Wigg grinned back at the privateer. “South by southeast it is,” he answered.
With that, Jessamay stopped augmenting Wigg’s powers. Taking up the rest of the burden so that the sorceress could rest, Wigg altered the ship’s course. The other Black Ships immediately complied.
Just then several warriors appeared. They carried Faegan in their arms. As they lowered him into his chair, Jessamay hurried over to check on him. Traax and the warriors who had been in the flooded hallway appeared, as did Adrian. The surviving warriors who had helped to pull theTammerland into the air landed back on deck.
Faegan was exhausted, soaked with seawater, and shivering. Jessamay pushed some of his long salt-and-pepper hair away from his face. Tyranny and Shailiha also hurried over. The princess lovingly took the wizard’s shaking hands into hers.
“Your plan worked,” she said. “We’re free of them!”
“So I see!” he answered, his teeth chattering. “We were fortunate! For a moment there, I thought that-”
Suddenly a torrential wind tore through the night sky, howling and shrieking, from high above. It slammed down atop the Black Ships with such force that it plunged them seaward, threatening to crash them all into the waves. Doubling his efforts, Wigg met the threat in time and righted theTammerland only meters from the sea. Wheeling around, he was relieved to see that the acolytes aboard the other vessels had been equally successful. Each ship had survived, but was now flying along at the same low altitude as theTammerland.
“What is it?” Shailiha shouted. “What caused that strange wind?”
Running to the port gunwale, Tyranny looked first toward the sea, then into the sky. Nothing seemed amiss.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I have seen severe wind shears out here before, but nothing so powerful as that. It was almost like-”
Then the sudden wind came again, howling and thundering its way down from the heavens. This time Wigg and the acolytes were better prepared. Even so, it was all they could do to keep their ships steady, to say nothing of gaining altitude. But unlike before, this time the wind didn’t abate. It just kept coming, forcing Wigg to use all his powers to keep theTammerland under control. That was when the thunder and lightning started.
As he tried desperately to keep theTammerland steady, a terrible realization overtook the First Wizard. He looked frantically at Faegan. Silently confirming Wigg’s suspicions, Faegan nodded back darkly, then pounded the arms of his chair in frustration.
“How could I have been so blind?” he raged into the night. “We have just caused our own deaths!”
As lightning tore across the sky in unbelievable patterns and the thunder roared, the sea became illuminated like it was daytime. Thirty-foot swells started overtaking the already-treacherous Sea of Whispers, their tips smashing into the ships’ keels.
This was no sudden storm, Wigg knew. This was the craft at work, and there would be no escape from it. Nor was there time to explain it to the others. At least we were aloft and our sails were furled when it hit us, he realized. Had the ships been sailing atop the ocean, the entire fleet would be lost.
Centuries ago, the Necrophagians had been brought under thePon Q’tar ’s control by Forestallment, Wigg realized. Now that they were dead, their Necrophagians’ Forestallments were being released, just as they always were on the death of their hosts’ endowed blood. But the dead Necrophagians hadn’t been just any practitioners-they had once been members of the Ones Who Came Before-with powers to match.
Suddenly the memory of the dying sorceresses of the Coven went through Wigg’s mind. When they had perished, the release of the sorceresses’ combined Forestallments had shaken the mighty Recluse to destruction. But because of the Ones’ once far greater gifts, the First Wizard knew that what the helpless fleet was about to experience would be far worse.
Suddenly another lightning flash came, lighting up the night. He looked up in horror to see a terrible sight.
Her acolyte apparently unable to keep control, theCavalon had somehow come to a place directly above and at cross angles to theTammerland. Then the heavens let loose again, sending down another terrible blast of wind.
While Wigg watched in horror, theCavalon ’s massive hull came plummeting straight down toward theTammerland. As the flagship’s masts snapped in two like so many matchsticks against theCavalon ’s keel, all Wigg could do was to brace for the impact, and pray.
CHAPTER XLI
The Heretics are to be feared; that much shall be true for as long as the great schism between the Vigors and the Vagaries goes unhealed. But it is thePon Q’tar-in all its terrible secrecy and wonderment-that shall remain the even greater threat.
