The Scrolls of the Ancients

by Robert Newcomb

  When Krassus had explained that Wulfgar was in fact the bastard half sibling of Tristan and Shailiha, the Chosen Ones themselves, Wulfgar had laughed, calling the wizard insane. But after Krassus had explained to him about the wizards’ orphanage and the fact that he had been given over to a couple named Jason and Selene of the House of Merrick, his derisive attitude had slowly subsided. And when Krassus had shown Wulfgar the blood signatures of all three of Morganna’s offspring, and then gone on to explain how they had been formed by the craft, for a time Wulfgar had become strangely silent.

  “Why Serena?” Wulfgar finally asked, his mood quieter now.

  “What do you mean?” Krassus responded politely.

  “It was painfully obvious that that freak Janus wanted us together, and in a very bad way,” Wulfgar answered. “I had never asked for a woman. Yet there she suddenly was. Presented to me on a silver platter, to supposedly do with however I wished. I now partially regret to say that it worked. I care very much for her, as she does for me. But you know that already, don’t you? So tell me, why was it so important to you that we meet?”

  “I handpicked Serena for you myself, as the dead son of the Chosen One commanded me to do, just before his ill-fated attempt to empower the Gates of Dawn,” Krassus answered perfunctorily. “Serena is not only quite beautiful, but also highly intelligent. The assay rating of her endowed blood makes her an excellent match for you. It is in fact a value of three—very high quality, indeed. And her blood signature leans far to the left, just as your does, making her even more suitable. But as of yet, of course, she is completely ignorant of such nuances.”

  Still confused, Wulfgar scowled at the thought of how easily he and Serena had been manipulated. But his love for her was real. Now he knew why she had been taken away by the demonslavers this morning: so that the wizard called Krassus could come here and speak to him privately. Suddenly more concerned than ever for Serena’s well-being, he glared at the wizard sitting so calmly across from him.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” he demanded. “Why was she presented to me? It couldn’t have simply been for our sexual gratification.”

  “No, no, of course not,” Krassus answered happily, crossing his legs and taking a sip of the excellent red wine on the table before him. “Although an offspring from your union would certainly be useful, that is not my goal. Other, more pressing matters must take precedence. As I have told you, you will eventually become the ruler of not only this island, but a good deal more, as well. And every king needs a queen. The woman behind the throne, as they say. Serena was the obvious choice, and is also the woman you will no doubt bestow this honor upon when the time comes. When all is said and done, you will eventually find that the two of you are compatible in ways you could never have dreamed.”

  Wulfgar thought for a moment. “Assuming that all of this insanity is in fact true, how can you be so sure that I will choose Serena?”

  “Because even though you don’t realize it yet, you are a highly superior specimen of the craft,” Krassus said calmly. “At some point even you will finally understand that only the best will do. Your position, the quality of your blood, and the left-leaning nature of your signature will eventually demand it. And Serena is without question the most highly qualified woman here.”

  “So you plan to do to Serena what you wish to do to me?” Wulfgar asked furiously. Guilt that he had somehow helped Krassus draw Serena into all of this piled on top of his anger, and he stood again and began pacing the balcony.

  “Oh, no,” Krassus answered. “When the time comes, that shall be your task. You will most assuredly want to do it yourself, to make sure her arrival into your new world is perfect in all respects.”

  “But if she is so important to you, why did you make her an outcast from the other slaves, feeding her fine food in their presence while they starve?” Wulfgar asked. “What possible purpose could that serve except to reinforce your cruelty?”

  “Ah, yes,” Krassus answered. “You see, it is time Serena began learning how to handle what will soon be her new station in life. As you will learn, the unendowed are little more than a natural resource for the endowed to exploit. Mere cattle, as it were. And becoming immune to the pleadings of those of lesser blood is an essential part of that realization. What better way to begin teaching her than to force her to watch her friends starve while she thrives? Besides, as I understand it, it was you who insisted that she receive better nourishment. Perhaps you should have been more careful with your words, Wulfgar. You know what they say: Be careful what you ask for, you might just get it.”

