The Citadel

Chapter 19
Bedlam in the Sky

“I want to go back!” Eclipse roared, still sulking. He would have beaten the gold dragon. Never mind that Sunfire had already been crippled before this day, and that the human atop the black had been the reason for any major successes. Eclipse felt that the victory would belong to him. He needed a victory. His mind was still fragile from the loss of his twin.

“The gold can wait!” Zander snapped. He had far too many other problems to concern himself with besides the whining of his mount. The other dragon would go nowhere. What concerned the young commander more had to do with his forces, which had become hard-pressed to maintain their ground, much less advance.

What had happened to the wizard’s castle? Everything had been going well until the storm had abruptly turned against them. Then, to Zander’s horror, Atriun had flown off. The last he had seen of it, it had been heading for the nearest mountains.

There had been no word from General Cadrio or, more to the point, from Valkyn. If something had happened to both of them, then everything was lost. Zander now regretted not having abandoned Cadrio and seeking out the Blue Lady. They said she could reward a good officer in many ways and, despite the chaos below, he still felt himself the best.

Zander had forced Eclipse up into the sky the moment the citadel had fled. He no longer cared about Valkyn’s battle plan; if his men were to survive, he had to pull them together. With the aid of the black dragon, Zander had managed to keep them from routing, but the Ergothians had strong leaders of their own, and despite the threat of dragonfear or acid, the defenders began pushing forward.

The surviving catapults had repositioned themselves and now once again bombarded his ranks. Using Eclipse, Zander had disposed of two of the pesky machines, but he and the dragon had nearly suffered a direct hit. At the same time, the young commander had trouble trying to keep the rest of his forces under control. If Zander concentrated on the catapults, the Ergothian cavalry and foot soldiers tore through his front lines.

Things were falling apart, and even he could not put them back together without help.

“Where are you, General?” the young officer muttered. “And where are you, wizard? If one of you would just tell me what’s going on, I’d be forever grateful.”

“Aaah, there you are, General Zander.”

Eclipse let out the nearest thing to a squawk that Zander had ever heard a dragon utter. He himself barely kept his expression in check, for in front of the pair, heedless of the lack of earth beneath his feet, stood Valkyn. Even though Zander knew that he faced an illusion, the cowled figure looked so real he expected the wizard to plummet to his death at any moment.

“What’s happening, Master Valkyn? The citadel-”

The unnerving smile spread, although something about it seemed weary. “Atriun is on its way back. There have been some minor disruptions, but I have dealt with all save one.” The sky blue eyes grew chilling. “And that one will be dealt with very, very soon.”

A wave of relief washed over Zander. “And the battle?”

“My commendations on that, General. Excellent strategy under unexpected pressure. Maintain your actions. I will be with you shortly.”

“Yes, Master Valkyn!”

The image vanished, and only then did Zander realize that the mage had called him general. So much, then, for Cadrio. Zander smiled. A field promotion.

“I see it!” Eclipse roared. “The wizard’s castle comes!”

Indeed it did, but even from far away, Zander noted the differences. Atriun had been heavily damaged on one side. One of its towers was in ruins. Gazing at the mountains from which the citadel had come, the new general suspected that he knew exactly what had caused such terrible destruction.

Yet despite the damage, the castle still flew. Only a few ominous clouds drifted along with Valkyn’s creation, but Zander supposed that the wizard conserved his magic for the actual battle.

“General Zander.”

This time he couldn’t hide his startlement. He hadn’t expected to hear from the black mage until later in the battle. He saluted. “Master Valkyn! You’ve need of something?”

Valkyn did not smile. What that meant, the soldier did not want to know. “A change of plans. I’ve immediate need of you and your beast, my general. There are some gnats about to leave my citadel … a woman and two-no, I suspect only one man! Slay the man and as many of the griffons as you need to, but capture the woman and bring her back to me.”

Zander hated to leave his forces at such a crucial point, but when Valkyn spoke, it paid to obey. “As you command!”

Again the illusion vanished. Fearful of the wizard, Eclipse had already begun to bank toward Castle Atriun. Zander leaned forward, searching for griffons. He would find them. Valkyn would be proud of him.

