Rapp crossed his arms, trying to look stern. The cleric had seen him assume such a stance when he had admonished the griffons for breaking into some farmer’s chicken coop. “I really better go alone, Serene. You humans are big and clumsy when it comes to sneaking around. You better wait here. I’ll find Tyros and rescue him. He’ll know what to do then!”
Before she could argue with him further, Rapp hurried toward the hallway door, eager to be off on his adventure. However, as he reached for the handle, he suddenly paused, his head cocking slightly to the side. Serene realized that the kender was listening.
Shaking his head, Rapp returned to her.
“What is it?”
“Your guards are back. I’ll have to go out the balcony. Doesn’t that sound exciting?”
“You can’t. You’ll be blown away.”
Despite her anxiety, Rapp raced to the balcony, taking cover only when he stepped outside. Serene went as far as the balcony doors, watching her small friend. Rapp slipped to the rail, then, after peering through it, started to climb over it.
“I’m going with you!” Serene stepped out just as a hard gust struck. She had to keep hold of a door to prevent herself from crashing into the rail.
Rapp hugged the rail tightly. He finished climbing over the moment the wind died down, pausing only to stare at Serene through the columns of the rail. “Go inside, Serene. I promise you that I’ll be safe. You just go talk to Branchala, all right?”
He dropped out of sight before she could reply. Rapp’s words stung her. Abandoning the windblown balcony, the cleric returned to the bed, trying to convince herself that the kender just didn’t understand. She well knew Valkyn’s power. His magic had brought Tyros to his knees. His magic had raised Atriun, and with that magic, the sinister flying castle had torn Norwych apart. What hope did she have of overcoming Valkyn’s spell?
“Listen to yourself!” she murmured. “Maybe Rapp’s right. You never let such thoughts bother you even during the worst of the war. Why now? You’ve fought terrible evil, and the Bard King has always been with you. Why would he abandon you now?”
Something stirred within Serene. She knew Valkyn too well, knew his power, knew his mind. She wouldn’t let Valkyn’s trickery and betrayal be her downfall. His love might have grown twisted, but for her, there would always be one whose love for her would remain pure and compassionate. Despite her doubts, he would be there for her. He had to be.
“Branchala,” the cleric began, her head already feeling light. “Bard King, forgive me for my lack of faith, my lack of love.…”
The room began to swim. Serene fought against it. She had not only Valkyn’s spell to defeat, but her own misgivings as well, which gave that spell more strength over her.
“Branchala, hear my song. Hear my call.” Her hands shaped themselves, as if holding a lyre or a Bard’s harp. Serene’s fingers began to move as if she played that instrument. No sound came, of course, but the movement soothed her, pushed back the vertigo.
Emboldened, the cleric opened her mouth to sing. The words were not in the Common tongue, nor even that of the elves, who had served Branchala longer than humankind. The words came from the Age of Dreams and had been passed down to the faithful from Branchala himself. They evoked the beauty of the forest, the caress of the wind, the gentle might of nature. The first time she had learned to properly sing those words, Serene had found herself filled with such bliss that she had known no other calling would ever suit her more. She had been certain that she would ever be a cleric to the woodland god.
Again a wave of vertigo nearly overwhelmed Serene. Her fingers faltered and she missed a word. Summoning her resolve, the cleric picked up the song again, letting the words come louder, more free. The rumble of the storm without helped mask her singing, but Serene knew that she risked discovery. Still, she didn’t care, at last feeling as if she had rediscovered herself.
On and on her fingers strummed, playing the silent notes in accompaniment to her voice. Serene sang, picturing the forest in which she had lived, the animals she had known, the people whose lives she had touched. The cleric imagined the faces of her present companions, Rapp, Bakal, and, most of all, Tyros. They needed her and the strength and love of her god. Serene looked to Branchala, asking him in song to give her the chance to fulfill that need and help them all put an end to Valkyn’s abomination.
And as her fingers continued to play the air, notes began to resound through the chamber.
