The Citadel Page 11

  The second citadel joined the first, floating a few hundred yards behind it.

  Throughout Norwych, great bells and shrill horns cried out warning to the populace. The general considered Norwych’s possible first line of defense. Catapults, perhaps, but Eclipse and Murk had also mentioned the possibility of silver dragons. Had it been Cadrio’s decision, he would have sent the dragons in first.

  Sure enough, even as the first roar of thunder shook all, from the south came a pair of long, sleek silver forms nearly as large as the golden dragons. Looking at them, Cadrio doubted that his two overanxious beasts would fare any better today than previously. Surely Valkyn had something planned for such powerful threats.…

  The citadel moved over the city, and with it went the storm. Cadrio marveled at the display. Where did such power erupt from? Surely not from Valkyn himself, even though at times the mage had exhibited hints of great strength. No, Valkyn had discovered some new source of power for his citadel, surely some fantastic force.

  Yet despite the harsh wind and rain, the two silver behemoths flew unerringly toward their target. The dark castle moved slowly toward them, as if its master didn’t realize the danger.

  “Are you mad, Valkyn?” Cadrio shouted. “Do something!”

  He expected the gargoyles to fly out, attacking the dragons and trying to take advantage of their smaller size and sharp talons. However, none of the gray monsters showed. Atriun simply floated there, awaiting its doom.

  The dragons split up as they neared. They probably intended to pound the citadel from both sides, thinking that a horde of draconians would soon drop from Castle Atriun’s walls onto Norwych. The silvers were determined not to let that happen.

  Then lightning struck.

  Cadrio blinked, not at all certain what he had just witnessed. He leaned forward, squinting.

  One of the dragons fluttered awkwardly, one wing ripped and burned by the bolt. A fortunate accident, but one that Cadrio knew could not be repeated. Valkyn had to make his move now or die with his creation.

  A second bolt struck the injured leviathan.

  Now the dragon could barely fly. The power in one bolt of lightning would have been enough to send any of Cadrio’s vessels to the bottom. It amazed the general that the silver dragon still lived, much less flew, but what astonished him more was that two bolts had struck with such accuracy. The odds had to be astronomical!

  The second dragon, noting its mate’s dire circumstances, suddenly darted toward it, which saved the uninjured beast from a third bolt that shot directly at where it had been.

  At last General Cadrio understood. “The storm,” he whispered. “Valkyn’s harnessed the storm.…”

  Black clouds surrounded the citadel, but occasionally crimson and yellow flashes highlighted the ominous structure. The winds continued to rock the fleet, but Cadrio didn’t care. The mage hadn’t lied when he had promised power. Valkyn had created a weapon more deadly than dragons, as the two silvers continued to find out.

  Another bolt split the pair apart. The wounded one began to lose altitude. Two more bolts struck it. Its mate roared in horror.

  The mortally wounded dragon’s wings ceased flapping, and the scarred and burned body plummeted seaward.

  An unexpected gust of wind sent everyone aboard the Harpy reeling. Cadrio gripped the rail, then looked up. Murk and his twin had disobeyed orders and now flew toward the remaining dragon. They still sought to redeem themselves, despite the risk of the storm.

  The second silver hovered over the water where its mate had crashed, completely oblivious to the new threat racing toward it.

  Surprisingly, Valkyn didn’t finish off the beast. Instead, the castle positioned itself over northern Norwych. At the same time, the crippled citadel moved slowly but inexorably to a location directly above the very center of the city.

  The two citadels would keep most of Norwych’s defenses occupied. With all eyes skyward, surely it was time for Cadrio to at last marshal his forces and begin landfall. The general seized Timinion with one hand and Zander with the other. “Give the signal to head for Norwych! I—”

  A horrific boom sent all three men dropping to the deck. Recovering first, Timinion and Zander immediately helped the general up.

