“I will serve you,” Khristos finally answered. “Tell me more.”
Amid the fires, the chaos, and the sudden death, for the next full hour Khristos listened intently to Gracchus’ every word. Gracchus told him of the worlds on the other side of the Tolenka Mountains and of the great campaign that Rustannica was mounting against Shashida. He also enlightened Khristos about the outcome of the Sorceresses’ War, of Failee’s banishment to Parthalon, of her failed plan to abduct the Jin’Saiou and to turn her into her into her fifth sorceress, and how the Jin’Sai had defeated Nicholas, Wulfgar, and Serena. When the Pon Q’tar cleric finished, Khristos was unwaveringly committed to his new master.
“I understand, my lord,” Khristos answered. “What are your orders?”
“Leave this place,” Gracchus answered. “Take your army of Blood Vipers and head south to the Caves of the Paragon. There you will await the Jin’Sai and his forces. They will surely enter the Caves. That is when you will strike.”
“Very well,” Khristos replied. “We will do as you say. When will you reach out to touch my mind again?”
“When the Jin’Sai draws near,” Gracchus answered. “Until then, travel only by night, for the Jin’Sai’s winged ones are undoubtedly hunting for you. Enter the safety of the Caves unseen and await my word.”
Understanding his new task, Khristos bowed deeper. “It will be as you say,” he replied. With that, he felt Gracchus’ presence leave his mind.
Standing, the newly indentured Viper Lord turned to look at the ravaged city that had once been Tanglewood. Nearly all the buildings lay in ruins as dawn crept over the horizon. Victims sobbed and wailed as they were being impaled. Children still cried; the fires still burned. But he would leave all this work unfinished, for he had been given a far more important and worthy task. If he was successful, he could still avenge Failee’s murder and forever secure his place in history.
For several moments he thought of the magnificent Failee—of her great beauty, of her majesty, of her immense prowess in the craft. Then his mind turned toward the Jin’Sai and his intense hatred began to rebuild. Failee had told him that the Tome predicted the coming of the Jin’Sai and the Jin’Saiou and that they must be dealt with to protect the Vagaries. But in those days even the First Mistress did not know when they might appear. None of that mattered now, he realized. The sun would rise soon, and it was time to be on the move.
Summoning his many Blood Vipers, Khristos issued his new orders.
CHAPTER XV
AS TRISTAN TOOK HIS SEAT AT THE ROUND MAHOGANY table in the Conclave meeting room, he was eager to hear what his mystics had to say, yet he was also fearful that their pronouncements might cause him even greater worry. For the last three days nearly all he could think about was the conundrum of how to cross the Azure Sea and reach Shashida, as well as finding and crushing the mysterious man-serpents that had so ruthlessly tortured and killed every man, woman, and child who had once lived in the coastal village of Birmingham. There had been no word from the Minion search parties that hunted the monsters, and that only heightened his restlessness. Each of these new challenges was of immense importance, and the dark consequences of their simultaneous arrival were not lost on him.
As Shailiha and the mystics waited in silence, the remaining Conclave members took their seats. Sister Adrian would be the only member not in attendance, for she was still piloting the Black Ships home. Once the nine members were situated, Tristan looked around the table. The people gathered here formed an impressive group, and he could think of no better allies to have by his side during the dark and challenging days that lay ahead.
To his immediate left sat Tyranny. Tristan was surprised to see her smoking one of her cigarillos—a Conclave meeting first. The bluish haze already starting to fog the chamber was garnering the privateer more than a few disparaging looks. But the set of her jaw told everyone that she would not appreciate being asked to forgo her habit. Failing to save the Birmingham impalement victims still deeply angered her, and whenever she was agitated, a lit cigarillo could be found clamped between her lips. In truth, Tristan had never minded her habit. But he smiled wryly as he wondered how long it would take Wigg to make a fuss about it.
