The Citadel

Chapter 12
Plots and Counterplots

As the first glimmers of sunlight rose above the horizon, General Cadrio’s fleet drifted slowly toward the southern shore of Northern Ergoth, to an area frequented by few other than fishermen. The vessels anchored offshore and began lowering their longboats. By the time the sun had risen, the first soldiers of the invading force had already established a beachhead, not that they feared discovery at this point.

The Harpy floated a little farther back, enabling Cadrio to watch the glorious proceedings through the wizard’s eyeglass. He had sent Zander ahead to coordinate the landing and see to it that the invasion force remained battle ready. Cadrio himself had other plans to set into motion, plans that would require his absence from the fleet for a time.

“You had better be right, gargoyle,” he muttered, lowering the eyeglass. The commander gazed skyward, his vulpine features making it seem he hunted for prey. In essence, Cadrio did, but not the prey most of his men would have expected. The general hunted for Valkyn and his accursed citadel.

Stone had said that there would come a time when the clouds around Atriun would thin so much that the human would be able to make out every detail of the dark castle even from the ground. Then and only then would the citadel and its master truly be vulnerable, and only for a short time. If Cadrio sought to claim Atriun for his own, he would have to strike at that time.

The general hoped to take his prize without the immediate loss of the wizard. Until Cadrio completely understood how to create and control such a fortress, he needed his so-called ally.

“Ally … a lackey is what you wanted all the time, wasn’t it, mage? Marcus Cadrio is no man’s lackey! I’ll be no puppet on the throne while you rule from the heavens! This alliance is dead … not that it ever lived at all!”

One of his officers stepped up, saluting. “I have him, sir!”

The eager commander looked at the robed figure standing next to the officer. A wizard of the Black Robes, one Rudolpho by name. Young, talented, but manageable. The brightest of the few still left to General Cadrio.

“So, Rudolpho …”

The mage bowed his head. “Yes, General?”

Much more polite, much more cognizant of his place in Cadrio’s schemes. Yes, he would do. “Rudolpho, you know why I’ve had you summoned from the Darksword?”

In reply, the tall, blond mage glanced up. Rudolpho had a plain but intelligent face and, to Cadrio’s further pleasure, was a cousin of loyal Zander. If Rudolpho obeyed his directions half as well as Zander, things would go very well indeed.

“Yes, the citadel. You understand where your loyalties lie?”

The wizard frowned. “Not all the mages who vanished into Valkyn’s castle wore white or crimson robes, sir. He knows no loyalty to the orders, whatever color his garments. In my eyes, he is a renegade and so should be squashed like a bug!”

“Excellent! You’re the man I want with me!”

Anticipation crept into Rudolpho’s expression. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

“You see the dragons?”

Murk and Eclipse perched on a rocky islet just off shore. The pair looked impatient. They had been told their part and looked forward to it. They didn’t like Valkyn. Eclipse had asked if he could eat the upstart wizard and had been terribly disappointed when told that Cadrio still had some need for the spellcaster. Still, the general had offered them as many gargoyles as they desired, Stone included. Cadrio wanted nothing of the creatures; he did not trust their kind nor have any military use for them. Stone had been willing to betray one master; he might decide to try it again at some later date.

“Yes, sir. They’ll carry the two of us up there?”

“Along with a few carefully picked men … and all providing that the storm dies soon and the clouds thin. Supposedly he’ll be weakest then.”

The mage pondered this. “He must have to recast some spell or replenish some component involved in the device used to control the citadel. That would explain why he would need to focus his magic on that task instead of defenses. General, there is the risk that by interrupting him we will send the citadel falling.”

“I’ll take that risk, but if you find your blood too thin for this-”

“No, sir, I do not.” Rudolpho clearly thought about Atriun’s secrets and how they could enhance his reputation.

“We must keep careful watch and wait for the proper moment.”

The wizard looked skyward again. “If I may, General, where is the flying citadel now?”

And there lay the one point of frustration for Cadrio. Where, indeed, was the flying citadel? With Atriun able to take a more direct route, Valkyn should have already been here long before. What could have caused the delay?

“My lord!” interrupted the officer who had brought Rudolpho to him. “To the east!”

