The door opened. To his astonishment, Tyros found himself in a sumptuous chamber with silken curtains, golden oil lamps, and furniture so skillfully wrought that the richest monarch would have envied them. Tapestries depicting creatures of the forest decorated the walls.
Taking away from the splendor was a pair of savage gargoyles hunched in the center of the room. They eyed the wizard with dark speculation and perhaps a little hunger.
“Tyros!”
Serene. The cleric stood near open doors leading to a great balcony. She looked untouched, even refreshed. Her face lit up for a moment when she saw him, then grew sad. Curiously the crimson-tressed woman did not attempt to approach Tyros.
“Serene …” He thanked Lunitari that she lived but wondered what she was doing in this chamber.
“Are you … better now?” the cleric quietly asked.
“Better?”
Her brow arched. “Surely you’ve not forgotten … but you have, I see.”
The mage didn’t like the sound of that. “Forgotten what?”
Before she could speak, someone behind her interrupted. “A side effect, my Serene, and one that could not be prevented.”
From the balcony emerged a hooded, ebony-clad wizard. A little older than Tyros, with black and slightly gray hair and a fancy goatee, the newcomer radiated power on a level that Tyros hadn’t experienced in some time. The dark mage gave him a congenial smile, yet one that also hinted of threat. Even the bright, cheerful blue eyes didn’t entirely hide some menace.
“Welcome again, Master Tyros,” the black wizard called, exuberance in his tone. He clasped gloved hands together.
A flash of memory hit the captive. He remembered those gloved hands reaching for his temples.
“I trust that this time we can speak a little more friendly with one another. After all, your very life depends upon it!”
Both Tyros and Serene started. Tyros noticed the cleric’s expression shift momentarily and realized that she tried to keep hidden great misery, as if she had just learned some terrible, heart-wrenching truth. The mage could only imagine that it concerned her imprisoned love.
The dark mage put a hand on Serene’s shoulder, caressing it. She did not flinch, but Tyros saw the dismay in her eyes.
“I think, my dear Serene, that once again introductions are in order. After all, I doubt he remembers the first time.”
“Tyros.” She nearly choked on her words. “This is Valkyn.”
Valkyn … Tyros knew the name from his research. Valkyn, who had also studied the history of the flying citadels. But that Valkyn had been a member of his own order, not a Black Robe. And yet … “Valkyn of Culthairai?”
“Aaah, very good! I feared I might have injured that scholarly brain too soon. Yes, I am Valkyn of Culthairai.”
“You wore the robes of the Order of Lunitari.”
“The color of a robe hardly dictates our lives, despite what those in the tower might desire.” He touched Serene’s red locks. “I can be giving just as much as any white-robed follower of Solinari. She knows that. My darling Serene has always known that.”
At last he had said it. Had Tyros needed any more verification, he had only to look at the terrible struggle going on within the cleric. Valkyn might not see it, but Tyros could read the turmoil, the battling emotions.
Serene had found her missing love … the master of Castle Atriun.
Chapter 11
In the Heart of the Beast
The master remained occupied with the female, a creature he had known from the past. Stone, too, had known of her, at least her existence, although she had never met him nor obviously even realized that her love had trafficked with gargoyles. In fact, Valkyn had seen fit not to mention to his female any of the darker elements of his life, especially his increasingly disturbing experiments. He had realized even then that Serene would not tolerate all of what the spellcaster thought a necessary part of his research.
When the time had come to delve even deeper, he had finally, with some regret, abandoned her and returned to Atriun, where the gargoyles and a few others already prepared for his arrival. Stone had occasionally noticed him wandering the wooded garden, perhaps recalling his time with the fire-tressed woman, but never had Valkyn voiced any notion of seeing her again. His work had been his mistress.
Now she had returned to him, however accidentally, and did not seem pleased by his success. It had occurred to the gargoyle leader that in this there might be some use. Perhaps this female might distract the master, or at least soften him for the kill. The sleek gargoyle had no compunction about slaying Valkyn, not after so many of his people had perished serving the human. Even Crag’s people had suffered much.
Thinking of his rival, Stone anxiously moved on. Crag would have dearly loved to catch his rival in such a situation, doing the unthinkable beneath the master’s very eyes. If Valkyn discovered his treachery, then Stone could expect a most painful and slow death.
In a darkened part of the castle well below even the chamber housing the secret of Atriun’s power, the gargoyle leader reached a thick rock door with an iron handle. Stone grasped the handle and pulled with all his might, the rust of ages adding to the already difficult task of dragging open a rock door almost a foot thick. As he pulled, he hoped that doing so would not leave him a target for those within.
No blade split his gullet. With eyes accustomed to the dark, Stone peered inside, hoping nothing had gone amiss.
“Stand where you are, gargoyle,” a human voice within demanded.
“No enemy,” the gargoyle hissed. “I am Stone.”
A painfully high voice cut through the gloom, echoing far too much for the gargoyle’s ears. “It’s Stone, Bakal! The one that Tyros spoke to! Remember? He snatched Tyros while the mage was sleeping and could’ve dropped him or taken him to the citadel, but he didn’t-”
To the gargoyle’s relief, one of the humans quieted the painful voice. “Be still, boy! You’ll give us away.”
A figure wielding a lengthy sword stepped forward, an elder warrior with eyes of experience. Stone respected this one, knew that even without a sword this human could very well have defeated many of the gargoyle’s people. The warrior eyed him suspiciously, then said, “So you’re our savior, eh?”
He didn’t quite understand the human’s word. It did sound like “save,” though, which made some sense. On a hunch, Stone replied, “I … saved you.”
“For what? To be your dinner?”
The gargoyle quickly shook his head. “No. To help you. To help us!”
“I think he means it, Bakal,” the high voice said, this time mercifully quieter.
“Yeah, I think he does,” the man before Stone replied.
Stone gazed back in the hall. No one lurked nearby, but he felt uneasy standing in the open. “Please. Must enter!”
The human Bakal considered this for a moment, then finally nodded. The blade lowered a little, and the man stepped back a few paces. “All right, but just enough to close that thing.”
With some relief, the gargoyle entered, dragging the heavy door shut behind him. A dim light suddenly filled the room as several of the humans brought forth emerald crystals like those illuminating most of the lower corridors. Stone had seen to it that the humans would have them, knowing that the race disliked living in total darkness. Valkyn would never miss so few, especially since he never traversed the lowest levels.
“Why have you brought us here?” Bakal demanded. “Why do you want to betray your master?”
Was the human daft? Why else? “To be free! We are Valkyn’s slaves, human! Slavesss!”
“Some of them looked pretty eager for slaves,” another human muttered.
“Aye, they looked like they enjoyed killing for their master,” a second added.
The blades focused on him. Stone felt no fear, only resignation. If they charged him now, he would die, his dream of freedom for his people unfulfilled.