Tristan came to a stop on his back. He looked up through the haze just in time to see Xanthus rushing at him. His azure axe twinkling in the light, Xanthus brought it down with everything he had.
Tristan rolled hard to the right. With a great crash, Xanthus’ axe barely missed theJin’Sai and split the floor’s entire length in half. The massive concussion resonated through the walls and caused the transparent ceiling to shatter. Crystalline shards rained down into the room.
As Xanthus struggled to free his blade, Tristan jumped to his feet and brought his dreggan whistling around. But Xanthus again blocked it with his shield. Finally the Darkling’s axe came free and Xanthus attacked again, forcing Tristan to back up.
As the battle seesawed back and forth, the fighters quickly neared where Shadow was tied, causing the horse to rear nervously on his hind legs as far as his reins would allow. Soon Tristan found himself being forced toward the hallway entrance.
As they passed though the crystalline door frame, it split thunderously apart. Several more cracks split the hallway walls, and lengthened violently to match the combatants’ forward progress. Tristan could only guess that these phenomena were being caused because twoK’Shari masters had called on their gifts simultaneously. But he couldn’t risk thinking about that now.
The whirling axe came around again, but this time Tristan raised his dreggan a fraction of a second too slow. Xanthus’ blow resonated so harshly through the dreggan blade and into Tristan’s hands that the sword fell from his grip to go clattering to the floor. Xanthus immediately kicked the dreggan past Tristan and sent it skidding down the hallway.
Tristan was tempted to turn his back on Xanthus and go chasing after his sword, but every instinct told him not to. Knowing that he finally had Tristan trapped, Xanthus smiled. Tristan watched him raise the glowing axe.
Having no choice but to completely trust in his gift, for the first time Tristan surrendered his entire being to hisK’Shari. As he did, the down-stroke of Xanthus’ axe seemed to slow to the point that sidestepping the blow was effortless. The nature of Tristan’s next move was revealed to him with crystal clarity. He reached behind his right shoulder.
The two throwing knives came into his right hand so quickly that he had grasped them even before Xanthus finished his strike. He took one dirk into his left hand.
Tristan lashed out. As he backed away, he heard a scream.
One knife handle protruded from each of Xanthus’ eyes. Screaming again, the Darkling waved his arms and staggered about blindly. Blood ran from his eye sockets and down onto his black robe. His axe and shield stopped glowing and went clattering to the floor. Then he fell forward, dead where he lay.
His chest heaving, Tristan stood there for a moment, staring at Xanthus’ bloody corpse. Facing certain death and having no other alternative had finally forced him to learn how to let go, and to trust his new gift entirely. It was a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget.
When he walked to collect his dreggan, he thought he heard someone softly call out. As he picked up his sword he heard the wind moaning through the shattered ceiling in the other room, but nothing else.
“Tristan,” someone whispered. This time there could be no mistaking it.
Holding his sword high, he crept down the hallway. He took a deep breath and stepped quickly into the next room.
The meeting chamber was a bloodbath. Eleven of the twelve Envoys lay dead. Azure blood was splattered everywhere. Bodies and body parts were strewn about the room, and the transparent panel that had once graced part of the curved wall had been destroyed. Dark smudges dirtied much of the chamber, telling Tristan that azure bolts had been used in the recent battle.
But if they are all dead, who called my name? Tristan wondered. He was about to check each body for signs of life when he heard the lone voice call out again.
“Jin’Sai,”a woman whispered.
Tristan looked across the room to see Hoskiko lying on the bloody floor. She had raised herself up onto her elbows and was trying to crawl toward him. Sheathing his dreggan, he ran to her and cradled her in his arms.
A deep wound lay beneath Hoskiko’s once-immaculate white robe. Dried blood lay crusted on the garment and in her long gray hair. Her eyes were losing their luster. As she gently reached up to touch his face, she smiled.
“You’re alive…,” she said. “I heard the fighting. Did you kill Xanthus?”
“Yes,” he answered gently. “What happened here?”
“The Imperial Order came,” she answered. “When thePon Q’tar learned about Crysenium, they sent them to destroy us. Xanthus came with them. We tried to fight back, but there were too many of them.”
“How did you survive?” Tristan asked.
Hoskiko managed a weak smile. “I fooled them,” she answered. Then she coughed, bringing up some blood. As Tristan felt his heart tear in two, he held her closer.
“I used a spell to slow my heartbeat and mimic death,” she said. “It might have been cowardly of me, but I had to stay alive long enough to see you return. There is so much that you still do not know…”
“I don’t understand,” Tristan said. “If the Imperial Order was here, why didn’tthey kill me? Why would they leave, and trust the job to Xanthus?”
“Because Xanthus had been compromised by the Envoys, he had become more expendable,” she answered weakly. “You must always remember that thePon Q’tar ’s paranoia knows no bounds. But there is another reason why the Imperial Order left so soon after finishing their dirty work. They boasted about it as they watched the others die.”