  “What happened, you fools? Valkyn’s citadel! Has something happened to—”

  Cadrio looked up as he spoke and saw that while nothing had happened to Atriun, the same could not be said for the second citadel. A jagged hole remained where once the upper left portion of the castle had been. Smoke billowed from the wrecked area, and fragments continued to drop. The damaged citadel wobbled uncertainly, and Cadrio wondered how much longer it could stay afloat.

  He dragged Timinion close. “Did you see what happened? Was it the other dragon?”

  “No, sir! Our dragons are dealing with that one! See?”

  Murk and Eclipse were indeed dealing with the remaining silver. The twins had it between them, one black ripping a wing to shreds, the other snapping at the silver’s throat. They had clearly caught it unaware while it had searched for its mate. The one attacking the throat—Cadrio thought it Eclipse—at last caught his target and held tight. The general imagined the massive fangs biting through scales and sinking into flesh. The silver roared in agony, one set of talons trying uselessly to pull the black from its neck.

  The other twin shredded what remained of the wing, then joined his brother at the throat, ripping away. Less and less the opposing leviathan struggled, until finally the head lolled back.

  “Excellent!” Cadrio cried. Just then a second boom nearly sent him to the deck again. He turned to the older citadel, which now sported another severe wound, this one at its crumbling base. “What is causing that?”

  Zander provided the answer at last. “The lightning from the wizard’s storm is destroying the other citadel, sir!”

  “That can’t be!” Yet Cadrio quickly saw that Zander had spoken the truth. Several bolts burst from the storm, striking hard at the severely devastated citadel. Barely half the castle remained, and a good portion of the earth beneath had broken free, too, creating yet more havoc for the defenders below.

  The older fortress tried to move away but could not. Cadrio felt little concern for the minor mages and clerics aboard, but the man he had chosen to pilot it had been a good officer. “Damn you, Valkyn! You’ve no right!”

  A heavy rumble rose from the storm-enshrouded terror, and a series of bolts worse than anything those aboard the Harpy had yet witnessed tore asunder what remained of the other flying citadel. The castle collapsed, the tower with the Wind Captain’s Chair falling into the main building. Ship-sized chunks of earth dropped from beneath the ruined structure.

  Below the crumbling behemoth, Norwych suffered a horrific torrent. Cadrio could imagine the people screaming, the buildings crushed under the weight of the gigantic missiles, the ruination of a city that had thought itself safe. Not even at the height of the war had he witnessed destruction on this scale; Valkyn’s toy threatened to literally level the seaport.

  “Bring us in!” he demanded.

  “Is that safe, sir?” Timinion asked.

  “Don’t argue!”

  A new wave of lightning pounded the dying edifice, and at last the older citadel started to drop. Earth and stone showered the island city, then what remained intact suddenly fell from the sky. From the general’s angle, it looked as if one of the moons had fallen. Certainly to those below, it must have seemed so.

  The horrific crash echoed throughout the area, startling even those aboard the Harpy. A vast cloud of dust and dirt rose above Norwych, resembling the plume of a volcanic eruption.

  “Make certain everyone has his visor down,” General Cadrio ordered. That would help keep some of the dust from his men’s faces.

  Castle Atriun paused now, the storm around it lessening. As Cadrio’s vessels neared the chaotic island, he saw gargoyles dive from the edifice, falling upon Norwych like vultures. The general wondered wh
ether Valkyn sought more mages for his mysterious work. That disturbed Cadrio nearly as much as the destruction of his own citadel had. Valkyn did as he pleased, despite their supposed alliance. The wizard had given him victory, but had made Cadrio more dependent upon him. Matters couldn’t remain like this. Valkyn would only tighten control if the general did nothing.

  The lanky commander gritted his teeth. First he would deal with the survivors of Norwych, but then … then he would see to it that Valkyn remembered that General Marcus Cadrio served no man anymore.

  Especially an impudent and expendable wizard.

  * * * * *

  No word could describe the sensations Serene felt when she soared through the air on the back of the griffon. Even with the stiff form of Tyros in front of her, she could feel the wind, the speed. The massive griffon flew joyfully, completely at home in the sky. Serene envied the creature, wishing she could experience his pleasure.

