On finding Traax, Duvessa and Kefira had cleverly used their dreggans to cut the spars free from the floating mast. They had then built a crude litter by binding the spars with some of the torn rigging. After they had placed Traax onto the litter they had hardly been able to get it airborne and fly back to where they had left the others. But with more warriors to bear the load, they had found their way back to the fleet. Shailiha had quickly ordered the surviving vessels to turn for home.
After a week at sea, the four Black Ships had returned, arriving three days ago. With the Necrophagian threat gone, the return voyage was uneventful. It had taken an entire day and part of that night for everyone to trade tales. Aeolus had joined in his first Conclave meeting, and everyone had been glad to have him there. Tristan had been amazed to hear the details about Serena’s attack on the fleet, but not that the Citadel had gone dark.
As he had expected, when he told his story he was first greeted with outright disbelief, followed by a dense silence that he thought might never end. After the shock wore off, everyone had started badgering him at once and had interrogated him for hours. But like the others, he had more questions than answers. Tristan had then presented Faegan with the Envoys’ parchment that held the formula for granting Forestallments directly to one’s blood signature. When the old wizard saw it, he whooped for joy like a child with a shiny new toy.
While he waited for the return of the fleet, Tristan spent each morning in training with Aeolus. He was gradually improving, even by the old master’s standards. The rest of his time had been devoted to helping the Minions and highlanders learn each other’s maneuvers. At first the warriors and highlander horsemen had been highly suspicious of each other. Tristan had expected that. But as they came to appreciate each other’s unique abilities, a grudging respect formed between them.
As a precaution, the mystics had used a signature scope to check Tristan’s blood signature, while Jessamay had looked deeply into his eyes to confirm their findings. Aside from the Forestallment granting Tristan access to the azure pass, they pronounced his signature to be normal in every respect.
Just then Tristan heard the door squeak open. He turned to see Wigg standing there. Crooking a finger, the First Wizard beckoned the prince into the hall. Tristan went to him.
“Has there been a change in Traax’s condition?” Wigg asked.
“No,” Tristan answered. “But he hasn’t worsened, either.” He gave Wigg a questioning look. “Are you and Faegan ready to honor my request?”
Wigg scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. “The others await us,” he answered. “But they want another word with you first.”
Tristan was well aware of the Conclave’s misgivings. Yesterday he had argued with his friends about this subject for hours. He shook his head.
“The answer is still no!” he insisted. “I will not give up on this. You and Faegan are to install theK’Shari Forestallment into my blood signature today.”
Wigg sighed. “Walk with me,” he said. As Tristan and the First Wizard started down the hall, Wigg seemed deeply concerned.
“I can’t start to tell you how much the rest of us are against this,” Wigg said. “You are the reigningJin’Sai, so if you order us to do it, we will. But we worry about the consequences. We have had the formula allowing the placement of Forestallments directly into one’s blood for only a matter of days. Even Faegan has yet to fully understand its workings. Please let us research it further!”
Tristan loved and respected Wigg like the old wizard was his father. But he meant to have his way in this. He had been fascinated byK’Shari ever since first hearing about it years ago, during his Royal Guard training. Then he had taken his unexpected journey with Xanthus and returned home to meet Aeolus-the same man the fable described. These two unexpected events had only heightened his need to know.
More important, he had seen firsthand the kinds of things that Xanthus and Aeolus could do, and he wanted those skills for himself. But he fully understood Wigg’s concerns. He gave the old wizard a reassuring smile.
“I would think that as an accomplished graduate of Aeolus’ teachings, you’d understand how badly I want this,” he chided Wigg.
Wigg stopped walking and looked into Tristan’s eyes. “That’s just it,” he answered. “I understand the need all too well. But that doesn’t mean that gainingK’Shari this way is a good idea. We can’t be sure about what the spell will do to you. We can’t even know whether it’s something the Envoys of Crysenium would object to.” One of the wizard’s eyebrows went up. “They expect you to return, you know.”
