The Scrolls of the Ancients tcobas-3

by Robert Newcomb

  As she lay hundreds of feet above the waves in Traax's arms, Abbey carefully opened the leather cinch bag that hung from a strap around her neck. It held the ingredients required to start a gazing flame. Removing a pinch of herbs from it, she reached through the warp, dropped them over the side of the litter, and watched them fall onto the hot embers already burning on its specially constructed, metal floor. She then bowed her head.

  As expected, almost immediately the familiar, golden flame came alive and started to burn away the sides and roof of the litter, leaving only the metal floor. Abbey cast a few more of the herbs into the flame and it roared higher, gaining color and strength. Raising one arm, she silently commanded the flame to split into two separate branches. The smaller of the two then obediently angled itself over toward her.

  After carefully placing the first bottle of herbs back into the cinch bag, she removed the second one. Opening it, she took another pinch of herbs and dropped them down into the nearest of the two branched flames. The two branches rejoined, returning to the vertical. Placing the second bottle back into the cinch bag, she gently removed yet another precious item. Closing her eyes, she held it high.

  It was a piece of vellum recently taken from the Scroll of the Vigors.

  When the viewing window in the gazing flame started to form, Abbey opened her eyes again. Looking into the window she saw what the piece of vellum in her hands was searching for and had finally found: the same item K'jarr had just hidden in the gap between the bowsprit and the hull of the Savage Scar.

  It was the other half of the vellum that Krassus had enchanted and hidden in Tristan's boot-the vellum the wizard of the Vagaries had hoped would destroy them all, but hadn't. It was also the item Tristan had shown the wizards that day on the balcony, when he had outlined his battle plan for them.

  As Abbey watched, the vellum in the window-the twin image of the one on board the Savage Scar-began to emit pinpricks of azure light. With the birth of the lights came great screeching sounds, their noises so great that she and Traax could barely stand the pain in their ears.

  Knowing the time had come, Traax immediately turned around and flew them both back to the waiting litter. As he did Wigg lowered his hands, and the remains of the other litter and Abbey's gazing flame fell into the sea. After Abbey was helped back inside, everyone looked down at the Savage Scar. Hoping against hope, Tristan held his breath.

  From the bow of the flagship the screaming shafts of light broke free of the enchanted vellum and tore into everything around them. They lit up the sea and sky with massive, azure strikes, twisting and turning relentlessly as they sought out whatever they could find and destroy.

  The Savage Scar went up first. The shards of light shot through her from stem to stern, and with a great, torturous shudder, she blew apart. Her masts and spars came crashing down, her decks ruptured mightily, and what was left of her rolled over, capsizing in the sea.

  As she went down, the hordes of screaming demonslavers still on her decks fell overboard. The careening shafts of azure light struck them, killing them instantly, providing fresh carrion for the hungry Necrophagians below the surface of the water. Finally, the Savage Scar slipped beneath the waves.

  The shards continued on, tearing into the remaining ships, both Minion and demonslaver alike. One by one the other vessels exploded and turned over, spilling the slavers into the sea. The blood on the ocean seemed to stretch on forever.

  Meanwhile, the azure lights had found the screechlings and were tearing into them in midflight. As the shards struck them the screechlings exploded, torn offal and thin red blood tumbling sloppily into the sea to join the carnage.

  And then, finally, it seemed to be over. The faces of the Eaters of the Dead had vanished, and all the ships of both fleets had sunk, leaving only wooden debris bobbing up and down on the restless, crimson waves.

  But as the occupants of the litters and the warriors hovering alongside it were about to learn, Krassus' enchantments were not finished. Pausing for a moment, the azure shards began to regroup and hover just above the surface of the waves, as if still searching out life-forms to destroy.

  And then they began soaring upward, directly toward Tristan and his companions.

  "Get us out of here, now!" the prince shouted to Traax.

  Traax ordered the warriors to fly the litters higher in a desperate attempt to escape the twisting, screaming shards.

