"Do you understand your orders?" he shouted.
They all nodded.
"Very well!" he said. "To your ships, then! Wait for my command!"
Merriwhether watched as the other dark captains went to take command of their respective vessels. He then raised one skeletal arm and waved the K'tons on ahead to begin the attack. When they saw the dark swarms flying over their city the citizens panicked, but there was nowhere to hide. Tens of thousands of K'tons landed in the streets, their hungry eyes glaring about as more of their kind darkened the sky above. They immediately began kicking in doors and windows in their search for fresh meat.
Men, women, and children poured from buildings, only to find hungry K'tons waiting for them. The lucky ones fell prey to the monsters' weapons and died on the spot. Others were scooped up into the beasts' arms to be devoured alive. The air was soon thick with the screams of the dying.
Through his spyglass, Merriwhether watched as the northeastern section of Tammerland erupted into chaos. He turned to his lead demonslaver.
"Signal the other ships," he ordered. "We're going down."
"Yes, my lord." The slaver ran off to carry out his orders.
As each of the huge vessels landed on the outskirts of the city, their stern doors slowly lowered.
The first of the Earthshakers lumbered out. It wore a massive bridle, and a demonslaver sat on its back. Free of its confines after so long, the beast raised its head and gave an earsplitting scream. The others soon followed.
Once assembled, they headed into the city. Demonslaver troops poured from the dark hulls to follow the huge monsters, short swords drawn. Merriwhether gave the order to ascend again, and the fleet rose into the air.
In the wake of the K'tons, the Earthshakers destroyed every structure in their path with mighty swipes of their massive tails, the earth trembling beneath their every step. Walls, roofs, and glass exploded into shards of shrapnel. Whatever remained alive in the swaths cut by the K'tons and the Earthshakers was systematically butchered by the demonslavers. The six Black Ships sailed over the destruction left by their servants.
The army of the Vagaries moved inexorably forward, leaving nothing standing, nothing moving, nothing living. Only black, charred rubble and thousands of corpses, blood, and body parts remained.
Merriwhether raised his arms to loose azure bolts, but then he stopped himself. Looking down, he smiled. His use of the craft was unnecessary, he thought. His servants were doing the job well enough on their own. By this time the next day, they would be at the palace walls.
Merriwhether watched as his fleet sailed silently over the carnage. He smiled again. Soon his lord would arrive, and he would be pleased with his servants' work. As he sat at the war table on the palace roof, Faegan examined the scale model of Tammerland. Using his gift of Consummate Recollection, he had conjured the model the previous night while waiting for his group to return from their secret labors.
Blessedly, everyone he had sent out had returned safely, their tasks performed as well as possible. Now they all stood by his side, their faces clouded with worry.
The fire and smoke choking the city grew closer to the palace with every passing moment. According to the status reports brought by the Minion scouts, the situation was deteriorating rapidly. If Wigg and Tristan did not return soon, all of his work and planning would be for nothing. Wulfgar would be victorious, and the Vagaries would rule for all time.
Faegan also worried about the fate of Traax and his war party. There had been no word from them, and that only made the situation more desperate. Without Traax's warriors, he knew he couldn't dare deploy those Minions that remained at the palace. Few as they were, they constituted the last line of defense. He had therefore ordered the scouting parties only to observe, not to engage, any enemy forces they might discover.
Duvessa and Dax had worked tirelessly to make the castle secure. But Faegan knew that if Traax hadn't stopped Wulfgar, only hours remained before all was lost.
A scouting party landed upon the roof. Their leader quickly walked over to the table, a worried look on his face. He came to attention and clicked his heels.
"Your report," Faegan said.
Looking down at the model, the scout pointed toward the northeastern section of Tammerland.
"There," he said darkly. "Six Black Ships have arrived. Tens of thousands of flying monsters followed and even more are coming. As the beasts began attacking the city, the ships landed and unloaded huge creatures that are destroying every building they approach with their massive tails. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed such a thing to be possible. Demonslaver forces were also deployed from the ships. As the great beasts and flying monsters do their dirty work, the slavers follow along behind, killing off survivors. The Black Ships sail along overhead."