General Zander …

* * * * *

Tyros stared up in the direction of the Wind Captain’s Chair, then at his companions. At last he came to a decision, one not at all to his liking but necessary.

“Serene, Bakal, take the griffons and leave the citadel.”

They both looked at him as if he had gone mad.

“There’s no more reason to stay here, boy! This castle’s going to come crashing down!”

Serene stepped up to him. “Do you think I’ll leave you here alone, knowing what’s happened to Rapp and Stone? If you’re going to face Valkyn, I’ll be at your side.”

“Listen to me.” He softly put a hand on Serene’s shoulder, but his gaze shifted between them. “Valkyn has the citadel under some control, but unless he has something in mind I don’t know of, he cannot possibly keep it from crashing. I’m afraid he might try to drop it on your people, Bakal.”

“Then more the reason I should be going after him, not you!” the captain snarled.

“He still wields magic. Besides, the two of you have to warn Gwynned. They might be able to do something if I fail.”

The cleric frowned. “I can see Bakal going to warn them, but I should stay with you!”

“No. Valkyn won’t hesitate to kill even you. He might delay with me, though.” Although Tyros didn’t explain his last statement, they all knew what he meant. Valkyn likely still hoped to return his rival to the columns. “They’ll need your help down there as a cleric, Serene. With so few healers of Mishakal about, the Bard King might be able to lend a hand.”

She couldn’t argue with that. While Mishakal held province over healing, even Serene could achieve some success through her god. Still, she wouldn’t give up on one subject. “And what if you defeat Valkyn? How will you get off of Atriun?”

He had no answer for that.

Bakal joined in. “We’ll go, Tyros, but we won’t leave the area immediately. If it looks like Atriun’s on its way to Gwynned, we’ll fly off. But if there’s a chance you’re alive and need help, we’ll be there!”

The mage sighed. “Then at least go now. Time is wasting!”

Serene turned and whispered something to Taggi and one of the other griffons. Bakal mounted, but before the cleric did, she suddenly rushed back to Tyros and, standing on her toes, kissed him on the cheek. Her face crimson, Serene then hurried to Taggi.

His own face feeling flushed, Tyros waved in silence as his companions flew off, then, steeling his resolve, he turned and headed back into Atriun. There was only one place Valkyn might be at this point. With the Wind Captain’s Chair destroyed, Atriun’s master surely had to have gone to the chamber housing the massive crystals. Only from there could he have possibly regained control.

Those who had known Tyros in the past might have thought that he had sent the others off in order to reap the glories himself. They couldn’t have been more mistaken. The events since the first attack on Gwynned had marked Tyros, opening up a part of him that he had kept locked away. He knew the danger of confronting Valkyn and intended that he face that danger alone. Leot, Rapp, and even Stone had perished at the hands of the black mage, and Tyros didn’t want to lose his two remaining friends … especially Serene. Even if it meant sacrificing himself, he was determined to bring down his counterpart.

And in the chamber where he had been so recently chained to Valkyn’s device, Tyros found the black wizard waiting for him.

“I knew you’d return,” the goateed figure commented, smile in place. He stood in front of one of the columns, gloved hands crossed in front of him. “We really do think much alike.”

“Forgive me if I do not take that as a compliment.”

“Atriun is once more under my command. Gwynned will be crushed, and my name will go down as one of the greatest wizards of this monumental era.”

The man had no compassion, no care whatsoever for others. All Valkyn concerned himself with was his magic and what he could do with it. Other lives did not matter. Valkyn would try to conquer the world not for the reasons that Ariakas had, but rather just so he could continue his monstrous experiments on a grander scale. In some ways, the world Ariakas had sought to create for his goddess would have been a blessing instead of the laboratory that the mad mage desired.

Of course, the more likely future for Valkyn would be that eventually his citadel would succumb to the might of his myriad foes, but how many more innocents would have to die before then?

“Atriun is crumbling, dying,” Tyros countered. “Control of its flight will mean nothing when it falls from the sky.”

The gloved hands came up, spreading in opposite directions and making Valkyn look like a scholar attempting to teach a reticent student. “But it will not fall! It will fly, and the storm will cover the heavens once again … now that you’re here.”

