The Citadel

by Knaak, Richard

  He had noticed her growing coolness toward him, and although the mage had still smiled, that smile had been tinged by something she had never seen before in him, an emotion dark and unforgiving. Yet all the while Valkyn had treated her as his lost love, caressing her softly with his gloved fingers. Serene, attuned to Branchala’s love of nature, had found the gloves unnerving, as if they represented a lack of humanity.

  Then, when the gargoyles had finally brought Tyros in, the cleric saw for herself the terrible truth concerning her former love.

  Tyros had not recalled this first encounter, not after what Valkyn had done to him, but for Serene it would ever be burned into her memory and her soul.

  Valkyn had been very courteous, actually pleased by the presence of a wizard who understood his desire to create such a prize. Despite that, he had never allowed Tyros any semblance of freedom during their conversation, the monstrous Crag and two other gargoyles making certain of that.

  Valkyn had talked on and on about the struggles of his research and the sacrifices he had made. He had asked Tyros about his own research, and when the other had not been forthcoming, Valkyn had simply gone on. To the despairing cleric, it seemed the maddening scene would continue forever.

  Then Tyros had unleashed the spell he had been patiently working on since being brought to his captor.

  The magical flash of light had not harmed the gargoyles much, but it had startled them into releasing their grips. Then, unlike his attempt during their second encounter, Tyros had managed to actually lay his hands on the still smiling Valkyn, grappling with him. Serene had stood there, struggling with old emotions and newer ones concerning Valkyn. That, to her regret, had slowed her reactions. Had Serene joined with Tyros immediately, they could have taken Valkyn and ended this terrible dream. Instead, the cleric had hesitated, pleading silently with the Bard King to tell her what to do.

  By then it had been too late. Even the cleric could sense the sudden surge of sorcerous energy erupting from Valkyn. Tyros had been thrown back, shocked by miniature bolts of lightning so intense that they had left the black mage’s gloves in burned tatters … and thereby revealed yet an even darker secret of the citadel’s master.

  Valkyn’s hands no longer resembled anything human.

  Scaled and scabbed, they looked as if they had been burned, flayed, then put together by someone with only a vague concept of their previous appearance. Most frightening, though, had been the glittering fragments speckling the hands from wrist to fingertips, glittering fragments that looked crystalline and gold, just like the tip of the wand Valkyn had pulled out a moment later.

  “I had expected more sense, more appreciation from you, Tyros,” Valkyn had said. He touched the palm of one of his hands with the wand. An inky black material had formed, spreading quickly over the hand until it covered it completely, a new glove hiding the deformities that Serene could only guess he had willingly given himself. A moment later he had covered the other hand as thoroughly. “We shall have to remedy this impetuousness of yours before we next speak.”

  Putting the wand away, Valkyn had then reached both hands toward the captive. Tyros had struggled, but now the gargoyles held him tighter.

  “Valkyn!” she had called out. “For our love, don’t kill him!”

  “Oh, you needn’t worry, my serenity,” he had merrily responded. “I’m only making him a little more manageable.”

  His fingertips had touched Tyros’s temples, immediately causing the latter to scream and scream and scream. This time Valkyn’s gloves had not burned away, but she could still make out magical energy flowing from one man to the other.

  “There! Required a little delicacy, but that should work!” As the goateed mage had pulled away, Tyros had collapsed in a heap, as if dead. However, Valkyn had pronounced him well but unconscious. “He will wake after a while, but it’s possible that he won’t remember anything of this meeting. I’ll be interested to see if that holds true. The human mind is much more durable in some ways than those of a dwarf or an elf. Did you know that?”

  She had not known it, and she didn’t want to ask how Valkyn had come to that conclusion. He had always tended to learn through experimentation. “What will you do with him?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied, his old smile back in place. “Is he a good friend of yours?”

  “I’ve known him for only a short while.” Despite saying that, Serene had already realized that Tyros could never have become another Valkyn. Even in the past, the cleric had recognized a reckless side to Valkyn, although at the time she had found it more exciting than potentially evil. Tyros, on the other hand, seemed to care more about life in general and had shown personal concern for her.