  She felt some sympathy for Tyros, who clearly had never flown like this before. The cleric tightened her hold on him, trying to relay to the mage some comfort. Although at times he had seemed rather arrogant and ambitious, Serene had noted the more human Tyros beneath the surface. He cared for his lost friend and treated her own concerns with nearly as much compassion. In many ways, Tyros reminded her of the one whom she had lost, but with a bit more gentleness and less obsession.

  “Where are we?” the wizard suddenly shouted.

  She peered down. Water had given way to land. Serene searched her memory. “Somewhere midway between Caergoth and Kayolin, I think,” the cleric returned. “And probably the safest place to land. The sun’s nearly down, and the griffons should get some rest. We’ll still reach the New Sea early tomorrow.”

  Tyros clearly wanted to go on, but nodded. Serene glanced over to where Rapp and Bakal rode. The captain bore an expression that looked halfway between determination and unease. Some of the unease might have actually been due to the nearness of the kender to his pockets. Bakal no doubt feared to find them emptied out.

  She caught Rapp’s attention and pointed down. He smiled and nodded. When first Serene had met him and his half-grown orphan cubs, she had doubted that he would be able to tend to them, yet Rapp had cared for the griffons with a single-minded devotion that had startled her. Even now, with the fantastic creatures all but grown, he did not leave them. It made her wonder to what degree other races might have underestimated the worth of Rapp’s people.

  The party landed in a hilly wooded area that clearly had seen some violence during the war. Although the spot where they camped looked unravaged, in areas beyond it whole copses of trees had been destroyed. In addition, they came across several bits of rusting and twisted metal that might have once been armor and weapons half buried in the earth.

  “Some sort of battle took place here,” Bakal commented, hands searching his pockets to see if his personal effects remained within. Serene had never seen a man so eager to touch earth again as the captain. “Several months back, at least, I’d say.”

  “We’ll be safe enough,” Serene promised. “Rapp and I have brought the griffons here before.”

  “Good! I need a peaceful night’s sleep after that ride. My bones are aching!”

  Serene noted the precision with which Bakal’s men worked as they organized the camp. Trained soldiers, definitely. It concerned her. The men obeyed him completely, and she wondered how that might affect her quest. Serene knew that Captain Bakal desired to capture the citadel or, failing that, destroy it, regardless of who might be onboard. She couldn’t allow that.

  While the others dealt with their own arrangements, the redheaded cleric wandered off to be among the trees. Although the woodland was not as thick and lush as her own forest, Serene found the solitude refreshing.

  The temptation to remove her robe and commune with her god as nature intended remained in check; the soldiers would have taken her action as an invitation, and even Tyros might have mistaken her devotion for something more base. Instead, Serene finally settled on a soft tuft of grass and folded her legs into a meditation position. She put down her staff, then pulled out her medallion.

  Through the medallion she felt the peaceful lives of the trees, the slow spanning of time. The trees lived differently from most other creatures, even their fellow plants. To a tree, a year might seem a day. They saw the world in the grand overall scheme of things, even better than the dragons and elves, who lacked their sturdy patience.

  “Branchala,” she whispered. “Grant me some of the strength of your ageless children. Give me some of their resolve, their patience. You know that I’ve been giving you so much of my life of late; please grant me my desire to succeed in this quest.…”

  She felt a breeze caress her cheek, heard the leaves rustle. Others would have read nothing in those natural acts, but Serene had been trained to hear the words and wishes of her patron. The Bard King promised her strength, but only if she worked to maintain her own resolve.

  “Can you not show me any more than you have? Can you not give me some clue as to the future?”

  The breeze died. The young cleric shivered, knowing that the wind’s cessation had not been natural. Had she offended her god?

  She saw that the limbs of one tree still moved, yet no wind guided them. Serene held her breath, watching as the tree underwent a transformation. The ridges in the bark shifted, formed patterns … and then a face.

  She recognized its avian features. Cadrio. He looked both pleased and envious. His eyes gazed skyward. The image made Serene shiver again.