To Tyranny’s left sat the First Wizard. His craggy face looked worried and drawn, perhaps due in part to lack of sleep, Tristan guessed. There was also a hint of sadness there, as if he had been reminded of some deep personal pain. Secured to its familiar gold chain, the Paragon hung around the wizard’s neck. The herbmistress Abbey sat on Wigg’s other side. A pot of steaming tea, nine cups, and a platter piled with sugared scones sat before her.
Tristan knew how much Abbey loved Wigg and that despite the wizard’s protests, Wigg secretly enjoyed the way she looked after him. The Jin’Sai respected her deeply. As he watched her pour a cup of hot tea for Wigg, he found himself hoping that she had laced it with one her esoteric stimulants. It had already been a long day, and like Wigg, he too could do with a bit of propping up.
Next to Abbey sat Faegan, comfortably situated in his chair on wheels. Like Wigg he looked desperately tired. In his hands he held Nicodemus, his centuries-old dark blue cat, and his precious violin lay on the table before him. Nicodemus purred pleasantly as Faegan absentmindedly scratched the cat’s throat.
The next seat was vacant, for it belonged to Sister Adrian. Then there was Traax. Like Tyranny, Traax seemed agitated. He too had been devastated when they had not been able to intercept the grotesque man-serpents. As Tristan looked at him, the warrior clenched his jaw and shifted in his seat, eager for the meeting to start. Traax respectfully nodded back at Tristan, his dark eyes reflecting a mixture of devout loyalty and his deep need to hunt the monsters that prowled Eutracia.
Shailiha sat on Traax’s left. Clothed in a simple blue dress, she wore a string of freshwater Eutracian pearls, and two more hung from her earlobes. She regarded her brother affectionately. As was often the case during Conclave meetings, Caprice perched quietly atop the princess’s chair, gently folding and unfolding her butterfly wings to keep her balance. Tristan pointed at his medallion, then gave his sister a knowing smile. Shailiha nodded and smiled in return.
Next to Shailiha sat Jessamay. Like the other mystics, the Vigors sorceress seemed tired. But Tristan knew that her fatigue came from her long hours of helping the Minions construct the new Black Ship cradles, rather than from conferring with her fellows in the craft.
On Tristan’s immediate right sat Aeolus. The bald-headed mystic and K’Shari master sat peacefully, waiting for the meeting to start. He did not seem as tired as the other mystics. His years of martial training accounted for that, Tristan guessed.
Seeing Aeolus reminded Tristan of something, and he instinctively looked down at one of his upper arms, then the other. Like Wigg and Aeolus, Tristan bore the dual tattoos of Aeolus’ martial schooling. And like Aeolus, Tristan commanded the gift of K’Shari, allowing him to gain total calm during battle—a priceless advantage to any warrior. Tristan had gained the gift of forestallment, immediately granting his endowed blood expertise in hundreds of martial techniques, many of which he had yet to realize. Although Aeolus had been working with him to bring them to the fore, they believed that Tristan had only scratched the surface of what he might ultimately attain. To the best of Tristan’s knowledge, he and Aeolus were the only two people in the world who claimed the gift.
Tristan again regarded his tattoos. One was that of a serpent, indicating hand-to-hand combat mastery. The other was a sword, attesting to expertise with various weapons. He was proud of those two marks, and he knew that they would be with him until the day he died.
In the center of the table lay the Tome of the Paragon and the two Scrolls of the Ancients. The Scrolls were wound tight and secured at their centers with golden bands. Each relic still showed slight traces of azure subtle matter, reminding the prince of the other reason this meeting had been called. The rest of the room was littered with various scrolls and texts that ha
d probably been taken from the still-disheveled Archives of the Redoubt and used in the mystics’ research.
Curiously, Failee’s centuries-old red leather tooled grimoire sat atop the table as well. It had been some time since Tristan had seen it, and he had to admit that he had nearly forgotten about it. Taken from the depths of the Recluse, the book was said to contain many of Failee’s most secret spells, her private correspondence, and her personal memoirs. Tristan had no idea how much of the book Wigg had read, and out of respect for the wizard’s feelings he had never asked. Even so, the grimoire’s presence here today would surely serve some important purpose.
