Richard Knaak - The Citadel

The dust began to settle, and as it did, the Ergothians advanced, clearing out what remained of their foe. Their own lines had hardly been touched by the disaster, yet the soldiers nonetheless moved cautiously. It would take time to cover the entire field, but Tyros doubted that the defenders would find much in the way of resistance.

“It’s over,” Serene whispered. “It’s finally over.”

He held her tight, both of them overwhelmed by the devastation and their part in its making.

* * * * *

The mage now wore a crisp, clean robe, but one of white, not crimson. He had considered his choices and felt that his path would ever be the opposite of that which Valkyn had taken. The decision felt like a good one and one of which both Bakal and the cleric had approved. Tyros felt like a different man.

He and Serene had built a small cairn in the midst of the deep forest near where Rapp had raised his griffons. The two stayed there for some time, silently honoring their tiny companion. The animals mourned alongside them.

“I’ll be staying with the griffons for a while, just to see them safe,” Serene commented.

“And after that?”

“I don’t know.”

He nodded. “I must report to the Conclave, but then I’ll be returning to Gwynned for a time. Bakal’s superiors have requested my aid on some projects.” Tyros considered. “Bakal must have spoken up for me.”

The Ergothian had been promoted to the staff of Gwynned’s senior general and apparently now had the ear of the commander. The promotion had required Bakal to immediately report for duty, which unfortunately had prevented him from being with Tyros and the cleric now. He had left a message saying that he hoped to see both of them before long.

“Considering what you’ve done for them, they should be happy to have you.” Serene hesitated. “Tyros, look!”

The griffons suddenly tensed, gazing upward. Tyros heard the flutter of wings and spotted several leathery forms descending toward them.

“Gargoyles.” he whispered. The creatures had disappeared before the destruction of Atriun, but Tyros had remained wary that they might yet try to fulfill their dead master’s commands.

A tall, sleek creature dropped into their midst. Taggi started forward, but Serene held him back. The gargoyle hissed once at the animal, then the pupilless eyes shifted to Tyros and the cleric.

“Humanssss …” He went down on one knee.

Serene squinted. “I saw you with Stone after he defeated Crag, didn’t I? You’re one of Stone’s people.”

“Stone is dead. I am new leader.” The gargoyle’s monstrous visage took on something approaching pride. “I am Stone now.…”

Evidently among this group of gargoyles, the leader took the name of his predecessor. Tyros could find little fault with the first Stone’s successor. He had already noted that this one spoke Common with even more fluency than their late comrade.

“You are welcome here,” Tyros replied. “We owe much to the other Stone.”

The horned creature shook his head. “Flock owes you, humansss. We are free.…”

He dropped to the ground, head bent forward. Behind him, other gargoyles descended from the trees and took up similar positions.

“I think they’re paying homage,” Serene finally whispered.

The new Stone lifted his head, then reached out with one clawed hand. He touched Tyros’s arm once, then the cleric’s. The leader even bowed his head to Taggi, then let out a short keening sound when his gaze touched upon the cairn.

“Flock friends,” Stone added, finally rising.

Before either human could reply, the gargoyle suddenly shot up into the air, the rest of his band quickly following him. The gargoyles disappeared to the east, perhaps toward the forgotten province of Atriun, perhaps farther.

“That was … interesting,” Serene finally said. “And will you be going now, too, Tyros?”

“I must. First back to the city to gather a few things, then, as I said, on to the Conclave and, after that, back to Gwynned and-”

“More glory-seeking?” Serene pressed. “The name of Tyros must be on everyone’s lips now.”

He couldn’t hide his dismay at such a thought. “I am tired of glory, and I have seen what ambition can do. No, I thought I might find a more peaceful clime where my magic can be used to help heal the wounds of the war. Perhaps even somewhere near here.”

She glanced away. “Perhaps we’ll meet again soon, then.”

“I would like that.” Tyros truly hoped that they would. While it was too soon to say if anything long-lasting might develop between Serene and him, he thought that the potential was there. He thought the cleric acted as if she believed so, too.

Time would tell … and at least they had the time now.

They walked along, for the moment leaving the griffons to mourn alone. The woods felt fresh, alive, not at all like Castle Atriun.

He shivered, thinking of the fate that had claimed Leot and that had nearly befallen him as well.

Serene noticed the reaction and immediately put a comforting hand on his arm. “What is it, Tyros? What’s wrong?”

The wizard didn’t answer her at first, thinking of Valkyn’s foul spells and dark research. The destruction of the citadel had been so complete that little remained that might relate to some curious spellcaster the methods by which to recreate yet another monstrous fortress. However, as a precaution, when Tyros returned to Gwynned, he would make it his first duty to make certain that not even a single rune had survived. There could be no second Atriun.

“Nothing is wrong,” Tyros finally assured her. Yes, he would make certain such a horror would not be repeated. “Just a fading memory.”

And soon, if Tyros had his way, one forgotten forever.