While Wigg listened, Tristan told him about his experiences with the Scroll Master. The First Wizard hungrily absorbed every word. As the sun sank toward the western horizon, their litter soared on toward their destiny.
WULFGAR LOWERED HIS HANDS, STYMIED. FOR THE FIRST TIME since receiving his Forestallments, he had encountered a force of the craft that was his equal.
Then he sensed the distant presence of the Jin’Sai’s blood, and he knew.
His Black Ship and the accompanying horde of K’tons sailed south over the fields of Farplain. For the last several moments he had been trying to summon the orb. But the opposing force was strong—as strong as his own. The Heretics had told him that he must put distance between himself and the azure pass before calling the orb, and that much he had accomplished. But the orb would not appear. Then, in the midst of his frustration, he heard the choir of voices again.
He went to his knees and bowed his head.
“The Jin’Sai approaches. He, too, tries to call the orb. His blood is now red, and also carries Forestallments. We did not foresee this development. His blood is strong, but so is yours, and you command far more Forestallments than he does. There is a way to beat him, our son. Hear us as we tell you how…”
As he listened to the Heretics, Wulfgar began to smile. When they had finished speaking, he stood and turned to look at Cathmore.
“Halt the Black Ship,” he ordered, “and order the K’tons to the ground. Allow them to rest. Tell them that when the order is given, they are to rip into the approaching Minions. But under no circumstances are they to attack the Jin’Sai.”
Pausing for a moment, he rubbed the damaged side of his face. He thought of Serena and their unborn daughter waiting for him at the Citadel. Very soon now the Jin’Sai would be dead, and the world theirs to command.
“I will deal with my half brother myself.”
Cathmore gave his lord a short bow. “As you wish,” he said.
The Black Ship slowed to a stop, then hovered in the air. The K’tons landed in the fields, their vast numbers darkening the ground as they milled about anxiously, swords and clubs at the ready.
The Enseterat smiled. With a wave of one hand, the Black Ship, everyone aboard her, and all the waiting K’tons vanished.
Raising his arms he again tried to call the orb, knowing full well that by doing so he would continue to attract the Jin’Sai and his forces.
Come to me, you bastard, he thought. It shall be a clash of the two sides of the craft like no other. Let us finally finish what we have begun.
AS THEY SOARED THROUGH THE SKY, TRISTAN STIFFENED AGAIN and walked quickly to the front of the litter, all of his senses alert. With a shout, he ordered the warriors to stop and hover in place.
The easterly breeze that had fought them all day suddenly calmed, as though someone had just commanded it to do so. There was no sound other than the beating of Minion wings. To the west, the setting sun was just beginning to sink behind the Tolenka Mountains. The sudden quiet was eerie and unexpected.
Tristan narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as if listening. Then, his face grave, he urgently motioned Wigg forward to join him.
“He is here,” Tristan whispered. “Place the strongest possible wizard’s warp around our litter, and do it now! But don’t let an azure glow appear—I want the warp transparent. And don’t raise your arms as you conjure it.”
His face locked in concentration, Wigg was silent for a moment. Then he looked back at the prince.
“It is done,” he said.
Tristan stared intently out into the air. “Turn slightly to your right, and tell me what you see.”
The wizard did as he was told, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary.
“There is nothing here,” Wigg protested.
“Yes, there is,” Tristan countered. “There is a massive distortion in the sky. Its edges waver, like that of a reflection in a rippling pond. It hovers directly before us, about fifteen meters away. Listen to me well: No matter what happens from here on, you must not interfere. The very future of the craft hinges on what I alone must do.”
Wigg looked out into the air. “But I see nothing,” he protested. “Are you quite sure that—”
Azure bolts suddenly streaked toward them, born of nothingness. Twin beams of light exploded against Wigg’s warp, threatening to send both the wizard and the Jin’Sai tumbling to the ground. Several warriors supporting the litter died immediately, torn apart by the blast, their bodies tumbling to the ground.
But Wigg’s warp held, and other warriors quickly took the places of those who had died and righted the litter.