  Climbing ever higher, the litter ripped through an oncoming cloud bank. Tristan held his breath, looking back to see whether the deadly shards were still following them. Then the hundreds of light streaks also tore out of the cloud, still racing unerringly toward the litter.

  Tristan gritted his teeth. Krassus' shards were gaining on them, and in a matter of moments it would all be over.

  Then he felt Wigg push him to one side, and the wizard looked out of the litter. His robe flying in the wind, Wigg raised his arms, ready to throw his own bolts at the relentlessly pursuing shards.

  But just as Wigg was about to attack them, the shards started to fade. One by one, as their power died, Krassus' enchantments finally slowed, then tumbled end over end into the waiting sea. As they struck the waves they caused the ocean to bubble and roil for a time, and then they were gone. Closing his eyes, Tristan took a deep breath and sat back in his seat.

  When he opened them again, he found the lead wizard staring at him. Saying nothing, Wigg raised an eyebrow. Tristan smiled at him, then ordered the litter to turn west, toward home.

  CHAPTER

  Sixty-nine

  "D o you really think they'll be all right?" Celeste asked anxiously as she searched Faegan's face for what must have been the hundredth time. "There has been no Minion messenger from the fleet today, and that's not like Tristan. Something is going on out there on the Sea of Whispers-I can almost smell it. Not knowing what is happening is driving me mad."

  She and the wizard were in the Hall of Blood Records, deep in the Redoubt. Faegan had been ensconced there for the greater part of the day as he studied the record of Wulfgar's blood signature, looking for answers. Regrettably, none had come to him.

  He feared for the lives of his friends but was trying not to reveal his concern to Celeste. Already she paced the sumptuous room like a caged animal. Faegan's ancient violin-one of his most prized possessions-lay beside him on the table. Playing it sometimes helped him to concentrate, and today had been no exception.

  For her part, Celeste had grown tired of being left to her own devices in the lonely palace above and had come to search Faegan out. It wasn't about being frightened. She was ready to face the worst, should it come to that. It was more about being left behind with nothing to do while Tristan and the others were out at sea, looking for Wulfgar. Being marooned at the palace had made her feel impotent and alone.

  The wizard raised his face from his research and smiled slightly. "We were left here for a reason, you know. But do not worry, my child. Wigg, Abbey, Tristan, and Shailiha are four of the most resourceful people I have ever known, and if anyone can stop Wulfgar's demonslavers, it is they. Besides, we still do not know whether Grizelda was telling the truth. For all we know, Wulfgar may not have even left the Citadel."

  "I know that," she responded. Some composure had crowded its way back into her husky voice. "But the truth be known, I just can't help feeling-"

  She stopped as the wizard suddenly stiffened and raised one arm, bidding her to silence. His face had suddenly become very grave and searching.

  Furrowing his brow, Faegan cocked his head and swiveled his chair, as if he was looking for something. Then he looked upward. Celeste's eyes followed his, and saw that one corner of the ceiling was glowing with the power of the craft, just as it had not so long ago in the card room of the palace above, when Krassus had first revealed himself to them.

  But the glow gathered far more quickly this time; so fast, in fact, that neither Faegan nor Celeste had time to react before a man's form coalesced, clinging to the walls and
ceiling just as Krassus had. As Faegan raised his hands to use the craft, a single, terrible bolt of azure confined him within a wizard's warp. Dread shot through him as he realized he could neither move, nor speak.

  Celeste didn't hesitate. She raised both hands and let loose terrifying bolts that seared across the room. But the man only laughed and launched himself to the opposite side of the room. Celeste's bolts exploded against the empty wall in a massive crash of marble, noise, and dust.

  Raising her arms as fast as she could, she attacked him again. But again he was too fast for her. He launched himself into the air, leaving her bolts to tear into one of the massive bookcases. With a great crash it toppled over, spilling texts and scrolls onto the floor. The room began to fill with dark, acrid smoke, which made her cough.

  Then the man vanished again. Celeste took a hesitant step forward. As she did, from the depths of the smoke came a dark, knowing laugh.

