The Citadel

by Knaak, Richard

  The gargoyle raked his talons across the ghoul’s chest, tearing deep into pale flesh.

  Tyros hadn’t thought such wounds would bother what seemed to be walking dead, but the once-human abomination immediately collapsed. Dark, thick blood slowly oozed from the wounded area.

  No longer threatened by his foe’s hands, the gargoyle slashed again, this time cutting across the throat.

  The shadow servant crumpled, now definitely dead.

  Claws still bloody, the winged creature moved to Tyros’s cell.

  The mage took a chance. “Stone?”

  His visitor nodded. “Yes. Am Stone. Must come, Tyros!”

  “Only if you can do something with these.” The human indicated his manacled wrists.

  In response, the sleek gargoyle took hold of the cell door and pulled hard. With a wrenching sound, the lock ripped apart. Stone pushed the ruined door aside and hurried over to the prisoner.

  “Impressive,” Tyros had to admit. “Can you do the same with these?”

  His rescuer inspected the manacles and nodded. “Harder, but can do.”

  With a delicacy that surprised Tyros, the gargoyle seized one of the manacles near the lock, positioned his thick fingers, and pulled. Every muscle grew taut. The wizard could read the intense effort in his rescuer’s inhuman visage.

  The manacle tore open.

  Stone gasped for breath, then quickly went to the remaining chain. Perhaps encouraged by his previous success, the gargoyle took only a few seconds to break the last manacle. He stepped back, clearly exhausted by his effort but pleased with the results.

  Tyros rubbed his freed wrists. “Thank you. Where are we going?”

  “Friends.” Stone would explain no more. He nearly dragged Tyros from the cell. “Hurry! Little time!”

  To Tyros’s confusion, the gargoyle did not lead him upward, but rather down into the lower depths of the castle. The corridors they traversed were musty, cobweb-ridden, and looked as if no one had used them in centuries. He would have questioned his guide, but Stone moved with such determination that Tyros had to assume he knew where he was going.

  Although a few emerald crystals in the walls illuminated the corridors, it still proved difficult to see where they were heading. Only when they entered a vast chamber and Tyros noticed the first of the massive marble platforms did he realize that Stone had led him to, of all places, the castle’s crypt.

  Great marble coffins with the names of the interred chiseled on the front end lay atop several of the platforms. Two bore the symbols of the Solamnic Knighthood, the kingfisher with the crown, sword, and rose. Tyros counted six massive coffins in all, with two more open and ready for use. For all its size, this burial chamber had been little used. The rest of the room consisted of empty platforms or unfilled slots in the walls. Apparently the family history of Castle Atriun had been a short, bleak one.

  Of the six coffins, the lids of three lay crooked, perhaps the result of the citadel being ripped from the earth. Tyros couldn’t resist glancing in the nearest, but saw little other than the armored form of a man, a sword on his breastplate.

  Tyros silently cursed his training; wizards were only tutored in the use of daggers and staffs. If he took the weapon and tried to make use of it, he would likely end up cutting his own leg off.

  At the far end of the crypt, Stone waited impatiently for him. Tyros quickly rejoined his companion, but instead of moving on, the gargoyle indicated a stone wall to the side. Only after staring close did the mage see that part of the wall was a door.

  “Here.” Stone tugged on a ringed handle, with effort pulling the immense door open. A sense of dread spread over Tyros. Did Stone intend to hide him here? The mage felt a touch of claustrophobia. To be entombed alive for his own safety?

  A cough from within set every nerve on edge.

  “Stone?” muttered a voice.

  “Yessss … with another.”

  A figure emerged from the gloom, an emerald crystal in his hand illuminating him just enough to reveal his identity.

  “Bakal?”

  “By Corij’s sword! Tyros!”

  “Tyros?” popped up a second, higher-pitched voice. Rapp pushed his way forward. “I knew Stone would find you!”