Faegan looked down, then back up at Jessamay. There could be little hope for them now, despite all of his planning and preparation. The look on the sorceress' face told him she understood.
"There is something that the two of you aren't telling us," Abbey said. "What is it? We have the right to know."
"Earthshakers," Jessamay said.
"What?" Shailiha asked.
"Earthshakers," Jessamay repeated. "Massive beasts that Failee and the Coven used three centuries ago during the Sorceresses' War. Wulfgar must have found the formula for their conjuring in the Scroll of the Vagaries."
"Is there no way to defeat them?" Shailiha asked.
"Azure bolts can harm them," Faegan said, "if enough are loosed against them. But even if Jessamay and I were able to get close enough to try, the captains of the Black Ships would quickly defeat us. Six against two are odds that even she and I can't overcome."
He looked back up at the scout. "There were only six Black Ships, you say-not seven?" he asked.
"Six, my lord."
"Did you see Wulfgar aboard any of them?"
"No."
Faegan remained silent for a time as he looked back down at his model.
"What are your orders, my lord?" Dax asked. The young Minion officer was clearly spoiling for a fight.
Before answering, Faegan raised one hand and burned away the northeastern section of the model, as the scout had described. In size, it roughly matched the other destroyed areas that lined the Sippora. By the wizard's reckoning, one-third of the capital already lay in ruins. He could only assume that an equal proportion of her inhabitants were now dead.
The Enseterat had planned exceedingly well, and his strategy was plain to see. Traax had not stopped him; the flying beings that the scout referred to must surely be the Heretic hordes. And since the scout made no mention of Wulfgar, that could only mean that the Enseterat was searching for the damaged Orb of the Vigors.
With the Sippora doing part of the work, and the attack of the Black Ships and their creatures coming from the opposite direction, the pace of the destruction would now double. Together they would close in on the palace. When the Earthshakers arrived, even the thick castle walls would bow to their fury. Faegan balled his hands up into fists and banged them down on the arms of his chair.
"Like it or not, we must wait," he said softly, defiantly. "I know how badly you all want to take action, but we cannot. We need Traax's forces, and Wigg and Tristan. Until they arrive, sending our small force of warriors out against the invaders would be sheer suicide. I simply won't do it. We have to trust in the Jin'Sai, and hope he and the First Wizard arrive in time."
CHAPTER LXXXV
They were making good time. standing in the bow of her flagship, Tyranny scraped the common match against the side of her scuffed knee boot. She cupped her hands and lit the cigarillo dangling from her lips. Blowing the smoke out through her nose, she shook out the match and cast her gaze out over the Sea of Whispers.
It was midday and the weather was favorable. Bright blue sky stretched overhead, with just the occasional trace of a passing cloud. The easterlies were strong, forcing her fleet to tack back and forth as they
made their way north, up the coast. They sailed behind her in an arrowhead formation. A red image of the Paragon adorned each of their mainsails, bright and brazen for the world to see. Looking up, she silently blessed the good weather, for it would help her Minion scouting parties perform their searches.
She looked eastward. Her gut told her that the remainder of the demonslaver fleet was out there somewhere. Scars was fond of saying that she could smell a demonslaver from fifty leagues away. She smiled to herself. Perhaps he's right, she thought. But right now all I smell is salt air.
Tyranny was far from confident about the hurried repairs that had been made to her ships. Even as she plowed through the waves, the sturdy Reprise groaned in ways her skipper had never heard. But Tyranny had to believe she would hold together, just as she had done so many times in the past.
Despite the ramshackle condition of her fleet, Tyranny was hopeful about their prospects. If they met the enemy, this time wouldn't be like the last. There would be no massive Black Ships to sail blithely over her lines. And if there were no one of the craft aboard the slaver vessels, there would be no azure bolts to contend with.
