“Excellent!” Cadrio cried. Just then a second boom nearly sent him to the deck again. He turned to the older citadel, which now sported another severe wound, this one at its crumbling base. “What is causing that?”
Zander provided the answer at last. “The lightning from the wizard’s storm is destroying the other citadel, sir!”
“That can’t be!” Yet Cadrio quickly saw that Zander had spoken the truth. Several bolts burst from the storm, striking hard at the severely devastated citadel. Barely half the castle remained, and a good portion of the earth beneath had broken free, too, creating yet more havoc for the defenders below.
The older fortress tried to move away but could not. Cadrio felt little concern for the minor mages and clerics aboard, but the man he had chosen to pilot it had been a good officer. “Damn you, Valkyn! You’ve no right!”
A heavy rumble rose from the storm-enshrouded terror, and a series of bolts worse than anything those aboard the Harpy had yet witnessed tore asunder what remained of the other flying citadel. The castle collapsed, the tower with the Wind Captain’s Chair falling into the main building. Ship-sized chunks of earth dropped from beneath the ruined structure.
Below the crumbling behemoth, Norwych suffered a horrific torrent. Cadrio could imagine the people screaming, the buildings crushed under the weight of the gigantic missiles, the ruination of a city that had thought itself safe. Not even at the height of the war had he witnessed destruction on this scale; Valkyn’s toy threatened to literally level the seaport.
“Bring us in!” he demanded.
“Is that safe, sir?” Timinion asked.
“Don’t argue!”
A new wave of lightning pounded the dying edifice, and at last the older citadel started to drop. Earth and stone showered the island city, then what remained intact suddenly fell from the sky. From the general’s angle, it looked as if one of the moons had fallen. Certainly to those below, it must have seemed so.
The horrific crash echoed throughout the area, startling even those aboard the Harpy. A vast cloud of dust and dirt rose above Norwych, resembling the plume of a volcanic eruption.
“Make certain everyone has his visor down,” General Cadrio ordered. That would help keep some of the dust from his men’s faces.
Castle Atriun paused now, the storm around it lessening. As Cadrio’s vessels neared the chaotic island, he saw gargoyles dive from the edifice, falling upon Norwych like vultures. The general wondered whether Valkyn sought more mages for his mysterious work. That disturbed Cadrio nearly as much as the destruction of his own citadel had. Valkyn did as he pleased, despite their supposed alliance. The wizard had given him victory, but had made Cadrio more dependent upon him. Matters couldn’t remain like this. Valkyn would only tighten control if the general did nothing.
The lanky commander gritted his teeth. First he would deal with the survivors of Norwych, but then … then he would see to it that Valkyn remembered that General Marcus Cadrio served no man anymore.
Especially an impudent and expendable wizard.
* * * * *
No word could describe the sensations Serene felt when she soared through the air on the back of the griffon. Even with the stiff form of Tyros in front of her, she could feel the wind, the speed. The massive griffon flew joyfully, completely at home in the sky. Serene envied the creature, wishing she could experience his pleasure.
She felt some sympathy for Tyros, who clearly had never flown like this before. The cleric tightened her hold on him, trying to relay to the mage some comfort. Although at times he had seemed rather arrogant and ambitious, Serene had noted the more human Tyros beneath the surface. He cared for his lost friend and treated her own concerns with nearly as much compassion. In many ways, Tyros reminded her of the one whom she had lost, but with a bit more gentleness and less obsession.
“Where are we?” the wizard suddenly shouted.
She peered down. Water had given way to land. Serene searched her memory. “Somewhere midway between Caergoth and Kayolin, I think,” the cleric returned. “And probably the safest place to land. The sun’s nearly down, and the griffons should get some rest. We’ll still reach the New Sea early tomorrow.”
Tyros clearly wanted to go on, but nodded. Serene glanced over to where Rapp and Bakal rode. The captain bore an expression that looked halfway between determination and unease. Some of the unease might have actually been due to the nearness of the kender to his pockets. Bakal no doubt feared to find them emptied out.
She caught Rapp’s attention and pointed down. He smiled and nodded. When first Serene had met him and his half-grown orphan cubs, she had doubted that he would be able to tend to them, yet Rapp had cared for the griffons with a single-minded devotion that had startled her. Even now, with the fantastic creatures all but grown, he did not leave them. It made her wonder to what degree other races might have underestimated the worth of Rapp’s people.
The party landed in a hilly wooded area that clearly had seen some violence during the war. Although the spot where they camped looked unravaged, in areas beyond it whole copses of trees had been destroyed. In addition, they came across several bits of rusting and twisted metal that might have once been armor and weapons half buried in the earth.
“Some sort of battle took place here,” Bakal commented, hands searching his pockets to see if his personal effects remained within. Serene had never seen a man so eager to touch earth again as the captain. “Several months back, at least, I’d say.”
“We’ll be safe enough,” Serene promised. “Rapp and I have brought the griffons here before.”
“Good! I need a peaceful night’s sleep after that ride. My bones are aching!”
Serene noted the precision with which Bakal’s men worked as they organized the camp. Trained soldiers, definitely. It concerned her. The men obeyed him completely, and she wondered how that might affect her quest. Serene knew that Captain Bakal desired to capture the citadel or, failing that, destroy it, regardless of who might be onboard. She couldn’t allow that.
While the others dealt with their own arrangements, the redheaded cleric wandered off to be among the trees. Although the woodland was not as thick and lush as her own forest, Serene found the solitude refreshing.
The temptation to remove her robe and commune with her god as nature intended remained in check; the soldiers would have taken her action as an invitation, and even Tyros might have mistaken her devotion for something more base. Instead, Serene finally settled on a soft tuft of grass and folded her legs into a meditation position. She put down her staff, then pulled out her medallion.
Through the medallion she felt the peaceful lives of the trees, the slow spanning of time. The trees lived differently from most other creatures, even their fellow plants. To a tree, a year might seem a day. They saw the world in the grand overall scheme of things, even better than the dragons and elves, who lacked their sturdy patience.
“Branchala,” she whispered. “Grant me some of the strength of your ageless children. Give me some of their resolve, their patience. You know that I’ve been giving you so much of my life of late; please grant me my desire to succeed in this quest.…”
She felt a breeze caress her cheek, heard the leaves rustle. Others would have read nothing in those natural acts, but Serene had been trained to hear the words and wishes of her patron. The Bard King promised her strength, but only if she worked to maintain her own resolve.
“Can you not show me any more than you have? Can you not give me some clue as to the future?”
The breeze died. The young cleric shivered, knowing that the wind’s cessation had not been natural. Had she offended her god?