A sudden breeze came up, bringing with it the familiar scent of myrrh.
Smiling, he turned to see Celeste approach. She wore a light blue gown with matching slippers. A strand of freshwater pearls lay elegantly around her neck. The glow from the torches created highlights in her long, red hair. But as she came nearer, Tristan's smile dissolved. It was clear that something was wrong.
Finally reaching him, she took him in her arms and held him close. When they parted, he saw that her eyes were shining with tears. She wiped them away with one hand.
Tristan ran one of his palms across her cheek. "What is it? Has something happened?"
Shaking her hair back over one shoulder, Celeste composed herself. "Shailiha told me I might find you here," she said softly. "I need to speak to you. Is there someplace we might go to be alone?"
"Of course."
He led her around one side of the palace, through a manicured gap in a tall witherblossom hedge, and then on into another yard. They sat together on one of the marble benches that lay along the edge of the grass.
This had once been his mother's private gardens. None of the wounded were here. The gardens had long been in disrepair. Still, just being here and away from the depressing courtyard almost made Tristan forget his troubles.
When he looked back into Celeste's eyes, her anxiousness crowded in on him again. "What is it?" he asked.
Taking both of his hands into hers, she looked him in the eyes.
"I am not with child," she said.
Looking down for a moment, Tristan took a deep breath. "I see." Reaching up, he placed one palm upon her cheek. "How long have you known?"
"Three days," she answered. "I wanted to tell you sooner. But you and Father had already gone searching for the orb." She looked away.
"I'm sorry, my love," she said so softly he could barely hear her. "In truth, I didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed-I suppose it is a little of both. But at least for now, it is not to be. And perhaps, worst of all, we still do not know if we can ever be intimate with each other again." She paused.
"I miss you in that way," she whispered then. "More than you could ever know."
Reaching out, he lifted her face back to his. "And I you," he said. "Have you told your father?"
Celeste shook her head. "Only Shailiha," she answered. "I needed someone to talk to while you were away. We have become close, she and I."
The moonlight showed a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "Shailiha tells me that you used to be quite a handful when you were growing up," she said. "But now between your twin sister and me, you don't stand a chance of misbehaving."
Tristan smiled back. "How true."
He took her in his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. As he held her, he could feel her body rise up to meet his and hear her breathing quicken.
Then, summoning his will, he took her by the shoulders and gently moved her away. As he did, her head arched back, exposing her lovely throat to the moonlight. The anger he felt about his azure blood began to boil over again, and with a long sigh, he forced it back down. Eutracia needed both his and Celeste's gifts right now. Protecting his land and the craft had to take precedence over personal needs.
Bending over, he gave Celeste one last kiss-a brief one, almost chaste. Then, his arm around her waist, he walked her from the private gardens and on toward the twinkling lights of the palace.
CHAPTER XIX
"It is time to bring them, Wulfgar, and to board them onto your Black Ships. Then only the coming of the ships' captains shall be required to launch your invasion. Bring the beasts now, and witness the majesty of their power. For they will destroy both the palace and the Redoubt of the Directorate, that vile seat of the Vigors. Load them onto the Black Ships, our son of the lower, lesser world. We will be watching."
Sleeping soundly, Wulfgar at first heard the words as if in a dream. Startled awake by the clear choir-voiced message, the Enseterat blinked open his good eye.
He immediately understood. Yesterday he had employed yet another of the Forestallments granted him by the Scroll of the Vagaries. It allowed him to conjure the great beasts into the world. As their gigantic shapes had taken form, even he had been awed by their splendor.
He rolled over in bed and looked into the face of his sleeping queen. Her dark ringlets were spread out across her pillow, and her face was the very picture of contentment. Beneath the elaborate quilt, he could see the swollen, impending promise of their child.
Serena, Wulfgar found himself thinking. How aptly she was named, and how much he loved her. He would soon be forced to leave her side. But this time he would return in triumph.
