The Citadel Read online

  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?”

  Chapter 6

  The Gathering

  Come meet me at the inn where I now stay.

  That was all Tyros’s note had said, which did not please Captain Bakal at all. He still had nightmares about the griffon and found himself checking every darkened alley. Of the kender rumor he had discovered nothing, which further soured his mood. He hoped Tyros had a good reason for summoning him.

  He entered the inn and walked past the owner without greeting. The officer threw back the hood of his cloak and marched up the steps, quietly cursing the man below for giving Tyros the farthest room. With all he had been through, Bakal did not need to be climbing steps.

  At last reaching the mage’s door, the captain nearly touched the handle, then recalled Tyros’s warning about spells. Bakal knocked instead on the wall next to the door, at the same time calling, “Boy! Mage! Open up!”

  The door swung open. What stood before him was not Tyros, but rather a vision of crimson-tressed wonder wearing a very becoming clerical robe.

  “There’s no reason to shout,” she reprimanded.

  Bakal gritted his teeth and entered. “Girl, after what I’ve been through this last couple days, that’s the best I can do!”

  She closed the door behind him, and only then did the captain see Tyros, who sat on the bed. “Good to see you, Captain. You remember Serene, from the tavern?”

  “I do.” Bakal had no patience for pleasantries, though. “Now, tell me why you wanted to see me.”

  “If you will sit down, I will explain.”

  Bakal noticed that there were now two chairs where there had been only one on his last visit. He grabbed the heftier of the two for himself, then brought the other one to the cleric. “My lady?”

  “I don’t know if I should even be here,” Serene muttered. “I should be on my way after them by now.…”

  The soldier didn’t follow her statement, but Tyros evidently did. He stared at the cleric. “Serene, Captain Bakal may be able to help us, or at least help you.”

  “I don’t need help,” she insisted. Nonetheless, the young woman finally sat and told her story to Bakal, who refrained from many obvious questions as he listened. By story’s end, he decided that he believed her for the most part, but she had purposely left out details of some import. Whether Tyros realized that or not, Bakal didn’t know. For the time being, he chose to keep his thoughts to himself.

  “An interesting and tragic affair,” the soldier finally commented. “So this General Cadrio is the commander of the invaders. I know that name, mostly from reports in the east during the war.”

  “You heard what she said about her wizard?” Tyros interrupted. “Taken like the rest! Don’t you see? That means Leot is probably alive as well!”

  “A presumption, boy.” The captain ignored the mage’s look. He had offended far more important people. “But I suppose it has some merit.” He leaned back on the chair. “Suppose you tell me now what it means to me.”

  Tyros leaned forward. “Serene has a way to reach the flying citadel.”

  The weary black eyes became slits. Perhaps he hadn’t been wasting his time here after all. “I’m listening.”

  “I know … someone,” she began very slowly.

  Bakal mentally tensed. Again the omissions.

  “He has a way for us to get up there—a risky way, but one that should work.”

  “And what’s this risky way, girl?”

  “You’ll have to see it for yourself, I’m afraid.”

  He looked at the mage, who shrugged. “She won’t even tell me much, but I believe her.”

  Bakal wondered if the great Tyros had become too enamored by this fiery-haired beauty. The captain cared little to take anyone’s word on faith, even a cleric’s. Still, what other options did he have at the moment? “So what do you want from me, and why should I give it to you, especially considering that you haven’t really said much about your transport?”

  Tyros had an answer for that at least. “First, I’ll remind you why you should help, Bakal. Leot aside, think what secrets we could learn if, even damaged as it is, Gwynned could capture the citadel! Add to that, if it can be properly repaired, which Cadrio may be doing even now, it could serve as just as good a weapon for the cause of light as it has for darkness!”

  Since he and Tyros had first spoken on the subject, Bakal had toyed with the idea of capturing the citadel, although in reality he knew that it would be better just to destroy the thing. Had the dragons agreed to Tyros’s quest, Bakal would have seen to it that Sunfire and Glisten would send the damned castle plummeting to
the ground or into the sea, just as they had its sister ship. If Leot or other prisoners aboard perished, it would be a regrettable consequence. Bakal felt a little guilt and occasionally thought himself no better than Tyros, but he reminded himself that some costs had to be accepted in order to win victory. Even the sacrifice of friends …

  “I don’t suppose you’ve got some more dragons, do you?” he asked of Serene.