Tristan put a hand on Wigg’s shoulder. “Thank you for your concern,” he said. “But this is going to happen, with or without your blessing. Let’s join the others, shall we?”
Knowing that Tristan wouldn’t change his mind, Wigg finally gave in. Walking on, they took one of the many staircases down into the Redoubt and eventually arrived at Faegan’s quarters. Tristan knocked on the door; then he and Wigg walked in.
As Tristan had requested, only Faegan, Shailiha, and Aeolus were waiting there. They were sitting at a table and talking in hushed, worried tones. Two rolled-up parchments lay atop the table. The prince was relieved that the entire Conclave membership was not present. If theK’Shari Forestallment proved painful, there was no need for the others to see him suffer.
Shailiha came to him and took his hands in hers. Her expression was worried, nearly desperate.
“Please don’t do this!” she breathed. “I know how badly you want it, but what if something goes wrong?” As she searched his face, tears came to her eyes. “I might lose my only brother,” she added softly. “I couldn’t bear that.”
“You won’t lose me, I promise,” he answered. Then his eyes took on a knowing, faraway look. “Something tells me that it will be all right…”
He looked over at Faegan. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Faegan nodded. But like the others, he seemed worried. “Yes,” the wizard said. “But I must protest this hurried use of-”
Raising a hand, Tristan stopped him in midsentence. “We’re going to do this. I assume you want me to be seated?”
“Yes,” Faegan answered. Reaching across the table, he took up the two small scrolls and unrolled them. He handed one to Wigg.
Tristan walked across the room. After removing his weapons and placing them on the floor, he sat in an upholstered chair. He looked at the two wizards.
“I suggest that you bind me,” he said.
Faegan nodded. At once azure bands secured the prince’s limbs to the chair’s arms and legs. He tested the constraints to find that they were as unforgiving as iron manacles.
“You may start,” he said.
Before Wigg and Faegan could act, Shailiha returned to Tristan’s side. Her eyes had become tearful again.
“Is this worth the risk?” she asked.
“Yes,” Tristan answered quietly. “No matter how much pain it might cause me, I want this.” He nodded at the wizards; then he looked at Aeolus. Aeolus nodded back.
He understands, Tristan realized, even if the others do not.
“Good luck,” Aeolus said. Then he gave Tristan a wink. “If this works, you and I will share a unique bond.”
By earlier agreement, Wigg would first read the calculations summoning the gift ofK’Shari. Then Faegan would call the spell allowing the Forestallment to be placed into Tristan’s blood. Because they had never granted a Forestallment before, the wizards did not know what to expect, or how long the process might take.
As Wigg started his incantation, Shailiha reached out to take Tristan by the hand. He gave her a reassuring smile, then closed his eyes.
At first Tristan felt nothing, prompting him to wonder whether something had gone awry. After finishing his part, Wigg lowered his scroll. It was Faegan’s turn. As the crippled wizard called his spell, pain started roiling up in the prince.
Suddenly every nerve in Tristan’s being came afire, and he st
arted to scream. Soon his body was dripping sweat and convulsively dancing like a marionette at the end of unseen strings. His spasmodic jerking became so violent that the chair literally jumped up and down against the floor. Foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes drifted shut. As the pain went through him he gripped Shailiha’s hand so strongly that she feared he might break her fingers. But she refused to let go.
Then it was over. Tristan had gone unconscious, and his skin had turned a pale, ghostly white. As his grip slackened, he slumped forward in his chair.
Desperately worried, Shailiha looked beseechingly at the wizards. All three mystics ran over to Tristan. As Faegan ended the spell binding the prince to the chair, Aeolus reached out and caught him in his arms.
“Put him on the bed!” Faegan shouted.
As Tristan lay on the bed, his breathing became desperately ragged and his head lolled to one side. Drool ran from his mouth to fall on the pillow. Wigg placed a palm on Tristan’s forehead, then closed his eyes. After a time he removed his hand and looked at Shailiha.