Feeling a pinch in his back, Tristan realized that he was still wearing his weapons. Unbuckling his baldric and knife quiver, he placed them over the back of his chair. The fire in the hearth across the room burned and snapped pleasantly, its comforting flames and pleasant odor belying the wizards’ possibly dark pronouncements. Tyranny let go yet another lungful of smoke into the air; Jessamay poured herself a cup of Abbey’s strong, dark tea.
Tristan looked first at Wigg, then at Faegan. “What have you learned?” he asked simply.
After scrubbing his face with his hands, Wigg tiredly leaned forward and placed his forearms on the table. He took another sip of Abbey’s tea, then looked Tristan straight in the eyes.
“There is so much to tell that we scarcely know where to start,” he said.
“Better too much than too little,” Tristan answered. “I suggest that you start at the beginning, old friend.”
Wigg nodded and sat back. “The terrible creatures that tortured and killed the people of Birmingham are called Blood Vipers,” he began. “Like the Swamp Shrews that once tormented Parthalon, they serve but one purpose—exacting revenge. The formula for their conjuring was perfected by Failee late in the Sorceresses’ War, when the defeat of the Coven was near. There are probably tens of thousands of Blood Vipers loose in Eutracia by this time. But unlike the leaderless Swamp Shrews, these creatures are commanded by a shrewd and cunning master. He is called the Viper Lord, and he will stop at nothing to wreak vengeance in Failee’s name. He commands the craft in the name of the Vagaries.”
“With all due respect, how can you know this?” Shailiha asked skeptically. “Surely you did not unearth all this information simply by examining the creature and the six corpses that Tyranny brought home.”
“No,” Wigg answered. “While Faegan was performing a necropsy on the blood viper, Aeolus, Abbey, and I searched the Tome and the Scrolls for information that might help us understand more. I soon wondered whether Failee’s grimoire might shed some light on the mystery. I was right. Despite how well I thought I knew Failee, what I found there shocked me. When these secrets were coupled with Faegan’s necropsy report, we had many of our answers. We then concentrated our efforts on researching the subtle matter and how we might cross the Azure Sea. Some of what we are about to tell you will seem incredible, but you must hear us out.”
Intrigued, Tristan leaned forward. “Go on,” he said.
“Failee’s formula to conjure the Blood Vipers was found in her grimoire,” Faegan answered. He paused to give Nicodemus another welcome scratch. “Even now we are just starting to understand how brilliant she was. Like the Swamp Shrews that she conjured to take revenge on innocent Parthalonians, she created the Blood Vipers to take revenge on Eutracians should she lose the Sorceresses’ War. It was a part of her failed scorched-earth policy. But in several ways this plan was even more diabolical.”
“How so?” Shailiha asked.
Faegan gave the princess a short smile. “The first difference should be obvious enough,” he answered. “Unlike the leaderless shrews that appeared soon after her death, here in Eutracia the Blood Vipers came alive only after lying dormant for more than three centuries—long after the war had ended. One day not long ago they arose, and with them came their lord. They quickly started exacting vengeance in Failee’s name, starting with the poor souls in Birmingham. Unless they are stopped, they might well kill every person in Eutracia.”
Tristan rubbed his chin, thinking. “If the vipers and their lord were conjured by forestallment, there are two possibilities,” he said. “Either some act triggered their coming, or they were brought alive after a certain amount of time had passed. Which was it?”
For the first time in several days, Wigg smiled. “Well done,” he said to Tristan. “It was an event-activated forestallment. At first we couldn’t be sure, but then I found something else in the grimoire that helped us deduce the answer.” Another look of sadness overcame the wizard. “That, plus a few personal recollections from the distant past that I’d rather forget,” he added softly.
Wigg reached across the table and took the red grimoire into his hands. As he did a pained expression came over his face, as if he wished that his explanation could be handled some other way. Tristan saw that a slim golden bookmark had been inserted between two of the grimoire’s many gilt-edged pages. Wigg opened the book to the marked place, then ran a bony index finger down the two facing, wrinkled pages. After a time he found what he had been searching for, and he returned his attention to the group.