- PAGE 688, CHAPTER II OF THE PROPHECIES OF THE TOME
“DISMISS YOUR HANDMAIDENS,”THE VOICES CALLED OUTto Serena’s mind.“It is again time to commune with you.”
At first Serena was surprised by the voices’ sudden arrival. Then she smiled as she realized that she shouldn’t be. She had hoped that she would soon commune with the Heretics of the Guild. Ensconced as she was on this lonely island, only they could rightfully inform her of recent developments, and her hunger for news grew by the moment.
Turning, she looked at the two handmaidens. “Leave me,” she ordered. With deep bows, the women walked to the double doors and quietly showed themselves out.
As she stood alone in Clarice’s crypt, Serena obediently waited for the Heretics to address her again. It was just after dawn at the Citadel, and golden rays were starting to shine through the crypt’s angled skylights. Like every morning, fresh rose petals littered the floor, their fragrant bouquet filling the air.
Walking to the pink marble altar, she looked down into her dead daughter’s face. She gently placed one palm against the corpse’s cold cheek. Soon, she thought.
“Serena,”the voices came again.“Return your thoughts to us.”
Taking a deep breath, the Citadel queen brought her mind back to the task at hand.“I am here,” she answered.
She realized that there was something different about the voices this time. They remained a chorus of immense beauty, comprised of male and female members. But today they sounded even lovelier and more commanding.
Feeling her endowed blood rise, she found herself drawn to the voices as never before. Overcome by an irresistible sense of reverence, she went to her knees and bowed her head.
“We have news of the enemy fleet,”the voices said to her mind.“The Conclave intends to take the Citadel, and to capture you and the Vagaries scroll. We ordered the Necrophagians to destroy them. But the Vigors wizards and their sorceress are clever. Because of their meddling, the Necrophagians are dead. For centuries they were valiant guardians of the Citadel, devouring many in our cause. But fear not, for with their deaths has come the release of the centuries-old Forestallments we employed to make them our servants. Because of this, the Conclave fleet will probably not last the night.”
Still on her knees and her eyes closed, Serena smiled.“The Conclave’s destruction will be welcome indeed,” she answered.
“Not all of our news is heartening,”the voices added.“For reasons not yet fully understood, the Darkling has failed to deliver the Jin’Saiinto our hands. Xanthus was able to tempt him to the Tolenkas’ other side but apparently unable to imprison him there. This might be because we were forced to temporarily summon the Borderlands. If the Darkling returns to us, we mean to have our answers. But for now the Jin’Saihas somehow managed to return to Eutracia. He has enlisted the aid of others, and he wears the Paragon. But he poses little threat. With the imminent destruction of the Conclave fleet, even he will be unable to affect the outcome of our mission.”
“What of Einar’s and Reznik’s research?”Serena asked eagerly.“Does it progress well?”
“Yes,”the voices answered.“They have found Failee’s unfinished spell and have started their work. Even so, we order you to stay at the Citadel. Should the Conclave somehow survive, only you can prot
ect the island and its ancient treasures. Your journey to the Recluse will come soon enough.”
Although she was disappointed, Serena understood.“Very well,” she answered.“I will do as you say. But my eagerness to be apprised of our progress knows no bounds.”
“We understand, our child,”the voices said.“To that end, we are about to grant you a formula of the craft. As you see the azure numbers and numbers start to swirl in your mind, do not be afraid.”
Serena saw a craft formula appear against the darkness of her closed eyes. The calculation was elegant. As she knew, craft formulas always stemmed from one or more of the Paragon’s many jeweled facets. Although this new spell’s use escaped her, she recognized it as being one from the Temporal facet.
“Recite the spell, Serena,”the voices said.“Do not be afraid; it will not harm you. Bring it forth while thinking of Einar and Reznik and behold its wonders.”
Serena recited the spell while doing her best to envision Einar and Reznik. For several minutes she concentrated that way. Finally she opened her eyes.