“What is it?” she asked.
“There has been a great disturbance in his blood,” Wigg answered. “With the supposed addition of the Forestallment, his blood pounds through his veins quickly, and hotly.”
“Will he live?” Shailiha whispered.
Wigg shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Shaking with worry, Shailiha looked down at her brother with tearful eyes. “I told you not to do this,” she whispered angrily, barely able to get the words out.
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“The only thing wecan do,” Wigg answered. “We wait.”
THREE HOURS LATER, WIGG, SHAILIHA, FAEGAN, AND AEOLUSwere still waiting for Tristan to regain consciousness. With every passing moment, Shailiha became more worried. Knowing that not one of them would leave until they knew more about Tristan’s condition, Shawna had brought food and drink. But Shailiha and the mystics had eaten little.
Turning to look back at her brother for what seemed like the hundredth time, Shailiha brushed away a tear. Faegan placed a hand over hers.
“Can’t you do anything more?” she asked. “He looks so helpless lying there.”
Faegan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “As we told the prince yesterday, with the granting of our first Forestallment, we have sailed into uncharted waters. His fate rests with the Afterlife. All we can do is pray, and hope that Tristan hasn’t forced us to make a horrible mistake.”
Plainly worried, Aeolus placed his hands flat on the tabletop. Since joining the Conclave, his martial uniform had been replaced by a simple, dark green robe.
“We must shoulder some of the blame for allowing it,” Aeolus said. “But one thing is certain. Even without the benefit ofK’Shari, he is the fastest learner I have ever taught. I believe that his natural abilities surpass even those wielded by Satine. If he survives and the gift ofK’Shari becomes his, he might become the greatest weapons and hand-to-hand combat master the world has ever seen. I daresay his gifts would quickly dwarf mine.” After thinking for a moment, Aeolus gave Faegan a questioning glance.
“Something just occurred to me,” he said. “Did theK’Shari calculations hold only the ability allowing Tristan to call it forth? Or was a predetermined ability to perform martial techniques incorporated into the formula as well?”
Despite the grave circumstances, Faegan managed a brief smile. “I thought you’d never ask,” he answered. “The calculation that Wigg recited did indeed hold weapon and hand-to-hand techniques. As I perused the spell, there were so many that I finally stopped counting them. If he survives, Tristan will not only commandK’Shari, but I expect he will awaken fully trained in your ways, as well-even though he might not immediately realize that part of it. I doubt that he will need any more of your instruction.”
Aeolus shook his head. “Can it be true?” he asked. “That what took me a lifetime to learn can be gained in a matter of moments?”
Wigg nodded. “Our knowledge about the craft has been greatly enhanced while you were away. It would be no exaggeration to say that-”
Suddenly the three men heard Shailiha gasp. They turned to see that she was looking at Tristan.
The prince was sitting up on the side of the bed. Trying to clear his mind, he shook his head back and forth. Then he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. As the others went to him, he stood.
Shailiha embraced him and looked into his eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked.
Tristan smiled at her. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m not sure that I’ve ever been better.” He looked at Aeolus. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”
Aeolus smiled at him. “I do,” he answered.
As Tristan’s head cleared, he realized that something wonderful had happened to him. His senses were keener, and he could tell simply by standing there that his balance and his coordination had markedly improved. His muscles felt stronger and his confidence surer. In many ways, he felt like an entirely new man. The sensation was glorious, empowering. Without hesitation he walked over to where his weapons lay and started strapping them over his right shoulder.
After he had finished he gave Aeolus a wink. At once the wizard knew what Tristan wanted. He smiled.
“Very well,” he said. “But not here.”
Understanding, Tristan quickly headed for the door. He hadn’t gotten two paces before Wigg’s voice rang out.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the First Wizard demanded. “We have to examine your blood signature, to make sure you’re all right!”