This time it would be Tyranny's turn to use the craft at sea, and she relished the opportunity. Each of her ships carried an Acolyte of the Redoubt, handpicked by Adrian for her superior abilities. Tyranny had counseled them carefully about how and when to strike. And K'jarr's Minion phalanx was rested and spoiling for a fight. She could see it in their dark eyes and mannerisms, in their eager talk with one another about the battle to come, and in the careful way they sharpened their dreggans.
She felt exactly the same way. All in all, even if they found themselves outnumbered, this time they would have a fighting chance. She would not shrink from this battle, but boldly claim it for her own.
As the Reprise's hull groaned and the waves split against her bow, Tyranny thought of Tristan and what he might be going through. She closed her eyes for a moment. She was worried for him-more than she ought to be.
He's not mine, she thought as she tossed the spent cigarillo overboard.
Scars approached, his massive frame casting a long shadow over her. Tyranny put away her thoughts of the prince and turned to look at her first mate.
"Your report?" she asked.
"Steady as she goes," Scars answered. "The other ships report no difficulties and the winds remain brisk. The fleet is ready for battle." He gave his captain a conspiratorial wink. "All we need now are some demonslavers to kill."
"Indeed," Tyranny answered. "It's almost too quiet out here. I'm starting to think that-"
Her sentence was suddenly interrupted by the sounds of boot heels striking the deck. She and Scars turned to see a scouting party landing. K'jarr hurried over to greet them.
The warriors talked animatedly among themselves. Then K'jarr turned to her, smiled broadly, and Tyranny knew. He and the leader of the group ran over to her and came to attention.
"They've been spotted!" K'jarr exclaimed.
"Where away?" Tyranny demanded.
"Due east," the other warrior answered. "I estimate them to be no more than six leagues from our current position."
"How many ships?" Scars asked.
"Thirty," the warrior answered, "and each of them loaded to the sinking point with slavers. We saw no humans among them. They sail in an arrowhead formation, just as we do."
"Do you think you were seen?" Tyranny demanded.
"I do not know," the scout said. "I sent one of us lower to determine whether there were any humans aboard. Given the clear weather, he might have been noticed. If he was, the slavers gave no indication of it."
Tyranny looked at K'jarr. "Prepare your warriors," she said. "We're going into battle."
K'jarr clicked his heels. "I live to serve," he answered. He turned briskly and hurried away.
Scars grinned at Tyranny. "Your orders, Captain?" he asked.
"Signal the other ships," she said. "I want them in a straight battle line. If the enemy has not broken their formation, then we shall know that we haven't been detected. Damn this good weather! I would have preferred to attack suddenly from a fog bank, but that can't be helped. This will be a straight-up fight." Pausing for a moment, she looked back out to sea.
"Once our line is formed, make our course due east," she said. "We must make the most of our first pass."
Scars smiled again. "Aye, Captain," he answered. "And may the Afterlife be with us."
Tyranny looked east once more. Soon they would be outnumbered by more than three to one. As she felt the Reprise rise and fall beneath her, she took a deep breath.
May the Afterlife help us indeed, she thought. I fear we are going to need it.
CHAPTER LXXXVI
From where he stood in the minion litter, Tristan gazed northward. The wind tore at his clothes and hair, but he paid it no heed. As he watched the distant horizon, he firmly clutched the gold medallion hanging around his neck.
Wigg could tell that Tristan was a changed man. But the Jin'Sai had yet to confide in him about what had transpired between him and the Scroll Master. Nor had they spoken again about Celeste's death. The silence between them was deafening and unnatural.
After exiting the azure pyramid, they had watched it sink back into the earth. The displaced sections of loose sod had smoothly closed over, leaving the ground looking as though it had never been disturbed.
Without first conferring with Wigg, Tristan had ordered the warriors into the air and given them a course to follow. For the last hour he had silently looked north-as though his destiny lay out there somewhere and he was searching for it.
