The Citadel

Chapter 18
Victory and Sacrifice

“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.”

“I … don’t know. Perhaps … a change of c-course.” A violent change of course, to be certain. Had he believed it possible, Tyros almost would have thought that Valkyn had lost control of his flying citadel.

Whatever the reason, it made no difference to Valkyn’s monstrous device. Still it forced Tyros to draw power for spellwork, then drew that power from him, once more sending Tyros down on one knee.

As the mage fought the pain, Rapp dragged the stool and battered sword back to the column. The kender looked pale and tired, but hardly vanquished. Tyros praised the gods for a kender’s tenacity; he freely admitted to himself that he would have been hard-pressed to keep up such a pace.

Once more Rapp swung at the chain’s base, chipping away at the marble but further chipping his blade. Tyros thought at last he felt the chain give a little. He tugged hard, trying to help. “A little … little more, Rapp. I think it’s 1-loosening!”

“Now, we can’t have that, can we?”

A shiver ran through Tyros, but it wasn’t caused by the foul spell. Near the door stood Valkyn, his damnable smile in place and his wand held high in one gloved hand. The smile seemed a little forced, as if the black mage barely held himself in check.

Rapp took one quick, desperate glance at the hooded wizard, then swung at the column again.

“You were warned, kender.”

Tyros saw the wand glitter. “Rapp! Watch out for-”

A miniature bolt of green lightning flashed from the wand, heading for the kender. Rapp tried to leap out of the way, but moved just a little too late. The bolt struck kender, chair, and sword, tossing all three violently across the chamber.

“Rapp!”

The small figure dropped to the floor. Much of Rapp’s skin had been burned and his clothes smoked.

“Rapp!”

“Such energy …” Valkyn commented as he approached. “Still such life within you. I believe you’ll last far longer than any of the others did, even that hefty white-robed friend of yours.”

“You … killed him!” Tyros’s pulse pounded. “You killed Rapp!”

“I sincerely doubt the world will weep over one less kender, my friend. They have no practical use, serving only to create disorder. I do Ansalon a favor, in fact.”

Tyros tried to spit at his counterpart but couldn’t draw up enough moisture. “Small wonder,” he finally gasped, “that s-so many fear and … and hate our kind.…”

“And well they should. We are more intelligent, advanced, and capable than most of the rabble. I more than any.” Valkyn looked over Tyros. “But I seem to be capable of a mistake now and then. You didn’t do anything to the storm after all, did you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talk-”

The sinister mage waved off his reply. “No, you don’t. It seems I overestimated you and underestimated another.”

Tyros tried to reach for him, but his adversary remained just out of range. Frustrated, he pulled hard on the last chain.

Valkyn smiled more broadly, bringing up the wand. “You seem secure enough, and as long as you are, I can make use of you. However, it wouldn’t do to take anymore-”

The chain broke loose of the column.

More from a lack of balance than because he planned it, Tyros’s arm swung forward, the chain with it. Where previously his reach had been limited, it now extended more than twice as far because of the chain.

The metal base struck Valkyn in the head, part of the chain wrapping around his hood. Valkyn lost his hold on the wand and fell. Blood dripped from his forehead where the base had cut into it.

Forcing himself up to nearly a sitting position, the black mage rasped, “You dare to strike me?”

Valkyn retrieved the wand. The expression on his face had no trace whatsoever of a smile, and he didn’t even seem to notice the blood dripping down his cheek.

“I won’t kill you-oh, no-but I will see to it that you remain more pliable for the short future you still have.”

Tendrils grew from thin air, reaching immediately for the crimson-clad wizard. Tyros reacted instinctively, the words to create a magical shield springing to mind.

And to his surprise, the shield materialized.

The gleaming shield of light not only deflected Valkyn’s tendrils, but flung both them and their creator back to the doors. Valkyn collided with the doors, grunting. Tyros stared at his hands. The spell put on him by the Black Robe had vanished, possibly because of stored power from Valkyn’s device.