A sense of unease swept over Tyros, and he suddenly threw himself away from the doors.

Two fearsome forms dropped from the ceiling, nearly landing upon him with their sharp claws. Tyros rolled against a wall and then scrambled to his feet.

A pair of huge gargoyles, ember eyes flaring and jaws open wide, closed in on him. Tyros sensed something amiss about them. They not only stood taller than any of the gargoyles he had seen, but Tyros felt a strong current of magic around each.

The smiling mage extended a hand toward his demonic device. “Your place of honor awaits you again. I knew you couldn’t resist coming, so I made certain that things would be fully prepared for you.”

The columns had been partially repaired, and new runes of power had been etched in by magic, albeit clearly hastily. Worse yet, new chains had been set into place, this time chains that glowed from base to manacle. No simple blows from an axe or sword would free Tyros if Valkyn managed to secure him there again.

“Never again, Valkyn,” Tyros retorted, his staff held before him, “but I would be glad to let you take my place if you like.”

One of the gargoyles lunged. Tyros held up the staff and muttered words that would unleash one of the few spells with which he had been able to imbue it back in Gwynned. It wouldn’t kill the monster, but a sleeping gargoyle could do him no harm.

Only the gargoyle did not drop. Briefly he shimmered, but that was all.

Desperate, the wizard raised the point of his staff just as the gargoyle closed in on him. The point caught his attacker at the lower edge of the throat.

The monster collapsed, holding his throat and fighting for air. However, by then the second had also leaped forward. As he flew at Tyros, his claws grew longer, sharper, distorting into nightmarish sickles that threatened to cut the mage to ribbons.

Valkyn had enchanted the creatures, adding to their inherent magic. Small wonder he expected Tyros to fall. Yet despite their new and fearsome abilities, Tyros realized that he had one great advantage. Their master needed him alive. That meant the gargoyles had to move with caution … which opened them up to all sorts of weaknesses.

The macabre claws came within an inch of his face, but by then Tyros had a counterattack in motion. He muttered the words of a spell he had found useful in the days of the war, one that he had hoped to save for Valkyn but needed now.

A moist cloud, looking vaguely like cotton, formed around the oncoming monster. The gargoyle slashed, but the cloud immediately reformed where he had cut. At the same time, it continued to grow thicker, obscuring his vision.

Tyros watched with satisfaction. He had realized that to combat the creatures, he had to cast spells that did not affect them directly but rather their surroundings.

Again and again the gargoyle slashed. Tyros moved to one side and saw that his winged adversary did not turn with him. Likely now the gargoyle could see nothing but white.

The first monster had nearly recovered. Tyros called on another spell from his staff and had the satisfaction of watching the floor beneath the gargoyle’s leathery feet turn icy.

Suddenly bereft of footing, the creature slipped, falling backward. Before the gargoyle could utilize his wings to right himself, Tyros used the tip of the staff to push one attacker into the other.

Unable to see who collided with him, the enshrouded gargoyle slashed out with his distorted talons. The fiendish claws tore through even the hard, enchanted hide of his comrade, leaving a gaping wound in the side of the neck. With an agonized roar, the mortally injured creature dropped to one knee and collapsed.

Unfortunately for Tyros, the magical cloud suddenly took on a fiery glow. The gargoyle within had finally realized that only magic could free him. The mage looked up at the great stone ceiling, muttered words of magic, then tapped the staff once on the floor.

The ceiling opened up, great blocks of stone dropping on the remaining gargoyle, who had just managed to refocus his baleful gaze on his prey.

Tyros stared at the rubble, making certain that the creature would not rise, then screamed as incredible pain wracked his body. A hand held him by the shoulder, a hand covered by a slim, black glove.

“They served their purpose well,” came Valkyn’s voice. “You should be a bit more manageable now.”

The staff fell from Tyros’s twitching fingers. He dropped to his knees. Where Valkyn’s hand touched him, an incredible fire burned. Tyros forced his gaze up and saw that various parts of his foe’s hand glowed brightly through the fiber of the glove.

He had forgotten that Valkyn didn’t always need the wand. The other wizard could draw directly from the dwindling reserves of Atriun, thanks to the horrific spell he had cast on himself.