  Suddenly twin bolts came slashing out of the gloom and struck her squarely in the chest. The force of the impact lifted her high off her feet and threw her across the room as though she were a rag doll. Red hair flying, she smashed against the hundreds of drawers containing the blood records and fell unconscious to the floor.

  L ooking around the room for a moment, Wulfgar seemed to make up his mind. With a single wave of one hand, the smoke disappeared and the fires went out.

  He placed one of the chairs from the meeting table before Faegan and sat down. Then he lifted his long legs onto the table and crossed one over the other.

  After regarding Faegan for a few moments, Wulfgar reached out one hand and arrogantly snapped his fingers. Faegan immediately found his voice had returned.

  "You're Tristan and Shailiha's half brother, aren't you?" the old wizard growled from within the azure warp.

  Wulfgar smiled. "How astute."

  Faegan looked with concerned eyes at Celeste. "What have you done to her, you bastard!" he demanded. "Is she dead?"

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Wulfgar leaned back in the chair. Lazily, he glanced over at Celeste.

  "In truth, I do not know," he answered unconcernedly, as if he were discussing the weather instead of the survival of a fellow human being. "She is the daughter of Wigg, is she not? Krassus told me of her. Such a rare beauty! Were I not otherwise involved, I might be inclined to take her for myself." Then the menacing eyes turned back and found Faegan again.

  "But she is not the reason I have come," Wulfgar said. "I have far greater goals to attain, and you are going to help me. I have come to accomplish what Krassus tried to do but failed, that day he visited you. Things have finally come full circle."

  The amiable expression melted away from Wulfgar's face. As his upper lip twisted its way into a sneer, he leaned forward and glared at the helpless wizard.

  "Now then," he asked softly. "Where is the Scroll of the Vigors?"

  "Tristan and Wigg will return," Faegan countered gamely, trying to buy all the time he could. "You have very little time to destroy the Orb of the Vigors."

  A knowing look overcame Wulfgar's face, and he gave Faegan a short, menacing smile. "Krassus told me that the two remaining wizards of the Redoubt were exceedingly clever. How right he was." Then the look on his face turned deadly again, and he removed his legs from the table.

  "Anyone who was with your fleet is by now quite dead, I assure you," he continued. "Even the gifts of the lead wizard could not have overcome both my creatures and the overwhelming surprise I arranged. If by any bizarre chance any of your people did escape, however, they will be caught by the small contingent of ships I set to guard the entrance to Cavalon Delta. I'm so glad you decided to stay behind, though, because that gives us this little chance to chat." He sat back in his chair.

  "Now then, where is the Scroll of the Vigors?" he asked again. "This is your last chance to answer without consequence. I suggest you think it over well. Your arrogance is about to cause you a great deal of pain, old man."

  "The Minions surrounding the palace will come and take you," Faegan said boldly. "Even you will not be able to kill them all." Sweat was running down his face as he desperately tried to break free of Wulfgar's warp. But it was completely unforgiving-like sitting in a tight iron cage that had no door.

  "Oh, yes, yet more of my brother's warriors to be dealt with," Wulfgar answered dismissively. "But I've brought an entire host of demonslavers here with me by cloaking my flagship and sailing up the Sippora. They outnumber your remaining Minions by more than two to one, though they have remained quite invisible until this point. At the same time I appeared before you, my slavers also materialized, and they are engaging your very surprised troops as we speak. Even your vaunted flying warriors cannot overcome my demonslavers' superior numbers unless they choose to fly away. But that would go against everything their strict warrior code stands for, now, wouldn't it?" The twisted smile came again.

  "In some ways it could be said that your Minions are actually killing themselves," Wulfgar added thoughtfully. "It seems there will be a great many Minion funeral pyres lighting up the sky tonight, wizard."

  "How did you get into the Redoubt?" Faegan growled, still trying to stall. He desperately needed to free himself somehow and regain the use of his powers. But the more he tried, the more impossible it became. He had never felt such raw power. The sweat ran down from his brow to tease his eyes maddeningly.

