Zander hated to leave his forces at such a crucial point, but when Valkyn spoke, it paid to obey. “As you command!”
Again the illusion vanished. Fearful of the wizard, Eclipse had already begun to bank toward Castle Atriun. Zander leaned forward, searching for griffons. He would find them. Valkyn would be proud of him.
General Zander …
* * * * *
Tyros stared up in the direction of the Wind Captain’s Chair, then at his companions. At last he came to a decision, one not at all to his liking but necessary.
“Serene, Bakal, take the griffons and leave the citadel.”
They both looked at him as if he had gone mad.
“There’s no more reason to stay here, boy! This castle’s going to come crashing down!”
Serene stepped up to him. “Do you think I’ll leave you here alone, knowing what’s happened to Rapp and Stone? If you’re going to face Valkyn, I’ll be at your side.”
“Listen to me.” He softly put a hand on Serene’s shoulder, but his gaze shifted between them. “Valkyn has the citadel under some control, but unless he has something in mind I don’t know of, he cannot possibly keep it from crashing. I’m afraid he might try to drop it on your people, Bakal.”
“Then more the reason I should be going after him, not you!” the captain snarled.
“He still wields magic. Besides, the two of you have to warn Gwynned. They might be able to do something if I fail.”
The cleric frowned. “I can see Bakal going to warn them, but I should stay with you!”
“No. Valkyn won’t hesitate to kill even you. He might delay with me, though.” Although Tyros didn’t explain his last statement, they all knew what he meant. Valkyn likely still hoped to return his rival to the columns. “They’ll need your help down there as a cleric, Serene. With so few healers of Mishakal about, the Bard King might be able to lend a hand.”
She couldn’t argue with that. While Mishakal held province over healing, even Serene could achieve some success through her god. Still, she wouldn’t give up on one subject. “And what if you defeat Valkyn? How will you get off of Atriun?”
He had no answer for that.
Bakal joined in. “We’ll go, Tyros, but we won’t leave the area immediately. If it looks like Atriun’s on its way to Gwynned, we’ll fly off. But if there’s a chance you’re alive and need help, we’ll be there!”
The mage sighed. “Then at least go now. Time is wasting!”
Serene turned and whispered something to Taggi and one of the other griffons. Bakal mounted, but before the cleric did, she suddenly rushed back to Tyros and, standing on her toes, kissed him on the cheek. Her face crimson, Serene then hurried to Taggi.
His own face feeling flushed, Tyros waved in silence as his companions flew off, then, steeling his resolve, he turned and headed back into Atriun. There was only one place Valkyn might be at this point. With the Wind Captain’s Chair destroyed, Atriun’s master surely had to have gone to the chamber housing the massive crystals. Only from there could he have possibly regained control.
Those who had known Tyros in the past might have thought that he had sent the others off in order to reap the glories himself. They couldn’t have been more mistaken. The events since the first attack on Gwynned had marked Tyros, opening up a part of him that he had kept locked away. He knew the danger of confronting Valkyn and intended that he face that danger alone. Leot, Rapp, and even Stone had perished at the hands of the black mage, and Tyros didn’t want to lose his two remaining friends … especially Serene. Even if it meant sacrificing himself, he was determined to bring down his counterpart.
And in the chamber where he had been so recently chained to Valkyn’s device, Tyros found the black wizard waiting for him.
“I knew you’d return,” the goateed figure commented, smile in place. He stood in front of one of the columns, gloved hands crossed in front of him. “We really do think much alike.”
“Forgive me if I do not take that as a compliment.”
“Atriun is once more under my command. Gwynned will be crushed, and my name will go down as one of the greatest wizards of this monumental era.”
The man had no compassion, no care whatsoever for others. All Valkyn concerned himself with was his magic and what he could do with it. Other lives did not matter. Valkyn would try to conquer the world not for the reasons that Ariakas had, but rather just so he could continue his monstrous experiments on a grander scale. In some ways, the world Ariakas had sought to create for his goddess would have been a blessing instead of the laboratory that the mad mage desired.
Of course, the more likely future for Valkyn would be that eventually his citadel would succumb to the might of his myriad foes, but how many more innocents would have to die before then?
“Atriun is crumbling, dying,” Tyros countered. “Control of its flight will mean nothing when it falls from the sky.”
The gloved hands came up, spreading in opposite directions and making Valkyn look like a scholar attempting to teach a reticent student. “But it will not fall! It will fly, and the storm will cover the heavens once again … now that you’re here.”
A sense of unease swept over Tyros, and he suddenly threw himself away from the doors.
Two fearsome forms dropped from the ceiling, nearly landing upon him with their sharp claws. Tyros rolled against a wall and then scrambled to his feet.
A pair of huge gargoyles, ember eyes flaring and jaws open wide, closed in on him. Tyros sensed something amiss about them. They not only stood taller than any of the gargoyles he had seen, but Tyros felt a strong current of magic around each.
The smiling mage extended a hand toward his demonic device. “Your place of honor awaits you again. I knew you couldn’t resist coming, so I made certain that things would be fully prepared for you.”
The columns had been partially repaired, and new runes of power had been etched in by magic, albeit clearly hastily. Worse yet, new chains had been set into place, this time chains that glowed from base to manacle. No simple blows from an axe or sword would free Tyros if Valkyn managed to secure him there again.
“Never again, Valkyn,” Tyros retorted, his staff held before him, “but I would be glad to let you take my place if you like.”
One of the gargoyles lunged. Tyros held up the staff and muttered words that would unleash one of the few spells with which he had been able to imbue it back in Gwynned. It wouldn’t kill the monster, but a sleeping gargoyle could do him no harm.
Only the gargoyle did not drop. Briefly he shimmered, but that was all.
Desperate, the wizard raised the point of his staff just as the gargoyle closed in on him. The point caught his attacker at the lower edge of the throat.
The monster collapsed, holding his throat and fighting for air. However, by then the second had also leaped forward. As he flew at Tyros, his claws grew longer, sharper, distorting into nightmarish sickles that threatened to cut the mage to ribbons.
Valkyn had enchanted the creatures, adding to their inherent magic. Small wonder he expected Tyros to fall. Yet despite their new and fearsome abilities, Tyros realized that he had one great advantage. Their master needed him alive. That meant the gargoyles had to move with caution … which opened them up to all sorts of weaknesses.
The macabre claws came within an inch of his face, but by then Tyros had a counterattack in motion. He muttered the words of a spell he had found useful in the days of the war, one that he had hoped to save for Valkyn but needed now.
A moist cloud, looking vaguely like cotton, formed around the oncoming monster. The gargoyle slashed, but the cloud immediately reformed where he had cut. At the same time, it continued to grow thicker, obscuring his vision.