Richard Knaak - The Citadel

“You know I have more than just the staff at my command.” Tyros raised his empty fist, which briefly flared bright yellow, as if caught in the sun. “I have magic of my own.”

Valkyn chuckled. “And I have Serene, which is all that matters.”

He stretched forth his free hand, and to her horror, Serene again found herself pulled toward him. She tried to whisper a prayer, but her mouth wouldn’t work. Valkyn took hold of her, cradling her shoulders as if they were once again lovers.

“My serenity,” Valkyn whispered. He looked at his adversary. “You’ll do nothing, of course, except drop the staff and surrender. For the price of her life, you’ll give your own by returning to my device. Dear Serene will turn the storm back, so that once more it is mine to control.” He frowned. “I’ve had enough of disruptions. Gwynned would have been the test to prove the ultimate supremacy of my design, and it still will be. No army, no dragon, can face her when she is under proper control! She will be a marvel for all to admire even as they bow to her!”

The cleric shivered. Did Valkyn understand how insane he sounded?

Likely Tyros understood that, but he nonetheless obeyed the other’s commands. Dropping the staff, he held out his wrists and took a step forward. The captive mage moved with some stiffness, no doubt the results of his horrific time chained to Valkyn’s arcane device.

With the wand, Valkyn drew a circle. A ring of black crystal formed in the air, a ring that floated toward Tyros’s wrists.

Serene had to do something. She prayed silently to Branchala, asking him to do whatever he must to keep Tyros free.

At that moment, Castle Atriun suffered a tremendous shock wave, as if an earthquake had struck. Tyros fell forward, and Valkyn stumbled to the floor, his precious wand clattering away. Serene rolled toward the balcony, colliding with the doors there and ending up mere inches from the wand.

The tremor that had rattled the massive edifice to its foundation could not have been the result of a bolt of lightning or even a missile from the catapults below. Pushing open one of the balcony doors, Serene looked outside. At first she saw only the thick gray storm clouds that almost resembled rock.…

No-what the cleric saw more than resembled rock; it was rock.

Atriun had collided with a mountain.

Not exactly collided. Rather, the flying citadel had merely scraped along the side, but enough to send the entire castle into chaos. Outside, the gargoyles shrieked, their battle momentarily broken up. Beyond them, she could see that one of the outer walls had been completely demolished.

Bits of stone fell from above her, forcing Serene back inside. As she moved, her hand came to rest on the wand. She picked it up, startled that it should come so readily into her possession. For a moment, Serene contemplated trying to use it, thinking that at last she could teach Valkyn the folly of his evil.

“Give that to me.”

Valkyn rose to one knee, gloved hand outstretched. The arresting blue eyes that had once ensnared her love now sought to trap her fear. Serene, though, had gotten past her fear of Valkyn. She held the wand out as if to return it, but as the wizard stood and reached out for it, the cleric tossed the magical artifact back over her shoulder … and over the balcony railing.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the sudden fury in Valkyn’s visage. The hand snapped closed, and he looked over his shoulder at Tyros, who had managed to recover his balance. Both men might have come to grips, but again the citadel shook, a slow, grating tremor that sent furniture scattering and the very walls cracking.

“Your abomination will soon only be a memory, Valkyn,” Tyros rasped. “One better forgotten, at that!”

“Atriun is far from a jumble of broken stone at the bottom of this mountain, Tyros.” The black mage pulled his hood forward, the hood somehow larger and wider-or perhaps Valkyn somehow looked smaller. “As you shall see.”

Valkyn’s robes completely enveloped him, shrinking at the same time.

“No! Damn you!” Tyros threw the staff end first at the dwindling form, but it was too late. The ebony-clad wizard had faded away completely. The wooden stick struck the floor with a spark, then clattered for several seconds before coming to a rest.

“Twice now I’ve let him go because my reactions were too slow!” a frustrated Tyros snapped. “I will not let it happen a third time!”

“What does it matter?” Serene interjected. “Atriun is out of control. Something must have happened to the Wind Captain’s Chair or its steersman!”

He nodded, his frustration at twice failing to stop Valkyn still clear. “If something has happened to the Wind Captain’s Chair, then I would wager that Captain Bakal was involved.”

“You think he might still be alive?” After witnessing Stone’s death and learning of Rapp’s, the cleric felt fearful even asking such a question.

“Perhaps, but I can’t-” Again the flying citadel shook as it scraped along the side of the mountain. More cracks veined the walls, and a portion of the ceiling collapsed near Tyros. “Valkyn can stay with his beloved monster and die with it, but we need to escape. We need the griffons.”

Mention of the griffons stirred mixed emotions in Serene. The animals had long grown past the point of needing Rapp to survive, but how would they handle his death? The cleric knew that the depths of an animal’s emotions could be astounding. The griffons would mourn the kender just as they would those of their family that had perished in the ill-fated journey up to the citadel.

Then it occurred to her that she and Tyros faced another dilemma. Assuming that they could find the creatures, what would happen if the griffons refused her guidance and simply abandoned the two humans? Serene had never had complete command of the griffons. Taggi might obey her, but would the others?

She would just have to find out. “I think I know where they are. Valkyn said they had been put into the animal pens under the east wing of the castle. He thought the griffons might be of some use, much like the gargoyles.”

“Then we will go that direction, but it will be safer by an outside route and the pens should be easier to spot that way.”

“But what about Captain Bakal?”

Tyros considered. “If he still lives, by this time, he will no doubt be searching for the griffons, too. With the citadel uncontrolled and failing, the animals are his only chance, too.”

The cleric pictured Bakal trying to keep the griffons under rein and blanched. “We’d better get to them before he does. He’s likely to let them loose, and if he does, they might fly off, leaving all of us to perish alongside Valkyn!”

Neither Tyros nor Serene cared much for the fact that the black wizard still ran free, but Valkyn’s end appeared inevitable. With Serene leading the way, they hurried through the ominously empty corridors of the citadel. Neither shadow servants nor gargoyles were anywhere to be seen. The gargoyles were likely embroiled in battle, but surely some of the robed shadow creatures still survived. Serene clutched her medallion tightly, hoping she was prepared if she and Tyros should suddenly confront the ghoulish servants.

Twice more Castle Atriun shook as it rubbed against the peak, seemingly determined to slowly rip itself apart. As the pair reached the lower level and exited the main castle, they saw that the entire outer wall on that side had been reduced to rubble. The tower closest to the mountains had partially collapsed, and even the central tower showed worrisome cracks.

“Go past the garden,” Serene urged. “The pens should be that way!”

Tyros remained strangely silent as they rushed through the wooded area, but the cleric assumed that he must be considering their odds. She herself kept glancing skyward, where the storm appeared to be lessening. Now and then gargoyles locked in aerial struggle soared past, always too swift for her to determine which side had the upper hand. She prayed to the Bard King that Stone’s folk would prevail, if only for the sacrifices he had made for her.