Savage Messiah dobas-1

by Robert Newcomb

  "First I must ask you a question," he said. "I must admit that we did not come here searching for you. We came seeking someone else. Someone known as the 'Scroll Master.' Do you know anything about him?"

  "I do," Jessamay said. "From what Failee said, it sounded as if he resides in Eutracia, where he guards something called the Well of Forestallments. I will gladly tell you what I know of that later. But right now you must let me speak. When I tell you, you will understand why."

  "What is it?"

  Jessamay looked away for a moment. When her gaze returned to him, her eyes were again full of tears.

  "Your daughter is dying," she whispered.

  For several long moments Wigg felt frozen in time. As his mind started to work again, he stared blankly at Jessamay. Anger boiled up within him.

  Suddenly he grabbed Jessamay by the shoulders. His powerful aquamarine eyes seemed to bore right through her.

  "You lie!" he shouted.

  Jessamay turned her face away.

  "You couldn't possibly know such a thing! You have been locked away for nearly three centuries! Celeste is fine!"

  "Please, Wigg, you must listen to me!" Jessamay said quietly. "You have no idea how much it hurts me to tell you this."

  Coming to his senses, Wigg let her go. "Forgive me," he said. "But I love her more than my life. What you are saying simply cannot be true." He looked longingly back at the door his daughter and the prince had just gone through.

  "I know," Jessamay said. "But she is slowly dying, just the same."

  "How could you possibly know this?" Wigg asked.

  "When you examined my blood signature, you saw the many Forestallments there?"

  Wigg nodded. "I presume Failee added them."

  "That's right," Jessamay answered. "I have no idea what unrealized gifts they may one day hold," she said. "But before she died, Failee activated at least one of them."

  "What is it?" he asked.

  "I am able to examine a person's blood signature without first making them bleed," she said.

  "But that's impossible," Wigg argued.

  "No, it isn't," Jessamay answered. "At least not for me. The place in the body the blood comes nearest the surface is one's eyes. You need only look into a mirror to know that I am right. I can examine the blood signature in the veins that run through the whites of a person's eyes."

  "Amazing," Wigg said. "But why would Failee want to perfect such a gift?"

  "Think of the tactical advantage," Jessamay said. "By simply looking into someone's eyes, you could quickly discern whether he or she was of the Vigors or of the Vagaries. If we had had that skill during the war, Failee's spies would have been of no use to her."

  Nodding, Wigg closed his eyes. "Of course," he whispered. "But what does all of this have to do with my daughter?"

  "When Celeste held me, she was near enough for me to look deeply into her eyes. She is blessed with time enchantments, is she not?"

  Wigg nodded. "She is nearly as old as you and me."

  "Her blood signature is eroding," Jessamay said. "I believe it has had recent union with blood far stronger than hers, blood that must have been tainted by the craft. It is overcoming her signature and slowly destroying it. At least one-third of it has already vanished. The tainted blood has left minute traces of azure in its wake. And although she may not have told you, Celeste is no doubt weaker and fatigued. If you don't believe me, you need only examine her blood signature yourself to know that I am right."

  She took her old ally by the hand. "In an endowed person without time enchantments, this would simply result in his or her loss of the craft," Jessamay said. "But in Celeste's case-"

  "As her blood signature dies, so will her time enchantments," Wigg acknowledged. He covered his face with his hands again. "As they do, she will become dust upon the wind."

  Beside himself with pain, he looked into Jessamay's eyes. "Is there any way to save her?"

  Jessamay shook her head. "I do not know," she answered. "Such intricacies of the craft are beyond my knowledge. I can only tell you what I see. But it would seem that if whatever caused this could be made whole again-untainted, as it were-and united with her blood once more, there might be a chance. But your daughter's time is running short."

  Wigg stood upon shaking legs. Looking out but seeing nothing, he shuffled over to the balcony doors.

  He knew what had polluted his daughter's blood-and what had caused the azure glow that surrounded her after she and Tristan had made love. Somehow, Tristan's altered blood, carried into her with his seed, had been absorbed into her body. And now that tainted blood was killing her.