Chapter 15
The Approaching Battle
Cadrio’s forces under Zander had moved swiftly toward their ultimate destination. The scouts had chosen well. The path was an open yet barely populated stretch that offered little in the way of resistance. Thus far they had overwhelmed a few tiny outposts with minimal effort. Soon they would reach their true prey, the defenders of Gwynned. Even now Zander could make out the rolling landscape that opened into the great city’s territory.
And in those rolling hills, the true battle would be fought.
Zander felt quite comfortable in the role of commander. Zander respected his general, but thought himself the better tactician. He had already deployed his forces for combat, knowing that each passing moment meant a more likely chance of coming across the first resistance.
It was possible that he had already inherited the mantle of command. Zander glanced behind him, where Eclipse, wings folded, still stared, unblinking, at the heavens. Zander had never seen a befuddled dragon before. In halting words, Eclipse had told him what had happened to Murk, a tale that had left even Zander unnerved. The ebony beast seemed at a complete loss without his twin, constantly rubbing his fore-paws together and missing half of what the younger officer told him.
Cadrio had told his second about the black cleric who had served Valkyn, the fearful fool who had evidently died in the making of the floating edifice. Eclipse reminded Zander of that cleric and pointed out once again the folly of defying the mage. If Valkyn offered the young officer the position of general, and perhaps later puppet emperor, then Zander would gladly accept it. The riches and power would certainly assuage his feelings at being at the beck and call of the spellcaster.
To his dismay, however, it proved to be Cadrio rather than Valkyn who suddenly appeared in the midst of battle preparations. The tall, vulpine commander was oddly subdued as he materialized.
Zander quickly saluted the illusion of his commander. “Sir, I took the liberty of advancing as per the mage’s instructions, but we dare go no farther, for the defenders’ troops have been spotted just beyond the hills. They mean to take us when we approach the high ground, keeping the battle far from Gwynned. I have a plan to draw their right flank out and eat away at their lines from there.”
Cadrio blinked, at first not responding. After a moment, he sighed, then said, “You’ll march the men straight ahead, Zander. Keep everything according to Valkyn’s battle plan. No deviations.”
Zander, who had tried to keep his deviations within reason in order not to anger Valkyn, frowned, then nodded. “I understand.”
The general hesitated, as if listening to something. The young officer swallowed. Now that he had been able to study his superior, he saw that Cadrio looked haggard, beaten.
“Hold your lines and keep advancing regardless of the forces you face. Draw out their cavalry if you can, but remain in the open.”
“Sir?” This hadn’t been a part of the black mage’s original battle plan. Zander didn’t like the thought of placing his troops in such a precarious position. With the defenders already settled in, his men would suffer heavy casualties.
From what Zander read in Cadrio’s eyes, the veteran commander clearly thought much the same. Zander finally realized that Cadrio spoke Valkyn’s words, not his own. All pretenses of an alliance had been flung aside. The general lived only with the wizard’s permission.
“When dark clouds cover the battlefield, Zander, you must be prepared. Atriun will strike, but you must be there to purge the land of
any remaining resistance. Is that understood?”
Zander swallowed. Saluting, he shouted, “Yes, General!”
“That is all.”
The lanky figure vanished in the same unsettling manner that Valkyn always had.
Putting on his helm, Zander turned to the other officers. “You heard the general! Regroup all forces! Alert all subcommanders of their new instructions. See to it that order is maintained so that this adjustment doesn’t turn into a rout before we’ve even begun to fight. Go!”
The men scattered to obey. Zander, his anxiety and fury masked by his helm, stormed past two minor officers who served as his own aides. He did not stop until he came face-to-face with Eclipse. The dragon eyed him, then looked away, clearly lost again in some inner world.
“Eclipse! Damn you, dragon! Look down here!”
Slowly the behemoth acknowledged him. “Go away, human.”
“I have orders for you and you’ll obey them!”
“I don’t listen to you. I don’t listen to Cadrio anymore.” Eclipse puffed some smoke his way. “Murk is dead.”