Suddenly the Black Ship materialized before them. Dark forms appeared in the sky and pounced upon the unprepared Minion warriors. In the first few moments, the K’tons’ surprise attack cost at least one-third of the Minions their lives. As the airborne battle began in earnest, Tristan and Wigg saw how badly outnumbered they were.
Tristan looked back to see Wulfgar standing in the bow of his Black Ship. For the first time, the prince took in what had become of Wulfgar’s face and left arm. The scarring, he realized, was the result of that night on the palace roof, when they had thought they had defeated him.
The two half brothers glared at each other. Finally Wulfgar spoke.
“So you and your wizard live.” He smiled, the pink skin of his destroyed face contorting grotesquely. “Frankly, I’m surprised that Satine hasn’t killed you by now. She’s very good at what she does.”
“She won’t be carrying out any more of your orders,” Tristan answered. “I killed her myself.”
Wulfgar smiled again. “Such a pity,” he said. “Tell me, Brother, how many of you did she manage to dispose of?”
As he thought of Lionel and Geldon, Tristan’s blood rose hotly in his veins. But he would not rise to Wulfgar’s provocation.
He turned again to the fighting. The battle had spread out in the sky, but his warriors were losing badly. Soon the fighting would be over, and every Minion in his phalanx would be lying dead on the ground below.
He looked back at Wulfgar. If he was going to take action, it had to be now.
“I know why you have come,” Tristan said. “You wish to oversee the final destruction of the Orb of the Vigors. You must know that I cannot allow that to happen—and that I will go to my death, if need be, to stop you.”
He held his hands out to his half brother.
“Surrender to me!” he said. “Call off your creatures and allow my wizard to enter your mind. I promise he will not harm you. Come with me back to Tammerland, my brother, I beg of you. Allow us one final chance to bring you to the light. Refuse, and I will have no choice but to destroy you.”
Wulfgar laughed. “Look around, Jin’Sai,” he shouted back. “Can’t you see that you’re losing this fight? No, it is you who must surrender to me!”
Tristan took a deep breath. “I will grant you a final chance,” he said. “Either come with me now, or perish. You have been turned to the Vagaries, but that is not your fault. Let us help you. I have no wish to see my brother die this day.”
Tristan stretched his hands out farther in a gesture of goodwill. His expression was almost compassionate.
Wulfgar stared at Tristan for several long moments. As the Jin’Sai and the Enseterat regarded each other, Wigg realized that he was witnessing a pivotal moment in the long history of the craft. Frozen, he held his breath.
“I cannot do that, Brother,” Wulfgar finally said. His voice had become quieter, almost friendly. “My blood will not allow it. Only you and I truly understand that, eh? What will be, will be. It is ordained.”
Tristan nodded sadly. “For the first time in my life, I know that,” he said. “Then proceed as you must, Wulfgar. Just as I shall.”
The Enseterat wasted no time. As the battle raged all about them, he raised his arms. A
ghast, Wigg watched as Tristan did nothing to try to stop him.
The Orb of the Vigors materialized to the west. The huge, golden sphere seemed to take up the entire sky. It still shrieked in pain. Offshoots of the palest white radiated from its center, broke off, and fell toward the ground. Some of them landed on the fighting Minions and K’tons, killing them instantly.
The jagged tear in the orb’s lower half continued to drip a golden, living energy. As that energy reached the ground, it created an ever-deepening crater in the earth and set grass fires that quickly spread. Choking smoke rose, and both Wulfgar’s Black Ship and Tristan’s litter shook violently as the first of the orb’s shock waves struck them.
His heart pounding wildly, Wigg watched Wulfgar prepare to hasten the destruction of the orb. He had to remind himself that Tristan had told him not to interfere.
Twin bolts shot from Wulfgar’s outstretched hands and headed straight for the gash in the orb. Tristan raised his hands with blinding speed and responded in kind.
The energy that streamed from Tristan’s hands was the brightest Wigg had ever seen. More white than azure, it screamed toward Wulfgar’s onrushing bolts. Wigg raised one arm before his face, fearing he might be struck blind by its awesome power. But he watched just the same, his need to know overshadowing his sense of personal safety.
