Turning around, he looked at Gracchus. The lead cleric was on his feet, waving his fists in the air as he cheered the deaths of the remaining Shashidan skeens. When at last he found Vespasian’s gaze upon him, he bowed and smiled broadly. It was a wry smile, forcing Vespasian to guess at what might lie behind it. Nodding in return, Vespasian again faced the arena, wondering.
As the last of the skeens died, hundreds more centurions rushed through the Gates of Life to start disassembling the fabricated mountain and removing the debris. It would take some time, Vespasian realized, for much of the mountain was littered with blood and the bodies and body parts of skeens, centurions, and wild animals. Vespasian took another sip of wine and sat back in his ivory throne. He would never forget that moment, for in the space of an instant his life suddenly changed.
First the dizziness took him. It did not come all at once, but gradually, like the onset of too much wine. Then the sweating started. As he tried to put down his goblet, he spilled a bit of wine. Soon his hand was trembling, and he knew.
Desperately hoping that he could hide his condition from everyone but Persephone, he immediately leaned over as best he could and touched her hand. When she turned to look at him, she knew.
“Can you walk on your own?” she urgently whispered.
The best response that Vespasian could muster was to nod. Standing, he and Persephone started making for the rear entryway that led to their private hallway. The empress knew that if she and Vespasian could reach their private litter waiting just outside the coliseum walls, she could draw the litter blinds and tend to him.
As they left the viewing box, everyone else stood and bowed. Luckily, most of them quickly returned their attention to the arena floor. After quietly telling a few of the clerics that she and Vespasian would return after the intermission, Persephone wasted no time following her husband out.
Entering the relative safety of the hallway, she turned to look back. No one was following. Breathing a short sigh of relief, she considered taking one of Vespasian’s arms to support him, then thought better of it. If their charade was to go undetected, the emperor must be seen entering his litter under his own power.
As they finally exited the coliseum, Vespasian was on his last legs. Summoning the craft, he used it as best he could to help himself. His head still held high, he entered the ornate blue and gold litter bearing his insignia. Persephone followed, then drew the curtains and called to the litter bearers and the accompanying squad of centurion bodyguards to proceed quickly back to the royal residence.
Vespasian lost consciousness in Persephone’s arms, leaving her to wonder again what was happening to her husband’s mind and why. They were safe for the moment, she realized, but when would Vespasian return to her, and what would he be like when he did? Despite her many questions, one thing was certain.
Vespasian’s day terrors had begun.
CHAPTER XIX
THOSE NEW CRADLES HAD BETTER HOLD UP, ADRIAN THOUGHT.
Standing on the bow deck of the Tammerland, she looked westward to where the strange structures lay beside the royal palace. I hope the other Conclave mystics know what they’re doing, she worried. If the cradles collapse, we’ll suffer troubles that I can’t begin to imagine.
Turning to starboard, she watched the other three Black Ships dutifully soar through the sky alongside hers. Sometimes they drifted so near that she could identify the acolytes who piloted them. Satisfied, she again cast her gaze westward. Soon the new cradles came into view.
The cradle spars rose hauntingly up from the earth like the bare rib cages of some monstrous half-buried beasts. They were stunning things to see. Will they support the great weight of the ships? she wondered. And who among us would have guessed that the Minions could build such wondrous things? The warriors surely had some help from the craft, she guessed. It would have taken more than a smattering of magic to build them so quickly.
As the wind ruffled her hair and robe, Adrian grabbed hold of some nearby rigging to better steady herself. She felt drained, just as she knew her three acolyte pilots also did. Even so, the trip from the Cavalon Delta to Tammerland had been short and uneventful.
When Tyranny had finally sent word by Minion messenger that the cradles were ready, Adrian and the other sisters had been pleased. But when the messenger went on to inform them about the lost Night Witch group, their happiness vanished. The flight home became a somber rather than a happy affair.
Nearly an entire Night Witch patrol has been lost to those horrible creatures, Adrian thought as the wind swirled about her. Twenty-nine brave and talented female warriors—many stripped naked and impaled. I can imagine no more humiliating death for Minion females.
