The scythe bit into the neck of the shadow servant.
Black bile spurted from the open wound. The shadow servant shivered, then grew still. The Ergothian muttered a quick prayer to the gods, feeling remorse for slaying a creature that could not even defend himself.
The corpse slumped forward … and the castle suddenly dipped sharply.
Both Bakal and his foe tumbled to the wall. The two soldiers lost their weapons, but that didn’t stop Cadrio. Rising to one knee, he twisted the captain’s arm behind him, then pushed Bakal hard against the wall again. Out of the corner of his eye, Bakal saw the general draw his dagger.
The citadel dipped a different direction, throwing Cadrio off-balance. Captain Bakal managed to pull free but couldn’t drag himself out of his adversary’s reach.
Cadrio spun the captain around. The two men grappled, the taller Cadrio pressing Bakal against the open window. The general brought his dagger up …
And again Castle Atriun twisted in a different direction. The pair went flying into the Wind Captain’s Chair, shattering it and sending the corpse sprawling.
Even as he rolled free of the wreckage, Bakal wondered how long the chaos could continue. Atriun flew out of control, turning and dipping in random directions, and now the only method by which to control its flight had been destroyed. In truth, what did the outcome of the fight matter when surely the citadel would eventually destroy itself?
At that moment, General Cadrio rose over Bakal, dagger high.
Finding himself eager to live despite Atriun’s certain doom, the Ergothian reached blindly for anything he could use for a weapon. His hand touched something hard and crystalline.
With a practiced arm, Captain Bakal threw the object at his looming foe.
The fragment from the Wind Captain’s Chair struck Cadrio hard in the temple. The general dropped his weapon and staggered backward. Bakal threw himself at Cadrio, catching the general at the waist even as Atriun lurched wildly.
Both men fell toward one of the open windows. Bakal, facing it, saw the danger and released his hold, tumbling to the floor.
The general couldn’t stop his momentum. As he fell through the window, he tried to grab the edge of it, but his fingers slipped free.
With a cry, Marcus Cadrio plummeted from sight.
Pulling himself up, Bakal peered out. General Cadrio lay in the courtyard below, his tall, slim form now jumbled like a scarecrow cut loose from its pole. The commander’s battered face wore a bitter expression.
Lightning struck so near that it momentarily blinded Bakal. He blinked, then looked up and noticed that not only did Atriun seem lower in the sky, but the mountains in the distance no longer appeared so distant. They were, in fact, getting much, much closer.
The flying citadel had become a victim of the whims of the magical storm. Now it floated to the north, away from the battle and toward the nearest of the mountains … with no way to turn it back.
Chapter 18
Victory and Sacrifice
“There! I did it!”
“Good, Rapp. B-But hurry! Still … still need my … other arm free.” Tyros stretched his leg, trying to work the cramps out of it. It kept his mind from the pain that still coursed through his body each time Valkyn’s foul device drew raw magic through him. Until Rapp had him completely freed, Tyros remained a living part of the arcane spell.
Tyros hoped Valkyn wouldn’t discover what they were doing, at least not until the red mage was ready to face him. He needed a chance to rest a little and recoup from what he had suffered.
The wizard’s entire body vibrated as Rapp struck the base of the last chain with the badly beaten sword. Rapp had a keen eye, but the massive weapon had tired the generally energetic kender to such a point that he had to pause for a breath after each swing.
“I’ll get it, Tyros. I promise!”
Another wave of horrific pain sent Tyros to his knees, and the tall mage couldn’t answer. Each time Tyros was forced to funnel magic through him, it felt as if some part of his soul was ripped away.
Again Rapp struck the base of the chain. Tyros steadied himself, then leaned away from the column in order to keep the chain as taut as possible. He tugged over and over, trying to see if any of Rapp’s blows had managed to loosen it.
The entire chamber suddenly dipped. Benches slid from the walls, spilling flasks, tools, jars, and other items on the floor. A cloud of yellow smoke rose over one table and slowly began to spread.
Rapp lost his balance. His sword slid past Tyros. Even the mage had to steady himself or else risk pulling his chained arm out of its socket.
“Tyros, did you feel that? How come the room is at an angle? I mean, it’s fascinating and all, but it doesn’t seem very practical, what with things dropping all over the place.”
“I … don’t know. Perhaps … a change of c-course.” A violent change of course, to be certain. Had he believed it possible, Tyros almost would have thought that Valkyn had lost control of his flying citadel.
Whatever the reason, it made no difference to Valkyn’s monstrous device. Still it forced Tyros to draw power for spellwork, then drew that power from him, once more sending Tyros down on one knee.
As the mage fought the pain, Rapp dragged the stool and battered sword back to the column. The kender looked pale and tired, but hardly vanquished. Tyros praised the gods for a kender’s tenacity; he freely admitted to himself that he would have been hard-pressed to keep up such a pace.
Once more Rapp swung at the chain’s base, chipping away at the marble but further chipping his blade. Tyros thought at last he felt the chain give a little. He tugged hard, trying to help. “A little … little more, Rapp. I think it’s 1-loosening!”
“Now, we can’t have that, can we?”
A shiver ran through Tyros, but it wasn’t caused by the foul spell. Near the door stood Valkyn, his damnable smile in place and his wand held high in one gloved hand. The smile seemed a little forced, as if the black mage barely held himself in check.
Rapp took one quick, desperate glance at the hooded wizard, then swung at the column again.
“You were warned, kender.”
Tyros saw the wand glitter. “Rapp! Watch out for-”
A miniature bolt of green lightning flashed from the wand, heading for the kender. Rapp tried to leap out of the way, but moved just a little too late. The bolt struck kender, chair, and sword, tossing all three violently across the chamber.
“Rapp!”
The small figure dropped to the floor. Much of Rapp’s skin had been burned and his clothes smoked.
“Rapp!”
“Such energy …” Valkyn commented as he approached. “Still such life within you. I believe you’ll last far longer than any of the others did, even that hefty white-robed friend of yours.”
“You … killed him!” Tyros’s pulse pounded. “You killed Rapp!”
“I sincerely doubt the world will weep over one less kender, my friend. They have no practical use, serving only to create disorder. I do Ansalon a favor, in fact.”
Tyros tried to spit at his counterpart but couldn’t draw up enough moisture. “Small wonder,” he finally gasped, “that s-so many fear and … and hate our kind.…”
“And well they should. We are more intelligent, advanced, and capable than most of the rabble. I more than any.” Valkyn looked over Tyros. “But I seem to be capable of a mistake now and then. You didn’t do anything to the storm after all, did you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talk-”
The sinister mage waved off his reply. “No, you don’t. It seems I overestimated you and underestimated another.”
Tyros tried to reach for him, but his adversary remained just out of range. Frustrated, he pulled hard on the last chain.
Valkyn smiled more broadly, bringing up the wand. “You seem secure enough, and as long as you are, I can make use of you. However, it wouldn’t do to take anymore-”