Tristan was speechless. Can such a thing be true? he wondered. All of his life he had scarcely been able to imagine himself as Eutracia’s leader, much less somehow presiding over such vast, magical lands as these. He looked at Hoskiko with wonder.
“Can your plan work?” he asked her.
Reaching out, she took his hands into hers. “All we know is that this horrible war produces nothing but endless slaughter,” she answered. “We realize that the risks are huge, but so are the possible rewards. If it is ever to end, someone must take the first step. The likelihood of the Heretics doing so is nearly nonexistent. That being the case, can we do less than try?”
“Why can’t you change my blood signature here and now?” he asked. “Surely that is in your power.”
“Altering the blood signature lean of aJin’Sai or aJin’Saiou is a major event in the fabric of the craft,” Faxon answered. “Even so, your wizards should be able to do it. But the energy released will be so great that if it were done here, Crysenium might be revealed to the Heretics. Crysenium’s existence already balances on a knife’s edge. We simply cannot afford to take that chance.
“There is something else that you must know,” Faxon said. “When Xanthus attacked Faegan, his intent was not to kill your wizard. Instead, he used his azure bolt to grant Faegan a Forestallment. Faegan is probably clever enough to have learned this. But if not, tell him that the Forestallment grants him the index to both scrolls. He will understand its importance.”
Hoskiko looked deep into Tristan’s eyes. “Do you accept your mission, Jin’Sai?” she asked. “Understand that once you return to us, you might be forced to remain here forever. Should thePon Q’tar sense your presence then close the pass, even we cannot send you home again.”
“What about the Prophecies of the Tome?” Tristan asked. “The great book’s third and final volume? On its pages it is written that I am to read the entire treatise before joining the two ‘sides’ of the craft. And that I am to be the only one who will read them. If I come back before doing so, doesn’t that fly in the face of everything my wizards believed to be true?”
“Yes-as far as it goes,” Hoskiko answered. “But so long as you are with us, your concerns over the Tome do not matter.”
“Why don’t they?” Tristan asked.
Hoskiko smiled. “Because there is nothing contained in the Tome that we cannot tell you. After all, some of the Tome’s authors are in this very room.”
Stunned, Tristan sat back in his chair. He looked around the table, then back to Hoskiko. “I accept the mission,” he answered.
“Then when you leave Eutracia to return here, say your good-byes well,” Hoskiko said. “It might be the last time you see your loved ones.”
“I will,” Tristan said.
“Very well,” Hoskiko said. “Please close your eyes.”
Tristan did as he was asked. Hoskiko placed one hand on Tristan’s arm. He soon felt a tingle in his blood. It was not unpleasant, nor did it last long. Smiling, Hoskiko looked at him. “You may open your eyes,” she said.
“What just happened?” he asked.
“The Forestallment allowing you to navigate the pass has been added to your blood signature,” she said. “Because of our higher gifts, doing this caused you no pain. Nor need you be trained in its use. Once you call the pass forth you will be in its depths. From that point on, all will be revealed.”
Hoskiko waved her fingers and caused a folded parchment to appear. It hovered gently between her and the prince. Tristan looked questioningly at Hoskiko. Smiling, she nodded.
Tristan grasped the parchment form the air and unfolded it. Upon it was written a lengthy series of complex numbers and symbols.
“This is a craft formula, isn’t it?” Tristan asked.
“Yes,” Hoskiko answered. “It is the formula allowing Forestallments to be imbued into endowed blood. Faegan already has the scrolls’ indexes. With this additional formula he can accomplish much. But because of your wizards’ lesser gifts, if they choose to grant you other Forestallments you will experience great pain.”
Thinking for a moment, Tristan recalled the first time that had happened. “That was the case when Succiu placed Forestallments into my blood,” he said. “I thought I would surely die from the pain.”
“Yes,” Hoskiko answered simply.
Tristan folded the parchment and placed it beneath his vest. “Thank you,” he said.
Faxon looked across the table at Xanthus. “Come here,” he said. Xanthus immediately came to stand between Faxon and the prince. “Give me the Paragon,” Faxon said.