  Tyros and the gargoyle joined them in the hidden chamber. Stone closed the door while Tyros finished greeting Bakal and the kender. As pleased as the wizard was with being reunited with his friends, his enthusiasm remained low. Serene was still the unwilling guest of Valkyn, and Tyros had no magic with which to rescue her. Worse, he suspected Bakal and the others, ignorant of the spell cast upon the red wizard, expected Tyros to lead them to victory.

  “Bakal, before everyone raises his hopes, I have something I must tell all of you.” Without preamble, the weary spellcaster related to them the tale of his encounters with Valkyn and what had resulted from them. Although he made the story short, Tyros left out no horrific detail, especially when explaining the curse under which the citadel’s master had left him. Now and then his head throbbed some, but fortunately, because of the swiftness of his tale, never for very long.

  The captain glared at Stone. “You didn’t tell me any of this!”

  The gargoyle shrugged.

  “By the Sea Queen! Here we need magic to fight magic, and the only one who can wield it no longer can!” Bakal eyed Tyros. “So if you can’t cast a spell, is there anything you can suggest, boy?”

  Tyros had mulled over such a question himself and had come up with only one answer. “Even though I cannot cast spells or even think about magic much, I believe that if I can get back into the chamber where Valkyn’s device is located, I can do something to stop its foul work!”

  “What about his curse on you?”

  “I have to try, Bakal. We have no choice.”

  The Ergothian officer clearly still didn’t like his answers, but had none better. “All right. So we go charging into this nightmare of a chamber—”

  “No. A large party would be too noticeable. Besides, I need you to find the griffons and send warning to Gwynned in case I don’t succeed.”

  “We’re not leaving, mage. We came to either capture this citadel or destroy it. I’ve just thought of something better. While you go after the heart of this infernal fortress, we’ll go after the Wind Captain’s Chair. If we seize that, it doesn’t matter what Valkyn tries. We’ll be in command of the situation!”

  Tyros thought Bakal underestimated the black wizard. “Captain—”

  “It’s settled. Either that or we all come with you, Tyros.”

  In the wizard’s mind, that would be worse. He imagined the soldiers among the delicate yet lethal items in Valkyn’s sanctum. “All right.”

  “What about Serene?” Rapp asked, “or Taggi and the others?”

  Tyros drew himself up. “If I succeed, I will go after her.”

  “But what if you don’t? I can go get her.”

  “No!” Tyros came to a quick decision. “You will serve Serene and the rest of us best by gathering the griffons together. They will listen to you. We need them ready for escape.”

  The kender still wanted to go rescue Serene, but Tyros felt that was his duty. Only he dared face Valkyn, even if bereft of power. Tyros had faced the madman twice and now believed he knew what to expect. This time, the gods willing, he would see to it that the black wizard paid for his heinous acts.

  With Rapp silenced, Tyros turned to Stone. “You’ve helped us this far. There is no turning back.” When the gargoyle nodded his understanding, Tyros continued. “Of all of us, you know Atriun the best. We need to know the safest, swiftest paths to our destinations and what dangers we might come across on the way. You cannot leave out anything. Let’s start with the tower.…”

  Stone nodded again and began to describe as well as he could how Bakal might best hope to reach the Wind Captain’s Chair. Tyros also listened, but his thoughts were focused mostly on his quest. Although the mage hoped to save Serene and the others, he had decide
d that, one way or another, the citadel had to be destroyed. No one could be permitted to reproduce Valkyn’s monstrous spellwork and arcane devices. Atriun had to fall, even if Tyros perished with it.

  Even if everyone had to perish with it.

  * * * * *

  Valkyn watched Serene’s reflection in his goblet, reading her conflicting emotions and knowing that she found his work, and him, horrifying.

  She had never truly understood the depths to which his research had taken him, and Valkyn had never bothered to explain. Their first few months together had been sweet, her visits to his lone abode in the woods a welcome interruption. As a cleric of Branchala, she had understood the need for solitude and how it allowed one to clear one’s mind and keep one’s faculties sharp.