Zander bristled. “You’ll be dead, too, if you don’t obey!”
The dragon snorted. “And will you kill me, puny human?”
“No, but if you do not follow Valkyn’s plan, then Valkyn will have no use for you, and you know what the wizard does with those he has no more use for.”
Now he saw fear in the dragon’s eyes, fear drawn from Eclipse’s vision of his twin dropping lifelessly from the sky. The leviathan might be mourning his brother, but he still cared something for his own scaly skin.
“I will obey! I will!” The sight of the black dragon cringing from the distant citadel looked so pitiful that Zander lost some of his fury. Neither he nor Eclipse desired Valkyn’s wrath, even if it meant marching everyone straight into Gwynned’s bristling defenses.
“All right, then. Stick by me. You will be my mount. We’ll coordinate matters with the general and the citadel.”
As he spoke to the dragon, Zander mentally prepared himself for the upcoming battle. Though alive, Cadrio clearly did not have Valkyn’s favor. If Zander could prove himself, then surely the wizard would see who could serve him best, who could be the most useful commander. Why keep untrustworthy Cadrio around when loyal and earnest Zander would do better? Perhaps he could still convince the wizard that he was worthy of the same offer that Valkyn had originally given to the general.
Emperor Zander … he liked the sound of that.
* * * * *
“Now that’s better, isn’t it, my general?”
“Yes, Valkyn.”
The mage smiled at his companion. “Don’t be so sullen, General Cadrio. After all, I did let you live, didn’t I?”
He saw the soldier shiver and knew that he had made his point. The executions of some of Cadrio’s men had been necessary and, at the same time, had allowed Valkyn to test the level of power of Castle Atriun. Yes, Tyros would do well, outlasting not only the taking of Gwynned but also perhaps the next Northern Ergothian city as well. By that time, Valkyn would have made more adjustments in his spellwork and kidnapped another wizard, ensuring that the massive citadel would continue to fly.
The people of Gwynned could have saved themselves much horror if they had surrendered rather than resisted. It would have saved the mage some time. Still, Valkyn looked forward to the upcoming battle, eager to see how Atriun would fare.
At some point, Valkyn would have to turn on his former masters. The Orders of Sorcery would move against him in force, as much out of jealousy as fear, the renegade mage believed. For that, he would need at least two more citadels, one of which he knew he could find in Gwynned.
Valkyn and Cadrio now stood upon the outer wall of Atriun, peering down at the tableau opening up before them. Cadrio’s men—now Valkyn’s—moved with the swiftness and efficiency that had been the essential reasons the wizard had chosen them in the first place. The officer in charge, Zander, seemed particularly adept in his role as ground commander. Perhaps Cadrio would need to be demoted after this battle.…
Ahead, they could make out the defenders’ movements. Valkyn knew that the male gold dragon lived, and because of him, Gwynned would have some notion of the might arrayed against them. In addition to their previous positions, Ergoth’s soldiers had spread out into the hills and valleys, choosing locations wherever they thought they might escape the fury of Valkyn’s castle.
Those new positions would work against them. Where Valkyn could not strike the foe, he would strike at the ground around them. Hills could be turned into weapons, especially when shattered by lightning.
“The regions to the north are hard rock,” Cadrio suddenly commented. “Can your bolts break them up?”
Valkyn’s smile grew genuine. Cadrio had seen what he had in mind. “Of course.”
“That will wreak some havoc on the northern lines,” the commander conceded. He pointed south. “But the soldiers there are entrenched in that rift, and I don’t think your magical lightning will give them much to worry about.”
“You have a suggestion?”
“Use the gargoyles. They fly better than draconians, and their hides are much tougher. Even if they’re hit, there’ll be less damage, less loss. Give them something scalding or heavy to drop on the enemy.”
The wizard looked over the region in question. “And you open up a hole in a very vulnerable part of the defenses! Of course, I could just sail over everything and attack Gwynned myself. That would save time.”
