The Citadel

Chapter 10
Prisoners of the Citadel

Bakal had expected to die in battle, but with both feet planted firmly on the ground, not every limb flailing wildly as he dropped to his death. He would have preferred the bolt that had struck Sunfire to have burned him to ash.

He braced himself, hoping that perhaps his heart, much too strong for his own good now, would stop from fright before he hit the earth.

“Aaaah!” Suddenly he flew up again, both shoulders stinging with pain. It took Bakal a moment to regain his senses, but when he had, the veteran immediately recognized the source of his miraculous ascent.

“Don’t you worry, Captain Bakal! Taggi’s got a good grip on you, and when he grabs his prey, it never escapes.”

Despite the kender’s discouraging words of encouragement, Bakal managed to calm himself enough to reassess his situation. It did nothing to assuage his worries, for everywhere he looked he saw only despair. At least one of the griffons had perished, the riders along with the beast. Two more held only one man. He had expected some loss, but not so quickly. Worse, the supposedly defenseless citadel had proven far otherwise.

The captain knew that the lightning strike had been no fluke; some evil spell had sent it soaring directly at Sunfire. Now, at last, Bakal understood what had happened to the other flying castle. For reasons beyond his comprehension, the invaders had chosen to sacrifice the older fortress by destroying it above Norwych. Only that could explain the tremendous devastation.

At that moment, the new citadel struck out at the two golden dragons with a fury that made past assaults appear tame. Glisten tried to aid her stricken mate, only to be assaulted herself. The lightning struck with such force that it momentarily blinded the officer, and when his eyesight cleared, it revealed Glisten’s fiery death and Sunfire, now too weak to fly, dropping into the sea.

To Bakal’s relief, Sunfire’s head burst out of the water a moment later. However, the dragon didn’t try to return to the battle. Instead, he swam away, heading in the direction of Gwynned. Captain Bakal knew Sunfire was no coward. The man had been there when Glisten had made her mate swear what had turned out to be a prophetic oath. If one of them perished, the other had to make certain that the eggs survived. Sunfire surely hadn’t expected it to fall to him, however. The male would have gladly sacrificed himself for his mate. Now, though, the future of their children rested on him alone.

The maimed dragon could have done very little, anyway. Had he remained, Sunfire would have perished as surely as had Glisten.

All of which did nothing for Bakal’s present position. He could think of only one thing to do at this point. “Rapp! Land this beast in the castle, somewhere that isn’t swarming with gargoyles!”

The kender obeyed. The griffon soared around Atriun. One gargoyle managed to get close, but Bakal kicked the monster in the jaw, sending his attacker spinning away.

The griffon finally descended behind a building that appeared to have once been used for a smithy and a stable. Taggi released Bakal as soon as possible, the captain immediately racing through a back door of the building.

The remaining griffons landed just outside the entrance. Mirko and the rest of the surviving soldiers leaped off, swords ready, as the griffons quickly took up defensive positions. Rapp pulled out a sling. Several gargoyles hovered overhead, seeking to penetrate the griffons’ defenses.

Although the men immediately retreated to the doorway, the animals remained outside, clearly unwilling to enter the unknown structure. Rapp refused to leave them. Standing just behind his children, the kender let loose with the sling, striking a hard blow on the shoulder of one leathery monster. The gargoyles backed away.

Bakal glanced around the interior. “We’ve got to find a way out of here and into the castle itself!”

“They’re bringing nets!” Mirko called from just outside the doorway.

Sure enough, the gargoyles had brought forth great mesh nets. Bakal doubted that they had come up with the plan themselves. Whoever controlled them had likely set the creatures to the task, for Rapp’s pets were the only thing truly protecting the small band.

Rapp readied another missile in his sling. To his credit, the spry figure defended his griffons with vigor. Still, the captain believed that he needed the kender’s assistance more. “Rapp! Get back here!”

Rapp sent a second missile flying. Its target shifted position, allowing the stone to go past harmlessly.

“Kender!”

The gargoyles had most of their nets in position. Bakal had no certain estimation of a griffon’s strength, but judging by the nets, he doubted that the animals would be able to escape.

“They’re going to capture Taggi and the others!” Rapp burst out. “I can’t let them!”