  Cadrio’s face vanished, the ridges altering. A new visage formed. Serene almost lost her concentration. It was her love’s face, but something looked different about it.

  She leaned back, dismayed. He wore another’s features, and more and more that other grew dominant.

  “What do you mean by this?” she whispered. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  The cleric suddenly grew angry. She rose, and as she did, the face began to disappear. Serene rushed forward, reaching for it. She touched the bark just as the last vestiges vanished.

  Serene beat her hand against the tree. “Don’t play games with me, Father Bran! You know the good of my quest! Tell me what you mean by showing me that face instead—”

  “Serene?”

  She whirled about to find Tyros. He couldn’t have picked a worse time. The cleric reached for her staff, scowling. “Do you think no one’s deserving of privacy but yourself? Go away! I’m not one of your court ladies, thrilled by your mysterious power!”

  Her words struck him like barbs, sending the spellcaster back several steps. Serene advanced, using her staff as a weapon aimed at his chest.

  “I only came to see if you were all right.”

  “Well, I’m not! Now leave me alone!”

  “As you wish.” He turned and left in silence, never looking back.

  Serene’s energy suddenly flagged. What had she done? Her reaction had been uncalled for. Tyros had clearly followed her out of concern. She should go apologize, yet a part of her refused. Perhaps in the morning, if there was time.

  The cleric gazed into the darkening woods. “Branchala, what should I do?”

  The woods remained silent.

  * * * * *

  The next morning Tyros suggested that they fly to the mouth of the New Sea before heading east, a detour which, in the end, seemed of little value. He didn’t miss the glances of his companions, who had likely begun to doubt his knowledge. The mage, though, had wanted to verify that Cadrio’s forces had not yet departed the inland sea, and so he felt some justification.

  “We have to land the griffons soon,” Serene called to Tyros, her attitude toward him still oddly distant. She acted as if she had to protect herself from the mage. He wondered what he had done.

  The young wizard looked down, seeing only water. “There’s an island just beyond the horizon with a seaport called Norwych on the eastern side. There are hills and pastures on the west where
we can land with little chance of being noticed. Maybe one or more of us could go to Norwych to find out if they know anything!”

  Having no better plan, she acquiesced. Tyros still sensed the gap between them but was determined to pay it no mind. All that mattered was Leot … and the secrets of the citadel, of course.

  The weather had been good, for the most part, but as they headed toward Norwych, the spellcaster noticed clouds forming on the horizon. At the same time, he felt a slight tingle, one both curious and slightly disturbing. It had the taste of magic to it, but nothing he saw hinted at such. Tyros grew more alert.

  A shape materialized in the distance. The mage stiffened. “I think I see the island.”

  Serene leaned forward. “I see it, but it looks as if there’s a storm brewing. We’d better ride with care.”

  Tyros nodded, signaling Bakal. The captain muttered something to Rapp, who leaned forward to talk to his mount. The kender’s griffon slowed, followed immediately by the rest. Rapp had a knack with the creatures. Tyros decided it would be good for him to try to befriend the kender. Better to have the griffons in hand if trouble occurred than men who were clearly loyal to Bakal alone.

  Closer and closer they flew. The crimson-clad mage noticed several plumes of smoke rising from the distant city, but at first thought nothing of them. Busy ports such as Norwych would have industry. Yet the nearer he flew, the more ominous the plumes seemed, as did the clouds above and around the island.

  “Something doesn’t seem right,” Serene shouted in his ear.

  At that moment a massive form flew up from the island, swiftly heading into the clouds. A black dragon.

  Bakal called to Tyros, pointing at the darkened sky. The mage nodded. They had all seen the black leviathan and knew that his twin had to be near. Tyros tilted his head back to Serene and asked, “Can you get the griffons to fly just above the water?”

  She nodded, then signaled Rapp. Moments later, they were skirting the sea, well below the sight of most observers.

  “Cadrio’s here,” Tyros’s companion called, “but I don’t see any sign of the citadel!”