  Serene had proven useful for his research. She could read the currents of the world, the forces that bound Krynn together. The cleric had shown how this part of the forest communed with that part and how all lived in harmony unless something was done to disrupt matters. Valkyn had taken all of these concepts and molded them to fit his needs.

  Serene had wondered about his disappearances but had been led to believe they had to do with official matters of his order. She had assumed that mages were much like clerics, a mistake he had never rectified. Instead of journeying to the tower to converse with the senior wizards, he had set out to test his more monstrous theories, performing the precursors to the spells she now found so abominable.

  She would understand some day, even if he had to make her understand.…

  “Did you enjoy your meal?” Valkyn asked, trying to remember to keep his voice light. He glanced her way and saw that she now kept her expression neutral.

  “It was delicious.”

  “Thank you. Now I must ask you to remain quiet for a moment.” He looked past her, where two of Crag’s gargoyles squatted. “See that she does.”

  Ignoring her anxious look, Valkyn walked to the balcony, taking up a position at the rail. He closed his eyes and concentrated, drawing the magic through his wand. The power came, albeit with more sluggishness. It would soon be time to put Tyros to use. Valkyn suspected that Tyros would last longer than the pathetic white wizard had.

  With enough power now at hand, Valkyn’s spell took immediate effect. Instead of the balcony, Valkyn suddenly stood on the deck of the Harpy. True, it was not the real Valkyn, but an illusion with some substance, as the hapless young Timinion had discovered.

  “Mage.”

  For once he didn’t have the pleasure of seeing Cadrio start. This time the general calmly and respectfully awaited his appearance. Evidently Cadrio had finally come to accept this secondary position in the alliance.

  “Aaah, my general! So good to see that you’ve made it!”

  “Made it? We were here before you, Valkyn. What kept your precious toy? Is that thing so slow?”

  Although he smiled, inside, the black wizard fumed. “Of course not. I simply felt it better to rectify a few matters before crossing to Northern Ergoth. Any capable commander would do the same, wouldn’t he?”

  “How soon can we march? My men are ready. We’ve even taken some small outposts in order to cut off warning to Gwynned.”

  “I imagine that Gwynned has warning already, although it will avail them little!”

  “What do you mean?”

  The mage let some of his sense of triumph seep through. “Let us just say that you won’t have much to fear from the golden dragons, Cadrio. Eclipse and Murk should be able to handle their parts in this battle without looking like fools!”

  The general glanced around, almost as if afraid that his two black dragons would hear and be offended. “Something’s happened?”

  “Gwynned is open to us. That’s all you need to know.”

  He smiled at the commander, aware that his enigmatic words frustrated the man. Cadrio would take out his frustration on Gwynned. In truth, Valkyn didn’t care about Gwynned or the rest of Northern Ergoth; his concerns centered around how his citadel would handle the more volatile weather conditions in this region. Norwych had been located in a relatively calm area, where the only storm had been of his own doing. Gwynned’s changeable weather would prove just how strong his spell work was, not that Valkyn actually expected any difficulties with it. He had planned long for this moment.

  “Expect to meet Gwynned’s forces well outside of the city, Cadrio. They’ll have some idea of what they face, but not all.”

  “I wanted the element of surprise. I don’t consider heavy losses acceptable, mage.”

  Valkyn’s smile grew colder. “Gwynned’s generals will meet you on the field with the assumption that they, so familiar with the land, will have the upper hand. They may have the use of one dragon, but poor use he’ll be. Draw them out. With your army, your dragons, and my citadel, your victory over Gwynned—and then the rest of Northern Ergoth—will be assured!”

  From his sleeve, Valkyn produced a scroll, which he tossed toward the general. The scroll twinkled in midflight, then fell onto the deck before the startled commander. “The suggestions I mentioned.”

  Cadrio retrieved the scroll, then looked it over. His avian features took on a darker cast. “This is a complete battle plan!”

  “I thought I’d try my hand at it this time.”

  “I know how to fight wars, Valkyn!”

  “Yes, I remember your first attack on Gwynned. I think you’ll find this much more promising.” The ebony-clad wizard steepled his fingers. “Follow it to the letter.”