Reaching up, the Darkling took the stone and chain from around his neck. He handed them to Faxon. Calling the craft, Faxon produced a crystal bowl filled with red water, then laid the stone within it. As he did, another question came to Tristan.
“Answer something for me,” he said to Faxon. “If Xanthus had delivered me to thePon Q’tar, what would have happened to me?”
As he watched the stone prepare for its new host, Faxon shook his head. “Even I am not privy to that information,” he answered. “Only thePon Q’tar clerics know. But I believe that we can assume one thing.”
“What is that?” Tristan asked.
Faxon gave Tristan a wry look. “You’re better off here,” he said.
Lifting the stone from the water, Faxon smiled, then placed its chain around Tristan’s neck. As it lay wet against his worn leather vest, the Paragon twinkled beautifully.
“Before you go, there is one last thing to be done,” Hoskiko said. Reaching out, she grasped the gold medallion hanging around Tristan’s neck. For the briefest moment an azure glow surrounded it, then faded away. Hoskiko smiled.
“What just happened?” Tristan asked.
“I have enchanted the medallions you and Shailiha wear,” she said. “From this day forward, either of you only needs to envision the medallions and the magic will surface. It would have taken your wizards many years to formulate the needed spell, if ever. Try it, Jin’Sai. Close your eyes and imagine the two medallions floating side by side. Then reach down and turn yours over.”
Tristan closed his eyes. Soon he was envisioning the two gold discs. In his mind’s eye they joined into one.
“Look,” Hoskiko said.
Tristan reached down to the medallion on his chest and lifted it to his eyes. He saw Tyranny sitting next to Wigg. It was nighttime, and they seemed to be riding in a carriage. Between cigarillo puffs, Tyranny was talking up a storm. After dropping the medallion to his chest, Tristan smiled at Hoskiko.
“What Shai’s medallion sees, mine also sees,” he said. “Is the same true for hers?”
“Yes,” Hoskiko answered. “From this day forward she has but to do the same to reverse the process. But you mustn’t lose either medallion. The needed spell lives in the medallions-not in their owners’ blood. Because of that, if the spells are employed for long periods at one time or summoned too often, they will die. Worse, should the medallions fall into the wrong hands, anyone of endowed blood might learn to use them. You and theJin’Saiou must guard them well.”
“We will,” Tristan said.
As Hoskiko stood, the other eleven Envoys did the same. “You must go,” she said. “Even now there might not be enough time for you to warn your fleet of Serena’s plans.”
“I understand,” he said. “But I have so many more questions.”
“We know,” Hoskiko replied. “Had the Borderlands not delayed you, we could have told you more. But the hour is late. Your mission on the world’s other side must take precedence. All your questions will be answered when you return to Crysenium. Go, Jin’Sai. Your world needs you. And remember-as was the case when you first came here, your return journey could prove dangerous.”
“I’ll remember,” Tristan said.
Turning to Xanthus, Tristan embraced him. Each saw tears in the other’s eyes. “Good-bye, my friend,” Tristan said. “I will never forget your sacrifice.”
&nb
sp; “Fulfill your destiny, Jin’Sai, ” the Darkling answered. “That will be thanks enough.”
Tristan turned. One by one he looked at each Crysenium Envoy. He gave them all a brief smile.
“Thank you for the look ahead,” he said softly. Closing his eyes, he called forth his new Forestallment.
Suddenly he felt Shadow beneath him. As the azure swirled about him, he smiled.
Amazing, he thought. And so simple! A child could do it!
In the space of one heartbeat, Shadow and Tristan stepped through the azure pass’s other side and into Eutracia.
As the stunned Minions guarding the pass jumped to their feet, theirJin’Sai smiled.
CHAPTER XXXIII
Beware the guiles of highlander lasses, all you well-meaning men who would try to keep your hearts pure and your possessions safe. For such wenches have dark eyes that mystify, ways to make a good man abandon home and hearth, and enchantments galore to make a bad man fall prey to their seductive ways even quicker.
