A March into Darkness dobas-2

by Robert Newcomb

  Abbey gave Aeolus a wink. “Even better,” she answered. “After all, I’ve had three more centuries during which to practice.”

  Ox gave Tristan a hopeful look. “I go withJin’Sai to see highlanders,” he said. “Ox never see highlanders before! Everyone say they be thieves!” His face took on a glowering seriousness. “I no let them steal anything!”

  Tristan smiled. Knowing how he had disappointed the warrior yesterday, he decided to agree this time. “All right,” he answered. “You can come.”

  After walking to collect his vest and his weapons, Tristan accompanied everyone back to the palace.

  CHAPTER XLVII

  AS TRAAX WATCHED THE AWFUL THINGS SOAR TOWARDhis patrol party, his hands clenched tighter around his dreggan handle. Without needing to be told, his seven remaining fighters immediately formed a battle line on his right.

  His face grim, Traax watched the oncoming swarm climb to a place well above the Minion position. Darkening the sky with their numbers, they caused a massive shadow to crawl across the ocean surface. The swarm would be directly overhead in moments.

  There must be thousands of them, Traax realized. He could run, but his warriors were already fatigued and the enemies’ speed was great. He decided that it would be better to die here, trying to buy time for Axel and Valgard. There would be little hope of that, but he had no choice other than to try. Axel and Valgard simply had to warn the fleet before the monsters and the giant wave that birthed them could reach the Black Ships. Given the wave’s incredible speed, it was the only chance the fleet had. As Serena’s monsters neared, the warriors could finally see them for what they were.

  Each was about the size of a man, but that was where any similarity to mankind ended. They were dark gray reptilian things. Their bodies were broad and muscular, ending in long, forked tails that bore rows of sharp barbs along either side. Each beast had two muscular arms and their clawlike hands ended in sharp talons. Two leathery wings protruded from each of their backs, propelling them through the air with amazing speed. The heads were goatlike, with dark, beady eyes and two sharp horns protruding from either side of their skulls. As Traax looked closer he was surprised to see that the creatures bore no weapons.

  Just then he saw one advance to a place about ten meters ahead of the others. That would be the leader, Traax knew. His jaw clenched as he watched it near. Come to me, you bastard, he thought. It is only right that you and I clash first.

  Knowing it would flash brightly in the setting sun, Traax raised his dreggan blade high. Certain that this would be their last act in defiance of the Vagaries, the other warriors did the same.

  Seeing Traax’s challenge, the monsters’ leader let go a menacing cry. A strange cross between a human scream and a bearlike growl, it resonated loudly through the sky. As the leader cried out, its sharp teeth flashed briefly in the setting sun.

  The leader and about twenty others quickly peeled off to dive on the Minions, while the remaining swarm continued, accompanying the huge wave. For what he knew would be the last time, Traax looked down at Duvessa’s ruby pin.

  Refusing to wait for death, he shouted an order to his fighters to follow him higher. Struggling skyward, the eight warriors rose to meet their fates head-on as the twenty monstrosities plummeted to attack them. With a great clash, the two opposing forces tore into one another.

  Three of the enemy and one brave warrior died on the spot, one monster perishing at the point of Traax’s blade. Then Traax saw his trusted friend Brutus tumble end over end from the sky. Brutus’ right arm was gone, and blood poured wildly from his mouth. But he did not scream as he plunged to his watery grave.

  Suddenly Traax heard another of the awful things cry out, and he turned just in time to see one lunging at him. But even he could not raise his sword in time. As he glared into the beast’s awful face, his warrior’s instinct told him that he was about to die.

  Then he saw a sudden flash of silver cross his vision, and the monster’s face split vertically into two grotesque halves. Green brain matter tumbled from the thing’s split skull as the expertly thrown returning wheel kept on going, exiting the back of the creature’s head. Gurgling black blood from its ravaged mouth, the beast tumbled from the sky.

  As the fighting raged all around him, Traax stole precious seconds to turn and see who had saved his life. His left arm covered with blood, Yuri gave him a quick nod. Traax nodded back. But their respite would be short-lived.