Cadrio and the wizard looked where he pointed. In the distance, a speck far too dark and far too swift for a cloud moved toward them. Cadrio looked through the eyeglass, verifying the sight. “It’s him … it’s Valkyn!”

He turned the eyeglass back to Northern Ergoth, where his forces continued to land. Zander had everything in order. By the time Valkyn reached the fleet, most of the soldiers would be on dry land, ready to march at a moment’s notice.

“Everything moves as planned,” he informed the others. “Now we only have to wait-” the commander chuckled, a rare thing from him-“for a break in the weather.”

* * * * *

Tyros again woke in the cell, this time feeling worse than ever. Unlike his previous awakening, he remembered everything from his last encounter with the other mage. He remembered how Valkyn’s magic had sent him to his knees and how Serene had been unable to do anything to stop it. Most of all, Tyros recalled Leot, poor Leot, whom he had arrived too late to save.

Valkyn would pay for Leot, pay for the other mages he had used, but how? Not only was Tyros manacled again, but with the spell cast upon him, he couldn’t perform magic. Valkyn thought so little of Tyros’s chances now that he hadn’t even left much of a guard, only one of the sinister shadows. Of course, even one was more than he could handle.

Tyros studied the still figure. Had he not known better, Tyros might have thought the shadow was nothing more than a statue.

“Do you talk?” he finally asked.

The figure remained motionless.

“Do you remember who you were?”

Still nothing.

Tyros had no idea why he tried. From what he had seen, nothing human remained. Yet still the captive spellcaster tried. “Did you serve Lunitari? Solinari? Nuitari?”

He received no response. Frustrated, his head beginning to throb, Tyros slumped back. He thought about Serene again. Could she fool Valkyn long enough to do something? He had his doubts. Even as the goateed mage had been caressing her cheek, he had been laying hints that he did not entirely trust his onetime love.

Tyros stared at the wall beyond the cell, trying to think of some nonmagical solution for escape. Nothing, though, would do him any good if he couldn’t free his wrists.

Time passed. After what seemed an eternity, Tyros heard someone come near. The weary mage looked and saw only a gargoyle. The creature paid no attention to him, moving past the cell and the ghoulish guard as if on some mission. Tyros looked away, once more absorbed in futile plots of escape.

A sudden, savage hiss startled Tyros and made him look up. Incredibly, the gargoyle had turned and attacked the shadow servant. The creature had one hand on the robed figure’s throat, his other hand around one of the ghoul’s wrists. Despite the gargoyle’s tremendous strength, he immediately began to lose ground. The shadow servant’s ice-white fingers closed in on the attacker’s throat.

In desperation, the winged creature released his hold on his hooded adversary. Immediately the robed servant sought the gargoyle’s neck.

The gargoyle raked his talons across the ghoul’s chest, tearing deep into pale flesh.

Tyros hadn’t thought such wounds would bother what seemed to be walking dead, but the once-human abomination immediately collapsed. Dark, thick blood slowly oozed from the wounded area.

No longer threatened by his foe’s hands, the gargoyle slashed again, this time cutting across the throat.

The shadow servant crumpled, now definitely dead.

Claws still bloody, the winged creature moved to Tyros’s cell.

The mage took a chance. “Stone?”

His visitor nodded. “Yes. Am Stone. Must come, Tyros!”

“Only if you can do something with these.” The human indicated his manacled wrists.

In response, the sleek gargoyle took hold of the cell door and pulled hard. With a wrenching sound, the lock ripped apart. Stone pushed the ruined door aside and hurried over to the prisoner.

“Impressive,” Tyros had to admit. “Can you do the same with these?”

His rescuer inspected the manacles and nodded. “Harder, but can do.”

With a delicacy that surprised Tyros, the gargoyle seized one of the manacles near the lock, positioned his thick fingers, and pulled. Every muscle grew taut. The wizard could read the intense effort in his rescuer’s inhuman visage.

The manacle tore open.

Stone gasped for breath, then quickly went to the remaining chain. Perhaps encouraged by his previous success, the gargoyle took only a few seconds to break the last manacle. He stepped back, clearly exhausted by his effort but pleased with the results.

Tyros rubbed his freed wrists. “Thank you. Where are we going?”