Two of the Night Witches had been mates of warriors serving aboard the Black Ships, and it had been all that Adrian could do to keep the grieving husbands from leaving then and there to seek vengeance. But in the end their Minion sense of duty prevailed and they stayed aboard. Adrian felt sure that Tristan would have ordered warrior parties to bring home the dead, and that thought had helped to calm the raging widowers.
Every fiber in my being tells me that we are in for another terrible fight, she thought as the massive cradles loomed nearer. May the Afterlife see us through it. Little did she know how much the other Conclave mystics had recently learned, or what added wonders she would soon witness.
Just then she saw a Minion litter approaching from the west. As it neared she could make out Tyranny and Tristan sitting in it. She watched Tristan shout out an order as he pointed toward the Tammerland. Soon the litter landed safely on the flagship’s bow deck, not far from where Adrian stood. Tristan and Tyranny departed the litter and came to stand by her side. After exchanging greetings, for the next few moments the three allies simply watched Tammerland draw nearer. Finally Tristan turned to look at Adrian.
“Was your trip uneventful?” he asked.
Before answering, Adrian noticed that the Jin’Sai seemed unusually anxious. And with good reason, she thought. Tyranny also seemed particularly vexed. Adrian watched the Conclave privateer place a cigarillo between her lips and light it. She smiled.
“So you still haven’t given up those things,” she chided Tyranny. “Given that the four cradles are about to be tested, I can understand why.”
Exhaling the smoke through her nose, Tyranny waved the match out and tossed it over the side. As if she didn’t know how to answer, she let go a disparaging snort and tousled her hair. “You don’t know the half of it,” she growled softly.
Tristan gave Adrian a stern look. “Your trip, First Sister?” he demanded.
Adrian pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, Jin’Sai,” she said. “The voyage went well. There is nothing untoward to report save for my sorrow over the loss of the Night Witches. How is Sigrid?”
“She was injured but she will survive,” Tristan answered. As he let go a sigh, his expression softened. “I apologize for being short with you,” he answered. “What you have yet to learn is that seating the ships in their cradles will seem like child’s play compared to what the wizards want to do next. I understand their plan but I still can’t believe it. The Conclave and the entire Minion camp eagerly await us. This will be a far more eventful day than you first realized.”
“What do you mean?” Adrian asked.
As Tristan explained the Conclave’s plan to shrink the ships, Adrian’s breath caught in her lungs and her eyes grew as large as hen’s eggs. Finally she found her voice.
“They actually believe that such a thing can work?” she breathed.
Tristan nodded. “They claim that the theory is sound. But Tyranny and I have our doubts. It seems that she and I remain the two great skeptics.”
Adrian shook her head in disbelief. “You can add my name to that list,” she said. “What are your orders?”
Tristan looked out at the looming cradles. It was nearly midday and the shadows created by the great wooden ribs stretched long across the grassy field. He pointed toward
them.
“As the fleet approaches the cradles, you will slow the ships to a crawl,” he said. “Then you and the other sisters will cause the ships to hover over the empty ground lying east of the four cradles. Wigg and Faegan will take a litter aloft while the others watch and wait on the ground. They will then lower the ships one at a time. Jessamay and Aeolus will stand ready to help with the craft should anything go awry. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Adrian nodded.
“Very well,” Tristan answered. “Then this is where we leave you. Good luck.”
After Tyranny tossed her cigarillo overboard, she managed to give Adrian a wry smile. “If you wreck my ships I’ll have your hide,” she said quietly. Knowing that Tyranny was only half joking, Adrian swallowed hard and nodded back.
After saying goodbye, Tristan and Tyranny walked back to their litter. Soon they were aloft and heading back to the landing site.
Taking a deep breath, Adrian worriedly scrubbed her face with her hands, then called for a messenger. The female Minion was by her side in an instant. She clicked her boot heels together.
“I live to serve,” she said.
After repeating Tristan’s orders word for word, Adrian gave the warrior a stern look.
