The Citadel

Chapter 5
Serene

Bakal didn’t like hunting for kender, but he liked it even less when he had to do it with a squad of men behind him. As he had grown older, the captain had become more independent, which, as his superiors had been wont to state, was the sticking point preventing him from gaining further promotion. Bakal didn’t care. He got things done the way he liked; he didn’t muck around like so many of his counterparts, who mostly outranked him now.

Night in Gwynned had always been the scarred veteran’s favorite time. True, the cutthroats and harlots came out then, but some of them had proven good and interesting people. Better than some of the higher-ups to whom he had to answer.

As he searched, Bakal thought about Tyros’s quest. The captain had held vague hopes that the dragons would say yes, but he hadn’t been surprised by their refusal. Still, Tyros had one thing right; Gwynned hadn’t seen the last of the invaders. The officers of the dragonarmies had always been tenacious and would be worse now, what with everything up for grabs.

A sound like that of a small child running lightly along the moist street made the veteran pause. Although kender much resembled elves, they were no larger than half-grown children. Bakal braced himself and with experienced stealth followed the faint sounds. The other didn’t seem in any great hurry, which enabled his pursuer to quickly cut the distance between them. Bakal heard a giggle that no child would have uttered.

“We’ve enough havoc with the leftover dragonarmies without having to put up with your type of hijinks, boy,” he muttered under his breath.

Now he could definitely make out breathing, harsher breathing than he would have expected from the energetic kender, but perhaps the little thief had spent the day wreaking chaos among the townsfolk. Bakal quickened his pace. Another minute, another alley, and he would have his quarry.

He pulled his dagger free. Kender weren’t dangerous, but just in case he had accidentally followed a brigand, Captain Bakal wanted to be ready.

His quarry had stepped into what Bakal knew to be a blind alley. The captain took a deep breath, looked to both sides for possible traps, then charged in.

“All right, you little thief! Keep your hands up where I can see-”

A massive beaked head looked down at him. A leonine paw swatted at the officer, barely missing. Behind the menacing avian visage, Bakal made out immense wings and a feline tail.

Unable to speak, the captain stumbled back, trying to stay out of reach of the monstrous animal. His left foot caught on something, though, and Bakal suddenly found himself falling backward. The dagger went flying from his hand.

He was dead, and he knew it.

Nothing happened. He waited for the beast to leap on him and rend his throat, but it did not. Finally, lifting his head, Bakal dared to look into the alley.

Nothing. The alley stood empty. No beast. The scarred veteran found himself shivering as he had not done since nearly being beheaded by an enemy soldier during the height of the war.

Wizards, draconians, gargoyles, clerics, kender, and now …

“A griffon!” he gasped. “A griffon!”

This city was getting too crowded.

“Who is Cadrio?” Tyros asked.

“You don’t know him?” His beautiful intruder looked surprised. “He tried to sack your city!”

“You mean the attack. Is Cadrio one of the surviving Dragon Highlords?”

“He served under one. Now he’s trying to rally what’s left of Takhisis’s armies to his banner.” She gave him a wry smile, which made his heart flutter. “But he hasn’t done a very good job of it so far. This debacle will set him back. Unfortunately, from what I’ve learned, General Marcus Cadrio is more dangerous when he’s desperate.”

Tyros’s brow rose. “You sound as if you know him well.”

“In a sense. I’ve been hunting him for some time.” She suddenly rose. The sphere of light remained just above her left hand. “I can see I’ve wasted my time here. You don’t know where I can find Cadrio. I’ll be leaving now.”

“Wait!” Tyros closed the door behind him. “I didn’t say that. Besides, I have some questions for you, too. First, who are you?”

“These robes should tell you well enough, mage. I serve the Bard King, Branchala, and I’ve no time for your questions. I need to move on.”

Tyros didn’t want her to leave. “Please!” He put on a smile that had captivated many young ladies of the court. “My lady, please. We have a mutual interest here if you seek those who tried to invade Gwynned. I’d like to know more about this Cadrio. I think there may be a few things I can tell you, too.”

She considered his words for a moment, then, with some reluctance, sat back down in the only chair. The glowing sphere drifted to a point near the ceiling and remained there. “Perhaps you have a point.…”

“I think so. You know me, I believe, fair lady, but what should I call you?”

“Serene.” She glanced about the room. “This place makes me claustrophobic.”

As a cleric of a woodland god, Serene no doubt was more accustomed to the outdoors. Tyros sympathized but could do little for her. “I apologize. Would it help to open the window?”

She wrinkled her slightly upturned nose. “This entire city stinks of too many people with too little idea of cleanliness … but, yes, the window would probably help.”

Tyros gestured. The window flew open. “Yet you sat here in the dark all by yourself.”

“I could imagine it was night and I was in my home in the woods, enjoying my privacy.”