With a massive explosion, Tristan’s blinding energy slammed into Wulfgar’s bolts, stopping them in midair. The two opposite manifestations of the craft flattened out against one another, each battling for supremacy.
Tristan’s brow was covered with beads of sweat. Suddenly there was another explosion, and Wulfgar’s bolts disappeared.
Stunned, Wulfgar looked at his one good hand and what was left of the other. Now both hands were hideously burned, as was the rest of his face. Screaming in agony, the Enseterat suddenly realized that he would not vanquish the Jin’Sai this day.
Amid all of the noise, death, and confusion, Wigg saw Wulfgar wave his damaged arms, wildly giving the order to retreat. The K’tons broke off the fight and returned to surround the Black Ship as she turned her great bulk in the air and sailed away. Wigg quickly went to Tristan’s side.
“You mustn’t let him escape!” Wigg shouted.
As the Black Ship shrank in the distance, Tristan turned to look at Wigg. Despite the recent strain, his face was calm.
“I know,” he said. “Even though he is my brother, he must not be allowed to walk the earth.”
He cast his gaze back to the Black Ship. Its dark form and the thousands of K’tons flying alongside would soon be lost from view. The Jin’Sai raised his hands.
At once, the Orb of the Vigors started to move again. As it rained down destruction, Tristan sent it in pursuit of the Black Ship.
Wigg’s jaw dropped in awe. In more than three centuries, he had never seen anyone manipulate either of the orbs like this.
Tristan raised his hands higher. The orb obeyed his will and gained altitude. It was over the Black Ship in a matter of seconds.
The orb’s golden energy poured down upon the Black Ship and the accompanying K’tons. When it struck the ship, the masts, sails, and decks began to melt away. Wulfgar, Cathmore, and the demonslaver crew were instantly vaporized. The hull of the great ship broke in two, each half a raging fireball plummeting toward the earth.
Unable to understand what was happening, most of the K’tons hesitated, and it cost them their lives. They screamed as they burst into flames and followed the Black Ship’s broken hull as she went down. A smattering of K’tons escaped. Dazed and confused, they hovered tentatively in the air.
The burning hull hit the ground with a massive explosion; the earth trembled. Great shock waves shook the Jin’Sai’s litter even at this distance. Then the Black Ship’s ruins burst into nothingness.
Ox appeared in the air by the litter. Tristan pointed at the surviving K’tons.
“Kill them,” he ordered.
Bloodied but joyful, Ox and the surviving warriors beamed at Tristan with delight, then flew off to tear into the K’tons.
Tristan turned to look at the orb. A pitiful thing to watch, it still wailed with pain.
“Come to me,” Tristan said.
At Tristan’s verbal command alone, the orb obeyed. As it neared, Wigg could feel its blazing heat, and their litter rocked violently again.
Tristan held out his arms. “How you have suffered because of us,” he said quietly. “But now your suffering shall end.” He pointed at the base of the orb.
A delicate, ethereal glow flowed from Tristan’s hands to touch the gash in the orb. The orb’s wound began to close. Wigg stood spellbound as Tristan healed the orb. When the great rent was finally closed, Tristan lowered his hands.
Almost at once the orb glowed more brightly, and its wailing stopped. Then Wigg saw something he would remember for as long as he lived.
The orb came a bit closer. Its majesty regained, it dipped and revolved one time, almost as if paying homage to the prince. Tristan lowered his head.
“You are free to go,” he said.
The orb vanished, leaving nothing in its wake except the terrible destruction it had caused.
Wigg took a careful look around. Save for the sounds of the distant battle between the Minions and the K’tons, silence reigned once more. The ground below them was strewn with the dead, the green grass soaked red with blood.
He walked over to Tristan. They were both sweating and covered with soot. Wigg put one hand on Tristan’s shoulder.
“It is finished,” he said.
Tristan looked at the wizard, his expression grave.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “The rest of Wulfgar’s forces are attacking Tammerland. There is still a war to fight.”