“Time to take your place, Tyros,” Valkyn ordered with a smile. “Gwynned awaits.”

* * * * *

Mere moments after leaving Tyros, Serene nearly had Taggi turn back. She had been a fool to let the mage go alone. He needed her help. If anyone knew Valkyn best, it was Serene.

All thought of Tyros was pushed to the back of her mind as the griffons suddenly lost all semblance of order and dropped into the wooded garden over which they had just begun to pass.

“What’s going on?” Bakal shouted.

The answer became dreadfully apparent a moment later when they spotted a small, still form, arms folded, lying almost peacefully in the midst of the wooded area. Serene swallowed back tears as the griffons fluttered near the body of the only creature they had ever known as their parent.

As one, the animals let out a cry. Taggi landed, nudging Rapp’s body with his beak. He squawked again, a mourning sound.

“Damned wizard,” the captain muttered.

Although clerics of Branchala deemed all life sacred, there and then Serene wished that she could have been the one to face Valkyn. At the moment, the cleric felt that she had it in her to kill him.

Bakal looked at her, eyes bleak. “We can’t stay here, girl.”

“I know.” Yet Serene hated the thought of leaving Rapp here, either to perish with Atriun or, if Valkyn triumphed, to be disposed of like garbage by her former love’s pet gargoyles.

The griffons took the decision out of her hands. Taggi nudged the kender’s body in the direction of the largest of the females. With talons that could have easily shredded Rapp, she gently secured the body and took to the air.

Taggi and the rest flew after her. Bakal managed to glance at the cleric just before they soared into the air, his expression one of astonishment. Both of them were amazed at the depth of devotion the griffons had for the kender.

A few battling gargoyles spun past them as they flew. Serene noticed that more of the lighter-skinned ones, Stone’s folk, seemed to be airborne. Her spirits rose, and she started to think that perhaps the worst was finally over. They would locate a triumphant Tyros and abandon this citadel to it swell-deserved fate.

“Dragon!” Captain Bakal suddenly shouted.

The black form rose toward them, growing more gargantuan with each beat of his lengthy wings. Serene had forgotten about the remaining twin. That he should appear now could be no accident. Valkyn must have sent the dragon to recapture them.

An armored figure rode atop the leviathan, no doubt one of General Cadrio’s aides. During her pursuit of Cadrio and the supposedly kidnapped Valkyn, she had learned somethings about the general’s most zealous officers. A pair of names came to mind, but one even Valkyn had mentioned … and with favor. A young officer, determined and ruthless, possibly even more so than his commander, a young officer who, she recalled, had somewhat feline features, just like man atop the dragon.

Zander. Yes, Serene thought, it had to be Zander.

The great beast roared, and a sense of uncertainty filled the cleric-the first touches of dragonfear, a most potent weapon. Serene immediately prayed to the Bard King, asking for his strength. The uncertainty faded somewhat.

Nearby, Bakal, too, fought the fear. Fortunately a veteran of the war, he had learned to steel himself. After a moment of anxiety, he nodded to Serene to assure her of his readiness, then proceeded to make a spreading motion with his hands.

At first she didn’t understand what he wanted, but when the captain pointed at the griffons and repeated the motion, it came to her. Bakal wanted her to scatter the animals to confuse their monstrous foe. The cleric leaned down to Taggi, hoping that once more the lead griffon would understand her request.

Branchala watched over her. Taggi cried out to the other griffons, and they suddenly darted off in every direction.

The great black paused in midair, clearly confused. However, Serene saw the soldier lean forward and shout something to his mount. The dragon’s eyes narrowed, and he focused on two animals in particular … those that carried riders of their own.

Bakal and his griffon suddenly swooped in front of Taggi, drawing the dragon’s primary attention. The ebony leviathan snapped at the soldier and his mount, then inhaled deeply. A second later, a spray of acid shot out at the pair, singeing the griffon’s tail. The animal squawked in pain but continued on.

For the Ergothian captain, there would evidently be no choice of capture. Had the acid rain caught him full on, both he and the griffon would have been dead. Serene wondered what fate Valkyn had declared for her. Likely he would suffer her to live, still believing that he could manipulate her somehow. The thought disgusted her but also gave her some hope. If Valkyn did want her alive, then perhaps she could use that to help Bakal.

