And now Tyros suffered the same fate.
Tyros. The cleric had at first found him insulting, arrogant, but that had changed, in part because of him, in part because of her. He reminded her of Valkyn, but Valkyn before the evil had revealed itself. Beneath the arrogance, though, Tyros cared more than he often revealed. True, he had his ambitions, but so far she had noticed that his ambitions stepped aside when lives were at stake.
In her mind, Serene imagined the faces of both men. She saw the Valkyn she had loved, the Tyros she had come to know. Already the cleric had a better idea of what the second mage was like. Tyros was a man she could look up to, could trust … possibly even some day love?
Serene remembered the face in the tree. The final face. The one that Branchala had shown to her when she had wanted to find Valkyn.
The Bard King had shown her Tyros’s visage instead.
It was too soon to say what might lie in her future where Tyros was concerned, assuming that the two of them had a future. The Bard King might have simply been trying to save his cleric from the horrible truth about Valkyn, yet Serene would never have the opportunity to find out if they didn’t escape. Tyros, though, could do nothing. He was chained to the magical device, tortured every second that Valkyn made use of him.
It was all up to Serene.
She sat up. A brief sense of vertigo nearly forced her down again, but she fought it back. Valkyn’s damned spell still held her in check, still prevented Serene from calling upon her god.
A sorry cleric she made. Her own regrets about Valkyn worked against her. Serene rose from the bed and headed toward the balcony, trying to clear her head.
Outside, the storm clouds rumbled. The cleric stepped back as a gust of wind tried to pull her from the balcony. Branchala watched over weather, and so Serene usually reveled in displays of nature, but as with everything else in and around Atriun, she felt nothing but revulsion for the elemental forces that parodied a true storm. This weather existed only because of Valkyn.
She stepped out again, daring the magical storm. Amongst the black clouds, crimson and gold lightning flashed. Serene felt a tingle and knew it to be magic. Trying to calm herself, she looked down at the wooded garden, the only location in the castle that gave her comfort. How she longed for her woodland home …
Out of the treetops burst three ferocious gargoyles. They quickly flew skyward, clearly anxious about something. One glanced her way as he rose, his beaked maw opening in warning.
Serene fled back into the chamber, not afraid but no longer comforted by the outside. Her entire world seemed to be of Valkyn’s design, and try as she might, Serene could find no escape from it.
Caught up in such turmoil, the cleric didn’t notice at first that she was no longer alone.
“Serene! Is this your room? This is much nicer than where Captain Bakal and I had to stay and probably better than where the captain is now if he’s still alive.”
“Rapp!” She flung herself on the kender, holding him close. To see a familiar face now briefly erased some of the pain she felt. “How did you get here?”
“The door was locked, but I had my best picks, and it-”
“That’s not what I mean.” Given a chance, the kender would go into great detail about his lockpicking skills. Serene had no time for that. “I meant how did you get past the guards?”
“Oh. They found something down the hall to investigate.” Rapp put a finger to his lips. “You shouldn’t talk so loud. They may be coming back soon.”
That the small figure’s own voice carried far more than hers did not, of course, occur to him. The cleric nodded, though, knowing that if she spoke more quietly, so would Rapp. “You mentioned the captain. Where is now? Can he help us?”
Rapp momentarily grew serious. “I … I don’t know where Bakal is, Serene. Tyros wanted us to go to the tower where the controls are supposed to be to fly this castle.” He brightened again. “Can you imagine that? I’d like to try to fly a castle! Do you think that if we’d gotten up there, Bakal might have let me have a hand at the wheel?”
“Rapp!” Forcing herself more to be calm, Serene asked, “Where did you last see Bakal? Did he ever reach the top of the tower?”
Again the tiny figure lost much of his usual cheerfulness. “No … there were magical traps and gargoyles everywhere. Not like Stone, but bigger, nastier ones! They came at us from all sides, and they had nets, too! I slipped under one gargoyle and got away. I couldn’t help the captain. I hope he’s not mad at me!”
She squeezed his shoulder. “I doubt it. So they didn’t kill them?”
“I don’t know, Serene. I saw them dragging Bakal and three others away. They were beaten bad, but not dead … I think.”
Valkyn could have only one reason for leaving any of the remaining soldiers alive. He was interested in what Bakal might know about Gwynned’s defenders.
So that left only the kender and herself. Not what Serene would have preferred, for in truth, without her link to her god, Serene had nothing to offer. Even Rapp could offer more.
“Serene, do you know where Tyros is? He said he was going to do something to make the clouds go away, but the clouds only went away for a few minutes, then came back real fast and even killed one of the black dragons. You should’ve seen it! I almost felt sorry for the dragon, even though I really don’t like black ones because they try to eat griffons, not to mention kender!”
“Rapp.” The cleric kneeled down on one knee and looked him in the eye. “Rapp, Tyros is a prisoner, too. Of Valkyn. You remember Valkyn, don’t you?”
Rapp’s eyes narrowed, as close as the kender ever got to anger. “I don’t think I like Valkyn, Serene, even if you did love him. He destroyed Norwych and hurt my griffons.”
“I’ve no more love for him than you do,” Serene promptly returned. In truth, only loathing remained for the mage. He had betrayed everything she believed in. “He’s using Tyros to keep the citadel flying, but the longer Tyros is part of the spellwork, the more likely he’ll die!”
The kender thought about this. “We have to help him, then! I like Tyros. Taggi likes him, too, I think, and Taggi’s a good judge. He liked you, didn’t he?” Rapp rubbed his chin. “Maybe you can pray to Branchala to stop the storm; he’d be real good at that! When that happens, Valkyn will want to investigate, and I can find Tyros and release him! I’ll bet he’s down deep inside the castle! I remember which way he went originally, and I can-”
“Rapp, I can’t call on Branchala. Valkyn’s seen to that. He’s cast a powerful spell on me. I’m cut off from the Bard King.”
Instead of dismay, puzzlement dominated the kender’s expression. “But how can that be? Valkyn isn’t stronger than Branchala. Does he make you not believe in the Bard King?”
“No, I still believe in him.”
Rapp shook his head. “Then I don’t understand, Serene. Valkyn’s just a wizard. I mean, he’s a strong wizard, but just a wizard! Branchala’s a god, and you talk to him all the time! How can Valkyn’s spell stop you from doing that?”
“It’s not that simple,” the cleric snapped, recalling how Tyros had said much the same. Even though she had managed to keep herself conscious after her earlier attempts, Serene had made no further progress. The harsh headaches still plagued her. If she pushed herself too far, she felt certain that she would again collapse. “I can’t be of any help in that way, Rapp.”
She had never seen a kender look so disappointed. Rapp hid the emotion almost as quickly as he had displayed it, but the expression remained burned in Serene’s mind and heart.
“It’s all right, Serene,” he finally murmured. “Don’t you worry. I’ll get Tyros on my own!”
Disgust for her own uselessness filled her. “But you can’t do that. I’m going along with you. I can handle a staff, at least.”