Serene had accomplished one thing, for now the dragon concentrated on them, not the captain. Unfortunately, with the behemoth above them, the only direction Taggi could fly was down, toward the underside of the citadel.
The dragon more than kept pace, closing the gap with remarkable speed. Again Serene felt unnatural anxiety. She muttered another prayer and felt peace return. Even dragonfear could not overwhelm the protection of the Bard King. Still, the monstrous leviathan had nearly caught up to them, and the cleric had no idea what to do.
Suddenly the sky around her filled with griffons, the rest of the pack returning to aid their brother. They swarmed back and forth, distracting her pursuers.
Enraged, the dragon unleashed another stream of acid. One griffon shrieked as a wing received a partial dousing. The animal fluttered awkwardly away, trying to shake the burning liquid from her feathers.
Bakal flew by. He gave a shout and threw something that bounced off Zander’s armor. The young officer shook his sword at Bakal but kept the dragon in pursuit of the cleric.
As she neared the pitted underbelly of Atriun’s island, Serene began searching for somewhere to hide. She surveyed the various crevices and openings, including what looked like the ruined corridors of underground passages, finding at last one that might serve her purposes. Serene prayed that they would reach it in time.
Hot, putrid breath warned her that the black was even nearer than she had thought. Serene glanced back at the oncoming beast, certain that he would catch them. However, just as the great talons tried to close on her, the griffon gave one more burst of speed and dived into the hole.
The dragon nearly collided with the flying citadel’s island. He pulled back, roaring his fury. Great claws tore at the passage, trying to widen it.
“Come out and let this be done in a civilized manner!” the armored officer called. “You’ll come to no harm, my lady!”
“You’re welcome to come in and get me!”
The young officer smirked. He knew better than to try to take on the griffon at such close quarters.
With Taggi watching the outer entrance, Serene turned to investigate the interior. Much to her dismay, the tunnel she had chosen ended in a heap of rubble only a short distance inside. The rest of the passage had collapsed, likely during the raising of the castle.
She had nowhere to go but out the way she had come … and from where they hovered, her pursuers likely could tell that, too.
Serene had trapped herself.
* * * * *
“You can hear the roar even from here, can’t you?” Valkyn asked Tyros. “You know what it means.” Still down on his knees, tormented by the agony unleashed by the other wizard’s touch, Tyros focused for a moment on the distant sound. Yes, he knew what it meant; the surviving dragon hunted near the citadel, and it could only be hunting his friends.
“Serene …” he managed to whisper.
Valkyn had the ears of an elf. “Have no fear for my dear serenity, for I’ve plans for her that must keep her untouched. I believe I can make use of any cleric, whoever her god, to raise my next citadel. It will truly be an inspiring experiment!”
And one likely to leave that cleric injured or dead. The thought of Serene in such straits urged Tyros to new efforts, despite his pain. His hand fumbled around and found the staff. It contained only a few spells, none of which would be effective against Valkyn, but that wasn’t what the battered mage sought it for.
Summoning up what strength he had left, Tyros drew forth as much magic as he could and, mouthing the necessary spell, poured it into the staff. Valkyn didn’t notice his effort, taking his sudden weakening as a sign that the crimson mage had all but given up.
Tyros, though, fought to keep conscious. When at last he could give no more to the staff, the fallen spellcaster readied himself, turning his grip ever so slightly.
He thrust the staff up, praying for the best.
Valkyn shifted to one side. The staff flew out of the red wizard’s grip, sailing wide past his rival. Valkyn chuckled at Tyros’s attempt. “A pitiful effort! Did you really think I wouldn’t-” Chill blue eyes narrowed to slits as he noted the look of triumph creeping over Tyros’s features. “What are you up to?”
Valkyn whirled and looked up.
Enchanted, the staff had not fallen to the floor but instead flew unerringly toward the nearest of the great crystalline spheres. It glowed with magical energy, all that Tyros could put into it, turning the staff into a deadly missile.
Tyros slumped to the floor, momentarily unable to do so much as lift a finger in his own defense. However, Valkyn had eyes only for his device and the missile streaming toward it. He released his grip on Tyros and reached out a desperate hand, as if attempting to cast a spell. The blink of an eye became an eternity, yet still not enough time for the master of the citadel to stop the inevitable.
The staff struck, exploding.
At first Tyros thought that he had failed, that the energies he had focused into the staff had not been enough. Then he and Valkyn saw the massive veins erupting across the immense crystal.
The entire column shook. Raw magical forces burst from the cracks, turning them into fissures.
“No!” the mage screamed. “No!”
But the power that he had sought to contain for his own dreams would be contained no longer. The golden crystal trembled … and burst.
The explosion ripped through the area, nearly toppling the second column. Tyros flattened himself to the floor, hoping his death would be quick and painless.
Castle Atriun shook, then lurched. Only the magical energy in the second sphere still kept the citadel functioning, but not for much longer.
A scream of nightmarish torment ripped from Valkyn’s mouth. Tyros dared to look up, wondering what could cause such a cry.
Valkyn’s hands blazed with pure magic, then began to burn away.
The black wizard had truly tied himself to his creation, the better to make use of its abilities. The crystals were clearly the same type as those both atop the columns and fixed to the wand. Tyros vaguely recalled an image from his earliest struggle with Valkyn, when the other mage’s gloves had burned away, revealing what he had done to himself. The crystals implanted in Valkyn’s hands had enabled him to cast astonishing spells, yet now they assured that the very power he had hungered for would devour him instead.
And nothing could stop it.
Valkyn’s hands were no more than ash now, and yet still the magic burned away at him, twin plumes of fiery, golden light that rapidly made their way above his wrists. Valkyn clutched the stumps of his arms to himself, trying to smother what could not be smothered. At last he dropped to his knees, moaning, all trace of the mocking smile forever gone.
A menacing sound, like that of crackling ice, made Tyros recall his own imminent fate. Power still flared from the ruined crystal, but more worrisome than that were the intense web of deep fractures spreading over the remaining sphere. Without it, the citadel would definitely fall, for whatever reserves Atriun had once had surely had been drained away by now.
Forcing himself to his feet, Tyros hobbled to the doorway. He glanced behind once to see if Valkyn followed, but Valkyn no longer had any interest in him. The magic continued to eat away at the dark wizard. Already his robes were ablaze with a wicked golden fire.
A new explosion sent Tyros tumbling into the hallway. Recovering, he watched in amazement as the first column teetered. For a moment it hesitated, almost seeming to float, and then it collapsed.
Valkyn, still in agony, didn’t see it tip toward him. The column fell upon the burning figure, half crushing the master of Castle Atriun.
Tyros abandoned the area, knowing that the only way to avoid sharing Valkyn’s fate was to escape the castle entirely and hope that either Serene or Bakal still waited for him. He stumbled down the corridor, seeking the stairway leading up.