Wulfgar slid from the bed, put on a silk robe, and walked to the balcony. The day had broken clear and fresh, and the seabirds sang to one another as they coasted effortlessly over the waves below. Stretching the sleepy muscles in his back, he inhaled the bracing air.
He would indeed load the amazing beasts today, just as his fathers and mothers of above had ordered him to. Then he would perform the only other task remaining, and set out to make both Eutracia and the craft of magic his own.
"My love?"
Turning, he saw Serena had awakened. Propped up on one elbow, she looked at him lovingly as he stood there, the morning sun on his ravaged face. He walked over to her and sat down on the edge of the bed. He ran his good hand through the ringlets of her hair. He smiled again.
"Today is to be very special," he said softly. "The Heretics spoke to me in my sleep and told me that I am to load the beasts aboard the Black Ships. I shall need your help, for your gifts easily surpass those of Einar."
Serena smiled. "I will do all I can for you, my lord," she answered.
She rose. Placing one hand upon her abdomen, she sleepily padded her way toward the elegant washroom. Wulfgar went to the velvet pull cord and gave it a sharp tug, telling the demonslavers that he wanted breakfast. He then walked back out onto the balcony.
This would be an eventful day. holding Serena's hand, wulfgar walked his queen down the wide, marble stairway leading from their throne room. It was nearly midday. The sea winds were light; the ocean was calm. As they approached the terrace at the bottom of the steps, Serena saw Einar standing there. She smiled at the consul, and he bowed respectfully.
Wulfgar gazed out at his fleet of Black Ships. Their dark, majestic shapes lay peacefully at anchor. Each time he saw them he was amazed. He had been even more awed when the Heretics told him what these warships were capable of.
He looked over at Einar. "Have the beasts been gathered?"
"Yes, my lord," the consul answered. "I suggest that we begin promptly. My ability to keep them under control is not limitless. They are immensely powerful, and equally strong-willed."
Wulfgar nodded.
Looking out over the waves, he pointed at the nearest Black Ship. Almost at once they could hear the chattering of the vessel's anchor wheel as it began hoisting the chain from the sea. Dripping, the massive, black anchor soon followed. It finally came to a halt in its holding place, just below the bow gunwale.
Wulfgar lowered his arm, took a deep breath, and then pointed at the ship again.
The gigantic vessel slowly turned until her stern was facing them. Then she moved backward through the waves and gently beached herself. The rocks lining the edge of the sea were crushed like grapes beneath her weight. Finally settling herself, she listed a bit toward her port side.
At Wulfgar's next gesture, the huge trapdoor in the ship's stern lowered itself. Unopened for centuries, it creaked loudly all of the way down. With a final groan, it, too, came to rest upon the shoreline, leaving a dark, gaping portal in the ship's hull. Lowering his hands, Wulfgar turned to his queen.
"Do you remember your instructions, my love?" he asked her.
She nodded. "I am ready."
Wulfgar looked over at Einar. "Have the demonslavers bring them out," he ordered. While the three of them watched, seven creatures appeared from around the f
ar edge of the shoreline.
This was the first Serena had seen of them. She gasped. The monsters were each at least ten meters high. Each had dark, leathery skin that looked much like the wrinkled pages of some old, charred book. They walked on all fours, and each bore a demonslaver atop its back. They strode ponderously toward the shore. Despite their plodding gait, their inherent strength was obvious.
Their curved backs arched upward, and then down again. Their bodies were long, tall, and very deep. The rather short four legs were huge and set wide apart. They ended in massive, cloven hooves that looked as if they could easily crush anything they landed upon. Each time one of them set foot upon the earth, Serena could hear a great stomping noise and feel the ground shake.
They had long, swaying necks with broad, flat heads and deep jaw lines. The glistening eyes were dark. An equally dark slit made up the mouth, and a long, dark horn protruded from each of the creatures' foreheads. As Serena looked more closely at one of the monsters, she realized that its deadliest weapon was not its horn but its tail: thickly muscled, at least as long as the rest of the body, it ended in a gigantic paddle that swayed back and forth with the creature's plodding gait.