“Relay my orders to the other three acolyte pilots,” she said. “Leave nothing out. Should the acolytes have questions, bring their inquiries to me straightaway. Be sure to follow my orders to the letter lest you be responsible for the crashing of all four Black Ships.” Adrian turned her gaze westward once more. “I doubt that the Conclave would look kindly on such a disaster,” she added sternly.
For a moment the warrior’s face blanched, but she quickly recovered. “All will be as you say,” she replied.
“Then stop wasting time staring at me,” Adrian said. “Get going.”
The warrior again clicked her boot heels together, took a few quick steps, and launched into the air. After watching her land on the deck of the Ephyra, the First Sister looked west again. She hadn’t meant to be so stern with the messenger, but like Tristan and Tyranny, she was nervous. Soon her earlier thoughts about Wigg and Faegan echoed in her mind, this time with even greater concern.
I hope those sly old wizards know what they’re doing.
“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS GOING TO WORK?” WIGG ASKED Faegan.
To say that the First Wizard was worried would have been the grossest of understatements. Like Abbey and Faegan, he was exhausted by the long hours and the mental stress of the last few days. After boarding the litter, Abbey affectionately touched Wigg on one arm, and Faegan situated his wheeled chair to his liking. As six stout Minion warriors took the litter aloft, Faegan cradled the precious jar of subtle matter in his hands. His usually impish demeanor gone for the moment, he gave Wigg a somber look.
“Will the cradles hold?” Faegan asked. “I don’t know. But they are the least of today’s worries, for they can be fixed if need be. The truly disconcerting part will come when we try to shrink the ships.”
Pursing his lips, Faegan looked at the subtle matter trapped in the simple glass jar. “Such amazing material,” he mused. “I suspect that we have only scratched the surface of its powers. But without more help from the Ones we will never grasp its true potential.”
“I know,” Wigg answered, “and I find that thought even more worrying.”
Suddenly an old wizard’s adage sprung from Wigg’s memories. His father first spoke it to him centuries ago, long before Wigg met Failee and she started the destructive rampage that would become the Sorceresses’ War.
“Worry is much like the payment of a debt before it comes due,” his father said, “neither of which will do one any good.” For the first time today the First Wizard let go a short smile.
As Wigg looked out over the grassy fields he was again awed by the mountain of wooden crates lying nearby. The crates were chock-full of supplies, foodstuffs, potable water, and arms. Each one had been precisely weighed by the Minions and the tally given to the Conclave mystics. The job had been a massive one. Even so, given the thousands of warriors taking part, the task had been finished in less than two days.
Then the mystics had painstakingly calculated the amount of subtle matter needed to do the job. The results were discouraging, for there wasn’t enough of the amazing material to perform all sixteen transformations. Only a bit more than half of what was needed lay imprisoned in the glass jar. If the expedition to Shashida was to go forward, the plan had to be changed.
And so a compromise was agreed to. Tristan suggested that they try to miniaturize only the Tammerland and the Ephyra, leaving the Cavalon and the Illendium in their original states. This would provide Shailiha with two ships to use as she hunted down the Viper Lord and his servants. It also meant that only two ships could try to find their way across the Azure Sea to Shashida, but that couldn’t be helped. Aside from the fact that Tristan would lead the expedition, it had yet to be determined who among the other Conclave members would accompany him.
The wizards’ plan for the ships was simple on its surface, but it would be amazingly complex in its execution. If the cradles successfully held the monstrous vessels, the warriors would then load the Tammerland. The cradles had supposedly been engineered with enough strength to support the great ships even after the vessels had been loaded to their bursting points. But the mystics could not be entirely sure about that, nor could they know whether the cargoes would successfully shrink along with the ships. As the first vessel descended, Aeolus and Jessamay would be standing by to use the craft should it be needed. Once the Tammerland was loaded, the next part of the great experiment could start.
