CHAPTER LVI
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“BIND HIS HANDS,” ABBEY ORDERED. “WE CAN’T AFFORD TO trust him.”
She looked respectfully at the two Minion warriors who had volunteered to enter the maze with the Valrenkian. Many had stepped forward; choosing two who might well be going to their deaths in the maze had not been a pleasant task. She hadn’t been around their race for long, but she knew one thing for certain: the Minion warriors—both the males and the females—were the bravest, most selfless souls she had ever encountered.
Sister Adrian stood next to her before the entrance to the bluffs. Wall torches lit the hall into the maze, their combined glow streaming out of the square-cut entrance and into the night. The Minion phalanx that had accompanied the two women to Valrenkium stood nearby, watching, alert.
One of the warriors bound Uther’s hand behind him. The Valrenkian seethed quietly.
When Abbey was satisfied that Uther was bound securely, she called for an unlit torch. A warrior came running with one and she handed it to the first of the volunteers.
“The torches in the maze are supposedly enchanted to burn forever,” she said, “and Uther cannot use the craft. But take this along, just in case. Do you have flint and steel?’’
The warrior nodded.
“Then it’s time to go. Faegan and your fellow troops await you on the other side. Don’t forget to make a distinct mark on the wall at every turn.” She gently touched each Minion on the arm. “May the Afterlife be with you both.”
The two volunteers nodded. With a dark smile, the first drew his dreggan and placed the tip against Uther’s back.
“Move,” he ordered gruffly.
But Uther turned to look at Abbey and Adrian. “Goodbye, you bitches of the Vigors,” he snarled. “When we meet in the Afterlife, beware of me. I’ll be waiting.”
Abbey hesitated for a moment. Uther’s words were unsettling—even more, she thought, than he intended them to be—but there could be no turning back now.
“If for any reason he refuses to do as he’s told, kill him,” she told the warriors.
The one holding the dreggan nodded. Then he poked Uther in the back, and the three of them entered the maze.
Abbey and Adrian walked to the entrance and watched the Valrenkian and the warriors grow smaller as they headed down the wide, high tunnel. When they arrived at the first intersection, Uther turned right. Nothing happened. The warrior without the sword used his dagger to mark the wall, and all three disappeared around the corner.
Adrian looked anxiously over at the herbmistress. “Is this really going to work?” she asked.
Abbey shook her head. “I have no idea. But it’s too late to second-guess ourselves now.” She cast her gaze toward the litter nearby. “Time for us to go back to Faegan,” she said. Then she thought for a moment.
“Leave a dozen warriors here,” she ordered Ottikar. “If Uther should somehow come back out the way he went in, I want him intercepted.”
Ottikar clicked his heels. “As you wish,” he answered.
Abbey and Adrian got into the litter. From where they sat they could hear Ottikar relaying Abbey’s orders. Twelve warriors stepped forward to guard the entrance to the maze.
Bearers took up the litter and lifted it into the night sky. As the rest of the phalanx took flight, Ottikar led everyone back to the opposite side of the bluffs.
THE WARRIOR HOLDING THE SWORD TO UTHER’S BACK WAS named Agrippa; the other was Flavius. They had been following the Valrenkian for nearly an hour, and so far everything had been quiet. Uther had not turned around or spoken since they had entered the tunnel, and he had successfully negotiated more than a dozen intersections. Flavius had marked the wall at each turn.
It was deathly silent here, the only sound that of their boot heels echoing against the cold sandstone floor. The enchanted wall torches were spaced about every twenty meters and gave off a deceivingly welcoming glow. As he wondered how many more intersections might await them, Agrippa shook his head. Asking the Valrenkian would do no good, for lying was his way of life.
As the three of them approached another intersection, Uther paused and looked around. There were seven different tunnels to choose from this time. Each branched off in a different direction, their torchlight enticing the travelers to enter.
Uther finally made his choice and began walking down one of the tunnels. The warriors held their breath. Nothing happened.
Agrippa gave Flavius a nod, and they continued on.