Whatever the cause of his freedom, Tyros dared not concern himself long with it. Glaring at the manacles still attached to his wrists and ankles, he muttered another spell. Immediately all four manacles clattered to the floor.

Despite his past suffering, despite the tortures he had barely survived, Tyros readied himself to face Valkyn and the wand. He looked up, certain to see his rival already preparing a deadly counterattack …

And found that Valkyn and the wand had vanished.

Tyros felt more relieved than frustrated. Even with magic once more at his command, he would have preferred to meet the other wizard under better circumstances. Besides, Valkyn could wait. The others needed Tyros’s help.

One, though, he could no longer help. Tyros hurried to the kender’s side, doubtful that his small companion even lived. Yet when he touched Rapp on the shoulder, the kender tried to open his eyes. He only succeeded with one, the other bloody and swollen shut.

“T-Tyros …”

“Easy, Rapp. I’ll find you some water.”

Rapp didn’t seem to hear him. “Tyros … I got you free.…”

“You did.”

The kender stared off somewhere. “Taggi … my griffons … I hope they’re okay.”

The mage sighed. “We’ll find them and set them free, Rapp. You don’t have to worry about them.”

He stopped. The kender’s face had grown nearly as pale as that of the shadow servants. Rapp stared, but clearly no longer saw anything.

Hand trembling, Tyros touched the kender’s cheek and felt the skin grow cool. The mage swallowed, then put his hand on Rapp’s chest. He felt no heartbeat, no breathing.

For a brief time, Tyros remained there, staring in frustration at what even his magic could not rectify. Rapp had saved him, had done so much to get them this far. The wizard felt guilty for not having gotten to know the kender better.

The others still needed Tyros, yet it frustrated him that he had to leave Rapp’s body in this place. Rapp should have lain in the woods or mountains, where he had made his home while caring for his beloved griffons.

Tyros dared not expend too much energy, but he knew a minor spell that would at least place the kender’s body in a safe place where the wizard might retrieve it later on. Tyros whispered the words, then watched as Rapp’s body vanished.

The kender would lie in the wooded garden of the castle, hidden from the gargoyles. Tyros would see what he could do later on for his companion, but for now this would have to do. Serene and Bakal still needed him.

Thinking of the others, Tyros recalled Valkyn’s earlier words. Valkyn had believed the captive spellcaster responsible for a dramatic change in the storm, but had realized that it had to be someone else. Tyros could think of only one other person with such potential.

Serene.

* * * * *

The cleric continued to sing despite the terrible tableau before her. As Crag leaped at Stone, she fully expected this to be the end of the smaller gargoyle. Serene nearly stopped singing, intent on doing something to save Stone’s life, but then the gargoyle suddenly burst into action.

His feet came up as Crag dropped on him. Caught off guard, the larger gargoyle left his midsection open. Stone kicked with both taloned feet, not only throwing his startled rival backward, but leaving a trail of bleeding scars across Crag’s torso.

Stone didn’t wait for Crag to land. He darted after the larger creature, catching Crag before he could recover. Stone slashed at his foe’s chest twice, turning the other gargoyle’s torso into a crimson field.

Breathing heavily, Crag managed a strong blow against the side of Stone’s head. The smaller gargoyle wobbled back. Unfortunately for Crag, he couldn’t pursue his advantage. Still winded and dripping his life fluids, he moved sluggishly, enabling Stone to recover.

Taking flight, the smaller gargoyle maneuvered over his slowing rival, avoiding the sharp horns and grasping claws. Crag tried to keep Stone before him but could not. Stone waited until he had gotten completely behind his more massive opponent, then dropped on top of him.

Stone sank his talons deep into the larger gargoyle’s back. Crag tried to shake him off but could not. The badly wounded monster fell to his knees.

Stone leaned forward and sank his jaws into Crag’s neck.

Crag howled. The massive gargoyle’s struggles grew weaker and his breathing turned ragged. He tried to roll over onto Stone, but the other gargoyle refused to let him.

The toll was too much. Crag finally slumped forward. He hissed once … and then lay still.

