Tyros misunderstood his intentions. “Good … S-Strike true … please! And hurry! No telling what … what carnage Valkyn’s caused.”
“Don’t you worry, Tyros. I know what to do.”
The mage closed his eyes, preparing himself. Rapp shrugged, then dragged the stool he had used earlier to one of the great marble columns. Hefting the sword with both hands, the kender stepped up. With the stool, he could readily reach the chain, which had been bolted into the column roughly level with the wizard’s shoulder.
Tyros finally opened his eyes, no doubt curious as to why he still lived. When he saw what Rapp intended, his expression grew more horrified. “Rapp! Don’t!”
“But don’t you see, Tyros? I’m not going to try the manacles at all. I’m going to break the chain off at the base.”
“I-Insane! Rapp, l-listen to me!”
The kender readied the sword. It felt heavier than he had first thought. “There isn’t time, Tyros! You said so yourself!”
As if to punctuate his words, the device flared and the mage screamed again.
Rapp stared at where the chain was bolted to the column. Perhaps he had been mistaken and all he would achieve would be death. It would be an interesting, if rather final, experience.
“Oh, well …” He swung the heavy sword like an axe.
The edge of the blade struck true. Rapp felt every bone in his body rattle, but no spell turned him to ash. The clatter echoed throughout the chamber.
Again he swung, nearly losing his balance in the process.
“Anything?” Tyros asked, now hopeful, since the kender had not been obliterated.
“Let me try again.” This time the miniature warrior inhaled, then swung. His bones did not rattle so hard this time, and at last he had the satisfaction of seeing part of the marble at the bolt break away. “It’s working!”
“P-Praise Lunitari!” the captive spellcaster gasped.
Rapp continued his efforts. The sword chipped more of the marble away. The kender only prayed that the sword would hold up. The edge was already badly chipped.
Tyros tugged on the chain. “I think … I f-felt it give a little.”
Again Rapp attacked, and this time a crack appeared in the column. A small crack, but near where the chain began.
Tyros pulled. The kender marveled that the mage had strength after his ordeal, but the prospect of release clearly urged the human on.
Rapp stumbled off the stool as bits of marble and the heavy chain suddenly rained down on his head.
The pair looked at one another for a few seconds, drinking in the realization that one hand had been freed. Tyros flexed his hand, the chain dragging behind it as he swung his arm around. “Gods, that … f-feels good!”
“Is it over, then? Will it stop funneling magic through you?”
The captive mage suddenly gritted his teeth, which more than answered Rapp’s question. “No … not until … completely free!”
Kicking the stool aside, Rapp studied the chain that held Tyros’s ankle. “Then I guess I better get started on this one.”
“Hurry … before it’s too l-late.”
Once more they saw the flash of lightning and heard the rumble of thunder … the sound of death for the defenders of Gwynned.
* * * * *
The Ergothians fought with desperation as even the very elements seemed to turn against them. Lightning bolts assailed the defenders. A good number of the catapults had been reduced to cinders, the bodies of the soldiers manning them scattered like leaves in the wind. The cavalry, which had managed to push back the invaders in several places, was suddenly decimated by a series of strikes in their very midst. Those that survived faced the blades of Valkyn’s warriors. The defenders’ lines wavered, broken in many places, but nothing could be done about the cause of their despair.
Castle Atriun drifted in the center of the ungodly storm, a monstrous, untouchable nemesis. It stayed well out of the range of the catapults, and the only defender who might have been able to face it not only could no longer fly but also had troubles of his own.
Sunfire snapped and slashed at the foul black, but Eclipse hovered just out of range, moving in only when the gold left himself open. Both had tried unsuccessfully to use their breath weapons, but even though Sunfire held his own, he knew he was at a great disadvantage. The human riding Eclipse knew well how to direct the black’s battle and even when to use his own tiny sword to distract the injured leviathan.
The gold dragon knew he would die, and that with his death would come the death of the eggs, but Sunfire couldn’t abandon the land he had chosen to protect. Glisten would have understood. The evil citadel and its master were a far worse menace than either of them had believed. If Sunfire could even slow it, he would buy others precious time. Yet to reach it, he would have to fly, and not only did his wings not work, but he doubted that he would even survive the battle with this upstart black beast.
Eclipse mocked him from above. “Old crippled wyrm! You should have died with your mate instead of running like a coward. No better than a wyvern, old one!”
“Better at my worst than you at your best, foul one!” Sunfire slashed at Eclipse and had the satisfaction of watching the other leviathan dart back in momentary retreat.
Eclipse, though, immediately dropped down, catching his adversary by surprise. The black’s claws dug into Sunfire’s hide, drawing blood. Before the gold could take a bite out of him, Eclipse quickly released his murderous hold and flew back out of reach.
The human’s doing! The younger dragon had neither the cunning nor the experience for such maneuvers. His rider had directed the last attack, knowing that each blow would weaken Sunfire more and more until he proved an easy kill.
It would only be a matter of time. Still, Sunfire would do what he could to avenge his family. If he could at least badly wound Eclipse, it would give him great satisfaction.
A horrendous bolt ripped into the earth, startling the two dragons. Sunfire blinked, realizing that the lightning had nearly hit his adversary. Previous bolts had struck their targets with unerring accuracy. Why this mistake now?
An ear-shattering rumble made both behemoths look up. To their mutual astonishment, the storm had abruptly shifted. Even as they watched, a lightning bolt struck the front lines of the invaders. Caught off guard, scores of men perished. Confusion rose on both sides of the conflict.
“What goes on?” muttered the great gold. “Is the citadel’s master mad? Does he plan to destroy everyone but himself?”
And then the storm turned on the castle itself.…
* * * * *
The smile upon Valkyn’s face utterly vanished as his precious creation suddenly went mad. The misdirected bolts attacking his soldiers he could have forgiven as some sort of accidental discharge of pent-up magical forces, but now one had shattered a good portion of the outer wall to his right. In fact, only his own intervention had turned the lightning enough to miss the castle. Unfortunately, while Valkyn had been busy with that blast, a second had ripped through the sky, battering one of the lower towers.
“Impossible! Utterly impossible!” He had worked so hard to create this new flying citadel, and now someone else had the arrogance to think he could turn it against the dark mage. The source of his ire had to actually be aboard the castle. Only one other, in Valkyn’s estimation, could have managed such a feat.
“Tyros …”
* * * * *
Had Valkyn thought further, he might have considered that one other had the capabilities. That other now sat in her chamber, singing and praying as her fingers created note after heavenly note without the aid of an actual instrument. The magic of Branchala was with her. Serene felt her god hear her plea, felt him grant what she asked. Yet to keep the storm from returning to the control of Valkyn, the cleric had to keep singing and playing.