“WHAT’S TAKING THEM SO LONG?” ADRIAN ASKED. FROM HER place atop the bluffs she looked down through the latticework at Faegan. “Do you think something has happened?”
Taking a deep breath, the wizard shook his head. “I can’t be sure, but I doubt it,” he answered. “I think that if the craft were to strike them, it would by necessity be strong enough that we would either hear what was happening or see flashes of azure. As for how long it is taking, remember that they are walking a maze. By definition a maze takes much longer to traverse than if one were simply walking in a straight line. We must be patient.”
Faegan rubbed his face with both hands. He was trying his best not to show it, but he was worried. If the Valrenkian failed them in negotiating the maze, how could the accuracy of his map be trusted?
It was nearly midnight, and the cloudless sky was filled with countless tiny stars. Other than when someone spoke, the only sounds were the calls of the various night creatures. Faegan found the stillness and the waiting frustrating.
Shifting in his chair, he sighed and looked up at Duvessa. Smiling as best she could, she placed one hand upon the ancient wizard’s shoulder.
FLAVIUS AND AGRIPPA WALKED SIDE BY SIDE BEHIND UTHER. Agrippa still held his sword, while Flavius clutched his dagger and the unlit torch. Two more hours had passed, during which Uther had successfully navigated at least eighteen more intersections. Since they had entered the maze, he had neither turned around, nor spoken to them. At every turn, Flavius had dutifully marked the walls.
Every new tunnel looked just like the last. Of course they do, Agrippa thought. They were meant to. This worthless bastard could be leading us in circles, for all we know.
Another intersection loomed up ahead; it looked to be the largest one yet. When they reached it, they saw that fifteen separate tunnels led away from it. Where the other intersections had been confusing, this one was totally overwhelming.
Uther turned to face them. He had the same haughty look on his face that he had given Adrian and Abbey. Ever alert, Agrippa widened his stance and raised the tip of his sword.
“This is the last of the intersections,” Uther announced softly. “The exit is only a short walk from here down the correct tunnel.” He smiled at Agrippa. “Choose one.”
The warrior scowled. “What are you talking about?”
“I no longer care to live. As a farewell gesture I grant you the right to choose, because both of you are about to die with me.”
The two warriors looked around warily. Nothing had changed. The place remained deathly silent. The wall torches still burned softly.
Agrippa gave Uther a hard look. “I cannot choose,” he said. “You alone can lead us to safety. The wizard Faegan has ordered it.”
“Ah, but Faegan is not here. The wizard of the Vigors cannot help you now.” One corner of Uther’s mouth came up in a sneer. “Don’t you see? No one can save you except me, and I choose not to.” Then he took a long breath, and he seemed to make up his mind.
“Very well,” he finally said. “If you want me to select a tunnel, I will. It’s all the same, anyway. But you won’t be happy with my choice.” He gave them another strange look.
“Farewell,” he said. Uther turned and ran down one of the tunnels as fast as he could.
The warriors immediately gave chase. When they caught up to him, Flavius dropp
ed the torch, grabbed the Valrenkian by the neck, and threw him to the floor. Without the use of his hands to break his fall, Uther went down hard. It looked like his right forearm was broken. But instead of crying out in pain, he only laughed. Flavius pulled him roughly to his feet.
“Are you crazy?” the warrior growled. “Keep going! Trying to escape us will do you no good!”
When Uther looked back at them, there was victory in his eyes.
“You fools!” he said. “Don’t you see? There is no escape. The process has already begun. And as I told your herbmistress and your acolyte, even I do not know what form it shall take.”
Almost as soon as Uther had finished speaking, the shrieking began. At first it was soft and distant, coming from somewhere down the tunnel. Then it increased in volume. A strange cross between the sound of a woman screaming and the wind rising from the worst possible storm, the noise quickly flooded the passageway. A ferocious wind erupted and tore down the tunnel. Its force nearly knocked them down.