The triumphant gargoyle let out a cry that chilled Serene even as she silently cheered his victory. Stone then took hold of the massive corpse by the feet and dragged it to the balcony. As the cleric watched, ever mindful of her own task, he hefted Crag’s body over his head and roared again.

Despite the storm, the wind, and her own song and music, the cleric of Branchala heard other cries as gargoyles beyond the balcony replied. They honored his victory, Serene finally realized.

With a last roar, Stone hurled his foe over the rail.

The gargoyle folded his wings and turned back toward her. As he did, however, the entire citadel suddenly dipped at a steep angle. Stone took to the air, but all Serene could do was momentarily pause in her song in order to keep from falling.

Serene recovered her balance as quickly as she could, not wanting to give Valkyn any time to regain control over his creation. The cleric tried to make sense of what had happened. Surely Valkyn had not directed Atriun to turn at such an angle. Serene had expected the fortress to be buffeted by the unnatural storm, but now it flew about as if under no control whatsoever.

A second gargoyle suddenly alighted on the balcony. Stone turned to face the newcomer, his breath still rapid. The cleric feared that he would now have to do battle with a new foe, but instead the second gargoyle dropped before him, muzzle to the ground.

The newcomer said something to Stone, who growled back. The other gargoyle glanced at Serene, nodded, then flew off again.

Stone returned to her. “Castle flies to mountains … mussst come!”

She didn’t quite understand but feared to stop and ask him to explain. Stone’s claws scratched impatiently at the floor as the gargoyle sought to make himself clear. “Castle flies blind! Will strike mountains!”

Now the cleric understood. She ceased her song. “I have to find Tyros and the others before that happens.”

“No!” The gargoyle vehemently shook his head. He stretched his wings to their fullest. “Come with Stone, mistress. Now!”

“But I cannot leave the others.”

“Stone’s people will-” The gargoyle broke off, suddenly staring at the center of the room in consternation. “Come quick!”

He seized her wrist, pulling her from the bed just as a tall figure in black robes materialized at the very point where the creature had been staring. Stone tried to rush to the balcony, but the doors suddenly swung shut, sealing the pair inside.

Hissing in anger, the gargoyle quickly released her and, with a roar, leaped at the new intruder.

An ebony-gloved hand reached out, fingers twisting like claws. Stone suddenly reeled, clutching at his chest. The gargoyle stumbled back, nearly colliding with Serene.

“I see that your first lesson did not hold,” Valkyn quietly commented. “There will be no second.”

Serene tried to throw herself in front of Stone. “Valkyn, no!”

The black wizard gave a twist of his wrist.

An incredible wave of heat forced Serene away from her winged companion. She turned to see Stone howl in agony as a brilliant sunburst formed on his chest. The sunburst spread swiftly, enveloping the struggling gargoyle.

Knowing that he was lost, Stone lunged at his tormentor. However, even as his wings launched him into the air, the gargoyle simply faded, his roar cut off midway through.

Although tears streamed down Serene’s cheeks, anger had command of her now. She glared at Valkyn, wondering how she had ever thought she would love him forever. “You’ve killed him!”

“It was only a gargoyle, and not a very good one at that. Not worth any more than a kender, which is why we’re better rid of them both, my dear serenity.”

“A … a kender?” Not Rapp, too, she thought.

“Yes.” Valkyn’s tone became brusque. He stretched forth the same hand toward her, but instead of feeling tremendous heat burning her from within, the cleric found herself floating to the mage. “Now come to me. I’ve had enough of these irritations. My house must be put back in order.”

He took her wrist. Up close, Serene noticed for the first time the blood and the injury to his forehead. Someone had struck Valkyn a damaging blow. It gave her the encouragement she needed.

“I’ll go nowhere with you, you monster!” Serene murmured a prayer and had the satisfaction of seeing him release her wrist in sudden pain. The area around his hand glowed a soft emerald color.

“Damn you!” Valkyn swung his other hand at her face. The wand caught Serene across her jaw and sent the cleric reeling.