Serena looked again to the demonslavers sitting atop the great beasts. They used no saddles, but held reins that led to bridles on their mounts' heads. Long whips were cracked liberally to keep the lumbering giants in order.
"What are they called, my lord?" Serena asked.
"Earthshakers," Wulfgar replied. "Or at least that was what they used to be called. Their kind has not been seen since the Sorceresses' War." The Enseterat smiled. "What a shock it shall be when the wizards of the Redoubt see them once again. Not to mention the Black Ships that have returned them to their shores."
Just then one of the things stopped dead in its tracks and looked directly at them. Serena thought that her heart might stop. The Earthshaker opened its jaws wide and gave a bloodcurdling cry.
The awful sound was something of a cross between the growl of a dog and the scream of a terrified woman. Raising its head angrily, the great beast cried out again. The noise hurt Serena's ears. When it opened its mouth she saw row upon row of long, pointed teeth. These creatures were meat eaters.
The rebellious Earthshaker stopped crying out, but the demonslaver atop it was having a difficult time getting it to move forward and enter the Black Ship.
Wulfgar looked quickly over at Serena and Einar. "Augment me," he ordered. The Enseterat raised his hands. Azure bolts shot from them toward the Earthshaker and its mount.
Serena and Einar raised their arms, but waited to see what Wulfgar had in mind. Azure walls sprung up, one on either side of the rebellious monster. The twin walls created a passageway that led to the stern of the ship. Understanding, Wulfgar's queen and consul added their powers to his own, reinforcing the walls.
With nowhere else to go, the Earthshaker walked through the corridor, stepped upon the lowered doorway, and entered the ship. As it did, Serena and Einar kept the azure walls in place. Wulfgar caused the ship's stern hatch to rise up and close.
Taking another deep breath, he sent the warship sailing back from the beach and out to its original position, where its anchor rattled back down into the Sea of Whispers. The Black Ship turned gently into the wind. She tugged hard at the anchor chain, then finally settled herself.
Wulfgar turned toward his consul. "It shall be your responsibility to ensure that enough meat and water have been stored aboard the Black Ships to sustain the beasts all the way to Eutracia," he said. "They must be strong and eager when we arrive."
Einar bowed slightly. "As you wish, my lord."
Wulfgar's eye narrowed as he looked proudly at the remaining line of Earthshakers he had conjured. He turned back to his queen and his consul. They both smiled at him.
"Today we board the Earthshakers. Then I shall call forth those who shall captain the Black Ships for me," he said. Thinking of the Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou, he turned his gaze back out to sea. "Nothing can stand in our way now."
Wulfgar raised his arms again and caused yet another of the Black Ships' anchors to clamber its way up out of the sea.
CHAPTER XX
"Get your shoes off my table, you old fool!" Shawna the Short hollered, pointing the paring knife at her husband. "Considering they're yours, only the Afterlife knows where they've been!"
Masters Wigg and Faegan had asked that food be brought to their upcoming meeting, and Shawna meant to do the best possible job of it. That didn't mean having Shannon's shoes atop the butcher's table, or the smell of his corncob pipe stinking up the palace kitchens.
She stopped slicing the treemelon long enough to reach out with her free hand and shoved Shannon's feet off the table. The gnome hadn't been expecting that.
He slid off his chair and onto the floor. His chair crashed backward against a rack of freshly polished pots and pans, and most of them went down noisily with him. Shailiha was pretty sure that one of them landed on his head.
Trying to choke back a smile, the princess put a hand over her mouth. One of Shannon's hands fumbled back up to the tabletop, then the rest of him appeared. The ever-present ale jug was still locked firmly in his other hand, and his prized corncob pipe remained clamped between his teeth-even though it was now upside down.
Angrily adjusting his black cap, he glared at his wife of more than three hundred years. Shawna stood her ground giving back as good as she got with an angry look of her own.
Shannon pointed a pudgy finger at her in defiance.