“Friends.” Stone would explain no more. He nearly dragged Tyros from the cell. “Hurry! Little time!”

To Tyros’s confusion, the gargoyle did not lead him upward, but rather down into the lower depths of the castle. The corridors they traversed were musty, cobweb-ridden, and looked as if no one had used them in centuries. He would have questioned his guide, but Stone moved with such determination that Tyros had to assume he knew where he was going.

Although a few emerald crystals in the walls illuminated the corridors, it still proved difficult to see where they were heading. Only when they entered a vast chamber and Tyros noticed the first of the massive marble platforms did he realize that Stone had led him to, of all places, the castle’s crypt.

Great marble coffins with the names of the interred chiseled on the front end lay atop several of the platforms. Two bore the symbols of the Solamnic Knighthood, the kingfisher with the crown, sword, and rose. Tyros counted six massive coffins in all, with two more open and ready for use. For all its size, this burial chamber had been little used. The rest of the room consisted of empty platforms or unfilled slots in the walls. Apparently the family history of Castle Atriun had been a short, bleak one.

Of the six coffins, the lids of three lay crooked, perhaps the result of the citadel being ripped from the earth. Tyros couldn’t resist glancing in the nearest, but saw little other than the armored form of a man, a sword on his breastplate.

Tyros silently cursed his training; wizards were only tutored in the use of daggers and staffs. If he took the weapon and tried to make use of it, he would likely end up cutting his own leg off.

At the far end of the crypt, Stone waited impatiently for him. Tyros quickly rejoined his companion, but instead of moving on, the gargoyle indicated a stone wall to the side. Only after staring close did the mage see that part of the wall was a door.

“Here.” Stone tugged on a ringed handle, with effort pulling the immense door open. A sense of dread spread over Tyros. Did Stone intend to hide him here? The mage felt a touch of claustrophobia. To be entombed alive for his own safety?

A cough from within set every nerve on edge.

“Stone?” muttered a voice.

“Yessss … with another.”

A figure emerged from the gloom, an emerald crystal in his hand illuminating him just enough to reveal his identity.

“Bakal?”

“By Corij’s sword! Tyros!”

“Tyros?” popped up a second, higher-pitched voice. Rapp pushed his way forward. “I knew Stone would find you!”

Tyros and the gargoyle joined them in the hidden chamber. Stone closed the door while Tyros finished greeting Bakal and the kender. As pleased as the wizard was with being reunited with his friends, his enthusiasm remained low. Serene was still the unwilling guest of Valkyn, and Tyros had no magic with which to rescue her. Worse, he suspected Bakal and the others, ignorant of the spell cast upon the red wizard, expected Tyros to lead them to victory.

“Bakal, before everyone raises his hopes, I have something I must tell all of you.” Without preamble, the weary spellcaster related to them the tale of his encounters with Valkyn and what had resulted from them. Although he made the story short, Tyros left out no horrific detail, especially when explaining the curse under which the citadel’s master had left him. Now and then his head throbbed some, but fortunately, because of the swiftness of his tale, never for very long.

The captain glared at Stone. “You didn’t tell me any of this!”

The gargoyle shrugged.

“By the Sea Queen! Here we need magic to fight magic, and the only one who can wield it no longer can!” Bakal eyed Tyros. “So if you can’t cast a spell, is there anything you can suggest, boy?”

Tyros had mulled over such a question himself and had come up with only one answer. “Even though I cannot cast spells or even think about magic much, I believe that if I can get back into the chamber where Valkyn’s device is located, I can do something to stop its foul work!”

“What about his curse on you?”

“I have to try, Bakal. We have no choice.”

The Ergothian officer clearly still didn’t like his answers, but had none better. “All right. So we go charging into this nightmare of a chamber-”

“No. A large party would be too noticeable. Besides, I need you to find the griffons and send warning to Gwynned in case I don’t succeed.”

“We’re not leaving, mage. We came to either capture this citadel or destroy it. I’ve just thought of something better. While you go after the heart of this infernal fortress, we’ll go after the Wind Captain’s Chair. If we seize that, it doesn’t matter what Valkyn tries. We’ll be in command of the situation!”

Tyros thought Bakal underestimated the black wizard. “Captain-”

“It’s settled. Either that or we all come with you, Tyros.”