  Wigg closed his eyes. In the end, it didn't matter whether my daughter carried Tristan's child or not, he thought.

  But then he was struck by a glimmer of hope. If Tristan's blood could be restored to its original state and he again had union with Celeste, perhaps the effects might be reversed, and she could be saved.

  But the secret to Tristan's blood remained as elusive as ever. Through an innocent act of love, the Jin'Sai had unknowingly begun the death of not only the love of his life, but his mentor's only child. And the First Wizard felt powerless to stop it.

  As Wigg looked out over the balcony, a cool breeze caressed his face. Birds sang. My only child is dying before my eyes, he thought. Yet outside the birds are singing.

  In a fit of rage, Wigg fell to his knees, raised his face to the sky, and screamed at the heavens.

  CHAPTER XL

  K'jarr's endurance was ebbing. if he continued the search for the Citadel much longer, his war party would not be able to make it back to the Reprise. Still, his sense of duty to the Jin'Sai made him press on.

  It was early evening, and the three moons were out. The moonlight gave the warriors a better view, but the wind was against them and the sky was partly cloudy, making it difficult to survey the ocean below.

  K'jarr had taken his six warriors as high as he dared, nearly starving their lungs of air. He was about to order them to descend a bit when he saw flickering lights in the distance and finally got his first glimpse of the Citadel.

  K'jarr took a quick breath. He had never seen such an imposing structure. Even the royal palace in Tammerland was no match for this.

  The island fortress of dark gray stone rose straight up out of living rock. The irregularly shaped shoreline held a deep port, and at the island's eastern end he thought he could see herds of corralled livestock. The Citadel's numerous towers rose majestically into the sky, their curved walls dotted with elaborate stained glass windows and connected by interlacing bridges and catwalks. As the magenta moonlight and the fortress' torches conspired to reveal the Citadel's secrets, K'jarr again considered his plan.

  He knew that the easiest way to capture a demonslaver would be to snatch one up from a patrolling vessel, rather than from the relative security of the island. He and his warriors would circle as long as possible, and with any luck be able to single out a patrolling frigate. They would wait aloft until her demonslaver crew had gone below decks, leaving only a few night sentries topside. Then he and another warrior would swoop down and silently scoop up one of the guards.

  But as K'jarr surveyed the island's port, his heart sank. It seemed that every demonslaver frigate was at anchor there, just off the shore. As he scanned the ocean surrounding the island, he could find no patrolling ships.

  He immediately became suspicious. He turned to look at his six warriors and, waving them onward, led them in a wide, banking curve toward the far end of the island.

  It was there, just off the northern coast, that K'jarr and his party finally saw Wulfgar's seven Black Ships.

  The ships were easily four or five times the size of the largest vessels they had ever seen. The sea wind filled their dark sails to the straining point. As the menacing warships bounded through the waves, K'jarr could make out hundreds of chalky-skinned demonslavers swarming over their decks. Then suddenly, the ships all came about and sailed back in the opposit
e direction.

  K'jarr knew that Tyranny's lone flagship, faced with such enemy ships, would have no choice but to cut and run. Despite the size and weight of these monstrous black vessels, he doubted that even the Reprise could outdistance them.

  The demonslaver crews repeated their turning maneuvers several more times. It was almost as if they were preparing for something, K'jarr thought. Then the warrior understood: The ships were conducting trials of some sort. And once their master was satisfied, these warships would be loosed upon Eutracia.

  K'jarr looked quickly toward the heavens. He knew that if he and his group stayed in any one part of the sky too long, the moonlight might reveal them. Finding a suitable cloud, he waved his warriors a bit higher. The fluffy cumulus was just what they needed. It was slowly heading northwest, and soon it would be directly over the fleet.

  The Minions all came to hide in the base of the cloud. Peering through the light layer of mist, they watched the warships with awe.

  Aboard the lead vessel K'jarr saw what appeared to be a black skeleton standing arrogantly in the prow. The skeleton was dressed in some sort of ragged military uniform. A torn, black cape hung down its back, twirling in the wind.