She had Taggi follow after the captain and his pursuers, intending to draw the dragon’s attention toward her. However, as they neared, Taggi didn’t try to pass the unsuspecting dragon, but rather focused his attention on the leviathan’s rider.

Serene tried to make the griffon move on, but for some reason, Taggi remained fixed on Zander. The cleric held tight, disliking the thought of killing the man from behind but knowing it would be necessary.

Zander suddenly looked over his shoulder. The officer glared at her, then drew a sword and slashed at Taggi. Although the rider missed, he bought himself time to shout a command to the dragon.

The scaly beast suddenly rose up, nearly bowling over the cleric and her mount in his haste to obey.

Serene had accomplished one thing, for now the dragon concentrated on them, not the captain. Unfortunately, with the behemoth above them, the only direction Taggi could fly was down, toward the underside of the citadel.

The dragon more than kept pace, closing the gap with remarkable speed. Again Serene felt unnatural anxiety. She muttered another prayer and felt peace return. Even dragonfear could not overwhelm the protection of the Bard King. Still, the monstrous leviathan had nearly caught up to them, and the cleric had no idea what to do.

Suddenly the sky around her filled with griffons, the rest of the pack returning to aid their brother. They swarmed back and forth, distracting her pursuers.

Enraged, the dragon unleashed another stream of acid. One griffon shrieked as a wing received a partial dousing. The animal fluttered awkwardly away, trying to shake the burning liquid from her feathers.

Bakal flew by. He gave a shout and threw something that bounced off Zander’s armor. The young officer shook his sword at Bakal but kept the dragon in pursuit of the cleric.

As she neared the pitted underbelly of Atriun’s island, Serene began searching for somewhere to hide. She surveyed the various crevices and openings, including what looked like the ruined corridors of underground passages, finding at last one that might serve her purposes. Serene prayed that they would reach it in time.

Hot, putrid breath warned her that the black was even nearer than she had thought. Serene glanced back at the oncoming beast, certain that he would catch them. However, just as the great talons tried to close on her, the griffon gave one more burst of speed and dived into the hole.

The dragon nearly collided with the flying citadel’s island. He pulled back, roaring his fury. Great claws tore at the passage, trying to widen it.

“Come out and let this be done in a civilized manner!” the armored officer called. “You’ll come to no harm, my lady!”

“You’re welcome to come in and get me!”

The young officer smirked. He knew better than to try to take on the griffon at such close quarters.

With Taggi watching the outer entrance, Serene turned to investigate the interior. Much to her dismay, the tunnel she had chosen ended in a heap of rubble only a short distance inside. The rest of the passage had collapsed, likely during the raising of the castle.

She had nowhere to go but out the way she had come … and from where they hovered, her pursuers likely could tell that, too.

Serene had trapped herself.

* * * * *

“You can hear the roar even from here, can’t you?” Valkyn asked Tyros. “You know what it means.” Still down on his knees, tormented by the agony unleashed by the other wizard’s touch, Tyros focused for a moment on the distant sound. Yes, he knew what it meant; the surviving dragon hunted near the citadel, and it could only be hunting his friends.

“Serene …” he managed to whisper.

Valkyn had the ears of an elf. “Have no fear for my dear serenity, for I’ve plans for her that must keep her untouched. I believe I can make use of any cleric, whoever her god, to raise my next citadel. It will truly be an inspiring experiment!”

And one likely to leave that cleric injured or dead. The thought of Serene in such straits urged Tyros to new efforts, despite his pain. His hand fumbled around and found the staff. It contained only a few spells, none of which would be effective against Valkyn, but that wasn’t what the battered mage sought it for.

Summoning up what strength he had left, Tyros drew forth as much magic as he could and, mouthing the necessary spell, poured it into the staff. Valkyn didn’t notice his effort, taking his sudden weakening as a sign that the crimson mage had all but given up.

Tyros, though, fought to keep conscious. When at last he could give no more to the staff, the fallen spellcaster readied himself, turning his grip ever so slightly.

He thrust the staff up, praying for the best.