  Cadrio nodded glumly. “As you wish.”

  Valkyn had expected more argument from the man, but perhaps Cadrio had seen the brilliance of his tactics. “Excellent! Begin the march, then. I shall speak with you when all is in position.”

  With that, Valkyn ended the spell, his view once more that of the balcony. He exhaled, quite pleased with the way everything had begun to come together. Cadrio knew his part. The citadel would be ready to wreak its full fury upon the Ergothian forces. Serene had returned to him … and had also provided Valkyn with the one item he had needed.

  Tyros.

  He would need much rest for the coming events. Valkyn turned to Serene, who had not dared to move. “My love, I fear that you’ll have to entertain yourself for a while.”

  At his silent command, the gargoyles stirred.

  “Valkyn, if we could just speak with one another—”

  One of the winged monsters took hold of her arm.

  “Take her to her quarters. See that she doesn’t leave them.” The goateed mage turned away. A moment later he heard Serene and the gargoyles depart.

  She would come to love him again; he would see to that. For now, though, Valkyn had no time to think of affairs of the heart. He had glory to achieve, and to do that he had to sleep.

  “Come here.”

  A shadow servant materialized, eager to be commanded. Once bereft of the soul that had occupied their bodies, the robed figures needed him to tell them everything.

  “I am not to be disturbed until the eleventh hour.”

  The servant’s head dipped.

  “You know how to deal with those who would interrupt my slumber.”

  Again the head dipped. Valkyn waved off the foul creature, then retired to his bed.

  Yes, everything had begun to fall into place.

  * * * * *

  General Cadrio threw the scroll to the deck. It rolled away, unnoticed by him, but one of his officers had the presence of mind to sweep it up before something happened … just in case.

  “Alert Zander to begin marching!” he commanded the nearest man. “Inform him that the Ergothians know of our presence and that he should move with caution but still maintain a rapid pace. Tell him that one way or another, the flying citadel will be there.”

  He glared at the distant edifice, wishing he could pull it down and teach the impudent wizard just who commanded here. “Get Rudolpho. I want him by my side from now on. Where’s Eclipse? Where’s Murk?”


  An aide swallowed. “Still where they perched, sir!”

  “Tell them to be ready!” Cadrio began to pace the deck, ever avoiding the spot last occupied by the unfortunate Timinion. “The moment those clouds thin, I want to be in the air!” He pictured the wizard’s mocking face. “I want his head!”

  Chapter 13

  Disaster

  Serene sat on the edge of her lavish bed, feeling more confused than she ever had in her entire life. Everything had seemed so simple when she, a woodsman’s daughter, had suddenly been offered the role of cleric by the old woman who had for years taught her the ways of the wild. Serene had known of the old gods from her parents, still worshipers of the Bard King despite his absence from Krynn for centuries, but like most had assumed that they and the true clerics would never return. She had accepted the offer, never once since questioning her choice.

  She had traveled much of Ansalon during her first few months, then settled in the forest where her family had lived for generations, rarely seeing other people unless they happened to pass through. Her devotion to her calling had helped her with her solitude, guided her through her relationship with Valkyn, then aided her in her search for answers afterward. No matter what had happened, Serene had always had her link to her god.

  Now it seemed Valkyn had taken that away.

  When she touched her medallion and tried to concentrate, she nearly blacked out. Unlike Tyros, Serene never felt any pain; she simply lost consciousness. A sign of Valkyn’s lingering devotion, perhaps, the cleric thought sourly.

  Even thinking about Branchala made her light-headed. Serene had always admired Valkyn’s skill at his craft, but never once had she thought that those powers would be turned against her.

  The gargoyles had left her alone once they had seen her to her chamber. Now was Serene’s chance to accomplish something. Tyros and the others needed her. They didn’t know Valkyn as she did, although even she had to admit he remained largely an enigma. The man Serene had loved did not exist, possibly never had. Still, the cleric felt she had the best hope of understanding Valkyn’s mind and using it to her advantage.