  “No.”

  Still no explanation. He disliked that immensely. What could she possibly have in mind? “All right. You’ve made one point at least, Tyros. So what do you want from me? I may not even be able to provide it, you know.”

  Tyros seemed unconcerned on the last point. “Serene tells me she can provide transport for as many as sixteen. Counting us and the one who will provide us with the transport, that’s four to start.”

  “Meaning you want another twelve. So you want volunteers?”

  “Or mercenaries, if need be. I have some money, Bakal.”

  “Better be a lot. Still …” He rubbed his chin. A notion formed, one that he quickly decided he had better not yet share with the mage. This would mean some delicate talk with his superiors, and delicacy had never been one of the captain’s strong points. “I’ll see what can be done, but I still want to know about this transportation. I don’t like surprises!”

  Tyros eyed Serene, who shook her head. “I can’t. A promise was made, and by my pledge to Branchala, I won’t go back on it!”

  Bakal didn’t like that, but he knew better than to press the cleric. “All right. Give me a day or two to arrange things, then I’ll contact Tyros.”

  “Will that be enough?” Tyros asked, startled.

  “It’ll be enough.” Bakal rose. “And unless there’s more to talk about, I’ll be going now. It’s been a long day.” He nodded to the cleric, who did likewise. “Make sure you’re both ready to leave when I contact you.”

  “You are really willing to do this, Captain?” the mage asked.

  “Just be ready.” The officer departed, his mind already racing. The name Cadrio had rung a bell with him and likely would do so with some of his superiors. That would make them more open to his plan, which varied slightly from what Tyros proposed. However, the wizard would just have to understand that not everything could go his way.

  Captain Bakal would have the twelve men ready. Those twelve would be handpicked, not mercenaries, and they would answer to the officer, not Tyros or the cleric. It had to be that way, for neither of his companions knew enough about the necessities of war.

  Only one thing bothered Bakal. Who, he wondered, was the last member of their party?

  * * * * *

  Tyros yawned, trying not to think of the sleep he was missing. The sun wouldn’t rise for another hour, and the weary mage greatly envied it. He took a sip from the flask he had brought along, a cold tea that one of his teachers had introduced to him long ago. It stimulated the system, revitalized the sleepy mind.

  He wished he had brought a second flask … with something stronger added.

  Tyros sat atop his chestnut mare, gazing at nothing. Oh, he could see the nearby vicinity well enough, as much good as that did him. The problem was that none of his companions had so far shown up, which irritated him. Even Serene, who had chosen this location, had not yet arrived.

  This morning found him overly nervous. Since the disaster in the tower, his nerves had never been the same, and in fact he had to fight not to show that. Others could not be allowed to see his weakness. He was Tyros, after all.

  He had tried to plan well for this journey, assuming that once they reached Serene’s transportation, they would continue on. Tyros had brought minimal supplies and only an extra garment or two. He had also strapped a new wizard’s staff to the side of his mount. It gave him some comfort, even though for the most part it would best serve for hand-to-hand combat. Given the short amount of time, Tyros had only been able to cast a few useful spells on it.

  Tyros wished Serene had at least chosen a site in Gwynned, rather than out here in the desolate countryside. Dark hills greeted him for some distance, eventually changing to mountains far to the east. To the northeast lay the dragons’ cave, the only part of the chain that Tyros had ever visited, despite his many months here. He knew that if one went far enough beyond this small chain, one would reach the even more mountainous region of Hylo, but Hylo was the domain of the kender, and few Ergothians ever went there.

  From behind came the sound of hooves trampling the dusty landscape. Tyros turned to see a murky form some distance back coalesce into Captain Bakal, followed by several men of so similar a look that the wizard would have almost taken them for brothers. Mercenaries, perhaps, but Tyros suspected that they were regular soldiers, possibly even men who had trained under the captain. He found that interesting, especially in light of Gwynned’s supposed disinterest in his proposition.

  “Well, good to see you up and bright, mage.”

  “I’ve been here about a quarter hour, already, Captain Bakal,” Tyros replied, trying to sound fully awake. “Waiting for all of you. I see you found the men after all.”

