Richard Knaak - The Citadel

“Y-You have to! Valkyn … using me … to help kill others. Without m-me … loses way to power. Otherwise,” Tyros gritted his teeth and blurted out, “too many more will d-die!”

Not since he had found the orphan griffon cubs had Rapp been confronted by such a monumental decision. Of course, that choice had been easier. Rapp might have been a kender, one of a race with the inborn urge to wander, but he also had a sense of caring. The griffons would not have lived without him. Now, though, the small adventurer had to choose between one life and many.

“There must be another way.” Rapp turned once more to survey the chamber, finally focusing on the tables. With renewed hope, the kender rushed over and began studying the contents of each, looking for anything that might help.

There were rocks and crystals of all shapes, colors, and clarity. A few resembled the great crystals, and these Rapp marked for possible later perusal. Several jars held fascinating specimens of creatures or organs, but none of those seemed appropriate for the task at hand. Valkyn also kept a vast array of tools for crystal work, and while a few of these accidentally ended up in Rapp’s pouches, none would serve to free Tyros.

The imprisoned mage cried out more than once, which urged Rapp on. Yet nothing seemed right. The kender searched the rest of the chamber and found no sign of the original keys. Valkyn no doubt now carried those on his person, but Rapp could certainly not go hunting for the black mage. Yet without a key …

And then a very unkenderlike notion occurred to him. He had constantly been thinking of lockpicks and keys, believing the manacles the focus of his efforts despite the deadly spell on them. However, if he couldn’t even touch, much less open them, what if he concentrated elsewhere? Maybe Valkyn hadn’t thought about that.

Rapp looked around for anything that might do the trick. Of course, wizards were not very physical, and so the kender could not immediately find what he sought. Still, Rapp felt encouraged.

“Give … give up, Rapp! K-Killing me is … is the only way!”

“No. I think I know how to free you!”

“I told y-you. Manacles … enchanted.”

Rapp had no time to explain. He needed a good, strong edge, something he could lift and swing.

And there, seemingly forgotten in one remote end of the chamber, lay a sword. Rapp recognized the sword from the catacombs. Tyros had taken it with him, despite the fact that mages were not allowed to use any edged weapon larger than a dagger. A foul-looking black crust covered a good third of the blade. Still, the Solamnic weapon would serve well enough for what the kender had in mind.

Tyros misunderstood his intentions. “Good … S-Strike true … please! And hurry! No telling what … what carnage Valkyn’s caused.”

“Don’t you worry, Tyros. I know what to do.”

The mage closed his eyes, preparing himself. Rapp shrugged, then dragged the stool he had used earlier to one of the great marble columns. Hefting the sword with both hands, the kender stepped up. With the stool, he could readily reach the chain, which had been bolted into the column roughly level with the wizard’s shoulder.

Tyros finally opened his eyes, no doubt curious as to why he still lived. When he saw what Rapp intended, his expression grew more horrified. “Rapp! Don’t!”

“But don’t you see, Tyros? I’m not going to try the manacles at all. I’m going to break the chain off at the base.”

“I-Insane! Rapp, l-listen to me!”

The kender readied the sword. It felt heavier than he had first thought. “There isn’t time, Tyros! You said so yourself!”

As if to punctuate his words, the device flared and the mage screamed again.

Rapp stared at where the chain was bolted to the column. Perhaps he had been mistaken and all he would achieve would be death. It would be an interesting, if rather final, experience.

“Oh, well …” He swung the heavy sword like an axe.

The edge of the blade struck true. Rapp felt every bone in his body rattle, but no spell turned him to ash. The clatter echoed throughout the chamber.

Again he swung, nearly losing his balance in the process.

“Anything?” Tyros asked, now hopeful, since the kender had not been obliterated.

“Let me try again.” This time the miniature warrior inhaled, then swung. His bones did not rattle so hard this time, and at last he had the satisfaction of seeing part of the marble at the bolt break away. “It’s working!”

“P-Praise Lunitari!” the captive spellcaster gasped.

Rapp continued his efforts. The sword chipped more of the marble away. The kender only prayed that the sword would hold up. The edge was already badly chipped.

Tyros tugged on the chain. “I think … I f-felt it give a little.”

Again Rapp attacked, and this time a crack appeared in the column. A small crack, but near where the chain began.

Tyros pulled. The kender marveled that the mage had strength after his ordeal, but the prospect of release clearly urged the human on.

Rapp stumbled off the stool as bits of marble and the heavy chain suddenly rained down on his head.

The pair looked at one another for a few seconds, drinking in the realization that one hand had been freed. Tyros flexed his hand, the chain dragging behind it as he swung his arm around. “Gods, that … f-feels good!”

“Is it over, then? Will it stop funneling magic through you?”

The captive mage suddenly gritted his teeth, which more than answered Rapp’s question. “No … not until … completely free!”

Kicking the stool aside, Rapp studied the chain that held Tyros’s ankle. “Then I guess I better get started on this one.”

“Hurry … before it’s too l-late.”

Once more they saw the flash of lightning and heard the rumble of thunder … the sound of death for the defenders of Gwynned.

* * * * *

The Ergothians fought with desperation as even the very elements seemed to turn against them. Lightning bolts assailed the defenders. A good number of the catapults had been reduced to cinders, the bodies of the soldiers manning them scattered like leaves in the wind. The cavalry, which had managed to push back the invaders in several places, was suddenly decimated by a series of strikes in their very midst. Those that survived faced the blades of Valkyn’s warriors. The defenders’ lines wavered, broken in many places, but nothing could be done about the cause of their despair.

Castle Atriun drifted in the center of the ungodly storm, a monstrous, untouchable nemesis. It stayed well out of the range of the catapults, and the only defender who might have been able to face it not only could no longer fly but also had troubles of his own.

Sunfire snapped and slashed at the foul black, but Eclipse hovered just out of range, moving in only when the gold left himself open. Both had tried unsuccessfully to use their breath weapons, but even though Sunfire held his own, he knew he was at a great disadvantage. The human riding Eclipse knew well how to direct the black’s battle and even when to use his own tiny sword to distract the injured leviathan.

The gold dragon knew he would die, and that with his death would come the death of the eggs, but Sunfire couldn’t abandon the land he had chosen to protect. Glisten would have understood. The evil citadel and its master were a far worse menace than either of them had believed. If Sunfire could even slow it, he would buy others precious time. Yet to reach it, he would have to fly, and not only did his wings not work, but he doubted that he would even survive the battle with this upstart black beast.

Eclipse mocked him from above. “Old crippled wyrm! You should have died with your mate instead of running like a coward. No better than a wyvern, old one!”