- EUTRACIAN PROVERB
“OVER HERE!” EINAR SHOUTED. “I SEE SOMETHING! GIVE me the torch!”
Reznik eagerly caught up to Serena’s lead consul. He handed Einar the torch. Raising the flame high, Einar looked around.
For the last two days Serena’s mystics had been exploring Failee’s labyrinthine research chambers, deep below the Recluse. Unknown to them, they had traveled much farther than Tristan and Wigg had done when they rescued Jessamay from Failee’s sorceress’s cone. Sometimes radiance stones were in evidence as they went along. In other places they were not, and torchlight was needed.
The underground chambers were far vaster than Einar had anticipated. The farther he went, the more he understood why the Coven had chosen this area over which to build the Recluse. Formed partly by nature and partly by the Coven’s handiwork, the lower regions were fascinating.
When Einar realized that exploring this place would take days rather than hours, he had ordered some consuls to accompany him and Reznik. Walking in single file, seven consuls carrying food, water, and torches followed behind.
When they had started this journey there had been eight of them. One consul had already plunged to his death while trying to traverse a rocky stone ledge. The others never heard him hit bottom as he tumbled end over end into the murky depths. His torch still in one hand, his screams had simply faded away into the darkness. Knowing that there was nothing more to be done, Einar had carried on. Not one of the survivors had seen sunlight for the last two days.
Stopping for a moment, Einar stared into the gloom. Like many chambers, this one was a revelation. The cavern was huge. The mystics were standing atop a natural stone bridge. Arching its way over a deep cavern and stretching from one stone sidewall to another, it was a good thirty meters long but less than two meters wide. Formed of crystalline rose quartz, it twinkled beautifully in the flickering torchlight. The chamber’s curved sidewalls gracefully arched upward to form a domed ceiling. Multicolored stalactites hung from the ceiling like probing fingers, reaching for the cavern floor. The cool air smelled moist and mildewed. Behind the explorers lay the dark tunnel through which they had just come.
Hearing rushing water, Einar looked down. Given the impenetrable darkness, it was impossible to tell how far the cavern walls descended. Curious, he summoned the craft. After pointing to the torch, he separated part of its flame to form a bright fireball. The torch flickered weakly for a moment, then regained its previous strength. Einar caused the fireball to grow in size and brightness until it was about one meter in diameter. Looking down, he cast it into the depths.
On and on the fireball plunged until Einar saw a subterranean river rushing across the cavern floor. Wide and strong, the river flowed along a smooth trough it had long ago carved into the rock floor. He soon realized that it was probably part of the water table feeding the lake surrounding the Recluse. He also guessed how the amazing quartz bridge had been formed. Its curved underside had been carved out by centuries’-worth of rushing water. Interestingly, a crude wooden boat with two oars lay on the stone floor bordering the river.
Suddenly understanding, Einar smiled. How clever you were, First Mistress, he thought. After extinguishing the fireball he again started leading his group across the stone bridge.
Einar knew what he was looking for, but the others did not, for Serena had entrusted only him with the secret. He was searching for one of Failee’s untried spells, written just before she had been killed by theJin’Sai. Serena had been told about the spell by the Heretics during one of their sacred communions. The spell was nearly perfect for their needs, provided it could be found. Serena had also given Einar the description of the chamber in which the spell was hidden, and the incantation needed to reveal its secrets. All of this information had come to Serena by way of the Heretics.
Although the spell represented one of Failee’s crowning achievements, it had never been tested. Because of this, Einar and Serena doubted that the spell would work the first time it was tried. That was rare among new spell formulations, even when its author was as brilliant as the First Mistress. Testing and refining the calculations would take time, Einar knew. The spell’s unproven nature was also why his forces had been ordered to conquer the Ghetto of the Shunned.
Coming to the bridge’s end, Einar saw a door in the facing rock wall. Unlike most in these lower regions, it was constructed of iron. Just above it, an Old Eutracian inscription lay carved into the rock. Deep wall crevices lined either side of the intriguing portal. A circular staircase carved into the rock wall led down into the darkness from the bridge’s end.