"I swear you'll be the death of me, woman!" he blustered as he righted his chair. "When you shout like that, you sound like a mare giving breached birth to a porcupine! Is making me suffer the only reason the Afterlife put you on this earth?"
"No!" Shawna shouted back. "But it's the one I enjoy the most!"
Seeing the ashes falling from Shannon's pipe, Shawna's righteous indignation went into overdrive. She dropped the knife, picked up a copper frying pan, and started after him.
Shannon could be lazy and he liked his ale far too much, but he was no fool where his wife was concerned. Backing away, he held the ale jug high, as if to ward her off.
"Out!" Shawna shouted. Without warning, she swung the heavy pan like a broadsword.
Shailiha held her breath. She didn't know whether Shawna might actually brain him with the pan. But then Morganna started to cry.
"Now see what you've done!" Shawna shouted. His eyes wide, Shannon continued to back away. "Leave here this instant, or I'll give you a goose egg the size of a Shadowood thorn apple!"
Shawna was particularly protective of Morganna, and no one knew that better than Shannon. Clutching his jug, he backed out of the kitchen just in time to narrowly avoid another swing of the frying pan.
With Shannon gone, Shawna looked over at the baby. Shailiha had already taken her up from her stroller, and the child was beginning to quiet.
Shawna took a pan from the stove and poured some warm milk into a bottle. Fastening a nipple to the bottle, she handed it to the princess. Shailiha gave the bottle to Morganna, who began to drink greedily.
"Men!" Shawna muttered as she went back about her work. "The small ones can be just as much trouble as the large ones-maybe more!"
The princess smiled. She enjoyed being in the kitchens with the gnomes, and so she had brought Morganna here to pass the time, as she and the other members of the Conclave waited for the meeting to be called.
Tristan had told them all that there would be a meeting as soon as the wizards ended their research. It was now well into the afternoon, and still the two irascible mystics had not called for them. Shailiha knew that Tristan had spent much of last night and most of today prowling the palace, trying to release his pent-up frustration.
She really couldn't blame him. She had seen the changes he had gone through, and she had shared many of them with him. She had wept for him, laughed with him, mourned with him, and been terrified for him. In the end they had always h
ad each other, and nothing could change that. Today might prove to be one of the most important days of his life. She would be there with him, no matter what news the wizards might bring.
There was something else that had been tugging at the princess' heart-something other than their predicament concerning the Orb of the Vigors. It was a deeply personal concern. She had yet to talk to anyone about it, not even Celeste.
Despite all of the people now living here in the palace with her and her brother, Shailiha was desperately lonely.
Tristan and Celeste had found each other. After more than three hundred years, Abbey had found her way back into Wigg's heart. Traax and Duvessa seemed drawn to each other. But for Shailiha there was no one.
Her grief at the death of her husband Frederick had been all-consuming at first. She had loved him more than her life. With his passing she had thought that the secret, fiery part of her heart that could feel such love for a man had been smothered forever, and that she would never again want it rekindled.
But as time went by she felt familiar needs stirring within her once more. Was it wrong to feel this way? she asked over and over. Was Frederick looking down upon her from the Afterlife? If he was, would the presence of another man in her life hurt him?
Shailiha looked down into Morganna's face. At least Frederick lived on in their child, she thought. For now, she supposed that would have to do.
"Begging your pardons, ladies," a strong male voice said from one of the several kitchen doorways. "The wizards wish to have the food brought in so that they may start the meeting."
Shawna and Shailiha looked up to see a Minion warrior standing there. "Keep your armor on," Shawna said. "I have a few more items to prepare."
Repressing a laugh, the princess watched the gnome finish her work. Soon several silver trays lay on the butcher's table, each piled high with delicacies: roast pork with plumberry stuffing; selected fruits, vegetables, and cheeses; and one of Shawna's specialty desserts, a five-tiered, swizzle-rum and cinnamon cake, slathered with farmer's cheese frosting. It all smelled wonderful.
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