“You’ll have to if you want to save your griffons later, boy! They wouldn’t be bothering with nets unless their master wanted the griffons alive. They’ll be all right, just caged. We’ll get them, I promise you, but right now I need you to come in here and find us a way out before they come after us!”

Rapp looked ready to protest, but at that moment the first of the nets descended upon the griffons. A female tried to rip the mesh, but even with her claws and strength, the net remained intact.

Swallowing, the kender nodded. “All right, Bakal. I’ll look around, but we’d better rescue the griffons later.”

“We will, boy.”

The tiny figure ran past him, disappearing into the shadowy interior. Captain Bakal didn’t know what he hoped Rapp would find, only that kender usually managed to locate some way into and out of every structure. If his party had any chance of escape, it relied on Rapp’s abilities.

“Corij preserve us,” he muttered, calling on Kiri-Jolith, the god of just causes.

Nets now ensnared all of the griffons save Taggi, whom Mirko and another man had managed to keep partially free. A gargoyle got too close to Mirko’s long blade, and the huge veteran cut deep into his wing. The other soldier thrust his sword, slaying the monster.

Unfortunately, in doing so, Mirko’s companion opened himself up to attack. A massive gargoyle pulled him forward and, with a single slash of his talons, tore open the soldier’s throat. With a cry, Mirko moved in and ran his sword through the attacker, but too late to save his comrade.

“Damnation!” Bakal glanced back again into the gloom. “Rapp, you find anything?”

“I found this old horseshoe, but no old horse for it. Do you think they might have flying horses? I’ve heard they exist, but I’ve never-”

“Rapp, we can’t wait any longer!”

“I’m looking. Honest I am!”

A winged form passed over the officer’s head, narrowly missing him. One of the gargoyles had made it inside. Bakal turned as the creature tried for him again, bringing his sword up just as the leathery form swooped down.

The blade sank into its chest. With a cry, the gargoyle crashed to the floor, wrenching the captain’s sword out of his hand. Bakal put a foot on the corpse and fought to remove the weapon.

“They’re dragging the griffons off, Captain!” Mirko warned.

Bakal pulled his sword free. “They’ll be coming for us next. Form a line of defense. Don’t let any more get inside!”

Moving to the entrance, he saw several of the gargoyles pulling the struggling griffons away. The animals would be of some use to those controlling this castle, but his small band only represented an obstacle. The gargoyles would not likely let any of them live.

And then, from within: “I found something, Bakal. At least I think I found something.”

The captain had no intention of abandoning the defenses without something more concrete. “Have you or haven’t you?”

“Oooh! I did find something! You’ll like it! It’s a shaft, and it’s dark and musty and cobwebby and goes down real deep!”

“Wonderful …” All he had to do now was stall the monsters while he and the others made their escape down Rapp’s dubious shaft. The captain looked around and saw a single oil lamp dangling from a post. Despite the age of the castle, he had already noticed evidence that both the smithy and the stable had been used in the recent past. Perhaps the lamp had some oil in it.

“Mirko! I’m backing away!”

“Aye, Captain!”

Racing over to the lamp, he pulled it free. Still some oil. Bakal studied the building, especially the entrance. Old wooden beams and planks. Very dry. Good.

After a quick search for tinder, Bakal lit the lamp, then headed back to the entrance. He would have only one chance. His aim would have to be perfect.

“Heads down! Prepare for orderly retreat … now!”

Bakal threw as hard as he could. Luck was with him, for the lamp flew unerringly toward the upper frame of the doorway, where it shattered. Flaming oil spread over the entire entrance.

The nearest gargoyle drew back, hands burning. The others darted into the sky, expecting more blazing missiles.

With Mirko and the captain covering the retreat, the surviving soldiers rushed back to where Rapp waited.

“This is it. I found it all by myself!” The kender had found a trapdoor and, beneath that, a web-covered hole.

“Looks like a refuse chute of some sort,” one man muttered.

“It’s not … look. It has handles so you can climb down.”

They had little choice. The handholds seemed to indicate a tunnel. “All right,” Bakal snarled. “Get down there! Which would you rather face, a few spiders or a gargoyle? Go!”

One by one they scrambled down the opening. Four men were inside the tunnel before the winged terrors had gotten over their surprise and darted past the fiery entrance.

“Rapp! You go next!”