  Traax heard a strange cracking sound, and Yuri screamed in agony. From about four meters away and behind Yuri, one of the monsters had snapped its tail like a bullwhip, wrapping it tightly around one of Yuri’s legs and burying its sharp barbs into his flesh.

  With a vicious scream it flew a bit closer, then snapped its tail again. To Traax’s horror, the thing tore Yuri’s leg away at the hip joint. Screaming insanely, Yuri tried to stay aloft. But massive blood loss quickly overcame him, sending him into unconsciousness. He too plunged toward the sea.

  Hovering with its tail still entwined around its bloody prize, the thing stared greedily at Traax for a moment. As it sneered at him it raised its talons and let go an insane victory scream. Enraged, Traax went after it.

  But just as he started toward Yuri’s killer, Traax heard another of the awful cracking sounds rip through the air. A searing pain suddenly shot through his left arm. Another beast’s barbed tail had found him from behind. The snarling thing that had killed Yuri dropped the severed leg and rushed toward him, its talons flashing orange-red in the disappearing sun.

  Raising his dreggan high with his other hand, Traax turned in the air, purposely tightening the tail’s length. The added pain nearly caused him to faint, but it had to be done. Raising his dreggan, he brought it down with everything he had.

  The dreggan cut deeply into the barbed tail but did not sever it. More black blood spurted onto his sword hand, threatening to loosen his grip. Raising the sword again, he was finally able to cut the thing’s tail completely through.

  The beast that had entwined him screamed in pain, then tumbled downward. Turning wildly, Traax sensed that the one that had killed Yuri was still coming for him. His vision a blur as he whirled, he knew that the approaching creature would be so close that it would present a point-blank target. As he finished his turn he automatically shoved his blade forward, even before he saw his enemy.

  Traax’s guess had been right. The dreggan impaled the creature squarely in the chest, then stopped short as it struck against the thing’s backbone. Screaming in agony, the monster gripped the blade with its talons and frantically scratched at it in an attempt to free itself.

  Without hesitation, Traax pressed the hidden button on the dreggan’s hilt. The clanging blade shot forward. Arching wildly, the impaled monster lifted its head, then screamed again. Holding the sword deep in the thing’s gaping wound, Traax viciously rocked the blade up and down, then gave it a savage twist. He felt the thing’s backbone crack apart and saw the light die in its eyes. Sneering, he lifted one boot to push the corpse off his sword.

  He quickly looked around. Save for one other warrior, the sky was empty. His friend Aldaeous hovered weakly nearby, wounded badly. Deep cuts from one of the thing’s barbed tails completely encircled his right thigh.

  Flying to him, Traax sheathed his dreggan, then produced a tourniquet band from beneath his body armor. He quickly wound it high around Aldaeous’ leg, high near the warrior’s groin. As he cinched it tight, Aldaeous grimaced. Seeing his friend’s blanched pallor, Traax quickly realized that Aldaeous had lost much blood. He then cinched a tourniquet around his own upper left arm.

  Traax took another quick look around. Blessedly, the sky remained empty. They had done it! Eight brave warriors had killed twenty of those awful things, and two warriors had lived to tell the tale. When he and Aldaeous were graybeards, what a story they would have to tell their grandchildren! Then his face darkened as he remembered that they were wounded, and a long way from the fleet.


  Without speaking, the warriors instinctively turned westward. The sun was setting in earnest, soon to be replaced by the three red moons and thousands of twinkling stars. Traax knew that he could navigate his way back as well by the stars as by the sun. Then he looked far into the distance, and his heart fell.

  He could just see the huge wave and its accompanying black swarm as they continued heading west. During the airborne battle, the wave had roared beneath them and traveled far. Traax could only pray that Axel and Valgard were still ahead of it.

  Just then he saw Aldaeous faint and start tumbling through the air. Swooping down, Traax caught the wounded warrior. Aldaeous’ eyes fluttered open again.

  “Let me perish,” he whispered. “You’ll never get back if you carry me.”

  “Be still,” Traax said. “We’ll make it back, I promise you.”