  Valkyn had summoned two of the disturbing shadow servants, creatures that the cleric realized had once been human. Their arrival had presented yet an even more horrific side to the man she had once thought was her true love.

  “Put this in one of the cells for now. You.” He had pointed to the largest of the gargoyles. “Go along with them, Crag. Guard him. When he wakes, have them bring him back. He should be more docile then.”

  Serene watched the hideous creatures drag Tyros off. “What did you do to him?”

  “Made him more reasonable, my serenity. If he should cast a spell or even think of magic too much, his head will teach him the consequences of such actions. The same if he tries to attack me physically.” He shrugged. “I must protect myself, after all.”

  With Tyros gone, Valkyn had insisted that she join him on a great couch in the center of the room. The wizard acted as if neither their time apart nor his madness had ever happened. More than once the gloved hands had caressed her or touched her hair, and it had been all she could muster to not cringe or shiver. Serene had called on her training as a cleric of the Bard King, knowing that for a time she had to suffer Valkyn’s advances if she hoped to help the others. She had no idea what had happened to Rapp and Captain Bakal, but slowly she had gathered that some of the gargoyles continued to hunt for them in and around the castle grounds. That had, for a time, given her hope.

  The second encounter between the two wizards had crushed that hope, though, as first Tyros had unwittingly repeated his attempt on Valkyn, this time failing to even reach his adversary. Then, no longer seeing any use of Tyros as an ally, Valkyn had brought them both to this underground chamber to confront yet another monstrous display of his growing evil.

  With this, the last vestiges of the cleric’s love for the older spellcaster had died. Serene hadn’t had to ask what poor soul hung between the great marble columns; Tyros’s reaction had answered that. Leot of the Order of Solinari. So Tyros’s search for Leot and hers for Valkyn had both ended in horrible failure, despite the fact that each had found whom he or she sought. At least Tyros hadn’t discovered his friend at the heart of the darkness.

  “Is he … is he dead, Valkyn?”

  He misunderstood her, thinking she worried still about Tyros. “Of course not, my serenity! He would be a wasted asset then. No, he’ll live.” To the shadows, the wizard commanded, “Take him back again, but have him readied. The time nears!”

  “What about … what about him? Does he … does he live?” She pointed at Leot.

  Valkyn’s eyes brightened, as they always did when he discussed a project of interest to him. How terrible that Serene had once looked into those blue eyes and found them beautiful. “Now, that is an interesting question. At this point, I’d have to say both yes and no, my love. No, the man who used to reside in that head is no more, but, yes, the body functions and an essence of some sort still exists.” He indicated the shadow servants. “A very functional, useful essence, I’ve found.”

  The cleric shuddered. So her suspicions concerning the robed figures had been well founded. “So they’ve all been a part of this experiment of yours?”

  “An integral part! These subjects were used for the preliminary tests, which proved quite successful, I might add! I dare say I co
uldn’t have done all this without them, my Serene!”

  She had to find out more. “What … what role do they play?”

  He walked up to her and put a gloved hand on her cheek. “Now, my dear serenity, this is something you must not bother yourself with. I know that your role with the Bard King probably makes this entire matter disturbing to you, but in my field of work, some sacrifices must be made. Consider the great mage Fistandantilus! Had he not forced himself to go beyond the accepted boundaries of the magic of his time, a number of astonishing spells would not be available to us in this day and age! I promise you that eventually I’ll have the spell work down to the point where such tactics as I’ve been forced to employ will not be necessary.”

  To her mind, the most frightening aspect concerning his explanation was his absolute seriousness. Valkyn either believed his own words or hid the truth very well.

  “And what about Norwych?”

  A flicker of anger escaped him, quickly covered again by his congenial mask. “We’ll speak of this another time. I would rather that we dine now and talk of pleasant memories. I’ve thought of you often.”

