain that Valkyn had sent this creature to stop her.

Then Serene noticed that the gargoyle had no wings, only two burned stubs.

“Cleric!” he growled. “Help me fly!”

Why would one of Valkyn’s monsters ask for her aid, knowing that their master wouldn’t approve? Suddenly a thought struck her.

“Stone?”

The gargoyle’s head dipped. “Stone … yes …”

What had happened to his wings? Had he been in some terrible accident? “Did Valkyn do that to you?”

The head dipped again. “The master …”

Her role as cleric took over. “Come to me.”

He obeyed, falling to one knee so that she could inspect the damage. Valkyn had been monstrously thorough, of course. He could always be trusted for that. Serene couldn’t believe the callousness with which he treated life. How had he kept such darkness hidden from her … or had she kept it hidden from herself?

“Can make better?” the gargoyle asked.

Serene had healed the wounds and injuries of animals several times, but none this severe. Could she grow Stone new wings? Could any cleric perform such a miracle?

There was only one way to find out. If Branchala willed it so, it would happen.

She placed her hands on the burned stubs. In the past, her prayers for such efforts had been in the form of soft, nurturing melodies, songs that urged growth and renewal. Best that she keep with what had worked best for her.

“Branchala, hear my plea for this unfortunate creature,” Serene began. Outside, thunder and lightning punctuated her request, sending a shiver through her. The ungodly storm reminded her that others faced terrible danger. Yet, for now, Serene didn’t know what to do for them. She couldn’t very well face down Valkyn’s storm.

Her hands felt pleasantly warm, like a wonderful spring day. Again the cleric became caught up in her song, in her devotion to her god. Branchala would aid her if he saw the right of her task; if not, then he had his reasons. She would not question them.

Stone suddenly bent over and began moaning. Serene forced herself to continue, her words accompanied by music that flowed from within her. She hoped her deity would see Stone not as a monster, but rather a poor creature who had tried not only to free his own people, but to aid her and her companions as well. Surely he deserved a better fate.

Stone hissed. Serene stepped away. The gargoyle’s stubs glowed green, the green of the forest. They also looked much larger, with small areas of leathery skin growing from them. The appendages twisted, spread, taking on a familiar form.

Stone had wings again.

Pathetically small, they looked nonetheless fit. Still, Serene did not cease her efforts. She threw herself more into her devotions, already thanking Branchala for what he had done but asking if, in his heart, he could do a bit more.

And the wings grew.…

In a heartbeat, they doubled in size, then doubled again. Stone continued to groan, but not with pain. He seemed to be putting forth an effort of his own, as if the Bard King insisted that the gargoyle, too, be responsible for what he had asked of the cleric.

At last the leathery creature rose, stretching new, magnificent wings. Not only did they look larger, more grand, but so did the gargoyle himself. Serene marveled at what she had accomplished. Stone extended his claws and tested his wings again. The pupilless orbs flared bright red.

He turned to the cleric, who briefly wondered whether she had made a fatal mistake in judgment. However, Stone fell to his knees, placing his muzzle on the floor just before her feet. He folded his wings and extended the back of his neck for her to see, a sign of deference.