Savage Messiah dobas-1

by Robert Newcomb

  Turning back, Jessamay saw that Faegan had situated his chair in the doorway. She hurried to stand behind him. In the distance she could see the man running down the length of the tunnel to freedom. When Faegan didn't immediately react, she raised her arms to stop the fugitive.

  No!" Faegan hollered. "I want him alive!"

  Taking careful aim, the old wizard loosed twin bolts. Jessamay held her breath as she watched them speed down the length of the tunnel.

  The bolts flew over the fugitive's head and stopped directly in his path, where they split into multiple strands-a glowing azure spider's web stretching from the tunnel's ceiling to its floor, and from wall to wall. Before the man could stop, he ran straight into it. Suspended within its grasp like a fly waiting helplessly for the spider, he struggled mightily to free himself-to no avail.

  Jessamay turned to see Tyranny and Shailiha looking down the length of the tunnel, their expressions awestruck.

  Wasting no time, Faegan raised his arms again. More azure energy streamed from his hands. It snaked around the outer edges of the web, separating it from the wall and turning it so that the trapped fugitive faced them. Then more azure came, this time creating a transparent wall that separated them from the captive. Faegan lowered his arms.

  Hearing a noise, all four of them turned to see Scars hanging by his hands from the damaged shop floor above. He let go and dropped safely into the cellar. Faegan motioned for the giant to come nearer. Scars' shirt was charred and partially burned away, and his massive chest was scalded.

  "Hold still," Faegan said. Narrowing his eyes, the wizard invoked a spell of accelerated healing over the burn, and another to take away the pain.

  "Better?" he asked.

  Nodding, Scars sighed with relief. "Much better, thank you," he answered.

  Faegan looked at the others. "Is everyone all right?" he asked. They all nodded.

  Shailiha pointed down the length of the tunnel. "What is the purpose of the wall?" she asked.

  Faegan gave her a wink. "It will help ensure that our traitor cannot try to hurt us again," he answered. "Follow along behind me, everyone. It's high time we got some answers. But be careful-we do not know what else he is capable of."

  Faegan wheeled his chair down the tunnel to a spot just short of the azure wall. Hanging spread-eagled in the web, the man looked down in defiance.

  "Very clever, Wizard," Bratach said. "But neither you nor Wigg will defeat Wulfgar. He is about to unleash a devastating force upon Eutracia, the likes of which you haven't seen since the Sorceresses' War."

  "Why don't you tell me about it?" Faegan asked, his face hard.

  Bratach spat at them in defiance, the spittle running down his side of the azure wall.

  "You were once a loyal member of the Consuls of the Redoubt, weren't you?" Faegan asked. "But the son of the Jin'Sai altered the lean of your blood signature, and he turned you to the worship of the Vagaries. Yes, that's right. We know all about it. Tell me: How many more of your traitorous kind still roam Eutracia?"

  Bratach remained silent.

  "What is your name?" Faegan asked. "You might as well tell us now, for we can always glean it later on from your blood records."

  The man's face was a mask of hatred and defiance.

  "Very well. Suit yourself," Faegan said, deciding to try another line of questioning. "I will have all of my answers after I enter your mind.

  "Where is Satine?" he asked. "She has already killed two of my friends. I have unfinished business with her."

  Smiling, the consul shook his head. "You'll never find her," he gloated. "She's far too good at what she does. She's a killing machine. She'll go on and on until she's satisfied every sanction that she accepted, no matter what becomes of me. Whatever else the future might hold for you, from here on, all of your days are numbered."

  Pausing for a moment, Bratach smiled down at them. "And as you are all about to see," he added cryptically, "so are mine. Surely you must understand that I cannot allow you to enter my mind."

  Faegan took a quick breath. He suddenly understood what was about to happen, but he couldn't predict what form it would take. Without knowing the required counterspell, he was helpless to stop it.

  Bratach narrowed his eyes. Almost at once, the glow of the craft surrounded him. His eyes locked upon Faegan's, he began to shudder. Soon he was convulsing madly as he hung in the azure web.