  Then K'jarr blinked, and the skeleton was gone. K'jarr rubbed his eyes then looked again. The bizarre form did not reappear. Surely the moonlight was playing tricks on him.

  Suddenly, the seven Black Ships formed a straight battle line in the sea. As the lead ship gained slightly on the others, an azure glow surrounded her, and K'jarr knew that the craft was in play. With no help from any of her crew, each of her massive sails began to furl itself until it was tightly wound and tied off against a spar. Without aid of the wind, the ship's bow raised high, then plunged mightily back down into the sea. K'jarr expected her bow to rise up again, but it didn't.

  Instead, the bow continued to plow deeper into the waves. As it did, the dark hull pitched upward to nearly vertical, and the stern of the great ship rose high into the air. As K'jarr watched her sink, his breath caught. The ocean quickly engulfed her decks, and the entire vessel was swallowed by the sea.

  As the ripples closed in and the sea calmed, the magenta moonlight revealed no trace of the ship.

  "One of their great ships has just sunk," one of K'jarr's officers said.

  "It would seem that they are not so invincible after all."

  His eyes still locked upon the six other vessels, K'jarr shook his head.

  "No," he answered quietly. "She did not sink. She submerged." He pointed to the next ship. "Watch," he whispered.

  The glow of the craft appeared once more. Just as the first ship had done, so did the second. One by one, the five others followed suit with perfect dives into the deep. The glow of the craft slowly retreated and the sea calmed again. The warriors hovered, speechless.

  The cloud that hid them was thinning, and they would soon be exposed. K'jarr knew that they would not be able to capture a demonslaver. Worse yet, if they did not start back now they would perish in the sea before reaching the Reprise. The unbelievable things they had witnessed had to be relayed to Tyranny and the princess, whether they took a captive or not.

  K'jarr gave the order to retreat. Leaving the security of the cloud, one by one the warriors turned west, each hoping that he could reach Tyranny's flagship before his strength gave out. as he watched from the shore Wulfgar paced nervously, his full attention upon the restless sea. Bratach and Serena stood waiting nearby. The cool evening wind swirled about them, and Serena pulled her shawl closer.

  An area of the sea suddenly became disturbed. Soon the ocean was alive and roiling. Without warning, the first of the Black Ships exploded from the depths.

  Her bow shot to the surface, and the rest of her massive hull followed. With a gigantic crash she landed solidly upon the ocean. The demonslavers aboard her appeared to be unaffected by their ship's recent maneuver. Wulfgar watched as, seawater dripping from her black masts and decks, she rocked back and forth, finding her equilibrium. Then her black sails unfurled. As they caught the night air, they snapped open sharply, and the warship began bounding across the waves.

  From his place in the bow, the macabre figure of Captain Merriwhether grasped a line to steady himself. He then pulled his sword from its recently engraved scabbard. As he held the centuries-old weapon high, the crimson moonlight glinted off its blade. Smiling, Wulfgar raised his good arm in response.

  Just as the first ship had done, each of the other six vessels exploded from the depths. Then, one by one, they turned and sailed off.

  Once they had passed, Wulfgar turned toward Einar and Serena. The moonlight tinted his ravaged face pink. Taking his queen by the hand, he smiled.

  "Tomorrow I sail for Eutracia."

  CHAPTER XLI

  Staring out of his hired carriage-of-four, Bratach couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. So far, all was going according to plan.

  The assassin Satine had begun her sanctions, the Orb of the Vigors continued to spew forth its deadly energy, and the royal palace was in a state of uproar. By now, not only should his master have conjured forth the Earthshakers and summoned the Council of Seven, but the Black Ships should also be in his service. Unless Bratach missed his guess, Wulfgar would be sailing for Eutracia any day now.

  As he watched the Eutracian streets slide by, one corner of Bratach's mouth turned up. There was very little-if anything-that could stop them now. Soon the Vigors would be extinguished, the royal house and the two wizards dealt with, and the coming war fought and won. Then the Enseterat would stride the earth like a colossus and control the fate of the craft for all time.

