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 recalled 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.
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.