Ox returned to the litter. Bloody and exhausted, he made his report.
“Battle finished, my lord,” he said. “Rest of flying monsters dead.”
With so many of the K’tons killed by the orb, Tristan had known that the results of the battle would be a foregone conclusion. But he hadn’t expected it to come so quickly.
“So soon?” he asked Ox.
Ox beamed and pointed to the sky above them. “We get help,” he said.
Tristan and Wigg looked up to see Traax’s vast phalanxes hovering high above. He could just make out Traax victoriously waving his dreggan. They were indeed a welcome sight. Smiling, Tristan looked back at Ox.
“Tell Traax to have his forces follow us,” he said. “We make for Tammerland with all possible speed. Our struggle isn’t over.”
Ox nodded. “I live to serve,” he answered.
While the faithful warrior climbed into the sky, Tristan took a final look down at the carnage on the ground.
So many dead, he thought. And still so many yet to die.
As the sun set behind the Tolenkas, the litter and the Minion army headed south.
CHAPTER LXXXVII
_____
WHIRLING AROUND ON THE BLOODY DECK, TYRANNY HELD her sword high as another demonslaver came at her, thrusting his trident toward her abdomen.
She spun and parried at the last second, but the blade of her sword became entangled in the tines of the monster’s weapon. With a victorious sneer the slaver twisted his trident. Tyranny’s sword was torn from her grip, and rattled to the bloody deck of the Reprise. Losing her footing in all the fresh blood, she fell hard to the deck. Suddenly defenseless, she watched the points of the trident descend upon her.
Then she saw two familiar hands wrap around the slaver’s neck from behind. She scrambled to her feet as the fingers squeezed the slaver’s throat. The monster desperately tried to reach behind him, but it was no good. His eyes soon bulged and his tongue protruded from between his black teeth.
With a loud cracking of bones, Scars broke the thing’s neck. The slaver died instantly. Scars picked
him up over his head and tossed the corpse overboard.
Tyranny retrieved her bloody sword. She gave Scars a nod of thanks and watched him hurry off in search of another slaver to kill.
The battle had been raging for nearly two hours. The sun was setting and darkness would soon fall. All around her, weapons clashed; Minions, crew members, and demonslavers screamed; and massive explosions rocked the heavens. Azure bolts streamed across the waves. Catapults launched fireballs from the demonslaver ships.
Tyranny’s orders to her ships had been simple: sail close enough to the slaver vessels so the acolytes could hit them with their bolts, but not so close that they could be boarded. The result was a deadly, seaborne game of cat and mouse, with Tyranny’s twelve ships deftly weaving between the more numerous slaver vessels. Even so, some slaver frigates had managed to come close enough to throw grappling hooks and board their warriors. Four of her vessels—the Reprise included—now swarmed with slavers.
Tyranny’s Minions had boarded the enemy vessels and fought for their lives. The sea was littered with bodies and the debris of battle. The smoke rising from the strikes of the azure bolts and the demonslavers’ fireballs was so thick that Tyranny could barely see.
She had told the acolytes to aim first for the enemy masts to render their vessels dead in the water. Only then were they to try to blow holes in their hulls. Five of the slaver vessels that she knew of had been sent to the bottom; without their masts, many of the others wallowed aimlessly at the mercy of the sea, the slavers aboard them helpless to join the fight.
Three of Tyranny’s ships had already gone down. Some of her other vessels desperately tried to save what was left of their surviving crewmen before they drowned, but amid all the smoke and confusion it was a nearly impossible task.
Then she saw another orange fireball launch from a nearby slaver ship. Trailing dark smoke, it was following a high, deadly trajectory straight for the Reprise. Helpless, Tyranny held her breath as she watched it come.
The fireball fell short, but it trailed showers of sparks that landed on the mizzen sail. In mere moments the sail was ablaze. Aghast, Tyranny searched the deck for crewmen not engaged in the fighting. She finally found two and sent them aloft with buckets of water. If the Reprise caught fire, she was done for.
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