  Drooping weakly in Traax’s arms, Aldaeous gave him a knowing smile. “What about your order, m’lord?” he asked. He coughed, spitting up some blood that ran down his body armor and dripped toward the sea. Worried for him, Traax clenched his jaw.

  “Should one of you collapse, the other is forbidden to save him!”Aldaeous repeated sternly. Closing his eyes, he smiled again. “That’s what you said, isn’t it?”

  “Consider that order countermanded,” Traax answered. He gave Aldaeous a quick smile. “And your insubordination is noted,” he added.

  “Privileges of rank, sir?” Aldaeous asked weakly.

  “Something like that,” Traax answered. He watched Aldaeous faint away.

  Traax could easily have let Aldaeous fall, which would vastly improve Traax’s chances for survival. But he didn’t.

  Unsure of their futures, he carried the stricken warrior back toward the unsuspecting fleet.

  CHAPTER XLVIII

  CALLING THE CRAFT, WIGG LEVITATED ONE OF HIS WHITErooks, then caused it to hang inverted from the game board’s underside. “Check,” he said.

  Faegan smiled. “Too obvious, First Wizard,” he answered. After some thought he judiciously moved his threatened king one space rightward. Now it was Wigg’s turn to worry.

  The two mystics were sitting in Faegan’s quarters aboard theTammerland, playing wizard’s chess. The game was much like ordinary chess, but with two important differences. First, the black-and-white game board was suspended in the air. Each of the board’s sides held the same number of black and white squares.

  Second, each player commanded two armies rather than one. Thus two opposing armies lay atop the board, and another two clung to its underside. Pieces could be moved from one of the board’s sides to the other and back again, with the proviso that the player’s next move must take place from that board’s side.

  Smiling, Faegan used the craft to turn over the three-minute sand globe resting near his elbow. As the trapped sand poured down, he looked at Wigg and sipped some more tea.

  “I believe that you might be done for this time,” he said. “If you aren’t careful, I will take one of your kings in four moves.”

  “Be still!” Wigg demanded. “I’m trying to concentrate! And don’t be so cocky! You might win more often than I, but that doesn’t mean you will today!”

  Suddenly suspicious, Wigg pursed his lips. “Why would you warn me about my king?” he asked.

  Faegan cackled softly. “Because it doesn’t matter,” he answered. “You won’t figure it out until it’s too late.”

  Narrowing his eyes, Wigg looked at the board’s two sides and considered his options. Faegan smiled as he watched the telltale vein in Wigg’s forehead start throbbing-a sure sign that the First Wizard was feeling stressed.

  As the two wizards concentrated on their game, all seemed normal with the Conclave fleet. The night sea was calm, and clouds slipped gently across the sky, occasionally blocking the moonlight. Each of the six Black Ships was sailing atop the waves in the traditional way while their empowering mystics rested. For the last two days the fleet had forged ahead without incident.

  Tyranny’s plan was to wait until all three of her roving scout patrols returned before again ordering the ships into the air. If one of the patrols sighted the Citadel, a course correction might be needed. With the fleet’s slower speed atop the waves, an adjustment would be smaller, thus saving time. Two of the patrols had returned but had seen nothing. Traax’s group was overdue, but was not so late as to cause concern.

  Wigg again called the craft, this time moving a knight from the board’s underside to its topside. He reached out and inverted the timing globe.

  Faegan scowled. “What in blazes are you doing?” he asked. “That was perhaps the most foolish move I have ever seen!”

  Smiling, Wigg sat back in his chair and folded his arms. “Time will tell,” he answered.

  As Faegan concentrated on the game, Wigg stared thoughtfully at his old friend. Despite his normally jocular nature, Faegan always seemed obsessed about something. Everyone who knew him understood that. More often than not, the crippled wizard’s fixations involved some craft mystery that he was trying to unravel. As soon as he succeeded at deciphering one, he always managed to find another to brood over.

  But Wigg sensed that there was something else on the crippled wizard’s mind-something that bothered him deeply. Moreover, he thought he knew what it was. Faegan had unfinished business to complete, and Wigg guessed that he would not rest until it was done.

  Deciding to broach the subject, Wigg first took another sip of red wine. After placing the glass back atop the table he laced his long fingers together.