  He began to bleed from his ears. Suddenly he convulsed even more violently, and blood began to run from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

  Faegan knew what was happening. The yet-to-be-identified consul was committing suicide by enacting a Forestallment that caused him to bleed out, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.

  As she stood by the wizard's side, Jessamay understood it, too. Looking over her shoulder at Shailiha, Tyranny, and Scars, the sorceress shook her head.

  The blood slipped down Bratach's face to the strands of azure webbing and dripped to the tunnel floor. His blood signature formed here and there, revealing dozens of Forestallments. For his use later, Faegan committed the shape of the signature to memory. Soon there was so much blood that the signatures were engulfed by a single, spreading pool.

  Bratach's head slumped to his chest and a final rattle escaped his lungs. He hung there limply in the web, his skin blanched. Knowing he had been bested, Faegan looked down at the pool of blood. As he expected, areas still moved. Finally dying, the trained, endowed blood slowly stilled.

  Faegan knew what was coming next. Lifting his head, he augmented his wizard's hearing. The phenomenon started almost immediately.

  From the streets above, they heard the wind pick up and start to howl. Louder and louder it became, until the noise hurt their ears. Then the thunder boomed, and flashes of lightning illuminated the cellar. With so many powerful Forestallments dying at once, the wizard could only imagine what it must be like up above, on the streets of Tammerland. The citizens would be scared to death.

  He looked back at the pool of blood that only moments before had held one of the greatest secrets of the craft. Perhaps we will one day truly understand what happens when a Forestallment dies, he thought. And why the sky seems to break apart when it does. Perhaps Wigg and Tristan will learn the secret-provided they can find the Scroll Master and the Well of Forestallments.

  But for now all I have is another dead traitor upstairs, and his secrets will go with him to his grave.

  CHAPTER LXIX

  Standing alone in the bow of her flagship, Tyranny took a final draw from her cigarillo. She lazily blew out the smoke and tossed the cigarillo's charred remains into the sea. The waiting was the worst part, she knew. Half of her wanted the impending conflict to start, and the other half hoped that it never would.

  After what the traitorous consul in the archery shop had told them, the Conclave knew that Wulfgar's Black Ships were on the way. But given so much coastline to guard-and with only her twelve ships and the remainder of the Minion fleet with which to do it-the task before her seemed impossible.

  For the last three days the Reprise and the other vessels under her command had dutifully plowed up and down the Sea of Whispers. Their mission was to patrol the waters between the coastal city of Far Point and the huge bay that bordered Farplain. So far, everything had been quiet.

  Faegan had strongly advised her that when Wulfgar arrived, he would probably try to anchor his ships as close to the pass through the Tolenkas as possible. Reaching the azure wall in the mountains would be his first priority. That meant that the most logical staging point for his invasion would be somewhere along the coast that lay just north of Shadowood.

  Only fifty-one Minion warships had survived the prior battles with Wulfgar's demonslaver fleet, and their captains were doing their best to help Tyranny patrol. As for the Reprise, her repairs had been hurried but adequate. Though all sixty-three vessels in the fleet were filled nearly to the sinking point with eager warriors, Tyranny shuddered when she thought of how much
Eutracian coastline remained open to invasion. She hoped that Faegan's assumptions about Wulfgar's battle plan would prove to be correct.

  She cast her gaze back out to sea. It was almost seven o'clock, and the sun had just disappeared below the western horizon. When she was aboard ship, this was always her favorite part of the day.

  Tonight the sea was relatively calm, the winds were steady, and the fleet's pace was more than adequate. Unless a fog formed, the visibility would be excellent. The other vessels followed the Reprise in a line, at intervals of approximately one-half league. Just now they were in the midst of yet another northern leg of their patrol, and the mysterious area of Shadowood would soon come up along their port side.

  At least K'jarr's scouts were keeping the vessels in some form of communication, however tenuous, she thought. Others continually patrolled as far to the east as they dared. This added great range to Tyranny's search, and she was thankful for it. But a squad of four such scouts had already perished when they had overestimated their endurance. She was determined to keep loss of life to a minimum, no matter what it took.

  Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, she turned to see Shailiha, Sister Adrian, and Duvessa walking toward her, the princess carrying an open bottle of red wine. Adrian held four glasses. Duvessa carried a stone jug of akulee. They were all smiling. Tyranny raised an eyebrow.

  Shailiha and Duvessa held their bottles high. "Reinforcements!" the princess announced cheerfully. "At least that's what Tristan likes to call it."

  Duvessa and Adrian laughed.

  Shailiha poured out three glasses of wine, while Duvessa served herself a glassful of akulee. Tyranny accepted a glass from Shailiha, raised it in a silent toast, then drained it in one long, welcome draft.

  "Bless you," she said. She held the glass out for a refill.

  As she took another sip, Tyranny looked at Duvessa's body armor. Since that day in Valrenkium when Reznik's beasts had come snarling up out of the earth, all of the healers who had participated in the fight with Duvessa had been granted the additional distinction of the red feather. Embroidered into the leather, it crossed over the white one at a sharp angle.

  When Traax had seen how well the women fought, he had immediately requested permission from the Jin'Sai to grant them warrior status-without the need for the customary rites of ascension. Glad to see that his vision of adding females to the warrior ranks was taking hold, Tristan heartily approved.

  Upon seeing the honor of the red feather emblazoned upon the healers' armor more female Minions had requested warrior training. Even the stern Traax-who at first had harbored grave doubts about the prince's idea-now touted the concept every chance he could find. Duvessa found that amusing, but she did not chide him about it.

  Ironic, Tyranny thought as she stared at the red feather. The Minion women were such wonderful healers, and yet now such accomplished takers of life, as well. Tyranny had requested that a small group of these new warriors be assigned to each of her sixty-three ships, and she was particularly glad to have their dual skills at her service.

  Shailiha walked to the gunwale and leaned her arms upon the rail. She smiled to herself as she remembered that she no longer needed Faegan's spell to combat her seasickness. She was beginning to understand her brother's love of the sea.

  But when she turned back around to the others, her face was worried.

  "If Wulfgar catches us out here with his Black Ships, do we have any hope of stopping him?" she asked Tyranny bluntly. "Worse yet, can we survive it?"

  Tyranny didn't answer. Striking a match against one of her scuffed knee boots, she lit another cigarillo. After taking a luxurious lungful of smoke, she shook her head.

  "I don't know," she answered. "But if you put a dagger to my throat and force me to choose, I would have to say no. Faegan and Wigg seem to believe that the Enseterat will come with his Black Ships first, because they are so much faster. Then the demonslaver war frigates will follow. If the wizards are correct, in the beginning we will have superior numbers. But at the Citadel, you and I saw firsthand what the Black Ships can do. And don't forget about how huge those vessels are. They were built to carry something. But what could that be-more demonslavers, perhaps? Or will it be something even worse? We barely got away with our teeth that night."

  "Remember that day not so long ago in my cabin?" she added. "After K'jarr had described what the Black Ships were capable of, I was practically ready to have him keelhauled! But in the end he was exactly right."

  She took another sip of wine as she gathered her thoughts.

  "And we still don't know what these seven captains of Wulfgar's are capable of," she added glumly. "Wigg and Faegan claim that they were once powerful wizards. But in their present form, can they still employ the craft? No one knows. But I needn't tell any of you about the kind of destruction seven full-fledged wizards could wreak upon our ships. We might never know what hit us."

  Tyranny gave Sister Adrian a respectful nod. "That is why I petitioned Faegan so forcefully to allow us to have some of the acolytes of the Redoubt along. If the seven captains of the Black Ships still command their powers, perhaps our ladies can pay them something back in return. I would have loved to have Jessamay here with us as well, but Faegan swore he couldn't spare her. Something about how she was the only one who could help him in his seemingly never-ending research, he said. Tell me. Does he ever stop studying the craft?"