She fell to the floor, stunned. Valkyn’s menacing shadow loomed over her, a spectre of death. The glow around his other hand faded.

“What a fool I was to think so little of you,” he murmured. “The young cleric of a woodland god just returned.” The wizard’s smile had turned decidedly grim. “I thought Tyros had turned my storm against me. I never even considered you in that equation. A sloppy bit of calculation on my part.”

He pointed the wand at her. Serene noticed that it didn’t glow as strongly as it had when he had first materialized. “And so you’ll kill me now, dear Valkyn?”

“Kill you? Perhaps temper you. Bend you. Break you. Not kill you, though. You mean far too much to me.”

“Once that would have been flattering, but now I feel nothing but loathing for you.”

The dark wizard’s smile widened, never a good sign. “As if that mattered. You’re going to give me back my citadel, my dear, and you’re going to help me make it stronger, more efficient. But first you’re going to help me deal with one loose end.”

The hallway doors burst open.

Both turned as a figure clad in ragged crimson robes stalked in, a staff in one hand. Tyros looked pale and gaunt, yet still something about him told Serene that the younger wizard hadn’t yet given up the fight.

“And here is that loose end even now,” mocked Valkyn. “This certainly simplifies matters.”

“Your toy crumbles around you, Valkyn,” Tyros declared. “The storm is against you, the citadel flies without control, and you have no source with which to power it. We have only a matter of time before it crashes!”

“Oh, it will fly for some time, my fellow mage. As long as the device itself remains intact, the power stored will keep Atriun flying until I find a new source … or resecure an old one.”

Tyros raised the staff. “That will not happen.”

“You found your staff? A useless little thing. I inspected it myself. You would have been better off stealing mine again. It might have availed you better … at least for a few moments.”

“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.

From the wooded garden, they neared the ravaged end of the flying citadel. Serene stared at the castle with some anxiety; she hoped that no part of it had collapsed onto the pens.

Her fears seemed justified as they came across what remained of the outer corral. A portion of the exterior wall of the castle had indeed fallen onto it, crushing most of the high-fenced enclosure. Fortunately, Serene saw that the interior section still stood intact, although some rubble blocked part of the entrance. Even from this distance, the cleric could hear the roars of at least two griffons.

Near the corral, a figure rose into sight, a massive block of stone in his arms. As they watched, he hefted it to the side, then tossed it on a pile of rubble.

“Bakal!” Tyros waved as he shouted, trying to get the Ergothian’s attention.

They had to venture somewhat nearer before Captain Bakal could hear them over the storm and the griffons. When he saw them, the scarred veteran gave the pair a tired, grim smile.

“Praise be to Draco Paladin!” Bakal spouted. “I was beginning to think I was the only one left alive … and I wasn’t counting on that too much longer.” He looked past them. “What about Rapp? Where’s he?”

Tyros grimaced. “Rapp’s dead, Bakal. He died freeing me. Valkyn killed him with hardly a care.” To Serene, Tyros added, “I’m sorry … I wanted to tell you.”

“You didn’t have to. Valkyn himself had the honor of that.”

A stony expression passed over the soldier’s weathered features. “And I was just starting to like the little thief.…”

“Where are your men?”

A deeper darkness spread. “Dead. The last two were butchered by the wizard’s gargoyle. I had to run from the beast before, but if I could just get him at a sword’s point, I-”

“Crag’s dead,” Serene interjected, picking up a rock. “Stone killed him to save me … and then Valkyn killed Stone.”

“That damned wizard-no offense, Tyros-needs to be strung up! At least General Cadrio’s dead! I had that pleasure myself, up by the Wind Captain’s Chair. He fell out a window while we were fighting.” The captain shook his head. “Sorry to say, though, we ruined the steering mechanism during the struggle. I thought we were going to smash to pieces when we first hit that mountainside. This citadel’s built to last.”

“Not for much longer,” Tyros informed him. “Valkyn has neither control of its flight nor the power to keep the citadel aloft much more. The storm’s already abating. We need to get the griffons out and pray they will fly us to the ground!”