In the wizard’s mind, that would be worse. He imagined the soldiers among the delicate yet lethal items in Valkyn’s sanctum. “All right.”

“What about Serene?” Rapp asked, “or Taggi and the others?”

Tyros drew himself up. “If I succeed, I will go after her.”

“But what if you don’t? I can go get her.”

“No!” Tyros came to a quick decision. “You will serve Serene and the rest of us best by gathering the griffons together. They will listen to you. We need them ready for escape.”

The kender still wanted to go rescue Serene, but Tyros felt that was his duty. Only he dared face Valkyn, even if bereft of power. Tyros had faced the madman twice and now believed he knew what to expect. This time, the gods willing, he would see to it that the black wizard paid for his heinous acts.

With Rapp silenced, Tyros turned to Stone. “You’ve helped us this far. There is no turning back.” When the gargoyle nodded his understanding, Tyros continued. “Of all of us, you know Atriun the best. We need to know the safest, swiftest paths to our destinations and what dangers we might come across on the way. You cannot leave out anything. Let’s start with the tower.…”

Stone nodded again and began to describe as well as he could how Bakal might best hope to reach the Wind Captain’s Chair. Tyros also listened, but his thoughts were focused mostly on his quest. Although the mage hoped to save Serene and the others, he had decided that, one way or another, the citadel had to be destroyed. No one could be permitted to reproduce Valkyn’s monstrous spellwork and arcane devices. Atriun had to fall, even if Tyros perished with it.

Even if everyone had to perish with it.

* * * * *

Valkyn watched Serene’s reflection in his goblet, reading her conflicting emotions and knowing that she found his work, and him, horrifying.

She had never truly understood the depths to which his research had taken him, and Valkyn had never bothered to explain. Their first few months together had been sweet, her visits to his lone abode in the woods a welcome interruption. As a cleric of Branchala, she had understood the need for solitude and how it allowed one to clear one’s mind and keep one’s faculties sharp.

Serene had proven useful for his research. She could read the currents of the world, the forces that bound Krynn together. The cleric had shown how this part of the forest communed with that part and how all lived in harmony unless something was done to disrupt matters. Valkyn had taken all of these concepts and molded them to fit his needs.

Serene had wondered about his disappearances but had been led to believe they had to do with official matters of his order. She had assumed that mages were much like clerics, a mistake he had never rectified. Instead of journeying to the tower to converse with the senior wizards, he had set out to test his more monstrous theories, performing the precursors to the spells she now found so abominable.

She would understand some day, even if he had to make her understand.…

“Did you enjoy your meal?” Valkyn asked, trying to remember to keep his voice light. He glanced her way and saw that she now kept her expression neutral.

“It was delicious.”

“Thank you. Now I must ask you to remain quiet for a moment.” He looked past her, where two of Crag’s gargoyles squatted. “See that she does.”

Ignoring her anxious look, Valkyn walked to the balcony, taking up a position at the rail. He closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing the magic through his wand. The power came, albeit with more sluggishness. It would soon be time to put Tyros to use. Valkyn suspected that Tyros would last longer than the pathetic white wizard had.

With enough power now at hand, Valkyn’s spell took immediate effect. Instead of the balcony, Valkyn suddenly stood on the deck of the Harpy. True, it was not the real Valkyn, but an illusion with some substance, as the hapless young Timinion had discovered.

“Mage.”

For once he didn’t have the pleasure of seeing Cadrio start. This time the general calmly and respectfully awaited his appearance. Evidently Cadrio had finally come to accept this secondary position in the alliance.

“Aaah, my general! So good to see that you’ve made it!”

“Made it? We were here before you, Valkyn. What kept your precious toy? Is that thing so slow?”

Although he smiled, inside, the black wizard fumed. “Of course not. I simply felt it better to rectify a few matters before crossing to Northern Ergoth. Any capable commander would do the same, wouldn’t he?”

“How soon can we march? My men are ready. We’ve even taken some small outposts in order to cut off warning to Gwynned.”

“I imagine that Gwynned has warning already, although it will avail them little!”

“What do you mean?”