  "How did I enter the Redoubt, you ask?" Wulfgar responded. "Why, that was the easiest part of all. I cloaked my blood and followed you here, you fool! I have been following you all day, hoping that you would lead me here. And you did not disappoint. I had cherished the thought that you might unknowingly show me where the scroll is hidden, but you did not. So now we are forced to do this the hard way. I know you have the answer, and I will get it from you, one way or the other."

  "Why do you need it so badly?" Faegan demanded. "You already have the other one. You do not need the Scroll of the Vigors to destroy the orb. Isn't that why you have come?"

  "I wish to possess them both for another reason," Wulfgar answered calmly. "What you have failed to grasp is that the Scroll of the Vigors holds the secrets to my brother's unique, azure blood. Yes, wizard, that's right. My dear brother-the only being in the world who might one day challenge my powers. Without the scroll, the secret of how to change his blood back from azure to red will never be known, and I will always reign supreme."

  His eyes shining with the anticipation of imminent success, Wulfgar leaned closer. "Now, tell me, old man," he said menacingly. "Where is the other scroll?"

  Knowing full well that he was condemning himself to death, Faegan shook his head. "We know you possess a left-leaning blood signature, but how can you willingly do such a thing? He's your brother!"

  A look of disdain crossed Wulfgar's face. "I am the Enseterat. My brother is the Jin'Sai, and his sister is the Jin'Saiou. They are of the Twos, and I am of the Heretics. It was preordained eons ago that we should eventually become locked in conflict, and so we shall." Wulfgar's patience was wearing thin.

  "Now then," he whispered. "I ask you for the final time: Where is the other scroll?"

  Clenching his jaw, Faegan shook his head again. He had already begun partitioning his mind in an attempt to keep Wulfgar from gleaning the location of the scroll. It had been hidden well, and only he and the lead wizard knew where. If he could keep Wulfgar out of his mind, he was relatively sure that the scroll would not be found. The fate of the world would soon boil down to a contest of endowed wills.

  And blood.

  "Very well," Wulfgar answered softly. "You leave me no other choice."

  Then Wulfgar did something unexpected. Reaching through the warp he had created, he lifted the hem of Faegan's robe, exposing the crippled wizard's destroyed legs.

  Twin bolts of shock and horror went through Faegan.

  Sitting back in his chair, Wulfgar carefully examined Faegan's mutilated legs. "My, my," he murmured as he looked closer. "The late Coven of sor
ceresses did quite a skillful job on you, didn't they?"

  Faegan's legs were a gruesome sight. The skin was almost completely gone, and much of the muscle mass looked as if it had been shredded away by some terrible beast attacking the legs with teeth and claws. The remaining bright red muscles throbbed visibly, and what looked to be exposed nerves and blood vessels ran up and down their lengths. For over three hundred years they had been this way, and even given his immense knowledge of the craft, Faegan had never been able to heal them. Only his wizardly self-discipline had kept him from going irretrievably mad from the pain.

  The sight of his legs brought memories flooding back-the same three-hundred-year-old nightmares that he had tried so hard to forget. The Coven had tortured him for information and left him to die, only to be found later by the gnomes of Shadowood and nurtured back to health. And now the same, unspeakable torment was to begin anew. But this time there would be no one to help him, and he probably wouldn't survive.

  Hoping against hope, he looked over at Celeste, but she was still unmoving. Gathering up his courage, he looked Wulfgar in the eyes. "Why not simply enter my mind?" he asked.

  "I could," Wulfgar answered. "But when Krassus told me of the nature of your infirmity, I realized that this approach would prove infinitely more entertaining. And with your friends all dead, and my demonslavers in control of the palace, we have all the time in the world to amuse each other. Besides, should this prove unsuccessful, I can always walk through your thoughts later." The wicked smile came again.

  Looking across the table, Wulfgar spied Faegan's violin and bow. Calling the craft, he caused them to rise. The bow stroked the strings, and the melody they produced was sorrowful and forlorn.

  "Some music to help drown out the noise?" Wulfgar asked. "Personally speaking, I don't like screaming. It's so… common."

  Narrowing his eyes, Wulfgar caused the violin to play louder. He leaned forward eagerly in his chair.