  Seething, Wulfgar stopped pacing for a moment to glare at the imperious, self-confident wizard. “And that freak of nature named Janus,” he said angrily, “what rock did you find him under?”

  Krassus gave a soft chuckle. “Interesting, isn’t he?” he commented. “Nicholas suggested that I select a Eutracian of unendowed blood to help oversee the slaving operations. Far easier to kill, you see, than someone of endowed blood should something sour in the relationship. So I went shopping for an assistant in Bargainer’s Square. That section of Tammerland is literally teeming with criminals for hire. Janus seemed an excellent choice.” The wizard took another sip of wine.

  “But I can sense how much you hate him, Wulfgar,” Krassus added conspiratorially. “So once you have attained your potential, if you wish to kill him, then kill him. Frankly, I couldn’t care less. Janus is merely a means to an end. Thugs like him are a kisa a dozen, so to speak.”

  A short smile finally crossed Wulfgar’s lips. “If I can eventually kill Janus, then how do you know that I won’t also kill you, and all of your demonslavers?” he asked. “I would enjoy that very much.”

  Krassus calmly took another sip of wine. “Because by then you won’t want to,” he answered. “As you will eventually see, you will need the slavers. And by that time, killing me would profit you nothing. As I told you, I now have a preordained life span. It came to me compliments of Nicholas, in the form of my rather inconvenient but very effective lung disease. A creative incentive granted to me by my master, designed not only to hurry me in my work but also to grace me with the greatest reward of all: to reside for all of eternity in the embrace of the Heretics of the Guild. So once you can, feel free to kill me. My fate is sealed one way or the other.”

  Wulfgar’s emotions reeled between disbelief and hatred. Could this wizard actually be telling the truth? Or was he simply mad? And if it all really was true, then how could he, a simple blacksmith and livery owner, ever hope to stop it? How could one hope to defeat a madman of the craft?

  “Why did you bother to come here to me and tell me all of this?” he asked angrily. “Considering the barbaric, inhumane manner in which we were all brought here, not to mention your horrific plans for the rest of the slaves, drinking wine and engaging in conversation is a bit overcivilized, isn’t it? If you’re as powerful as you say, then why don’t you just get on with it all?”

  Krassus only smiled. “If that’s how you feel, then tell me, Wulfgar: How would you prefer it be done?” He took another sip of wine.

  “You could struggle, of course, and I could have my demonslavers beat and torture you,” he went on calmly. “But that would be so pedestrian, don’t you think? Besides, I need you healthy. You shall need all of your strength to survive what I am about to do to you. In the end, your struggle would only prove a waste of time and energy for us both—and given my condition, time is the one luxury I do not have. Also, should you be entertaining any heroic notions of trying to kill yourself to thwart me, know that from now on at least two armed demonslavers will be here with you, watching you every moment until my work with you is finished. Then our roles will be reversed, and you shall command me. And I shall gladly obey you for as much time as I may have left. But just now, there is something I must do.”

  Walking back inside, Krassus beckoned Wulfgar to join him. Realizing he had no choice, Wulfgar reluctantly did as he was as
ked.

  Krassus pointed one hand in the direction of the balcony, and the azure glow of the craft started to appear. As it did, the wizard gracefully moved his hand back and forth, and the glow slowly began to cover the entire expanse of the doorway, creating a thin, transparent wall of blue. Krassus lowered his hand.

  “A wizard’s warp,” he said casually. “Designed to prevent you and Serena from doing anything unpleasantly athletic. Such as a lovers’ leap, for example. I have made it transparent, though, so that you might still enjoy the view. Given everything else you are about to endure, it would have been quite heartless of me to have taken that away from you, don’t you agree?”

  Wulfgar looked through the shimmering azure wall and out into the blackness of the night. “I will fight you; you must know that,” he said softly, at the same time wondering how he might ever accomplish such a thing. “So will Serena. Somehow we will reach Tristan and Shailiha, and together we will kill you.”