The mage let some of his sense of triumph seep through. “Let us just say that you won’t have much to fear from the golden dragons, Cadrio. Eclipse and Murk should be able to handle their parts in this battle without looking like fools!”

The general glanced around, almost as if afraid that his two black dragons would hear and be offended. “Something’s happened?”

“Gwynned is open to us. That’s all you need to know.”

He smiled at the commander, aware that his enigmatic words frustrated the man. Cadrio would take out his frustration on Gwynned. In truth, Valkyn didn’t care about Gwynned or the rest of Northern Ergoth; his concerns centered around how his citadel would handle the more volatile weather conditions in this region. Norwych had been located in a relatively calm area, where the only storm had been of his own doing. Gwynned’s changeable weather would prove just how strong his spell work was, not that Valkyn actually expected any difficulties with it. He had planned long for this moment.

“Expect to meet Gwynned’s forces well outside of the city, Cadrio. They’ll have some idea of what they face, but not all.”

“I wanted the element of surprise. I don’t consider heavy losses acceptable, mage.”

Valkyn’s smile grew colder. “Gwynned’s generals will meet you on the field with the assumption that they, so familiar with the land, will have the upper hand. They may have the use of one dragon, but poor use he’ll be. Draw them out. With your army, your dragons, and my citadel, your victory over Gwynned-and then the rest of Northern Ergoth-will be assured!”

From his sleeve, Valkyn produced a scroll, which he tossed toward the general. The scroll twinkled in midflight, then fell onto the deck before the startled commander. “The suggestions I mentioned.”

Cadrio retrieved the scroll, then looked it over. His avian features took on a darker cast. “This is a complete battle plan!”

“I thought I’d try my hand at it this time.”

“I know how to fight wars, Valkyn!”

“Yes, I remember your first attack on Gwynned. I think you’ll find this much more promising.” The ebony-clad wizard steepled his fingers. “Follow it to the letter.”

Cadrio nodded glumly. “As you wish.”

Valkyn had expected more argument from the man, but perhaps Cadrio had seen the brilliance of his tactics. “Excellent! Begin the march, then. I shall speak with you when all is in position.”

With that, Valkyn ended the spell, his view once more that of the balcony. He exhaled, quite pleased with the way everything had begun to come together. Cadrio knew his part. The citadel would be ready to wreak its full fury upon the Ergothian forces. Serene had returned to him … and had also provided Valkyn with the one item he had needed.

Tyros.

He would need much rest for the coming events. Valkyn turned to Serene, who had not dared to move. “My love, I fear that you’ll have to entertain yourself for a while.”

At his silent command, the gargoyles stirred.

“Valkyn, if we could just speak with one another-”

One of the winged monsters took hold of her arm.

“Take her to her quarters. See that she doesn’t leave them.” The goateed mage turned away. A moment later he heard Serene and the gargoyles depart.

She would come to love him again; he would see to that. For now, though, Valkyn had no time to think of affairs of the heart. He had glory to achieve, and to do that he had to sleep.

“Come here.”

A shadow servant materialized, eager to be commanded. Once bereft of the soul that had occupied their bodies, the robed figures needed him to tell them everything.

“I am not to be disturbed until the eleventh hour.”

The servant’s head dipped.

“You know how to deal with those who would interrupt my slumber.”

Again the head dipped. Valkyn waved off the foul creature, then retired to his bed.

Yes, everything had begun to fall into place.

* * * * *

General Cadrio threw the scroll to the deck. It rolled away, unnoticed by him, but one of his officers had the presence of mind to sweep it up before something happened … just in case.

“Alert Zander to begin marching!” he commanded the nearest man. “Inform him that the Ergothians know of our presence and that he should move with caution but still maintain a rapid pace. Tell him that one way or another, the flying citadel will be there.”

He glared at the distant edifice, wishing he could pull it down and teach the impudent wizard just who commanded here. “Get Rudolpho. I want him by my side from now on. Where’s Eclipse? Where’s Murk?”

An aide swallowed. “Still where they perched, sir!”

“Tell them to be ready!” Cadrio began to pace the deck, ever avoiding the spot last occupied by the unfortunate Timinion. “The moment those clouds thin, I want to be in the air!” He pictured the wizard’s mocking face. “I want his head!”