  She had to play along. When at last Valkyn gave her time to herself, then Serene could pray to Branchala, ask him for the power to put an end to her former love’s abomination … and, if necessary, him as well.

  “Oh, one moment, my Serene.”

  The cleric turned, expecting that Valkyn had some last adjustments to make to his barbaric device. Instead, she found herself staring into his blue eyes, and then at the hand he had brought up to her face.

  “A simple precaution, my serenity! I apologize.”

  He touched her temple.

  The shock made her nearly fall over. Valkyn caught her in his other arm, then caressed her throbbing head with the very same hand that he had used to injure her.

  “I’m terribly sorry, my Serene! It will pass, I promise you. The spell will keep you from gathering your wits enough to pray to your woodland god. I couldn’t take the chance that you might do something misguided … say, try to rescue Tyros from his fate! I need him, after all.” He looked over at the twin columns and the slumped form between. “Perhaps as early as tomorrow …”

  Chapter 12

  Plots and Counterplots

  As the first glimmers of sunlight rose above the horizon, General Cadrio’s fleet drifted slowly toward the southern shore of Northern Ergoth, to an area frequented by few other than fishermen. The vessels anchored offshore and began lowering their longboats. By the time the sun had risen, the first soldiers of the invading force had already established a beachhead, not that they feared discovery at this point.

  The Harpy floated a little farther back, enabling Cadrio to watch the glorious proceedings through the wizard’s eyeglass. He had sent Zander ahead to coordinate the landing and see to it that the invasion force remained battle ready. Cadrio himself had other plans to set into motion, plans that would require his absence from the fleet for a time.

  “You had better be right, gargoyle,” he muttered, lowering the eyeglass. The commander gazed skyward, his vulpine features making it seem he hunted for prey. In essence, Cadrio did, but not the prey most of his men would have expected. The general hunted for Valkyn and his accursed citadel.

  Stone had said that there would come a time when the clouds around Atriun would thin so much that the human would be able to make out every detail of the dark castle even from the ground. Then and only then would the citadel and its master truly be vulnerable, and only for a short time. If Cadrio sought to claim Atriun for his own, he would have to strike at that time.

  The general hoped to take his prize without the immediate loss of the wizard. Until Cadrio completely understood how to create and control such a fortress, he needed his so-called ally.

  “Ally … a lackey is what you wanted all the time, wasn’t it, mage? Marcus Cadrio is no man’s lackey! I’ll be no puppet on the throne while you rule from the heavens! This alliance is dead … not that it ever lived at all!”

  One of his officers stepped up, saluting. “I have him, sir!”

  The eager commander looked at the robed figure standing next to the officer. A wizard of the Black Robes, one Rudolpho by name. Young, talented, but manageable. The brightest of the few still left to General Cadrio.

  “So, Rudolpho …”

  The mage bowed his head. “Yes, General?”

  Much more polite, much more cognizant of his place in Cadrio’s schemes. Yes, he would do. “Rudolpho, you know why I’ve had you summoned from the Darksword?”

  In reply, the tall, blond mage glanced up. Rudolpho had a plain but intelligent face and, to Cadrio’s further pleasure, was a cousin of loyal Zander. If Rudolpho obeyed his directions half as well as Zander, things would go very well indeed.

  “Yes, the citadel. You understand where your loyalties lie?”

  The wizard frowned. “Not all the mages who vanished into Valkyn’s castle wore white or crimson robes, sir. He knows no loyalty to the orders, whatever color his garments. In my eyes, he is a renegade and so should be squashed like a bug!”

  “Excellent! You’re the man I want with me!”

  Anticipation crept into Rudolpho’s expression. “What do you want me to do, sir?”

  “You see the dragons?”

  Murk and Eclipse perched on a rocky islet just off shore. The pair looked impatient. They had been told their part and looked forward to it. They didn’t like Valkyn. Eclipse had asked if he could eat the upstart wizard and had been terribly disappointed when told that Cadrio still had some need for the spellcaster. Still, the general had offered them as many gargoyles as they desired, Stone included. Cadrio wanted nothing of the creatures; he did not trust their kind nor have any military use for them. Stone had been willing to betray one master; he might decide to try it again at some later date.