  Shailiha smiled. "I don't think so," she answered. "Sometimes it seems like-"

  Two distinct sounds interrupted her. One of them was the peal of the warning bell in the crow's nest. The other was the sound of K'jarr and Scars running toward them.

  K'jarr had just returned from a patrol. His wings drooping toward the deck, it was all he could do to catch his breath. Scars had that predatory look on his face that Tyranny knew so well.

  "A patrol has found them!" Scars announced. "All seven of the Black Ships are approximately six leagues due east and coming fast, flying above the sea." The giant first mate's face turned hard in the growing moonlight. "Wulfgar's invasion has begun."

  Tyranny shot a look at K'jarr. "Did you see any demonslaver frigates?" she asked.

  Still trying to catch his breath, the Minion shook his head.

  She nodded. It seems that the crippled wizard Faegan was right after all, she thought. And unless we change course, the Black Ships will soon have the angle on us-in addition to their greater speed. She turned back to K'jarr.

  "Do you think they saw you?"

  K'jarr shook his head. "I kept the patrol very high. But I'm sure of what I saw. The size of the Black Ships makes them hard to mistake."

  Tyranny looked over at Adrian. "What are the odds that Wulfgar will sense us?" she asked.

  "That is nearly impossible to say," Adrian answered. "The spell Faegan invoked over the Sisters and Shailiha to cloak our blood continues to hold, but this is the Enseterat we're dealing with, and in many ways his powers dwarf even those of Faegan's. There is simply no telling whether he will be able to sense our blood before he actually sees our fleet. I recommend caution."

  Tyranny shook her head. "There will be a time for caution," she said ominously. "But now is not it. Tonight he sails only with his Black Ships. He is as vulnerable as he will ever be. If he isn't stopped before his demonslaver frigates arrive, or before he can breach the azure wall in the Tolenkas, he may never be defeated."

  She looked east. She saw nothing except a calm ocean, but she knew that was about to change. For several moments she calculated the various distances, speeds, and angles in her mind. Finally she turned back to K'jarr.

  "Order a messenger to fly to each of our other ships and inform them of the situation," she said. "I want the fleet divided. The northern half is to turn northeast; the southern half is to turn east for two leagues, then turn north. Each ship is to douse all of her lights and go on battle alert. Go now. And tell all of your messengers to hurry. Our lives depend upon it."

  K'jarr bo
wed slightly. "I live to serve," he said. He was gone in an instant.

  "What are you planning to do?" Shailiha asked the privateer.

  After draining the rest of her wine, Tyranny rolled the glass back and forth between her hands. She looked up at Scars and the other three women.

  "What I must do, if he is ever to be defeated," she said. "First we will surround him. Then we will attack with all sixty-three ships, and every crewman and Minion we can muster. We have to stop him here." Her jaw set, she looked to the east once more.

  "And may the Afterlife save us if we fail."

  CHAPTER LXX

  Crouching on the damp forest floor, Satine looked out over the glowing Minion campfires. The night was dark. She shivered with the cold. She hadn't eaten any warm food for three days. From this distance, she couldn't smell the cooking aromas that would be coming from the warrior camp in the small valley below, but she could imagine them.

  The Gray Fox had patiently followed the prince, Wigg, Celeste, and the Minion phalanx for the last three days. Bratach and Ivan had told her that the Jin'Sai would be leaving the palace, but they hadn't known why. She still didn't know where the prince and his group were leading her, and she didn't care. All she wanted was to complete her sanctions.

  The royal party's pace had been agonizingly slow, with the Minions continually circling overhead so as to not hurry on before them. At first she had been certain that the accompanying warriors would make her job all the more difficult, and she had cursed their presence. As time went on, however, she realized that by watching the warriors in the sky, she could follow from a far greater distance and still not lose track of her quarry. This advantage-coupled with her disguise-added greatly to her hopes for success.

  Still, she hadn't found an opportunity to act. With so many warriors guarding the royal party both in the air and on the ground, nighttime would provide the best opportunity. She would follow them for as long as necessary to find the perfect moment to strike.