  Bratach had purchased secondhand the dark, shopworn trousers and simple peasant shirt he wore, along with the dirty knee boots, so as to better fit in with common Eutracian society. Having worn the dark blue robe of a consul for most of his adult life, he felt strangely out of place in these pedestrian clothes. But the last thing he needed was to be publicly greeted by another onetime consul of the Redoubt-even though Nicholas had made them all brothers in service to the Vagaries.

  The thought of Nicholas saddened him. Other than the Enseterat, he had never known such a perfect being. Nicholas had come heartbreakingly close to achieving his victory, only to perish upon his masterpieces, the Gates of Dawn. But this time they would not fail, and the Jin'Sai would pay dearly.

  Suddenly the carriage came to a halt, returning Bratach's thoughts to the present.

  "This is it!" he heard the driver shout down. "That'll be two kisa, if you please."

  Bratach swung open the carriage door and stepped into the busy street. After gazing about for a moment, he found what he was looking for. Smiling to himself, he walked toward the driver and quickly conjured several kisa. As he drew them from his pocket, the newly created coins sparkled brightly in the sun. He handed four of them up.

  "Here are two extra," he said. "Wait for me nearby. I won't be long."

  Greedily fingering the golden coins, the driver smiled. "Very well, sir," he answered.

  "Don't stray far. I'll be right back."

  As Bratach watched, the driver took his carriage around the corner. Then Bratach looked around. What he was searching for was down the next street to the left. Eager to reach his destination, he set off.

  It was still morning and the sun shined brightly. As he entered the busy roundabout, he was at first dismayed to see the place so full of people. But he was resigned to wait as long as necessary. As it had the days before, the fountain in the center splashed happily.

  Walking over to a nearby vendor, he surreptitiously conjured several more kisa and exchanged them for a massive, freshly roasted turkey leg. Chewing like a contented peasant, he walked to the fountain and sat down upon its edge.

  By the time the turkey leg was gone, the crowd surrounding him had thinned out a bit. Shifting his weight slightly, he placed one hand down into the cool water. He looked around once more and closed his eyes.

  He removed his hand from the w
ater and peered down. As he did, he employed the craft to cause a small area of the surface to calm. He smiled as he read the message that had formed from the grains Vivian had left there yesterday.

  It is done, he read.

  After scanning the remainder of the message he closed his eyes again. The grains vanished and the water stirred once more.

  Wulfgar's consul stood to walk back to his carriage. Finding himself in a particularly cheerful mood, he decided to do some shopping before heading back to meet Ivan. AS BRATACH'S CARRIAGE APPROACHED THE ARCHERY SHOP, HE saw that the "Open" sign hanging in the window showed red letters rather than black. Before leaving for the roundabout he had ordered Ivan to display it, hoping that Satine would see it and enter. If Vivian had known about Geldon's death as late as yesterday, it was possible that the dwarf's killer had by now returned to the city.

  Bratach entered the shop, his package under one arm. The little bell over the door cheerfully announced his presence.

  One customer was at the counter, talking with Ivan. The fellow was trying to decide whether to purchase arrows fletched with highland goose quill or the teal feathers of a three-winged triad lark.

  As usual Ivan was sweating heavily, his red sleeve garters ringed with perspiration. When he saw Bratach he gave a short nod. Bratach nodded back. Deciding to wait out the customer, he wandered about for a bit.

  Finally the customer paid for his arrows and left. Ivan locked the door behind him, turned the sign around to read "Closed," and drew the window shades. Then he looked at Bratach.

  "She's downstairs," he said.

  "Good," Bratach answered.

  He went to the back of the shop and down the hidden stairs, Ivan following.

  Satine was sitting at the table, her long legs propped on it. As Bratach walked in she regarded him calmly. He placed his package down, and then he and Ivan sat.

  Bratach poured a glass of wine. After taking a long draft, he addressed Satine.

  "My confederate in the palace has confirmed that the dwarf is dead," he said. "Congratulations."