  “You want him, don’t you?” he asked. “That’s the real reason you decided to come on this mission, rather than wait at the palace for Tristan to return home. You want to find him and kill him with your own hands, and you won’t rest until you do.”

  Faegan reached out to gently tip the three-minute glass on its side, meaning that he wanted a break from the game. After taking another sip of tea, he looked into Wigg’s face.

  “I thought I was the only one who knew,” he said.

  “I don’t believe that the others realize it,” Wigg answered. “They haven’t known you for three centuries like I have. But I gather that Jessamay suspects. Little escapes her sorceress’s acumen, you know.”

  “How true,” Faegan answered.

  “You believe Reznik escaped to the Citadel,” Wigg said, “along with the other surviving Valrenkians. I think you’re right.”

  Faegan nodded. “It’s the only answer that fits. If so, Serena might have taken them into her employ. It would be to her advantage, after all. Only the Afterlife knows what evil she might be ordering the Valrenkian community to concoct. Of all people, I needn’t tell you that Vagaries practitioners have little regard for human life other than their own. The farther we sail, the more apprehensive I become. I fear that the Necrophagians were only the beginning of our troubles.”

  Wigg was acutely aware of Faegan’s hatred for Reznik, even though the two enemy mystics had never met. Being outfoxed by another wizard was hard enough on Faegan’s infamous ego. But the humiliation of being duped and nearly killed by a partial adept carried a nasty sting.

  His jaw hardening, Faegan looked into Wigg’s eyes. “Yes, I want to kill him,” he said quietly. “He deserves to die for more reasons than I can count. If we are lucky enough to find him, I want it understood that he is mine.”

  Wigg nodded. “Very well,” he answered. “I will take the liberty of telling the other members. There will be no disagreement.”

  As he turned to look out one of the ship’s portholes, Wigg found his mind returning to Eutracia. He took another sip of the excellent wine.

  “What is it?” Faegan asked.

  Wigg judiciously rolled the wineglass back and forth between his palms for a moment. “It’s Tristan,” he replied. “I worry about him constantly. Only the Afterlife knows what that creature Xanthus did with him, or why.”

  “You are not responsible for Tristan’s fate,” Faegan answered. “From what you t
old me, he had no choice. Nor did you have any choice but to let him go.”

  “I know,” Wigg answered. “It’s just that-”

  Suddenly theTammerland heaved mightily into the air, the angle on her bow easily as sharp as when the ship had violently risen to escape the Necrophagians. Wigg’s concentration slipped, allowing the chess board and its pieces to go clattering to the floor. Just as quickly all the room’s furniture slid aft, taking the wizards with it.

  His eyes wide, Wigg looked at Faegan. They immediately understood that something must have gone terribly wrong abovedecks. Besides themselves, Jessamay was the only mystic aboard with the power to raise the ship so dramatically. Worse, Tyranny would have never allowed such a violent maneuver unless the situation was dire.

  As they tried to hurry for the door, the wizards heard Minion drummers suddenly start hammering out the maritime drum roll called “beating to quarters.” It was the clarion call for all Minion warriors while at sea, ordering them to their action posts. Even from several decks below, Wigg and Faegan could hear the sounds of Minion boot heels urgently pounding across the ship’s topsides.

  Knowing that there was no time for discussion, the two wizards struggled for the door. Finally traversing the sharply angled floor, they clawed their way up the inclined hall and toward the aft stairway.

  FROM HER PLACE AT THETAMMERLAND’S STERN RAIL, TYRANNYlowered her spyglass, then looked blankly out across the ocean again. In all her years at sea she had never met such a threat.

  “Is it true?” Shailiha asked urgently. “Are Axel and Valgard right about what they told us?”

  Adrian and Scars were also standing beside her. Everyone was holding on to the rigging, so as not to fall backward while theTammerland continued her steep climb. Jessamay clung to the ship’s wheel and was straining her powers to the utmost to keep theTammerland rising. As the flagship flew higher, her timbers and masts groaned torturously, like they were about to come apart. Tyranny handed the spyglass to the princess.