As the kender vanished, the first gargoyles reached Captain Bakal and his remaining men. Bakal managed a good slash at one but nearly slipped. A clawed hand closed on his wrist, and a toothy beak snapped perilously close to his nose.

“I’ve got ’im, Captain!” Mirko brought his sword down, his massive strength enabling him to decapitate the gargoyle.

“Look out, man!”

Intent on saving his superior, Mirko didn’t see the savage maw that opened behind him. The soldier turned, but not soon enough to keep the strong jaws from clamping on his throat.

“Damn you!” The older soldier threw himself forward, slashing again and again at the gargoyle. Blood dripping from several wounds, the monster at last retreated from his victim.

Mirko collapsed in Bakal’s free arm. The captain started to talk to him, only to see that the big man was already dead.

“Captain!” a soldier called from the shaft. “Come on!”

With one last cut at an approaching gargoyle, the officer leaped for the hole. He slid in just as one of the attackers nearly tore his shoulder off.

A gargoyle thrust his muzzle down the shaft, snapping. Bakal poked up with his sword and the muzzle vanished. Although many of the gargoyles were slightly smaller than humans, their wings prevented them from climbing down the narrow shaft. Yet, despite being unable to reach the men, several gargoyles nevertheless tried, hissing in frustration.

When finally the top of the shaft was a distant sight, Bakal spat some cobwebs from his mouth and called down, “Is there an end to this thing, or do we just fall out the bottom of the citadel to our deaths?”

“Just coming to what looks like a floor, sir.”

“Praise the gods …” The shaft had to have once been part of an escape route in case the castle was endangered. The captain hoped they would find a usable exit when they reached the end. He didn’t want to be trapped in here with only the smithy as a way out. Might as well cut his own throat then.

Bakal wondered if Tyros and Serene still lived. He had briefly seen them heading to the castle before he had begun to fall.

“Can’t worry about them now …” he muttered. He had his own mission.

The others waited for him at the bottom. Brushing his clothes, the scarred officer noticed that a dim light illuminated the musty corridor for several yards. Looking around, Bakal noticed some emerald crystals in the wall.

“The crystals started glowing when I reached bottom, sir,” the first man down the shaft informed him. “They seem to be part of the original design.”

“I thought this place was built by a Solamnic Knight,” said another. “Solamnics hate magic.”

“Only what wasn’t their own,” Captain Bakal replied, inspecting one of the crystals. They felt slightly warm to the touch. “The Knights of the Rose and some others are supposed to know a few spells, although I think they’re more like clerics than mages. Doesn’t matter. At least we have some light. Rapp?”

Rapp stood by the shaft, staring up. The expression on the small figure’s face looked out of place on one of his kind.

Captain Bakal cautiously put a hand on the kender’s shoulder. “The griffons will be okay for now. We’ll rescue them when we can.”

“Sharpclaw’s dead,” the kender whispered. “He was Taggi’s favorite brother. The lightning got him. I don’t want to lose the rest of them, Bakal!”

“You won’t, but we’ve got to keep going if you want to give them any hope, boy! Now, you did a great job up there, but I need you up front with me to look for a way out. Are you up to it?”

Rapp immediately brightened. “I can do it, Bakal! I’ll find a way out so that we can rescue the griffons, Tyros, and Serene!”

Not knowing if the last two were already dead, the captain did not contradict his small companion. “Fine. Let’s go, then.”

The corridor, at the beginning no wider than two men side by side, grew narrower as they left the vicinity of the shaft. Fortunately the crystals in the wall continued to light up, giving them some comfort. However, there were no side corridors nor any rooms. Bakal wondered if they had entered a trap, yet as the minutes passed, nothing confronted them.

“Just how far can this thing go?” someone finally asked. “Are we going to walk the entire width of the castle?”

It seemed that way. Bakal was just about to call for a short rest when Rapp suddenly darted ahead.

“There’s another corridor ahead!” the kender called. “It cuts right across this one!”

Catching up, Captain Bakal studied the intersection. The paths left and right looked identical to the one they were already on. He took a few steps into each and saw that the same crystals illuminated them.

Despite the urge to change direction, the officer could think of no good reason to abandon their present course. If it seemed that they were going nowhere, the party could always turn around.

“We’ll go straight,” he informed the others. “At least for now.”