“Here is the forestallment formula that she devised to conjure and later summon the serpents,” he said. “They were first conceived as embryonic beings, and she protected them with time enchantments so that they would not die as the years passed. These notes state that the embryos would be placed in a deep stream in Hartwick Wood. There they would lie in wait. The Viper Lord was also placed there, but in his already fully realized form. He too was protected by time enchantments.” Closing the book, Wigg looked around the table.
“When some predetermined event finally occurred, the spell automatically took effect,” he added. “The Blood Vipers appeared and their master rose with them. The grimoire also states that the Viper Lord was once a fully realized Vagaries wizard who served Failee in the war. In her notes she reveals no qualms about morphing him against his will into some kind of cross between a human being and a serpent. He might look much like the many creatures he commands. This was supposedly done so that the Viper Lord and his servants would feel like kindred spirits, bonding them to each other. She would then condemn him to the river along with her embryonic vipers. The notes go on to say that the mission of the Blood Vipers and the Viper Lord would be to search out all right-leaning endowed blood and destroy it. The plan’s entire motive was vengeance, pure and simple.”
Shailiha pursed her lips. “Much like the Blood Stalkers,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Tristan asked.
Shailiha looked into her brother’s eyes. “The Viper Lord is much like the Blood Stalkers that the Coven used during the Sorceresses’ War,” she answered. “The stalkers were morphed wizards, turned to Failee’s purposes. They became partly human and partly…something else. They could also detect endowed blood, and like the Viper Lord they were used to hunt down and kill the Coven’s enemies.” She turned to look at Faegan. “I’m right, am I not?” she asked.
Faegan nodded. “But these new threats are even more dangerous,” he added. “We believe that the Blood Vipers already far outnumber the late Blood Stalker ranks. Worse, they are commanded by a wizard—one who probably still commands the craft.”
“Does the grimoire reveal this wizard’s identity?” Tristan asked.
Aeolus turned toward Tristan. “Despite the many myths that have grown up over time about the Sorceresses’ War, Failee had many wizards in her service,” he answered. “The Viper Lord might be any one of them.”
“Why do the Blood Vipers—or perhaps their lord—remove the livers from their victims?” Traax asked. “That makes no sense.”
Tristan watched as Faegan reached into a pocket of his robe to produce a small rectangle of glass. The prince soon realized that there were in fact two pieces, with something red sandwiched between them. Faegan placed it on the table.
“I took this from between the teeth of the Blood Viper th
at Tyranny brought home,” Faegan said.
“What is it?” Tyranny asked, taking another lungful of smoke and blowing it toward the ceiling.
Wigg scowled and waived a hand in her direction. “Must you practice that foul habit here?” he demanded.
Undaunted, Tyranny scowled right back at him. Clearly neither was in a mood to take orders from the other.
“No,” she answered, “but I like it.” Taking another pull on the cigarillo, this time she blatantly exhaled the smoke through her nose.
Wigg shook his head. “I’m too tired to argue about it,” he said. “Pollute yourself with that stuff if you must. But at least allow an old wizard to breathe some clean air while you do it.”
Wigg raised one arm and the gathering fog quickly disappeared. Tristan correctly guessed that each time Tyranny exhaled more smoke the same thing would happen. It seemed that the two intractable Conclave members had found a compromise. Tristan glanced over at Shailiha and winked. The princess smiled back. As Faegan let go a muted cackle, Tyranny sighed and shook her head.
Wigg cleared his throat. “That red bit taken from the Blood Viper’s mouth came from a human liver,” he continued. “It was no doubt part of one that was incised from one of the many Birmingham victims.” He paused for a moment as he looked around the table. “Not only is the Viper Lord impaling his victims, his servants and perhaps even he himself are eating the excised livers.”
For several long moments the room was silent. Shailiha could scarcely believe her ears, and she fought back the urge to become ill. After taking a quick sip of tea, she looked aghast at Tristan to see that her brother was equally stunned. She gazed back at Wigg with wide eyes.
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