  “Yes, sir. They’ll carry the two of us up there?”

  “Along with a few carefully picked men … and all providing that the storm dies soon and the clouds thin. Supposedly he’ll be weakest then.”

  The mage pondered this. “He must have to recast some spell or replenish some component involved in the device used to control the citadel. That would explain why he would need to focus his magic on that task instead of defenses. General, there is the risk that by interrupting him we will send the citadel falling.”

  “I’ll take that risk, but if you find your blood too thin for this—”

  “No, sir, I do not.” Rudolpho clearly thought about Atriun’s secrets and how they could enhance his reputation.

  “We must keep careful watch and wait for the proper moment.”

  The wizard looked skyward again. “If I may, General, where is the flying citadel now?”

  And there lay the one point of frustration for Cadrio. Where, indeed, was the flying citadel? With Atriun able to take a more direct route, Valkyn should have already been here long before. What could have caused the delay?

  “My lord!” interrupted the officer who had brought Rudolpho to him. “To the east!”

  Cadrio and the wizard looked where he pointed. In the distance, a speck far too dark and far too swift for a cloud moved toward them. Cadrio looked through the eyeglass, verifying the sight. “It’s him … it’s Valkyn!”

  He turned the eyeglass back to Northern Ergoth, where his forces continued to land. Zander had everything in order. By the time Valkyn reached the fleet, most of the soldiers would be on dry land, ready to march at a moment’s notice.

  “Everything moves as planned,” he informed the others. “Now we only have to wait—” the commander chuckled, a rare thing from him—“for a break in the weather.”

  * * * * *

  Tyros again woke in the cell, this time feeling worse than ever. Unlike his previous awakening, he remembered everything from his last encounter with the other mage. He remembered how Valkyn’s magic had sent him to his knees and how Serene had been unable to do anything to stop it. Most of all, Tyros r
ecalled Leot, poor Leot, whom he had arrived too late to save.

  Valkyn would pay for Leot, pay for the other mages he had used, but how? Not only was Tyros manacled again, but with the spell cast upon him, he couldn’t perform magic. Valkyn thought so little of Tyros’s chances now that he hadn’t even left much of a guard, only one of the sinister shadows. Of course, even one was more than he could handle.

  Tyros studied the still figure. Had he not known better, Tyros might have thought the shadow was nothing more than a statue.

  “Do you talk?” he finally asked.

  The figure remained motionless.

  “Do you remember who you were?”

  Still nothing.

  Tyros had no idea why he tried. From what he had seen, nothing human remained. Yet still the captive spellcaster tried. “Did you serve Lunitari? Solinari? Nuitari?”

  He received no response. Frustrated, his head beginning to throb, Tyros slumped back. He thought about Serene again. Could she fool Valkyn long enough to do something? He had his doubts. Even as the goateed mage had been caressing her cheek, he had been laying hints that he did not entirely trust his onetime love.

  Tyros stared at the wall beyond the cell, trying to think of some nonmagical solution for escape. Nothing, though, would do him any good if he couldn’t free his wrists.

  Time passed. After what seemed an eternity, Tyros heard someone come near. The weary mage looked and saw only a gargoyle. The creature paid no attention to him, moving past the cell and the ghoulish guard as if on some mission. Tyros looked away, once more absorbed in futile plots of escape.

  A sudden, savage hiss startled Tyros and made him look up. Incredibly, the gargoyle had turned and attacked the shadow servant. The creature had one hand on the robed figure’s throat, his other hand around one of the ghoul’s wrists. Despite the gargoyle’s tremendous strength, he immediately began to lose ground. The shadow servant’s ice-white fingers closed in on the attacker’s throat.

  In desperation, the winged creature released his hold on his hooded adversary. Immediately the robed servant sought the gargoyle’s neck.