  “It took some doing.”

  When it became clear that the graying officer would not elaborate, Tyros settled back to studying the landscape.

  “And where’s the cleric, boy?”

  “She should be along soon.”

  “I’m here already,” a musical voice interrupted. From out of the darkness Serene materialized, walking gracefully along with a staff of her own. A faint green glow surrounded the cleric. She seemed to smell of morning dew and flowers, and more than one man among Bakal’s troop brightened at her presence. “I was waiting until you all arrived.”

  “You were here already?” Tyros frowned, wondering how she had escaped detection by him. “How long?”

  “Long enough. Good morning, Captain.”

  “Morning to you, my lady.”

  She looked over his band. “You had little trouble finding men, I see.”

  “I fulfilled my part.” The captain shifted in the saddle. “Now that we’re all here, we can get on with it.” Bakal squinted. “Where’s your horse?”

  “I don’t need one, Captain.”

  “I thought we had a journey of some distance.”

  “Yes, to those mountains there. The nearest ones.”

  The officer snorted. “You propose to walk all the way there, girl?” He extended his hand. “I’ll give you a ride. This old war-horse, he’ll carry both of us just fine.”

  Serene shook her head. “Thank you, but I don’t need any help.” Again she pointed at the mountains. “Ride directly toward the one with the twisted top. You two know it?”

  “I know it,” Bakal replied. “A short but jagged peak. Some bad ground there, too. That’s where we go?”

  “Yes. I’ll meet you there.”

  “Meet us there? You going to cast a spell to fly over there?”

  The cleric gave Bakal a frown. “I do not cast spells. I ask for the help of my good patron, and if he deems it worthy, my request is fulfilled.”

  The captain shrugged. “A spell.”

  Before she could correct Bakal again, Tyros leapt in. “All right, Serene. We’ll meet you there.”

  “Good. I’ll be waiting for you.…” The glow around her began to fade, and as it did Serene herself started to vanish. Her gaze fixed on the wizard’s and remained there until she had completely disappeared.

  “Mages and clerics!” Bakal finally uttered. “Give me swords anytime! At least steel is good, honest, and stays where you put it!” He turned to his men and shouted, “You heard her, lads! Let’s ride!”

  Tyros noticed that the men only paid attention to the captain, barely even noticing the mage. They had to be soldiers from Gwynned. He had suspected that Bakal would opt for such a choice, but decided to say nothing. In reality, Tyros cared little who the captain chose; he had his own plans for when they reached the citadel. If he could gain access to the Wind Capt
ain’s Chair, then he could seize control of the fortress himself. Control it, and he not only rescued Leot, but brought fame to himself. If Bakal helped him, fine.

  They rode toward the eastern mountains, the sun rising shortly into their journey. The low hills began to give way to even rockier, sloping landscape, one that forced them to slow down. Tyros knew that the chain of mountains ahead hardly compared to the one bordering Hylo, but it still left an impression. He thought it a shame that most maps beyond Northern Ergoth did not even acknowledge its presence.

  Bakal led them to the peak in question, a vicious-looking thing that, while not as tall as Sunfire’s home, rose almost vertically on the western face. Tyros hoped that they wouldn’t have to climb it.

  The veteran officer looked around at the few shrubs. “Well, we’re here! You see any sign of the cleric … or anyone?”

  “I’m right here, Captain.”

  The redheaded woman stood off to the side, looking as fresh and relaxed as she had earlier. Jade eyes twinkled at the men’s startled expressions.

  Bakal could only frown and say, “So you are.”

  “You’ll have to dismount if you want to reach where we need to go. You can lead the animals in on foot.”

  The men dismounted, then followed Serene through a narrow opening leading into the mountain chain. They wended their way along the passage for some time, noting that the rocky walls quickly grew high. Bakal muttered something about ambushes, but Tyros paid him little mind, trying to keep his attention on the uneven path. Serene hadn’t been jesting when she had said that they would have to go on foot.

  Shadows obscured much of the features of the narrow valley through which they journeyed, but the wizard could see gaps high up in the nearest mountainside, caves suitable for great birds but impossible for any man to reach. As if to verify his notions, a vast winged form suddenly darted out of one, disappearing into the neighboring mountains before Tyros could make any identification.