  Krassus nodded knowingly. “Yes,” he agreed. “You will no doubt struggle against all that is about to happen. At first, your blood will demand it of you. But then the left-leaning nature of your blood signature will take over, turning you toward your true calling. In the end it will not matter how much you struggle, for you cannot win. Nor can Serena. Eventually you will both understand, and thank me for the wondrous world I have lain before you. And then I shall die, leaving the rest of Nicholas’ magnificent mission in your very capable hands.”

  Placing his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe, he turned to leave, but then stopped. “There is still so much you do not know,” he said softly, as if he were speaking to an uneducated child. “Things your unprepared mind and untrained blood are not yet ready to embrace. But they soon will be. In the meantime, I will have Serena sent back to you. Even if you tell her all that we spoke of tonight, in the end it will make no difference. So do with your newfound information what you will, and enjoy your time with her. In a few days we will begin our work together. But first there is research I must complete, and for that I need the R’talis slaves. Then, when I am finished, I will send for you. Be ready.”

  With that, Krassus called for his demonslavers. The bolt scratched its way across the other side of the door and three of the monsters sauntered in, armed to the teeth. Saying nothing more, Krassus walked from the room with one of them. The twin doors closed behind him with finality, leaving Wulfgar alone with the remaining two slavers.

  As Wulfgar turned to look through the bizarre, transparent wall left by the wizard, his thoughts were again drawn to the hideous plans Krassus had for not only the other slaves, but also for the rest of the world.

  For the first time since his capture in Farpoint, a single tear overcame the lower lid of one of his hazel eyes and rolled its way down one cheek.

  CHAPTER

  Thirty-six

  Shailiha shifted her weight in the saddle as the bay gelding cantered across the broad, rolling field of barley. The wind created waves in the sea of ripe grain, and the sun, unusually warm for this time in the Season of New Life, lit the tan stalks with sparks of gold and amber. Smiling, she took a deep breath. The field smelled fertile with the promise of a good harvest, and she could hear the rose-colored valley swallows calling out to one another as they swooped through the clear sky, helping to create the seductive but misleading impression that all in the princess’ nation was well.

  Celeste rode beside her on Pilgrim, Tristan’s dappled gray stallion. Since coming to live with them, Celeste had been learning to ride. Now, several months later, she could very nearly hold her own with the best of them.

  She had asked Shailiha’s permission to use Tristan’s horse today, and the princess had gladly agreed, aware that riding Pilgrim made Celeste feel closer to Tristan.

  The horrific nightmare Celeste had suffered the night before had clearly been a turning point for her. After her initial terror had passed, an overpowering rage had rushed hotly, suddenly through her veins, and she had hurried to talk with Shailiha. Her feelings—anger, fear, shame—had come pouring out, and at last had finally crumbled away. And for the first time in three centuries, her denial of her past finally departed, as well. In its place had arrived a sense of acceptance. With that newfound acceptance had finally come the freedom and the desire to taste all of the good things available to her in her new life. And the thirst her soul most desperately wished to quench was to tell Tristan how much she truly cared.

  And to be with him.

  Unfortunately, the best she could do for now was to ride his horse in the company of his twin sister—and her best friend.

  Smiling at Celeste, Shailiha suggested that they stop for lunch and a rest in a nearby grove of trees. Celeste nodded her agreement and touched her heels to Pilgrim’s flanks, urging him toward the end of the field. Laughing, Shailiha followed.

  After securing their mounts and untying the two saddlebags, the women sat down in the shade of the trees. The deep, green carpet of grass was lush and soft, and it felt good to be off the horses for a time. Opening the saddlebags, Shailiha removed some cold seasoned grouse, fresh fruit, and dark bread. She also produced a bottle of very good white wine and two wooden cups. Eating and drinking in companionable silence, they took in the stillness of the countryside and the warm, soft breeze that came visiting from time to time. High above, Ox and his Minion squadron circled lazily in the sky. In truth Shailiha had at first been disappointed to know that she and Celeste were going to be chaperoned. But now, seeing the silhouettes of the powerful Minion wings against the blue background, she felt comforted.