They continued on, and as the minutes passed, Captain Bakal began to regret his decision. The intersection they had left behind had so far been the only one. Ahead of them, the crystals continued to come to life, but all they revealed was more of the same monotonous view. Surely, Bakal thought, there had to be an end to this place.

Soon they noticed that the path ahead remained dark. Bakal paused, thinking perhaps that the crystals here simply reacted more slowly. Yet when still nothing happened after a few moments, the officer decided to check the nearest wall.

There were no crystals, at least as far as he could tell. Perhaps beyond, but definitely not within reach.

Bakal peered into the gloom but could see nothing. He glanced back at the others. “Wait here a moment, all of you. That goes for you, too, Rapp.”

Sword ready, the captain took a few tentative steps into the darkness. With his free hand, he reached for the other wall, seeking the crystals there. However, that wall, too, proved bare.

“You all right, Captain?” someone called.

“So far. Looks like we’ll have to go back, though. I’ll just go a few steps more, but if I don’t find anything-”

Bakal heard a slight click as his foot came down.

“Damn!” A trap!

He turned to warn the others to stay back, hoping at least to save their lives … and found himself staring at total darkness. The illumination behind him had completely vanished.

Voices rose. “What happened?”

“Captain, are you all right?”

“Be still, all of you,” the officer commanded. “I’m coming back.”

Feeling his way along, Captain Bakal made his way toward the others. He nearly bumped into Rapp, only missing because of the kender’s sudden giggle.

“You did really good, Bakal!”

“Can you see me?”

“Just an outline, and not until you were close.”

“Pity.” He had hoped the kender’s eyes would be better. No sense, then, putting Rapp up front. “All right, listen up. We’ll head back to the other corridor, then follow it from there. Who’s in front?”

“Garon, Captain!” called a gruff voice.

“Take the lead, Garon, but use caution all the way.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Garon was a good man. Bakal breathed a little easier. “The rest of you, keep one hand on the right-hand wall and don’t get too far from the man in front of you.”

Weapons held carefully, they backtracked. Despite having earlier lit their way, the crystals now stayed dormant. Bakal’s eyes grew more accustomed to the dark, but still he couldn’t make out much of anything, even Rapp right in front of him.

Frustrated, he called out, “Anything yet, Garon?”

“It’s still as black as pitch, Captain,” the lead soldier called. “I can’t see any sign of the split up-”

There was a sudden hiss. Garon’s reply cut off with a brief choking sound.

“What is it?” Bakal roared. “What’s happened?”

“Garon” a voice gasped. “Captain … I think Garon’s dead!”

“Let me through!” Bakal made his way to the front, fearing with each step that he would walk into whatever had slain yet another of his soldiers.

He put his hand out, trying to find the fallen body. Instead, he collided with it. Garon still stood. Cursing under his breath, Bakal felt around the corpse’s waist, then the shoulders, at last touching Garon’s throat.

A metal shaft had pierced the soldier’s neck, passing through one side and out the other.

The shaft extended nearly all the way across the corridor, the needlelike point of the death trap not more than an inch from the opposing wall. The captain’s hand came away damp with blood.

“I think we chose the wrong corridor, Bakal,” a high-pitched voice piped up.

Swearing, the battle-worn veteran felt around. Enough of a gap existed for them to slide past poor Garon. “All right, I’ll go first this time! Everyone stay close and listen carefully for anything out of the ordinary!”

With trepidation, the survivors backtracked once more. Much to Bakal’s relief, though, the trek back proved devoid of other traps. Even so, no one relaxed in the least. There was no telling what might lie farther ahead.

The party gathered in the intersection, more than willing to take a pause. While they did, Bakal considered the other corridors again. He still favored the one on his right, but his last choice had resulted in the death of Garon. Of course, Bakal had no way of knowing if the left corridor were any better.

“Right it is, then.” Bakal cursed the eccentric Knight who had built this place and wondered if perhaps the Solamnic had been exiled to Atriun because of his insanity. Certainly that would explain much.

Calling an end to the rest, Bakal led the others single file into the new corridor. He reached out with the intention of again using the wall to guide him and was suddenly greeted by dim emerald light.

“Praise be!” a voice called from among his band.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” he snapped, then, calmer, “but it could mean we’ve got the right one this time.”

They had journeyed well down the new corridor when Bakal suddenly noticed something different in the gloom ahead. “Rapp! Where are you?”