Cadrio grew more bold. “This isn’t Norwych. The city will be harder to take without you destroying what you want. Besides, the Ergothian soldiers will fight on even if Gwynned falls. You’ll be dealing with small but steady battles long after taking the city if you don’t eliminate the vast majority of the army first.”
“You may be emperor yet,” Valkyn commented with a chuckle.
“I’m trying to save my hide.” The general considered further. “The officer. Have you questioned him yet?”
“The opportunity has not yet arisen. Present matters and past interruptions have kept me too busy, as you should know.”
“He knows more about the defenses than either of us. Those catapults, for one thing. Have you considered their range and what they might toss at you? I saw a citadel set aflame by some sort of alchemical soup. Burned the very stone.”
Valkyn congratulated himself on not disposing of his ally as he had originally intended. “You raise a good point, my general.”
The wizard snapped his fingers, and although the glove should have muffled the tone, one creature evidently heard it. Crag fluttered down from the highest point of the castle, alighting near his master.
“Crag, loyal Crag, I’ve a simple task for you.”
“I obey always …” the gargoyle rumbled.
“Bring me the remaining soldiers, Crag—alive and in one piece, please.” The cheerful mage steepled his fingers. In capturing the Ergothian officer and his band, Crag had not held his fellow gargoyles in check, the result being that some of the prisoners had been pummeled to death. Only Captain Bakal and two others survived, and all three sported wounds. Valkyn generally admired enthusiasm, but not in this particular case.
Crag bobbed his head up and down. “As Maaaster says.”
As the winged monster flew away, Valkyn said, “He is simple, but loyal … unlike poor Stone.” He saw that his remark touched a nerve in Cadrio. “When one crosses me, my general, one must be prepared to be punished, as you know.”
“What have you done with the beast?”
Valkyn’s smile grew. “Clipped his wings.”
“Clipped his wings? What do you mean by that?”
“Exactly what I said. Exactly.”
“But that would mean …” Cadrio clamped his mouth shut, understanding having dawned at last.
Valkyn’s gaze returned to the shifting armies below. Soon, very soon, the battle would be joined. From here, the soldiers looked like tiny pie
ces in a game of strategy, pieces that the wizard looked forward to moving.
“Yes, a shame, really, that gargoyles have no feathers. A shame for Stone, anyway …”
* * * * *
The gargoyle did not scream, nor did he even snarl. Instead, he lay in a miserable heap, neck and limbs secured by glowing manacles clearly resistant to both his strength and his meager magic. It was questionable whether bonds were really needed, as the gargoyle seemed to no longer have any will. The red orbs had lost their fire, and the claws scratched absently at the stone floor. Even the arrival of an unexpected visitor did not arouse him from his stupor.
In such a condition did Rapp come across Stone.
He hadn’t searched for the gargoyle, but his path, after a couple of very interesting but hardly useful detours, had led him past this area. At first his discovery of the gargoyle had cheered him, for Stone surely knew where to find Tyros, but then Rapp had realized that something terrible bothered the creature, something worse than just captivity.
“Stone!” Rapp whispered. “Stone, it’s me, Rapp. I knew you didn’t betray us. I knew something happened to you. Don’t you worry, though, I’ll get you out of there!”
The gargoyle slowly lifted his head. He blinked once, then quietly hissed, “Go away.”
“But I want to rescue you! Then you can help me find Tyros, and after that Taggi and my other griffons.”
Stone looked away. “Want to die …”
“If you help me, we can all get out of here, and then Valkyn won’t have anything to power his castle, and it’ll drop in the sea or on some mountain peak!”
Some bit of life returned to the gargoyle as his rage took over. “Go away! Want to die!”
“Why would you want to—”
The leathery creature rose, snarling. The crimson eyes flashed. The massive wings stretched—or would have if anything remained of them.
“Oh … Oh!” For once, Rapp had been struck speechless.
“Seeee? Seeee?” Stone twisted around, the better to show the kender what had been done to him. Of his once proud wings, only sore, red stubs, about a foot in length, remained. The rest had been seared away.
The Citadel Page 24