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“With what strength I have remaining, I am cloaking your blood,” Hoskiko answered. “At the same time, thePon Q’tar is trying to sense your blood from afar. When I die, they will succeed. If they sense it long enough, they will know that Xanthus failed to kill you. Their only choice will be to summon the Borderlands to destroy you and Crysenium. That is why the Imperial Order didn’t wait.” Raising herself up a little, she looked sternly into Tristan’s eyes.
“You must leave here immediately!” she begged him. “When I die, thePon Q’tar ’s rage will know no limits! The form the Borderlands will take will be savage, and all-encompassing!”
“I will take you with me,” Tristan insisted.
“No!” Hoskiko answered. “I am too far gone-we both know that. My time is over!”
“But where am I to go?” Tristan asked. “If Crysenium is destroyed, I will die in the Borderlands!”
“Go home!” Hoskiko said weakly. “Call forth the Forestallment that we granted to your blood and go back to Eutracia! But you must leave quickly! As the Borderlands near, magic will become useless and you will lose your ability to call forth the Forestallment!”
Tristan’s mind raced as he turned to look through the empty space where the viewing panel had once been. The deceiving scene on the other side remained idyllic. But if Hoskiko was right, it would soon become a living nightmare.
“All right,” he said. “I’ll go back. But I’ll never forget you.”
“What you must remember above all is the true nature of your and Shailiha’s destinies,” she said. “Because thePon Q’tar knows that you finally understand this, they will do everything they can to keep you from coming back. Despite their great power, they fear the coming of you and your sister more than anything in the world. You must find a way to cross the Tolenka Mountains, or to conquer the polar ice caps that imprison the Sea of Whispers to the north and the south. Return and seek out the Heretical splinter group. Only then can you start to heal the terrible wounds on this side of the world.”
Tristan nodded. “Somehow I will find a way,” he answered.
As he held her, he saw a tear leave Hoskiko’s eye. She weakly reached up to touch his face.
“You are the firstJin’Sai to reach us,” she said softly. “And now that you have, we failed you. There is so much that we had planned to tell you-so much that you and your sister deser
ve to know.” As Hoskiko coughed again, Tristan could see that she was nearing the end.
“The rebel group you seek is called the League of Whispers,” she said. “That is all I can tell you about them, because only Faxon knew their many secrets. But before I die, there is something else that you should know. It’s about your parents, Nicholas and Morganna. They weren’t…” She gasped. “They weren’t…”
His eyes wide with anticipation, Tristan clutched Hoskiko harder. “They weren’twhat?” he shouted. But then Hoskiko closed her eyes, and her head fell to one side.
He knelt there for too long, mourning the loss of the Envoys and wondering what Hoskiko might have told him about his late parents. Then the rumbling noises started, and they suddenly brought him back to reality. He gently placed Hoskiko’s body on the floor and quickly turned to look out the gaping hole in the wall.
The Borderlands were forming.
Tristan stood aghast as he watched the sky darken. Suddenly the ground shook violently, and Crysenium trembled with it. To his horror, the distant earth was starting to heave itself upward into dozens of volcanic cones. As more cones erupted, they started forming a path toward Crysenium.
The dark cones erupted so quickly that they rose to maturity in a matter of seconds. With their coming, Crysenium shook even more violently, and part of the meeting room ceiling came crashing down.
On reaching their complete heights, all the volcanoes erupted into raging infernos, spewing tons of ash and molten lava into the air. As the lava cascaded down their dark sides and poured across the valley, it immediately vaporized everything it touched. In only moments it would engulf the entire structure.
For the last time, Tristan looked at the other dead Envoys, then back down at Hoskiko. She seemed peaceful, and finally at rest. Leaving the room, he tore down the hallway as fast as he could.
By now Shadow had become nearly mad with fear. Tristan ran across the shattered floor and untied the stallion. He threw himself up into the saddle just as the molten lava touched one of Crysenium’s outside walls.
With a mighty explosion, the crystalline wall burst into flames and crumbled inward, allowing the lava to invade the room. Several columns crashed down, narrowly missing Tristan and Shadow. As lava washed across the shattered floor, Tristan wheeled Shadow around. Praying that it would still work, Tristan called on his Forestallment.
The azure mist blessedly appeared, but he knew it wouldn’t last long. Spurring Shadow for all he was worth, he charged the stallion headlong into it.
The silent, dense fog surrounded him again, and at first he thought that he was safe. But then he felt the searing heat, and he knew. As Shadow galloped beneath him, Tristan turned to look. The lava flow was chasing after them.
All he could see was a huge, blurry wall of glowing red rushing after him, but he knew that it could be nothing else. He did his best to spur Shadow faster, but in the whirling midst of the Forestallment he couldn’t tell if the horse was gaining speed. The heat was becoming more unbearable by the moment, and he suspected that the lava would soon reach them, engulfing them forever.
Suddenly Shadow burst out the other side of the azure pass and into the charred forest. The sudden change in footing surprised the horse and rider and sent them tumbling to the ground.