“Right behind you, Bakal.”

“Rapp, peek around me. Is that a door I see at the far end?”

“A door?” The kender shoved forward eagerly. “Where?”

The captain pointed at a dark spot far ahead. “You’ve got better eyes, I think. Isn’t that a door?”

“I think so … yes, it is. Do you want me to go open it?”

He had to restrain the wiry figure from racing down the corridor. “Easy, boy. We don’t know what other traps might be down this way.”

“Traps!” His eyes grew wider. “You really think so?”

“Just … let’s be careful.”

Slowly they edged their way down the hall. Once, Bakal thought he heard a click, but as no one died, he assumed his imagination had just played with him. At last they reached the door, a simple but sturdy wooden thing that looked as if it could withstand the strength of a charging bull.

Disappointed that they hadn’t found any new traps along the way, the kender put his hopes now on the door. “Is it locked, Bakal? Do you want me to open it? I’m good with doors, just like Uncle Trapspringer was! Did I tell you how he got that name? You see, he was-”

“Another time, boy.” Bakal tested the door. Locked, of course. Nothing could be easy. “All yours.”

From out of his topknot, Rapp produced a lockpick. Bakal knew that kender could carry more than two dozen picks on their person and improvise if those were taken from them.

“It’s rusted,” Rapp murmured. “And it’s a Solamnic lock! They’re fun! They make different designs that look the same on the outside, and opening one sometimes takes hours, even days.”

The thought of staying down here for days while Rapp entertained himself with the lock did not at all suit Bakal. He opened his mouth with the intention of encouraging the kender to speed matters up, but a click from the door halted him in mid breath.

“Oh, that was an easy one! I hoped it would be one of the imperial models! They can take-”

“It’s open, then?”

“Oh, sure, Bakal!” Rapp took hold and swung both himself and the door aside. “See?”

The captain did see. He saw that the door opened into a much wider corridor, one that clearly led to the central sections of the castle. He also saw something else, and that something saw him as well.

The gargoyle opened wide his toothy jaws.

Bakal stumbled back, trying to ready his weapon.

The gargoyle shook his head, then raised one clawed hand toward Bakal and rumbled, “I speak for Stooone.…”

* * * * *

Tyros woke, nightmares of ghostly mages and his own feet and hands turning to crystal still haunting him. That the first image he saw turned out to be the horrific countenance of the three-horned gargoyle peering at him through strong iron bars did not at all ease his spirits.

Seeing the prisoner was awake, the gargoyle hissed, then hurried off. Tyros tried to move, only to find his hands manacled. Further inspection revealed that he lay in a small, dust-ridden cell that smelled as if it hadn’t been aired out since Castle Atriun had been built.

He didn’t remember falling unconscious, but clearly it had happened. He also didn’t know what had happened to Serene. The thought of her at the mercy of the gargoyles, especially the more brutish, triple-horned one, left him cold. Tyros had to escape so that he could find her.

Clearing his thoughts, the red wizard concentrated on his remaining spells. Finding one that would release him from his confinement would be no trouble whatso-

A horrible throbbing filled Tyros’s head, nearly causing him to black out again. Tyros forgot all about spells, Serene, gargoyles, and flying citadels. All he wanted was for the pain to cease.

It did.

The cessation of pain came so suddenly that the captive mage could only blink. He exhaled in relief, praying never to feel such agony again. Now Tyros could begin once more to concentrate on a spell that would-

Again, the pain ripped through his head, this time even worse. Everything pounded, harder and harder. He lost track of his spell, lost track of everything. Tyros’s world became agony …

And just as quickly reverted to normal.

He groaned, trying to put the pieces of his mind back together. Twice now the throbbing had nearly sent him to oblivion, both times as he had been trying to put together a spell. In fact, even thinking of spells made his head pound a little.

“By the Tower,” Tyros muttered. He did not need a third test to know that if he tried a spell, his head would threaten to explode again. Someone had magicked him, made certain that any attempt to use his powers would strike him down. Cunning and not a little sadistic. For a mage not to think of spells was nearly the same as a starving man not allowed to eat food placed around him. Wizards lived and breathed their work.

Tyros suddenly noticed he had company. A shiver ran through him as two murky figures nearly identical to ghostly Kendilious stood before his cage.