“I see.” The mage recalled the bundle of food held in the crook of his arm. “I’ve just come from an arduous journey and had planned to eat. Will you join me in a small meal while we talk?”

Again she considered long before reluctantly agreeing. “I would appreciate that. It’s been some time since I last ate.”

He set the food on the table, then pulled the latter around so that he could sit on the bed while Serene remained in the chair. She inspected his purchases with more disinterest than anything else but accepted whatever he offered her, including some wine.

Tyros took a sip of wine, only to grimace. “Best you don’t drink any of this. Tomorrow I will be having a few choice words with the man who sold it to me.”

“There’s no need for that. Hand it to me, please.”

She took the wine flask in one hand. From around her throat, she pulled a medallion upon which had been carved a harp such as a bard would have used. Murmuring what sounded like the first few lines of a song, she touched the flask with the edge of the medallion. The container briefly shimmered, but otherwise seemed no different.

Replacing her medallion, Serene poured wine for both of them. The wary spellcaster took a sip, then brightened as the nectar caressed his tongue. Serene’s jade eyes sparkled in amusement.

“This is the best wine I’ve ever tasted,” Tyros admitted.

“Surely with all your vaunted power you can conjure up something better!”

“Nothing like this.”

“Humility from a wizard. There’s hope for you yet!” She laughed, a sound like crystalline bells, then grew more serious. “Tell me what happened here, Tyros Red Robe. Tell me about Cadrio’s assault on Gwynned. I want to know everything you do.”

He told her, relating to Serene the shock of discovering the attack, the draconians falling from the sky, and the realization that not one but two castles floated above, raining death upon Gwynned. Serene listened in silence, her eyes narrowing when Tyros mentioned the flying citadels. She hung on his every word, leaning closer and closer as he proceeded. Mention of the gargoyles caused her to sit up straight, but when Tyros sought to question her, the cleric waved for him to continue.

Tyros felt both regret and guilt build up again as he told her about Leot. By the end, the mage found himself sweating and nearly in tears. Serene, though, made no comment about it.

“Gargoyles … there were gargoyles, then, too,” she muttered. To Tyros she asked, “Do you have any idea where Cadrio’s forces went? If you do, please tell me. He’s evaded me too long.”

The wizard shook his head. “I have told you quite enough. You owe me some information now.”

“My story wouldn’t interest you.”

“But it must be important for you to follow him so … or to try to enlist the aid of gold dragons.”

She flushed. “So you know of that, too.”

“I know that they turned you down.” Tyros chose not to mention his own failure.

“For the best of reasons. I’ll not risk some things even for army needs!”

“I understand the reason. Glisten’s reason.”

“Not even all my misery is worth endangering her and her eggs!” The cleric’s eyes grew misty.

“I understand.” Dragons regarded their young as very precious, even more than many humans did. “But dragons aside, I still want to know why you’re pursuing this general.”

Serene lowered her gaze. “I might as well tell you. I follow Cadrio because he’s stolen something very precious to me, someone I loved!”

Tyros felt a twinge of jealousy. Of course someone as beautiful as she would have suitors.

“I came upon the ruins of his home, destroyed by some terrible, violent force. We’d not seen each other for months, but I thought to visit him to see how he was doing.” Her hands tightened into fists. “They’d struck but days before my coming! I searched the ruins but found no trace of him. That was when I prayed to Branchala to grant me knowledge of what had happened and where I might find him. The Bard King sought fit to grant me my wish, although not as I might have liked. I received a vision, a collage of images. A castle that flew, winged creatures with horns-gargoyles, I came to realize-and my love’s home torn asunder like so much kindling, all his work laid to ruin or stolen.”

“And Cadrio?”

“And Cadrio. I saw his face, the vulture! I also saw a land I knew to be west of where I was, a land I later found the general had used for a temporary base. Unfortunately, Cadrio and his army had already departed.” For the first time, some hints of exhaustion showed. “I’ve chased him from the east of the continent to the west. I’ve seen his army and even looked the man in the eyes, from a distance, but not once did I ever have the chance to confront him.”

“I thought revenge was Sargonnas’s domain.”

“I don’t want revenge; I want only to rescue my beloved!”

Again Tyros felt a twinge of jealousy, which annoyed him. Why should it bother him that Serene loved another? “Did they conscript him into the army?”

She shook her head, sending locks of scarlet flying. “That would’ve been a waste. They must’ve wanted his work. You see, he was a mage like you.”

Tyros nearly dropped his wine. A flying citadel, gargoyles, and yet another missing wizard. How many had this Cadrio captured? “His work. Why would that be important?”

“He was studying the flying citadels.”

The mage stiffened. He knew that others had been attempting the same as him, but still it surprised Tyros to hear that someone else had been researching the devilish castles. Small wonder, then, that this other wizard’s work might have been of interest to Takhisis’s minions. “But how would they have known about him?”

