Richard Knaak - The Citadel

“You can offer to surrender, Ergothian, but I just want you to know that Valkyn doesn’t see much need for you.”

“You, either, from what I’ve seen.”

Cadrio’s expression darkened. “He’s been more clever than I would have thought, but I’m working my way back into his graces. Better a puppet emperor of Ansalon than dead.”

“Until you can cut the strings, I suppose.”

The lanky villain smiled slightly. “Until then, yes …”

The captain doubted that Valkyn would prove as foolish as General Cadrio believed. From what Bakal had seen so far, the wizard would let Cadrio hang himself when the time came. “It will be interesting to see which one of you proves wrong.…”

“Does that mean you’re surrendering?”

Now Bakal smiled. “No, I don’t think I’ll be doing that.”

“Probably not the best idea, but the result will be the same whether you accept your death willingly or not.”

Bakal readied the hand scythe. “I’ll take that chance.”

Cadrio suddenly thrust. The general moved even swifter than Bakal expected. He barely parried the blade with the more awkward scythe, then quickly backed away before his adversary could follow through. The Ergothian veteran skirted around the shadow servant, assuming that General Cadrio wouldn’t slay the creature.

The dark warrior nearly did just that, so eagerly did he want Bakal. The sword went past the face of the servant, who paid it as much mind as he did the air. Cadrio backed away, then started around the robed figure. The captain kept pace, trying to assess his chances. Not only did Cadrio move fast, but his sword far outreached the curving scythe. Bakal needed to get well within range of the skilled swordsman to do any good with his own weapon.

“Stop dancing and fight … or is this how the Ergothians lost their vast empire?”

If he expected taunts to get to Bakal, Cadrio was sorely mistaken. The captain had not lived this long by falling prey to words. “Trade weapons with me and we’ll see how you dance.”

Again Cadrio thrust, and again he nearly skewered the shadow servant. The general seemed not to care if he killed the only one keeping the castle on course. If anything happened to the robed creature, then Atriun would go flying out of control and …

Bakal had made many quick but difficult decisions in his career, but this one he found the worst. Castle Atriun needed to be destroyed. No one, not even the Whites tone Council, had the right to the knowledge needed to create such an ungodly craft.

He held the scythe ready, as if preparing to meet Cadrio head-on. The general smiled, poising himself for the Ergothian’s attack.

“I’ll make it quick for you, Captain.”

“Just what I was thinking …”

Bakal swung with all his might, but his target was not General Cadrio. As the commander moved to defend himself, Bakal suddenly turned in a different direction. Cadrio finally realized what his adversary intended and let out a cry of outrage.

The scythe bit into the neck of the shadow servant.

Black bile spurted from the open wound. The shadow servant shivered, then grew still. The Ergothian muttered a quick prayer to the gods, feeling remorse for slaying a creature that could not even defend himself.

The corpse slumped forward … and the castle suddenly dipped sharply.

Both Bakal and his foe tumbled to the wall. The two soldiers lost their weapons, but that didn’t stop Cadrio. Rising to one knee, he twisted the captain’s arm behind him, then pushed Bakal hard against the wall again. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakal saw the general draw his dagger.

The citadel dipped a different direction, throwing Cadrio off-balance. Captain Bakal managed to pull free but couldn’t drag himself out of his adversary’s reach.

Cadrio spun the captain around. The two men grappled, the taller Cadrio pressing Bakal against the open window. The general brought his dagger up …

And again Castle Atriun twisted in a different direction. The pair went flying into the Wind Captain’s Chair, shattering it and sending the corpse sprawling.

Even as he rolled free of the wreckage, Bakal wondered how long the chaos could continue. Atriun flew out of control, turning and dipping in random directions, and now the only method by which to control its flight had been destroyed. In truth, what did the outcome of the fight matter when surely the citadel would eventually destroy itself?

At that moment, General Cadrio rose over Bakal, dagger high.

Finding himself eager to live despite Atriun’s certain doom, the Ergothian reached blindly for anything he could use for a weapon. His hand touched something hard and crystalline.

With a practiced arm, Captain Bakal threw the object at his looming foe.

The fragment from the Wind Captain’s Chair struck Cadrio hard in the temple. The general dropped his weapon and staggered backward. Bakal threw himself at Cadrio, catching the general at the waist even as Atriun lurched wildly.

Both men fell toward one of the open windows. Bakal, facing it, saw the danger and released his hold, tumbling to the floor.

The general couldn’t stop his momentum. As he fell through the window, he tried to grab the edge of it, but his fingers slipped free.

With a cry, Marcus Cadrio plummeted from sight.

Pulling himself up, Bakal peered out. General Cadrio lay in the courtyard below, his tall, slim form now jumbled like a scarecrow cut loose from its pole. The commander’s battered face wore a bitter expression.

Lightning struck so near that it momentarily blinded Bakal. He blinked, then looked up and noticed that not only did Atriun seem lower in the sky, but the mountains in the distance no longer appeared so distant. They were, in fact, getting much, much closer.

The flying citadel had become a victim of the whims of the magical storm. Now it floated to the north, away from the battle and toward the nearest of the mountains … with no way to turn it back.

“There! I did it!”

“Good, Rapp. B-But hurry! Still … still need my … other arm free.” Tyros stretched his leg, trying to work the cramps out of it. It kept his mind from the pain that still coursed through his body each time Valkyn’s foul device drew raw magic through him. Until Rapp had him completely freed, Tyros remained a living part of the arcane spell.

Tyros hoped Valkyn wouldn’t discover what they were doing, at least not until the red mage was ready to face him. He needed a chance to rest a little and recoup from what he had suffered.

The wizard’s entire body vibrated as Rapp struck the base of the last chain with the badly beaten sword. Rapp had a keen eye, but the massive weapon had tired the generally energetic kender to such a point that he had to pause for a breath after each swing.

“I’ll get it, Tyros. I promise!”

Another wave of horrific pain sent Tyros to his knees, and the tall mage couldn’t answer. Each time Tyros was forced to funnel magic through him, it felt as if some part of his soul was ripped away.

Again Rapp struck the base of the chain. Tyros steadied himself, then leaned away from the column in order to keep the chain as taut as possible. He tugged over and over, trying to see if any of Rapp’s blows had managed to loosen it.

The entire chamber suddenly dipped. Benches slid from the walls, spilling flasks, tools, jars, and other items on the floor. A cloud of yellow smoke rose over one table and slowly began to spread.

Rapp lost his balance. His sword slid past Tyros. Even the mage had to steady himself or else risk pulling his chained arm out of its socket.

“Tyros, did you feel that? How come the room is at an angle? I mean, it’s fascinating and all, but it doesn’t seem very practical, what with things dropping all over the place.”