Tristan launched high over Shadow’s head as the stallion hit the ground and skidded through the dark ash covering the forest floor. Then they went crashing straight into the Minion campsite that lay just beyond. Startled warriors ran and took to the air as Tristan and the neighing horse took down two tents, then barreled through the campfire before coming to a stop. Stunned into speechlessness, the warriors ran to help them.
The Minions lifted Tristan to his feet. He seemed dazed but unhurt. Shadow rolled over and stood shakily. Then Tristan came to his senses, and he suddenly remembered the lava flow.
“Everyone into the air!” he screamed. “One of you must take me aloft!”
One of the warriors immediately took Tristan into his arms, and they all quickly went aloft. When they had reached a height of about ten meters, Tristan told them to hover and turn toward the azure pass. Soon the ground started to shake, and everyone heard a great rumbling sound. When Shadow sensed the returning danger he turned and galloped wildly down the mountainside.
Tristan and the warriors watched in amazement as the azure pass started changing color. As the glowing red lava neared it, the pass morphed from bright azure into green, and then from green into glowing red. With a thunderous rumble, the lava finally reached the face of the pass. Suddenly the pass immediately exploded outward, and was no more.
Amazingly, the lava did not rush into the forest. Instead, it halted its forward advance and started rising up, filling the mountain gap left behind by the destroyed pass. Higher and higher it rose, until, like the pass had once done, it too became lost in the clouds. Then Tristan and the warriors watched as it somehow cooled immediately and turned to dark granite. It was like the pass had never existed.
Tristan ordered the warriors back to the ground. After finding an overturned camp stool he righted it and sat down. As the stunned warriors surrounded him, their commanding officer knelt beside his lord.
“Jin’Sai,”he breathed. “What just happened?”
Tristan took a deep breath and looked back up at the monolithic mountains that still held so many secrets.
“A dream just died,” he answered quietly. “And a new one has been born.”
EPILOGUE
THE HOUR WAS LATE AS FAEGAN PUSHED HIS CHAIR ONwheels down the Redoubt hallways. Alongside him hovered the Scroll of the Vigors, the Scroll of the Vagaries, and the Tome of the Paragon. There were few acolytes or consuls about at this hour. But those who did cross his path bowed to him reverently as they watched the fabled wizard and the three priceless documents continue on down the halls.
With the threat from Serena and Clarice gone, Faegan hoped that he would have some peaceful time to study the newly acquired Vagaries scroll. Having their indexes would be a marvelous advantage. For the sake of convenience he had decided to place all three documents under lock and key in the same place. Wigg and Shailiha had agreed. After seeing Tristan enter the azure pass, the First Wizard and Shailiha had returned by Minion litter only several hours ago. Because of their sadness, Faegan had kept his meeting with them brief.
Finding the room he wanted, Faegan stopped, as did the three documents floating alongside him. Faegan called the craft and listened as the tumblers in the lock turned over once, then twice more. He opened the door and wheeled himself into the Archives of the Redoubt. The huge library was the single greatest repository of craft books and scrolls ever collected in one place.
The Archives occupied a vast room of Ephyran marble, one of the most beautiful in the entire Redoubt. The square room measured at least two hundred meters on each of its four sides, and was seven stories tall. Each story was surrounded by a railing that overlooked the central area. Each level was lined with books from top to bottom, and a magnificent set of stairs with a brass railing ran up and around to each of the floors, granting access to the thousands of books and scrolls. Several hundred finely carved desks, reading tables, and upholstered chairs lined the main floor. Soft, golden light was supplied by a combination of oil sconces and desk lamps, all enchanted to burn continually and without smoke.
As Faegan entered the room he was pleased to see that no one else was about. With a wave of one hand he commanded the doors to close and the tumblers to lock.
Faegan thought for a moment about where to store the three precious works. He knew that no one granted access to the Archives would try to harm them, but he wanted them protected, just the same. Finally he seized on an idea.
Raising his hands, he called the craft. Almost at once the three documents rose higher into the air, then settled in a row against a bare area of the room’s far wall. With another wave of his hand, he encased them in a glowing, azure box mounted directly to the wall.
&nb
sp; He would of course reveal the spell calculations to the other mystics on the Conclave, but to no one else. Now he could check on the documents anytime he chose, and they would still be easily accessible. Faegan found himself wondering how long it had been since the three amazing artifacts had been so near one another.
Perhaps centuries, he thought. If in fact they ever were.
Happy with his invention, he let go a little cackle as he let himself out of the room. The massive double doors closed. Had someone been inside the Archives to listen, he would have heard the tumblers in the door locks turn over once, then twice more.
Unknown to anyone, the three documents suddenly started to glow. As they brightened, selected books and scrolls on all levels of the Archives started to take on the same azure hue.
After this night of nights, the craft would never be the same.
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-527472-11d7-d74a-af86-ca48-24cc-a6ddd7
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 24.10.2010
Created using: Fiction Book Designer software
Document authors :
Source URLs :
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A March into Darkness dobas-2 Page 67