Stopping at the doorway, Tristan turned and shook his head. “Not now,” he said. “I have been waiting nearly my entire life for this moment.”
Without further ado he and Aeolus left the room, leaving Wigg, Faegan, and Shailiha no choice but to follow them.
On reaching the first floor, Tristan and Aeolus hurried down a corridor and headed for a door leading outside. By now they were moving so fast that Wigg and Shailiha had to trot to keep up, and Faegan had to levitate his chair. Soon Shailiha saw Tyranny and Abbey up ahead, standing next to each other and talking. After Tristan and Aeolus hurried by, the privateer and acolyte gave them all puzzled looks.
“What’s going on?” Tyranny demanded.
“I don’t know!” Shailiha called out over one shoulder. “If you want to find out, you’ll just have to come along!”
Not to be outdone, Tyranny and Abbey joined the chase.
Tristan stopped just long enough to confront a surprised Minion warrior standing guard in the hall. Tristan ordered him to give up his dreggan. With a confused look on his face, the warrior offered up his sword. His curiosity piqued, he wanted to follow along, but knew better than to abandon his post.
Tristan barged through the doors and led everyone outside. He hurried around a palace corner to find a section of manicured ground that hadn’t been taken up by Minion wounded. As Aeolus neared, Tristan tossed him the extra dreggan.
Aeolus caught the sword firmly by the hilt. As the others caught up and gathered around, Aeolus tested the sword by twirling it several times, watching its blade catch the afternoon sun. This was the first time he had held a dreggan. Although he found the weapon heavy, he keenly appreciated how finely balanced it was.
Tristan came to a stop in the center of the small courtyard and faced Aeolus. As they stood looking at each other, the others watched. Shailiha looked quizzically at Faegan. Saying nothing, Faegan only shook his head and then looked back at Tristan and the weapons master.
Smiling, Tristan bowed, then raised his sword. But Aeolus did not answer the challenge. Instead, he plunged the dreggan’s blade into the ground. His words would surprise the prince.
“No,” Aeolus said. “Until you have proven something to me, you are still my student. Lower your weapon.”
Tristan did as he was asked.
“First tell me-do you feel it?” Aeolus asked.
&
nbsp; Holding his dreggan in one hand, Tristan closed his eyes and spread his arms toward the sky. He inhaled deeply and felt like he could conquer the entire world with nothing but the sword in his hand.
“Yes,” he answered, his eyes still closed. “I own it. It is a part of me now.”
“Then prove it,” Aeolus said.
Raising his free hand, the wizard pointed to a nearby tree. Calling the craft, Aeolus tore a branch from the tree and caused it to hover in the air.
When he heard the sound of the branch breaking free, Tristan opened his eyes and lowered his sword. After looking at Aeolus, he closed his eyes again.
“My ears hear no begging,” he said softly. “My eyes see no pain. My heart feels no remorse.”
Suddenly everything stilled. The birds stopped singing and the insects quieted. Then the wind stopped, and the grass surrounding theJin’Sai withered and died. It was like nature had somehow decided to end her ceaseless travails. His eyes still closed, Tristan remained still.
With a wave of his hand, Aeolus sent the freshly cut branch soaring toward the prince. As the branch neared Tristan, it was almost like he could see it coming even with his eyes closed. At the last second he opened them and brought his dreggan blade around in a perfect arc.
Those who saw Tristan’s first use ofK’Shari would never forget it. His blade came around so fast that it was nearly invisible. It severed the branch in midair, and the pieces fell at his feet.
After sheathing his sword, Tristan released hisK’Shari. As he bent down and picked up one of the branch pieces, the forces of nature came alive again. He saw that the angled end of the branch was cut clean, its fresh surface smooth as glass. He handed it to Shailiha for safekeeping.
Aeolus looked at Tristan and smiled. “So it seems the student has surpassed the teacher,” he said. “You have my deepest congratulations.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said humbly. “But I doubt that I could best you, even now. Your years of training would win out.”
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