After brushing aside the mildew and cobwebs, Einar read the inscription. Smiling, he turned to face the others.
“We’ve found it!” he exclaimed.
Everyone let go a cheer, but Einar knew that his work had just begun. A chamber this important would be protected by the craft. Unless he could avoid Failee’s traps, everyone would be killed.
Einar looked at the door again. It seemed simple enough. An iron slide bolt across its middle lay waiting to be shoved to one side. But Einar remained wary.
Looking back, he saw Reznik and the consuls standing in single file, awaiting his orders. He beckoned Reznik closer. Holding his torch higher, the Valrenkian examined the mysterious entryway.
“What do you make of it?” Einar asked. “Our prize lies on the other side.”
Reznik rubbed his chin. “That’s difficult to say,” he answered. “If I wanted to safeguard something behind that door, I would set my trap here. But that isn’t the question, is it? The real riddle is the trap’s nature, and how it can be overcome.”
“Precisely,” Einar answered. “Look back and tell me what you see.”
Puzzled by Einar’s demand, Reznik did as he was asked. “I see what I expected,” he answered. “There are seven consuls, some holding food, water, and torches.”
“And what else?” Einar asked.
“The stone bridge, of course,” he said.
Einar nodded. “Yes-the stone bridge-the only way to approach the door.”
“Do you believe that the bridge is enchanted?” Reznik asked. “That seems so obvious.”
“Obvious perhaps, but highly effective,” Einar said. “I would wager that this seemingly innocent slide bolt is the key that starts the process working. After that, there’s no telling what might happen.”
Standing back from the door, Einar considered his options. Finally he looked back at Reznik and his consuls.
“I want you to hover in the air!” he ordered. Guessing that this might be beyond the partial adept’s gifts, Einar cast Reznik a questioning glance. The Valrenkian shook his head.
“Climb onto my back,” Einar said. He didn’t have to ask Reznik twice.
One by one the consuls hovered above the bridge. Einar did the same, taking Reznik with him. Pointing to the slide bolt, he called the craft. Grinding loudly against the door, the bolt started moving. Then it unexpectedly stopped
before finishing its length of travel.
Surprised by the bolt’s stubbornness, Einar raised his power. With a loud bang the bolt finally shot the remaining way across the door face, the sound reverberating through the cavern.
At first nothing happened. Then there came a strange scratching sound. As it became louder, Einar and his consuls hovered in space, awaiting their fates.
Screeching madly, hundreds of vicious bats suddenly swarmed from the wall’s crevices. Glowing eyes and furious wings careened in the darkness; yellow teeth snapped and tore at the consuls’ hands and faces. Two consuls accidentally dropped their supplies as they tried to wave the bats away.
“Stay calm!” Einar shouted. “It will be over soon!”
Almost as quickly as they had come, the bats disappeared. Then a rumbling noise started. Just as he had feared, Einar looked down to see the bridge cracking apart.
Traveling the bridge’s length, a dark crevasse split the stone formation in two. Then the fingerlike cracks clawed at each of the chamber’s sidewalls, separating them from the bridge. With a mighty groan the entire structure crumbled away to plummet into the darkness.
Still hovering in place, Reznik and the stunned consuls looked down. After what seemed an eternity they heard the bridge pieces crash against the cavern floor. Wasting no time, Einar pulled on the iron door handle. Its hinges protesting loudly, the door slowly gave way. Beyond the entryway, only darkness loomed.
Einar looked back at his consuls. “Follow me!” he said.
He glided inside. Using his feet to find the floor, he landed gingerly. Reznik left Einar’s back to stand beside him. The consuls entered next, feeling their way along in the darkness. Glad for the respite, they placed their remaining provisions on the floor. As they all stood waiting for Einar’s next order, an eerie silence flooded over everything.
Knowing that Failee would have provided radiance stones for such an important chamber, Einar waved one hand. As his suspicions came true, he smiled. The radiance stones embedded in the room’s ceiling soon cast their sage-colored glow over everything. Looking to his consuls, Einar saw that most were bleeding from having been bitten. They started tending one another’s wounds.
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