  At last Celeste spoke. “You think Tristan’s still alive, don’t you?” she asked quietly.

  Taking a deep breath, Shailiha looked out over the field. “I don’t just think it,” she said with conviction. “I know it.”

  “As much as I love hearing you say it, how can you be so sure?”

  Shailiha looked down at the glittering medallion lying around her neck. Then she held it up for Celeste to see. “Call it intuition, if you like,” she answered. “But ever since I first found this around my neck and I came out from under the awful spells the Coven had placed on me, I have felt far more connected to him than ever before. In my heart I have always thought there is more to these medallions we wear than first meets the eye. They are twins, just as we are. And I believe there is meaning in that.” Sighing, she let the bit of shiny gold fall back to her chest.

  “Don’t ask me to explain it, for I can’t,” she said honestly. “Tristan is in danger—of that I am sure. But he is also alive and trying to get back home—I just know it. If only the Minion patrols flying over the Sea of Whispers could bring us back some scrap of information—anything that might help us find him! But we cannot lose hope. I will not lose hope.” She held her face up to the breeze, eyes closed. Then her brow creased as a dark thought crossed her mind.

  “And now Tristan and I learn that we have a brother out there somewhere, most probably suffering horribly at the hands of the wizard Krassus,” she said quietly, half to herself. “We must someday bring him home, as well.” She paused. “There have been so many secrets,” she finally whispered. “And, I fear, still so many more to learn.”

  For a time they both sat there, saying nothing.

  “I hope with all my heart that you are right and that we can find them both,” Celeste finally said. She pulled her knees up beneath her chin. “Tell me something,” she said softly. “What was your husband Frederick like? I’m sorry I was never able to know him.”

  With Tristan still missing, the princess wasn’t sure she possessed the fortitude to speak of her late husband, as well. Frederick had been the love of her life, the father of her only child. When he had been killed at the hands of the Coven, it had been as if the flame in her heart had suddenly been blown out. Sometimes it seemed that the part of her heart the flame had once inhabited had gone cold, never to be rekindled again. She had spoken little of Frederick since his death. But as she tho
ught on it, she realized that she needed to, wanted to. A sad smile came to her lips as she took another sip of wine.

  “Frederick was the commander of the Royal Guard,” she began. “He and Tristan were best friends, and they constantly teased each other—especially over who was the better swordsman. Frederick taught Tristan everything he knows about combat, yet in some ways, the student eventually overcame the teacher. It was Tristan who taught me to use a sword, and later on he introduced me to Frederick. When I first saw the stalwart officer in the splendid uniform, I was so smitten that I couldn’t breathe.”

  Celeste smiled at her.

  “Silly of me, I know,” Shailiha continued with a short, sad laugh. “But that’s how love is. And now Frederick is gone, but at least he lives on in Morganna. I am immensely grateful for that, and always will be.”

  The wind came up again, moving through her long blond hair. She pulled the disobedient tresses behind her. Then she turned her eyes back to Celeste.

  “You love my brother very much, don’t you?” the princess asked gently, already knowing the answer.

  Smiling, Celeste lowered her head a bit. “It is really so obvious?” she asked back, blushing slightly.

  “Oh, yes,” Shailiha answered. “Everyone at the palace sees it. And rest assured, the same sentiment rests in his eyes, as well. But tell me: Now that so much has changed for you, what will you do when you finally see him again?”

  It was Celeste’s turn to look out over the field. “My newfound heart won’t let me wait this time,” she said softly, her mind made up. “I will tell him. And then we shall see.”

  Shailiha smiled as she wondered what the future might hold for Celeste and Tristan, if and when her brother ever came home. Neither of them spoke, for they both knew that there was nothing more that needed saying. Instead they packed up the remainder of the food and mounted their horses.