At first she didn’t see the pale azure light, and she feared that she had failed. But as the light materialized, it slowly overtook the room. Standing, she turned to look toward one of the crypt’s four corners.
The light was forming into a glowing star. Without warning it flashed brightly, then spread out to become an azure cube. Entranced, she stepped nearer.
It was unlike anything she had seen. The newly formed cube was about one meter square and hovered at shoulder height. The blurred scene it displayed was tinged with azure. Just then sounds started coming from it, and its imprisoned image came into sharper focus. As Serena took a quick breath her eyes widened with surprise.
She was seeing and hearing Einar and Reznik as they went about their grisly work in the depths of the Recluse. Starting to understand, she stepped nearer. The scene was ghostly. She was looking through the cube rather than at it. Traces of the crypt’s marble wall showed through from the opposite side of the cube.
“It’s a miracle,”she thought, relaying her wonderment to her masters.
“There are no miracles of the craft, our child,”the voices answered.“There are only things that you have not yet learned. Behold, and view but one of the Vagaries’ many wonders.”
Einar, Reznik, and Actinius were standing in a stone room. Research materials lay scattered about, as did variously shaped bottles and vials. The magnificent Vagaries scroll hovered in one corner. To one side, a naked man lay atop a stone table. His skin pallor told Serena that he was dead.
Looking further, she saw that a craft formula hovered in the room and its azure numbers and symbols glowed brightly. It was the most elegant and complex series of calculations she had ever seen.
“Is that Failee’s lost spell?”she asked her masters.“The one that you say Einar and Reznik found?”
“Yes,”the voices answered.
After carefully measuring out some of the contents from two bottles into a shallow mortar, Reznik ground them with a pestle. When he was satisfied he poured some of the mixture onto a pair of weighted scales. After removing several pinches of the mixture and casting them aside, the trays balanced to his satisfaction.
“What’s different about your potion this time?” Serena heard Einar ask. His voice was so clear that he might have been standing alongside her.
“The last subject’s liver sample made me suspect that ground savannah twig might aid Failee’s spell,” the herbmaster replied. “It’s rare, and has long been known as a potent stimulant. It also warms the blood, making it good for frostbite.”
Reznik walked to another table. Taking up a piece of cured leather, he grasped a pair of scissors in his other hand then cut a crude circle from it. He quickly threaded a leather thong around the circle’s circumference. He knotted the ends of the thong and pulled on them to create a simple leather bag. Taking up his herbal mixture, he poured it into the bag, drew the thong tight, and knotted the bag closed.
“What is that?” Einar asked.
“It is called an herbmaster’s sachet,” Reznik answered. “They have many uses, most of them medicinal. In some cases they can be used as protective amulets. But no partial adept has ever put one to such an important a purpose as we.”
Reznik walked to the corpse and placed the string around the dead man’s neck so that the sachet lay atop his breastbone. He looked over at Einar.
“You may start,” he said. “I will call a spell allowing everyone to hear the results.”
Looking to the hovering formula, Einar started reciting the incantation. As he did, Reznik started reciting one of his own.
Almost immediately the sachet quivered atop the dead man’s skin. Wispy smoke started snaking its way free from the bag. Reznik was converting the herbal mixture to a vaporous form, Serena realized. The image was so clear and bright that she thought she could almost smell Reznik’s burning concoction as it climbed into the air.
Fascinated by the process, Serena watched as the wispy smoke collected to a place just above the dead man’s heart. The collecting smoke started whirling into a funnel shape. Its bottom point became no larger than a pinhead, and its top stretched about six inches across. Then the maelstrom’s point seemed to somehow penetrate the man’s skin, and the whirling funnel disappeared into his body without leaving a wound. Within seconds it was gone.
Reznik removed the sachet from around the man’s neck and cast it aside, then started reciting another incantation.
Einar finished his reading and turned away from Failee’s unfinished formula to look at Reznik. Moments later, Serena and the others heard the welcome telltale sound. Her heart was overjoyed.