Valkyn shifted to one side. The staff flew out of the red wizard’s grip, sailing wide past his rival. Valkyn chuckled at Tyros’s attempt. “A pitiful effort! Did you really think I wouldn’t-” Chill blue eyes narrowed to slits as he noted the look of triumph creeping over Tyros’s features. “What are you up to?”

Valkyn whirled and looked up.

Enchanted, the staff had not fallen to the floor but instead flew unerringly toward the nearest of the great crystalline spheres. It glowed with magical energy, all that Tyros could put into it, turning the staff into a deadly missile.

Tyros slumped to the floor, momentarily unable to do so much as lift a finger in his own defense. However, Valkyn had eyes only for his device and the missile streaming toward it. He released his grip on Tyros and reached out a desperate hand, as if attempting to cast a spell. The blink of an eye became an eternity, yet still not enough time for the master of the citadel to stop the inevitable.

The staff struck, exploding.

At first Tyros thought that he had failed, that the energies he had focused into the staff had not been enough. Then he and Valkyn saw the massive veins erupting across the immense crystal.

The entire column shook. Raw magical forces burst from the cracks, turning them into fissures.

“No!” the mage screamed. “No!”

But the power that he had sought to contain for his own dreams would be contained no longer. The golden crystal trembled … and burst.

The explosion ripped through the area, nearly toppling the second column. Tyros flattened himself to the floor, hoping his death would be quick and painless.

Castle Atriun shook, then lurched. Only the magical energy in the second sphere still kept the citadel functioning, but not for much longer.

A scream of nightmarish torment ripped from Valkyn’s mouth. Tyros dared to look up, wondering what could cause such a cry.

Valkyn’s hands blazed with pure magic, then began to burn away.

The black wizard had truly tied himself to his creation, the better to make use of its abilities. The crystals were clearly the same type as those both atop the columns and fixed to the wand. Tyros vaguely recalled an image from his earliest struggle with Valkyn, when the other mage’s gloves had burned away, revealing what he had done to himself. The crystals implanted in Valkyn’s hands had enabled him to cast astonishing spells, yet now they assured that the very power he had hungered for would devour him instead.

And nothing could stop it.

Valkyn’s hands were no more than ash now, and yet still the magic burned away at him, twin plumes of fiery, golden light that rapidly made their way above his wrists. Valkyn clutched the stumps of his arms to himself, trying to smother what could not be smothered. At last he dropped to his knees, moaning, all trace of the mocking smile forever gone.

A menacing sound, like that of crackling ice, made Tyros recall his own imminent fate. Power still flared from the ruined crystal, but more worrisome than that were the intense web of deep fractures spreading over the remaining sphere. Without it, the citadel would definitely fall, for whatever reserves Atriun had once had surely had been drained away by now.

Forcing himself to his feet, Tyros hobbled to the doorway. He glanced behind once to see if Valkyn followed, but Valkyn no longer had any interest in him. The magic continued to eat away at the dark wizard. Already his robes were ablaze with a wicked golden fire.

A new explosion sent Tyros tumbling into the hallway. Recovering, he watched in amazement as the first column teetered. For a moment it hesitated, almost seeming to float, and then it collapsed.

Valkyn, still in agony, didn’t see it tip toward him. The column fell upon the burning figure, half crushing the master of Castle Atriun.

Tyros abandoned the area, knowing that the only way to avoid sharing Valkyn’s fate was to escape the castle entirely and hope that either Serene or Bakal still waited for him. He stumbled down the corridor, seeking the stairway leading up.

A new explosion rocked the citadel, sending him sprawling and dousing the mage with rubble from the ceiling.

Struggling to his feet again, Tyros peered through the clouds of dust, trying to make out the stairs. Rubble blocked part of his view, forcing him to climb over it. The stairway had to be nearby.…

Tyros stared in dismay. Whether or not the stairway lay ahead no longer mattered. What remained of his path had collapsed under the weight of the falling ceiling. Tons of stone now blocked the fleeing wizard’s way, and Tyros had a suspicion that some of that rubble had once been part of the very steps he sought.

His path out of Castle Atriun had been destroyed, leaving him trapped in a flying citadel that would soon fly no more.