As they talked, Serene touched the gate leading to the griffons. She could hear the animals within, pleading to be let out. The cleric could feel their claustrophobia, their fear. Would they even acknowledge her? “If I can get inside, perhaps I can convince them to aid us.”

“Let me help.” Tyros inspected the lock. The cleric watched him, momentarily wishing that one of them had Rapp’s skill with such things.

Raising the staff high, the wizard brought the tip down hard on the lock. Emerald sparks flared. The gate flung open, nearly striking the ragged spellcaster.

“That will do,” Serene said.

She entered the animal pens, marveling at their immense size. The Solamnic lord must have kept enough livestock to survive a year-long siege.

One of the griffons noted her presence and squawked. The gargoyles had packed the forlorn animals in two of the mailer pens, giving the them practically no room to spread their wings. They looked up at the cleric as she neared, eyes wary and somewhat untrusting.

“Hush, children,” she cooed. “It’s only me. You remember Serene, don’t you? Serene, who has always tended to your wounds and scratched your heads?”

Some of the uncertainty dwindled. The largest of the surviving griffons shoved his way forward.

“And there’s Taggi, first as usual.” Coming up to the pen, she held out a hand. The griffon thrust his beak forward, smelling her. His eyes softened and he pushed his head near enough to have it scratched. “That’s right …”

Her eyes more accustomed to the gloom, she could see that the creatures had been treated badly. Several had wounds and tufts of fur and feather missing. One animal lay in the back of a cage, unmoving. The cleric muttered an epithet, hoping that the griffons had been able to make some of their captors pay in kind.

“Don’t you worry, now,” she whispered soothingly. “I’ll get you out of here.”

She located the keys on a peg nearby, then quickly opened both cages. The cleric had to keep Taggi and the others from nearly bowling her over in their eagerness to be free. Serene immediately confronted the lead griffon, staring at him in the manner Rapp had whenever he had needed to tell the creature something important. How much Taggi understood, Serene couldn’t say. Certainly the kender had always managed to get through.

“Listen to me, Taggi. You know I’m Rapp’s friend, right?”

She nearly made a mistake mentioning the kender. Immediately the griffons looked around, seeking their friend. Serene had to work hard to regain Taggi’s attention.

How had Rapp sometimes accomplished the matter? “Taggi? Do you want to go for a ride?”

Taggi blinked, then stretched his wings slightly. He gazed at Serene, as if expecting some response. She, in turn, smiled, recognizing the sign that Rapp had always received when he talked to them about taking him and his friends on a journey.

“Yes, Taggi! That’s it. A ride!”

The griffons suddenly surged forward. Taggi moved to her side, trotting along with her as they left the confines of the animal pens. Serene had the pleasure of seeing the disconcerted expressions of her two companions.

“Was there ever a doubt?” she jested.

“No,” returned Tyros, staring gravely in her eyes. “Just some fear.”

Serene felt her face flush. She quickly turned from the tall wizard and bent down to speak with Taggi. “Now, you be gentle with these two men. They’re friends of mine … and Rapp’s.”

Taggi squawked, then rubbed his beak on her side. She smiled and scratched his head for a moment.

A violent tremor ripped through the flying citadel.

Captain Bakal fell to his knees. Tyros used his staff to maintain his balance, but the wizard’s face had turned ashen. Serene clutched Taggi, wondering what had happened now.

Jagged fissures appeared in the ground, some of them so near that a few of the griffons had to momentarily take to the air to avoid falling in. With a rumble, the ceiling of the chamber from which the cleric had led the animals collapsed, a cloud of dust and dirt emphasizing the totality of its destruction.

Atriun began drifting away from the mountains.

Serene felt a sense of foreboding. “What’s going on?”

“The citadel is moving,” a pale Tyros managed.

“Of course, but-”

“No …” He shook his head. “It is moving with purpose. Its course is steady and strong. Atriun’s heading back in the direction of the battle.”

Bakal looked at him close. “Are you saying-”

“Yes. I don’t know how, but Valkyn once again has control of the flying citadel.”