In the silence of the stony room, the dead man’s heart was beating again. His lungs started to rise and fall in jerking, staggered lurches. One quivering finger rose from his right hand, then fell again. As the methodical thumping of the man’s heart filled the room, Reznik looked up from the corpse to smile at Einar. Serena’s lead consul smiled back.
Suddenly the man’s eyes opened wide, and he breathed a desperate gasp. His heartbeat stopped. Sighing, Reznik removed his spectacles and scrubbed his face in frustration.
Einar shook his head. “Another failure,” he said.
Reznik looked up and arranged the glasses on his face. “To you, perhaps,” he said. “But I see it as a success. The subject’s heartbeat lasted longer this time, and he raised one finger. I believe the addition of the savannah twig brought his motor skills alive-something to remember for next time. We haven’t reached our goal, but we’re on the right track.”
Einar looked over at Actinius. “Bring us another one. The day is young.” He then regarded Reznik. “I suggest that you do what you can to strengthen your potion. The queen will be here soon. She has a personal stake in this process, and will expect nothing less than complete success.”
With a nod, Reznik walked to consult a leather-bound volume while Actinius heaved the corpse over his back. Actinius carried the corpse from the chamber. Although her mystics’ success had not lasted, Serena was encouraged.
“Our servants continue to advance their knowledge,”she said to the Heretics.“I am pleased. But time is of the essence.”
“Yes,”the voices answered.“You may now conjure the panel to view Einar and Reznik’s progress whenever you please. They will never know that you are watching.”
“Forgive me, but I have a question,”Serena said.
“You have but to ask, our child,”the voices answered.
“The timbre of your voices has changed,”she said.“As you speak to me this time, I find my blood is drawn to you more than ever before. Are you the same beings who first entered my mind to tell me that my husband had perished, and that it had been the Jin’Saiwho killed my child?”
“The beings who first contacted your mind were indeed Heretics of the Guild,”the voices answered,“but they were not us. They were lesser practitioners. Because the Jin’Saihas returned to Eu
tracia, we have decided to take up in their stead. We are the supreme masters of the Vagaries. We are the ruling body of clerics known as the Pon Q’tar.”
Serena again went to her knees.“What are your orders?” she asked.
“Prepare to use the safeguards the lesser Heretics showed you, should it become necessary to protect the Citadel,”the voices answered.“When the Conclave fleet is resting on the bottom of the Sea of Whispers, we will again reveal ourselves to your mind.”
“On my life,”Serena answered.
With that, she sensed thePon Q’tar ’s mental link drift away to nothingness. She waved a hand and watched the azure cube disappear.
As she strode through the lush petals and back to the altar, she plucked Wulfgar’s dead rose from her gown’s cleavage, then bent down, and lovingly stroked it across Clarice’s cheek.
After a time, she turned and left the crypt. The marble doors closed behind her with finality, sealing inside the many secrets she hoped would soon change the world.
CHAPTER XLII
AS YET ANOTHER LIGHTNING BOLT SHOT DOWN FROMthe rumbling heavens, Wigg suddenly felt theTammerland lurch forward. The vessel’s unexpected rise in speed was unlike anything he had ever experienced aboard a Black Ship.
Looking up, he saw theCavalon ’s dark keel plummeting downward. But because of theTammerland ’s unexplained impetus, theCavalon was quickly nearing the flagships’ stern, rather than coming down amidships. Even so, there was no doubt that the two Black Ships would collide. The only question was how badly.
With only moments to spare, Wigg frantically looked aft. Straining with everything they had, Faegan and Jessamay were calling the craft, speeding theTammerland to help avoid a point-blank collision. Adding his gifts to theirs, Wigg called on all his remaining power. But even the three gifted mystics could not change the inevitable.
With a mighty crash, theCavalon ’s bow crashed down onto theTammerland ’s already-damaged stern. As theCavalon ’s metal-lined keel smashed a glancing blow into the flagship, theTammerland ’s aft deck and gunwales crashed apart, and her stern mast snapped in two to come tumbling down. With a tortured groan, theCavalon ’s keel slid across and off theTammerland ’s stern. Both ships crashed hard onto the roiling sea.
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