She shrugged. “He wrote letters, corresponded with others. Word likely reached General Cadrio through one of your order. I’m sorry, but you Red Robes are not known for your undying loyalty to the cause of good, Tyros.”

The mage refrained from defending himself. He had nearly given his life to defeat the Dark Queen’s warriors, and so whatever slurs fell upon his order, they did not apply personally. Yet still it bothered him to hear it from her. “So you think Cadrio kidnapped him so that he could make use of his knowledge.”

The robed woman nodded. “I do, though I’ve no reason save that Cadrio might be hoping to raise another citadel. In fact, now that he’s lost one and his last is crippled, that could be urgent!”

“You may be right. It certainly gives one something to think about.” It didn’t explain why General Cadrio would need one of Leot’s order, though. Admittedly, another red wizard might have been swayed to help, but certainly not a follower of Solinari. Perhaps Leot had been taken by mistake.

Did that mean his friend was dead now?

“I’ve told you everything,” Serene commented, not noticing his darkening expression. “Now I ask you again: Do you know where Cadrio might have gone?”

He nodded. “I think they sailed to the New Sea, but it probably would be a waste of your time to go there now.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I believe that he’ll be back here before long. He won’t accept that Gwynned slipped from his grasp.”

“He’d be a fool! Sunfire would be even more eager to bring down his last castle!” The cleric hesitated. “Still, from what I’ve learned of Cadrio, you might be right. He might come back … this time stronger.” She frowned. “But I can’t wait for him to come back. It might be too late by then. It might already be too late. I have to go on and hunt him down!”

“You think they keep them in the remaining citadel?”

“I have to hope! If the prisoners were kept in the one that was destroyed, then both the ones we seek are dead!”

Tyros felt far more concern for Leot than for Serene’s paramour, and not simply because the former had been his friend. Trying to remain focused, he looked into her eyes and said, “You went to Sunfire to see if he would fly you to the citadel.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly. “Yes … that’s what I wanted.”

“You would have died.”

“I didn’t know what else to do at the time.” Tears threatened to flow.

Truth be told, neither did Tyros. He sat there, watching Serene struggle with her emotions and finding himself wanting to comfort her. It was hardly what his studies had trained him, for and hardly his place, either.

The cleric wiped her eyes, then suddenly rose. “I thank you for your time, Tyros Red Robe. You’ve told me what I need to know. I won’t be bothering you any more.”

“I’m sorry,” the mage returned, also rising. He didn’t want her to leave, but he had no other help to offer her. “If I knew a method other than the dragons, then I’d certainly tell you. As it is …”

Serene looked at him. “No need for that. I’ve another way to get there-not the one I would have chosen, but it will have to do. All I needed from you was Cadrio’s whereabouts.”

Tyros stared, startled. “You’ve another way to reach the citadel?”

“Yes, but it’s for me alone, wizard.”

He refused to accept that, thinking not only of her but of the one chance he might have to rescue Leot. That … and the tantalizing opportunity to see a working citadel from the inside. Tyros confronted the cleric. “I have to get up there. I want to come with you.”

“You won’t like it.”

“Why?”

She hesitated, then indicated he should sit back down. Tyros sat reluctantly, awaiting her explanation.

Serene pursed her lips. “I have a friend, Tyros, who has the means to reach the flying citadel. He offered before, but I refused, thinking the dragons would help. Now I see he’s my only hope.”

“Is it that dangerous?” The wizard envisioned flying on the back of some demon or worse.

Curiously, the beautiful cleric smiled. “Depends on what you call dangerous … and I’m referring to my friend, not the transport.”

* * * * *

Valkyn stood at the rail of the centermost of the balconied windows, the wind caressing his face. His hair and skin had returned to their normal look, with only a faint bit more gray at the temples. A slight flush of pleasure colored his cheeks. Above him, thunder briefly rumbled, as if acknowledging his greatness. He beamed, genuinely pleased by all that he had accomplished. The thrill of magical discovery touched him as nothing and no one could.

Castle Atriun slowly moved along, so high that few, if any, likely noticed its passing. Down in the courtyard, the battlements, and the garden, the gargoyles, too, savored the wind, their wings outstretched, their beaked muzzles lifted high to catch the scents. Stone, perched atop the tallest tree, looked up at his master, but Valkyn shook his head, desiring nothing. Besides, if the mage thought of a task, he would send Crag first. Stone might be the smarter of the two, but Valkyn trusted the larger gargoyle to obey to the letter. Stone had an independent streak that sometimes proved very useful but occasionally bordered on rebellion.

Valkyn sensed someone behind him. He turned to see two shadowy figures, vaguely human forms shrouded in cloaks that obscured all but hints of their identity.

“You have something to report?” he asked cheerfully.

One shifted.

“Yes, I thought it might be about time. I’ll be with you before long.”