The wind extinguished the wall torches, and darkness descended. Flavius reached for his flint and steel to light the torch he had brought. But even if he could have struck a flame, it would have been unnecessary, for the passageway was soon bathed in a different kind of glow. From the far end of the tunnel, three balls of azure light careered toward them.
As they raced toward Flavius, Agrippa, and Uther, their light grew in intensity. They were each about half as tall as a fully grown man, and jagged bolts of white light careened to and fro within their depths. The closer they got, the louder they shrieked, and the wind intensified to the point that Uther and the warriors could barely stand. Then the rushing lights began to change.
The fireballs had morphed into demonic faces, with dark blue slanted eyes and mouths full of long, pointed teeth. As they sped down the tunnel, the awful mouths opened wider. Screeching and howling, the first of them took Uther up in its jaws.
It bit into him at his waist and picked him up as if he weighed nothing. As the thing’s teeth crunched powerfully down into flesh and bone, Uther screamed. With savage, grunting sounds, the thing shook him back and forth as if he were a rag doll, then began to crash him against solid rock. Uther’s head split open, and the demon dropped his corpse to the floor. Uther’s blood dripped lazily from its mouth.
The beast looked at the two warriors, and let go a deranged laugh. Then it turned to look at the two other faces that waited there. As if giving its permission, it smiled. In a flash, the other demons set upon the Minions.
Flavius and Agrippa frantically swung their swords, but to no avail. The razor-sharp blades of their dreggans passed harmlessly through the monsters. The demons opened their glowing jaws and ravaged Flavius and Agrippa in the same manner they had Uther. Soon the tunnel floor was awash in blood, and three mangled bodies lay still in the puddles.
Their task complete, the demonic faces melted back into azure balls, which streaked back the way they had come. With their passing, the shrieking and the wind stopped, and the wall torches came alive again.
WHEN FAEGAN HEARD THE TERRIBLE SOUND AND SAW THE azure light flashing within the tunnel, he knew that something had gone terribly wrong.
“Everyone to either side of the entrance!” he shouted to the Minions crowded around him. “Hurry—your lives depend on it!”
But for many of them it was already too late. There was a terrible shrieking sound, and then three azure energy balls rushed out of the tunnel. Those troops that couldn’t get out of the way were vaporized instantly.
After careening around the area for a few moments, the balls slowed and then vanished altogether. Faegan looked around. The occasional smoking boot or blackened dreggan was all that remained of many who had followed him here. The stench of burning flesh hung in the air. Closing his eyes for a moment, the ancient wizard hung his head.
Then his wizard’s mind started working again, and he came to a stark realization. How could I have been so blind? he thought.
As he expected, the ground began to shake. It started gently at first, but it quickly grew to such intensity that the village’s buildings started to collapse. The surviving warriors could barely stand. The wind began to howl, sending dirt and debris whirling into the air, blinding them all.
Thunder rumbled over the earth and lightning cascaded across the sky. To the Minions who had never experienced this phenomenon, it seemed that the world was about to end.
As the bluffs shook, the connecting stone latticework that had trapped Faegan and his warriors began to crack. The cracks grew quickly, snaking through the stone web and breaking it apart. Tons of certain death rained down upon the warriors.
Hoping to save as many of the Minions as possible, Faegan raised his hands.
CHAPTER LVII
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“If the Jin’Sai’s blood can truly be healed, and he and the Enseterat do endowed battle over the future of the orb, Faegan and I fear that tremendous, previously unknown forces will be unleashed. To our knowledge, a conflict of such massive proportions has never taken place upon the Earth. In fact, Faegan believes that this may have an effect upon the craft that will not be within our power to repair….”
—FROM THE PRIVATE DIARIESOF WIGG, FIRST WIZARD OF THE CONCLAVE OF THE VIGORS
HER ARMS CLAMPED FIRMLY AROUND K’JARR’S NECK,
Tyranny looked back at the Black Ships pursuing them. Their dark sails full, they flew above the sea like huge birds of prey, ungainly but unbelievably swift. The sun would be up soon, and the privateer desperately wondered how long the Minions could keep up the blistering pace—especially with herself, Scars, and Shailiha in their arms. She knew that if they were ordered to do so, the fiercely loyal warriors would fly until their hearts burst.
