“Easy now,” snapped Bakal. “Let him speak his mind.”
“Stone’s flock will not harm you, but cannot speak for Crag’s.” Stone indicated three horns. When Bakal nodded understanding, the gargoyle continued. “Master very busy. Has female and other mage, Tyros.”
“They’re alive?”
“For now. Tyros …” Stone shrugged. “Maybe not for long.”
The scarred warrior nodded. “Then we’d better act soon. Without the mage, it’ll be a lot harder to take this place.”
A small figure rushed up. Stone hissed. Even the gargoyle felt uneasy around a kender.
“What about Taggi and the others? What about my griffons?”
Annoyed by the seemingly useless question, Stone answered briefly. “Live. Caged near other side of castle.”
“A good question, Rapp,” Bakal said. “We’ll probably need them.” He rubbed absently on his scars. “Tell me, Stone. The central tower. That’s where this Valkyn directs the citadel’s flight from, isn’t it?”
“Yesss.”
“And the power that makes it fly? Is that there, too?”
The gargoyle shook his head. “No. Below in great room.”
“Where is that? We’ll have to go there.”
“Will show, but not now. Not yet.”
The warrior clearly did not like that. “Oh? And when would be a good time?”
Stone repeated what he had said to Tyros. “When clouds thin, human … when clouds thin.”
“And when, by the gods, does that take place? You told Tyros that, too, but the clouds never thinned while we followed this place!”
The gargoyle summoned his best command of Common, for now he had to explain things that even he did not quite understand. “When clouds thin … that is when the master will be most unguarded.… Master must work to keep castle in air and will need time. Must use magic of castle for his spells.”
Bakal’s eyes widened. “Which draws from that unnatural storm outside! That’s when the storm fades and the clouds thin!”
“Yesss. Master must work fast. Must think only of spells, not of outside.” Stone thumped his chest. “Depends on gargoyles to watch for enemies.”
“This will be soon?”
“Soon, human.”
The warrior shook his head. “We’ll still need Tyros for this. We have to rescue him!”
Stone started to protest, but the kender spoke first. “We have to save Serene, too! We can’t just leave her.”
The gargoyle hissed in consternation. “Cannot do!”
“He’s right, Rapp,” the captain agreed, momentarily mollifying Stone’s fears that they would go crashing into Valkyn’s chambers in the hopes of rescuing a female. “Let’s concentrate on getting Tyros. He’s the one we need to make this work.”
Stone shook his head. “Cannot do. No Tyros!”
“Listen here, friend,” Bakal snarled. “If anyone’s got a chance to defeat your master, it’s Tyros. We need to rescue him.”
The gargoyle’s wings stretched as he mulled over the human’s words. He had no choice if he wanted them to play their part. Still, it would be risky trying to lead this band to the cell where Tyros had been imprisoned, assuming he even remained there. No, for this to be done properly, it would require only one to do the work, and unfortunately that meant Stone himself.
The gargoyle let out an exasperated sigh. How he longed for the woodland ruins from which Valkyn had plucked him. “Will try …”
* * * * *
“I know of you, Tyros. You are not the only one who made use of the conclave’s storehouse of knowledge.”
Tyros barely paid Valkyn any attention, still reeling at the shock Serene must have felt when she discovered that her lost love had not been kidnapped but had instead been the kidnapper … and worse. Already Norwych had suffered dearly because of his creation, this monstrous new flying citadel, and one if not both of the golden dragons guarding Gwynned had also perished. Valkyn had caused more deaths than many commanders in the war, and yet he looked oblivious to it, his demeanor almost constantly cheerful, even inviting. Valkyn cared nothing for anyone save himself.
Yet his eyes lingered on Serene. His hands, though gloved, now and then caressed her neck. Perhaps Valkyn still cared for the cleric, but did he expect her to forgive him for his evils?
“Your efforts showed me some of the particular weaknesses, the errors, involved in the creation of past citadels. All that power invested in something so haphazard! When the war started, Ariakas had at least a dozen flying. Oh, they frightened his foes at first and enabled him to literally drop his forces on the enemy, but the cost to maintain them! The constant chanting by mages and clerics, the lack of defenses against airborne retaliation. To save a citadel, he had to start adding dragons to its defenses, drawing them away from the other parts of his forces. Why create such a marvel if it cannot even sufficiently defend itself?”
The captive mage said nothing, knowing that Valkyn sought no answer to the question but rather simply enjoyed hearing himself talk of his triumph.
Valkyn released Serene and started back to the balcony. “Come join me out here, my friend. I want you to see this.”
Tyros had no choice, for the robed shadows thrust him forward, following their master outside.
The wind tossed Tyros’s hair around as they stepped out. Valkyn, hair cropped close, seemed not to even notice the gale. He leaned on the rail, staring beyond the castle walls.
The servants shoved Tyros next to him, then stepped back. The crimson mage looked out at the world below, visible in part from the balcony. He felt a brief touch of vertigo as he watched the landscape continually shift.
“A magnificent sight, isn’t it? The only other place where you can get this view is from atop a dragon, and there you might find it much less comfortable!”
What did Valkyn hope to achieve? Did he hope to recruit his adversary? Surely not! Tyros could have never been a party to such madness!
“Do you understand anything about where a mage draws his power from, Tyros?”
An elementary question. “From the magic of the world and its moons, as focused to us by the gods Solinari, Lunitari, and Nuitari. Without the three, we would be hard-pressed to perform even the slightest spells.”
“But the elements required to first perform magic are the same no matter what order you choose, are they not?”
“I suppose.”
“That they are!” Valkyn slapped him on the back. “How else would it be so easy for one to switch robes?” He indicated his own garments. “If it required complete retraining, few would ever shift from one color to the next, would they?”
Tyros didn’t know if he followed Valkyn correctly or if he even cared what the mage meant. What did interest him was that not once since he had entered the chamber had thinking about magic caused his head to throb. Could he now perform a spell? If he could catch his captor unaware …
Valkyn grinned wider. “Oh, you shouldn’t do that!”
The younger mage fell to the rail, his head now feeling as if it was about to split in two. His ebony-clad companion had to pull him back in order to keep Tyros from falling to his death. Tyros collapsed to his knees, holding his head and praying for the agony to end.
“You know how to stop the pain, my young friend. You know what you have to do.…”
Tyros forced all thoughts of casting spells from his mind, and as he did, the pain began to lessen. Tears still filling his eyes, he finally managed to look up at his captor. Instead he saw Serene.
“Does it have to hurt so much?” she pleaded with Valkyn.
“Not if he behaves, my Serene. Calm yourself. See? He’s almost on his feet again!”
“That … was what … happened the first time we met!” the stricken mage snarled. “You had me brought here right after my capture, but when I struggled, you put this spell on me. That’s what made me black out and forget our first meeting. I still tried to cast … to cast a spell … but I nearly died!”
Valkyn nodded approval. “An amazing recovery! I am impressed. You’ve a strong mind, a strong will, my friend.”