Wigg looked east to see the Black Ship fleet approaching. They were wondrous things to see as their bright red images of the Paragon painted onto their huge black sails shone brightly in the sun. Wigg was proud of the acolyte pilots; they had learned to fly the Black Ships well. That’s a good thing, he realized as he watched the ships fly ever nearer. We might soon need the acolytes’ services as never before.
As the ships reached the landing area, Wigg watched their Minion crews take to the air to furl the hundreds of red and black sails. The ships then hovered in the air alongside the massive cradles, their hulls casting huge, looming shadows across the grass. Faegan shouted out an order to the Minion litter bearers. Soon the litter was also hovering just a few meters away from the Tammerland’s gunwales.
“Ahoy!” Faegan shouted at Adrian. “Is all well?”
The First Sister left her place in the bow to come and stand at the gunwale. “Yes!” she shouted back. “You may start!”
Faegan turned toward Wigg. “It’s time,” he said. After Abbey gave Wigg a supportive squeeze on his arm, the First Wizard went to stand beside Faegan. “I’m ready,” he said simply.
“Slowly release your hold over the ship!” Faegan shouted out to Adrian. “As you do, we will take control!”
“Very well!” Adrian shouted back. Grateful that her part of the process was done, the First Sister gradually retracted her power, and the two wizards took up the task.
For a few moments the Tammerland rocked gently as the transfer of power was completed. Because Wigg and Faegan were both doing the job, the strain on each man was not unduly great.
Faegan looked over at Wigg. “Just as we discussed, First Wizard,” he said. “We’ll take her down nice and easy.”
As the remaining Conclave members and thousands of Minion warriors looked up in awe, the amazing process began to unfold. After Faegan carefully handed the jar to Abbey, the two wizards raised their arms.
Little by little, Wigg and Faegan caused the Tammerland to float sideways to a place directly above her new cradle. Then the wizards rotated her bow due east, perfectly aligning her keel with the cradle’s spine. Soon the great ship began drifting downward. While Wigg verbally dismissed the warriors carrying the litter, he partitioned his power to take personal control over it so that its descent might more perfectly match that of the Black S
hip. Seeing that the process had started, the thousands of warriors aboard the Tammerland crammed up against the gunwales to watch.
Her hull creaking softly, the Tammerland descended past the tops of the cradle ribs. Seeing that an adjustment needed to be made, Wigg and Faegan changed the ship’s lean slightly toward starboard. As she continued to descend, the Tammerland’s keel neared the spine of the cradle. Wigg took a deep breath. Now we shall see, he thought.
With a great creaking of her timbers the Tammerland settled into her new cradle. At once the cradle leaned frighteningly toward starboard. Wigg and Faegan immediately brought the ship a few meters back up, alleviating the stress.
Jessamay, Aeolus, and several thousand warriors ran over toward the cradle’s starboard side. As the mystics helped with the craft, the warriors quickly pounded more buttress timbers into the ground and shoved them up against the cradle’s starboard ribs, returning it to the vertical. When the cradle had been righted, Wigg and Faegan allowed the Tammerland to descend once more. Soon the ship’s keel was again nearing the curved spine.
With a great groan the Tammerland again settled into her cradle. For a few moments the cradle ribs and spine creaked loudly in protest as they bore the massive weight for the first time, and the earth beneath them shuddered. Then all was still.
They did it! Tristan realized as he stared up at the wondrous sight. The huge Black Ship and her cradle were motionless, awe-inspiring. Soon the Tammerland’s massive stern door lowered and Adrian made her way to the ground, followed by the several thousand warriors who also served aboard.
Letting go a deep breath, Faegan looked at Wigg and Abbey and smiled. “It seems that we’ve done it, old friends!” he said. “Let’s go down and take a look!”
Wigg landed the litter near where the Conclave members were waiting. As they touched down, the thousands of warriors who had worked so tirelessly on the great project erupted into raucous cheering, their sudden outburst so deafening that no one could hear himself think. As the ruckus went on, the three mystics triumphantly exited their litter and were quickly engulfed by the throng. Soon the joyful warriors saw the Jin’Sai and the other Conclave members approaching, and they dutifully formed a pathway through their midst.
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