They dipped their hooded heads slightly, then backed away, vanishing into the darkness of Castle Atriun’s interior.

Valkyn glanced once more into the sky. At the rate the citadel flew, they would arrive at their destination in a matter of days. Cadrio would arrive two, possibly three days later.

Cadrio. Valkyn admired the man’s ambitions, if at times the general had too dour a personality. Still, as long as the general did what he was told, the wizard would let him play at being emperor. Cadrio looked to be the sort who would keep everything under control in return for Valkyn’s guidance. If the general remained satisfied to rule in earthly matters, then there would be no trouble. Valkyn could expand his research, go about attempting new and wondrous experiments. However, he would brook no insubordination. If Cadrio proved too untrustworthy, he could readily be replaced.

Valkyn’s teachers had never understood his thinking. When he had chosen the robes of Lunitari, it had been a simple matter of expediency. White had never suited him, and black, at the time, would have meant that some doors would have remained shut, mostly out of distrust. He wore black now only because it made his ally more comfortable. As far as Valkyn was concerned, one robe meant as little as another. The followers of Nuitari spent too much time bowing and scraping to Takhisis, which made absolutely no sense. The three gods of magic had purposely distanced themselves from the rest, creating a core pantheon devoted entirely to the advancement of their interests, and Valkyn felt that he of all his brethren understood that best. That he now followed the path of Nuitari seemed to him no different; it only meant that he had been forced to adjust his spells a bit to account for a different moon.

Still smiling, the ebony-clad mage entered the castle. A torch set in the wall to his right burst into flame as he strolled past it, another just ahead doing the same. All along his path, the rooms and halls lit up for him, darkening again once he had departed. Had his teachers seen all this, they might have wondered how he could possess such power. Valkyn’s gloved hand caressed the wand at his side, the sphere briefly glowing stronger. Limited by their own preconceptions, the orders, even his present one, might have found his methods … horrifying?

He went not to the lower depths of Castle Atriun, where the two shadows awaited him, but rather to the very top, to where the Wind Captain’s Chair stood. Although the way seemed simple and safe enough, Valkyn could sense each of the trap spells installed along the path. Others would find the trek to the tower much more lethal.

The door to the tower opened before him. A figure standing on a platform in the center turned its head to look. Another of his servants, this one slightly more gaunt than the others. The cloaked shadow did not acknowledge him as the rest did because he could not bow or otherwise move. Monstrously thorough, Valkyn had just a few hours before made his servant a very part of the mechanism that controlled the flight of Atriun. Where there might have been feet, the folds of the thick robes melded into two dark circles positioned between a pair of intricately carved pedestals. The ornate silver pedestals, four feet high and with myriad designs and magical symbols traced in gold carved into them, had each been topped with a great gleaming crystal much like the one at the end of the wand. The pedestals, roughly a yard apart, would have been worth a fortune even to those with no magic.

No one would have wanted them as they were, however, for as with the feet, the hands of the servant, in part covered by robes, had become one with the crystals. Even Valkyn couldn’t tell where his puppet ended and the device began. Valkyn felt that his alteration made for smoother, more natural control … and certainly his servant could not argue the point.

“All is well?” He expected it to be so, but it always paid to ask, just in case some small fault had come into play.

The hood turned so that the creature looked to the north.

“Yes, I know. They still follow us. Pay them no mind unless they try to enter the cloud cover. Then we shall deal with them.”

Cadrio’s pet dragons flew far behind, no doubt at the general’s request. Valkyn would let them follow so long as they did not interfere. For now, he had Norwych to consider.

The city lay on an island near the opening of the New Sea. Norwych had much in common with Gwynned and, in fact, had been settled by Ergothians just after the First Cataclysm. Not quite as large as the Northern Ergothian seaport, it still remained a viable target with which to test Castle Atriun.

That he felt nothing for those who might die did not make Valkyn evil in his own eyes. Few among those alive did he consider as more than peripheral existences. His brother he had cared for even if Krynos’s tendencies for violence had seemed a wasteful use of energy. What mattered to the mage was his work. Norwych would open up new doors for that.

“Keep a steady course,” he instructed unnecessarily. The shadow servant could do nothing but obey his directives.

Valkyn left the tower, descending finally into the depths of Castle Atriun. A few gargoyles on sentry duty bowed their heads as he passed, their wings wrapped around them in deference and fear. He ignored them as he ignored the very air he breathed. With each step, anticipation built, just as it always did when he had work of a delicate nature to perform.

One of the shadow servants greeted Valkyn at the door to his innermost sanctum. The hooded creature shifted uneasily, then opened the door for him. A blaze of light shot forth into the darkened corridor, briefly forcing Valkyn to wait for his eyes to adjust. From within the chamber came a muffled groan.

Valkyn clasped his hands together, eagerness rising. “Now, shall we begin?”