But the craft is stronger than any Minion, she reminded herself as the wind tore at her. If they didn’t reach the litter with at least a little time to spare, they wouldn’t have a chance.
She looked over at Scars. He was being carried by Lan, who was having a harder time of it due to the first mate’s great size. The warrior was clearly spent, every motion of his wings seeming to be another desperate effort to simply stay aloft. Scars and Lan would be the first to perish, Tyranny knew.
As for Scars, his expression told her that he was resigned to whatever fate awaited him. Since the day they had first met, he had always said that his life would end in a cold, watery grave. Closing her eyes, Tyranny hoped that this would not be that day.
Beside herself with worry, she turned away. Scars had been by her side since the earliest days of her father’s fishing fleet—long before she had turned privateer, and even before she had vowed to hunt down the demonslavers that had killed both of her parents, and abducted her only brother. Scars had been with her during every decision, every battle, and every storm at sea. She couldn’t imagine being without him.
Even more important, she and her little band had certain proof that Wulfgar still lived. We have to make it home somehow, she thought. We simply have to. It can’t just end here, over these cold, faceless waves.
Just as Tyranny was about to give in and cause the litter to glow, Crevin cried out. Taking one arm away from Shailiha, he pointed out over the sea. At first Tyranny couldn’t see anything. And then, suddenly, there it was.
To the northwest the lifesaving litter bobbed up and down peacefully. To her delight, she saw Micah was standing up in it and waving frantically, trying to get their attention. Tyranny couldn’t see the captured demonslaver that Micah had carried away from the Citadel. But since the warrior had made it back, it was probably safe to assume that the slaver was in the litter with him.
K’jarr immediately adjusted his course. Tyranny looked back to see that the Black Ships were gaining on them. Reaching beneath her jacket, she nervously fingered the parchment hidden there. This was going to be a very close thing. She placed her lips to K’jarr’s ear.
<
br /> “Get everyone into the litter as fast as you can, and keep them there!” she ordered. “Under no circumstances are you to fly back and try to attack those ships! We must escape!”
K’jarr nodded and adjusted his angle of flight to start down. Once he was sure the other two were right behind, he folded his wings back and dove down into a nearly vertical free fall.
As the ocean rushed toward her, Tyranny was sure that she was about to die. The wind tore by her so fast that she could barely see, and she couldn’t begin to understand how K’jarr might recover from his suicidal dive in time. Then she heard his dark wings snap open and felt his strong shoulders move up and down as he buffeted the sea air.
They were the first pair to half land, half crash their way into the litter. K’jarr had brought them down swift and hard. Tyranny was dazed but unhurt. The other two pairs came down in the same fashion. As Tyranny’s head cleared, she saw the still unconscious slaver lying on the floor. The litter was cramped with all of them in it at the same time, but it couldn’t be helped.
Tyranny snatched her spyglass from the floor, raised it to her face, and twisted the last cylinder. As the Black Ships came into focus, her mouth fell open.
With the dawn sun now glinting off them, the Black Ships looked even more ominous. The seven of them approached fast, each of their skeletal captains standing proudly in their bows, eager to begin the fight. They were so close now that as she looked through the glass, she could almost count the gold buttons on the captains’ tattered waistcoats. Lowering the glass, she looked at Shailiha. There was no time to lose.
“Find the sextant and the map!” she ordered. For a few irretrievable moments, Shailiha scrabbled about in the litter. Then she found the items and handed them over.
The princess knew exactly what Tyranny meant to do. Before they had departed, Faegan had instructed them both regarding the spells and given a duplicate parchment to the princess. Tyranny was in charge of this seagoing mission, but if she were killed or incapacitated, Shailiha was to take over command and employ the necessary spells to see them all safely home. The princess was also fully aware of why Tyranny hadn’t employed this last, desperate spell on the way here. It would have given them away. Now, that didn’t matter.
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