Wigg looked sadly at the golden vase bearing his daughter's ashes, nestled at the prince's feet. He didn't blame Tristan for Celeste's death. He had no doubt that Tristan had done everything in his power to save her. But Wigg still did not know what Tristan had meant when he had said he had been "too late."
He saw Tristan stiffen and lean forward to wave to Ox. When the giant warrior flew closer, Tristan shouted out another course change. The entire group turned slightly to the east.
More relaxed now, the prince sat down beside the wizard and placed an affectionate hand upon his shoulder. There was a compassionate look in his eyes.
It's almost as if we have traded places, Wigg suddenly realized. He now seems to be the master, and I the student.
"It is time for us to talk, old friend," Tristan said. "There is much to tell you. You have been patient with me, and for that I thank you."
"Where are we headed?" Wigg asked.
"To the Orb of the Vigors," Tristan answered. "Part of Wulfgar's forces march toward Tammerland. In fact, they may already be laying siege to the city. But before we engage them, we must find the orb. We near it as I speak."
Wigg gave him a curious look. "How can you know where the orb is?" he asked.
Tristan looked back out toward the horizon. "I can sense it," he answered. "It is almost as if the orb calls to my blood."
Wigg's mouth fell open. "But that's impossible!" he protested. "The best any of us has ever been able to do is make the orbs appear, and even then, we were not always successful. No one has ever been able to sense the location of the orbs and go to them!"
"Until now, perhaps," Tristan answered.
Wigg scowled. "Even assuming that you can find the orb, why not simply call it forth, rather than go to it?"
Tristan's expression darkened. "Wulfgar," he said. "In the interests of time, I am both racing to the orb while also calling it to me. I want to draw the Enseterat near and tempt him with my presence. It is for that reason I ask you not to cloak our blood. Nor is his cloaked; I can sense his approach. He is twelve leagues away and closing quickly."
"But no one can sense endowed blood from such a distance!" Wigg said.
Tristan took one of his throwing knives and made another small cut in his hand. He allowed several drops of his red blood to fall to the floor of the litter. They twisted into his familiar blood signature, comp
lete with the Forestallments granted him by the Scroll Master.
Wigg raised an eyebrow. "So you succeeded after all…" he said.
Tristan smiled slightly. "Yes," he answered. "There is little that is impossible within the purview of the craft. Isn't that one of things that you have been so fond of telling me all these years?"
Tristan took a deep breath. "I need to explain some things to you," he said. "They have to do with both our past and our future. You will find them difficult to hear, and even more difficult to believe. But you must accept what I now tell you, just as I am trying to do."
He looked sadly at the golden vase. "Much of it has to do with Celeste," he added softly, "and my destiny without her." Tears began to form in his eyes and he brushed them away. He looked back at Wigg.
"You must listen to me with your heart, as well as with your ears. To fully understand these things, you must accept them in your soul as well as in your mind."
While Wigg listened, Tristan told him about his experiences with the Scroll Master. The First Wizard hungrily absorbed every word. As the sun sank toward the western horizon, their litter soared on toward their destiny. Wulfgar lowered his hands, stymied. for the first time since receiving his Forestallments, he had encountered a force of the craft that was his equal.
Then he sensed the distant presence of the Jin'Sai's blood, and he knew.
His Black Ship and the accompanying horde of K'tons sailed south over the fields of Farplain. For the last several moments he had been trying to summon the orb. But the opposing force was strong-as strong as his own. The Heretics had told him that he must put distance between himself and the azure pass before calling the orb, and that much he had accomplished. But the orb would not appear. Then, in the midst of his frustration, he heard the choir of voices again.
He went to his knees and bowed his head.
"The Jin'Sai approaches. He, too, tries to call the orb. His blood is now red, and also carries Forestallments. We did not foresee this development. His blood is strong, but so is yours, and you command far more Forestallments than he does. There is a way to beat him, our son. Hear us as we tell you how…"
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