They floated-no better word described it-toward him, as if under the robes they no longer had feet. One touched the door to his cell, opening it. The pair flanked him, then each lifted a white, bony hand to his manacles. A simple touch and the bracelets fell away.

He tried to jump up, but despite their emaciated appearance, they gripped his shoulders and held him fast.

“What do you want? Who are you?”

Neither looked at him directly, but one pointed forward, indicating he should leave the cell. The ghastly figures continued to grip his shoulders as he walked. Devoid of his wizard’s staff and dagger, Tyros considered his options. In truth, he had only his physical strength left, which seemed little enough against these strong ghouls.

Yet not to try …

Acting on instinct, Tyros brought his elbows into his guards’ midsections. Unfortunately, striking the phantoms was like striking rock. His elbows felt as if they had shattered. Worse, the ghouls’ grip on his shoulders tightened painfully, a punishment for his actions. He fell to his knees, nearly blacking out from agony.

“All right,” Tyros gasped. “All right! I’ll behave myself!”

The pressure eased, enabling him to stand. They led Tyros down a corridor, then up a lengthy flight of steps. From there, they marched down another long corridor before finally stopping at a brass door with the mark of the kingfisher emblazoned upon it. The captive mage found it ironic that the home of a Solamnic Knight should become a sanctum of destruction.

The door opened. To his astonishment, Tyros found himself in a sumptuous chamber with silken curtains, golden oil lamps, and furniture so skillfully wrought that the richest monarch would have envied them. Tapestries depicting creatures of the forest decorated the walls.

Taking away from the splendor was a pair of savage gargoyles hunched in the center of the room. They eyed the wizard with dark speculation and perhaps a little hunger.

“Tyros!”

Serene. The cleric stood near open doors leading to a great balcony. She looked untouched, even refreshed. Her face lit up for a moment when she saw him, then grew sad. Curiously the crimson-tressed woman did not attempt to approach Tyros.

“Serene …” He thanked Lunitari that she lived but wondered what she was doing in this chamber.

“Are you … better now?” the cleric quietly asked.

“Better?”

Her brow arched. “Surely you’ve not forgotten … but you have, I see.”

The mage didn’t like the sound of that. “Forgotten what?”

Before she could speak, someone behind her interrupted. “A side effect, my Serene, and one that could not be prevented.”

From the balcony emerged a hooded, ebony-clad wizard. A little older than Tyros, with black and slightly gray hair and a fancy goatee, the newcomer radiated power on a level that Tyros hadn’t experienced in some time. The dark mage gave him a congenial smile, yet one that also hinted of threat. Even the bright, cheerful blue eyes didn’t entirely hide some menace.

“Welcome again, Master Tyros,” the black wizard called, exuberance in his tone. He clasped gloved hands together.

A flash of memory hit the captive. He remembered those gloved hands reaching for his temples.

“I trust that this time we can speak a little more friendly with one another. After all, your very life depends upon it!”

Both Tyros and Serene started. Tyros noticed the cleric’s expression shift momentarily and realized that she tried to keep hidden great misery, as if she had just learned some terrible, heart-wrenching truth. The mage could only imagine that it concerned her imprisoned love.

The dark mage put a hand on Serene’s shoulder, caressing it. She did not flinch, but Tyros saw the dismay in her eyes.

“I think, my dear Serene, that once again introductions are in order. After all, I doubt he remembers the first time.”

“Tyros.” She nearly choked on her words. “This is Valkyn.”

Valkyn … Tyros knew the name from his research. Valkyn, who had also studied the history of the flying citadels. But that Valkyn had been a member of his own order, not a Black Robe. And yet … “Valkyn of Culthairai?”

“Aaah, very good! I feared I might have injured that scholarly brain too soon. Yes, I am Valkyn of Culthairai.”

“You wore the robes of the Order of Lunitari.”

“The color of a robe hardly dictates our lives, despite what those in the tower might desire.” He touched Serene’s red locks. “I can be giving just as much as any white-robed follower of Solinari. She knows that. My darling Serene has always known that.”

At last he had said it. Had Tyros needed any more verification, he had only to look at the terrible struggle going on within the cleric. Valkyn might not see it, but Tyros could read the turmoil, the battling emotions.

Serene had found her missing love … the master of Castle Atriun.