SITTING BY THE CAMPFIRE, TRAAX GAZED INTO THEsky. Night had fallen, and the three red moons shone brightly across the heavens. What remained of the mountainside’s trees cast macabre shadows that reached like malformed fingers across the sloping terrain. Stirred by the wind, the smell of Minion blood lingered.
Lifting an akulee jug, Traax took another drink. They all needed the rest, for the flight to this place had been exhausting. He was immensely proud of his troops. No other fighting force on earth could have traveled so far so quickly.
After his troops had returned with newly constructed litters, they’d loaded the dead, then flown back to the base camp. Laying the fallen alongside their murdered brothers, the funeral detail lit the traditional pyres. The flames roared for hours.
Satisfied that his base camp troops had hunted down enough food and found a potable water supply, Traax had ordered twenty-five warriors to return with him to the pass. Supplies were loaded onto the empty litters and brought along. Traax had sternly ordered the base camp commander to inform him immediately if intruders were seen.
Traax stretched out on the ground beside the fire. Several warriors were sleeping. Three scouts stood guard downhill, and four more watched the shimmering pass. Traax had given stern orders that no one stray from his post.
Just then he saw his three scouts rush into camp. Sensing trouble, he came to his feet.
Before Traax could speak the lead scout covered his mouth, telling everyone to remain quiet. Then the scout pointed to one ear and one closed eye, indicating that he had heard something, but seen nothing.
One by one the warriors silently woke their brothers. Soon everyone was on his feet. The campfire was extinguished, and magenta moonlight reclaimed the scene.
Drawing his dreggan, Traax listened intently. No night birds sang and no creatures stirred. But that meant nothing, because quietness had blanketed the mountainside from the moment his group had arrived. Then the night wind stilled eerily.
Again looking to his commander, the first scout formed a V with two fingers, then pointed his hands toward the ground and wiggled them, signaling that the sound had come from two horses’ hooves. The warrior standing beside him nodded his agreement, then pointed down the sloping mountainside.
Satisfied that the threat was real, Traax pointed at some fighters and gestured upward. Their beating wings nearly silent, five warriors stealthily took to the sky. Smiling grimly, Traax was suddenly glad that he had picked these troops personally.
Traax pointed his dreggan toward the ground. Recognizing the order, every warrior quickly took up a handful of charred earth, rubbing it onto his blade so that it wouldn’t shine in the moonlight. After a final signal from their commander they fanned out. Expertly becoming one with the charred forest, the warriors waited.
As the anxious moments passed, Traax started to wonder whether his scouts had been wrong. Then the sound of horse hooves rose up the mountainside. Gripping his dreggan tighter, Traax strained his eyes in the moonlight. Still he saw nothing.
Soon an azure cloud formed. As it neared, the horse steps grew louder. The cloud faded to show two glowing eyes hanging menacingly in space. Soon Xanthus and his mount took form.
Sitting astride his stallion, the Darkling held his axe in one hand and his shield in the other. He stopped his horse about twenty paces downhill. His impatient stallion snorted and pawed the charred ground.
Traax could not see the prince. But even with Xanthus’ mount standing still, the Minions soon heard another horse approaching. A second azure cloud formed.
Traax watched spellbound as Tristan appeared from its depths. Riding up alongside Xanthus’ horse, theJin’Sai pulled Shadow to a stop. The misty cloud from which he had emerged quickly vanished. Still crouching in the darkness, the Minions waited tensely.
Xanthus turned his awful gaze toward the prince. “It seems that your Conclave hasn’t given up on you,” he said quietly. “The craft tells me that twenty Minions hide there in the darkness. Another five circle the sky. If you want them to live, call them off. I can kill twenty-five as easily as one.”
Tristan glared at the Darkling. “If I order them to stand down, do you promise not to hurt them?” he asked.
Xanthus returned his gaze back toward the camp. “Yes-provided none try to kill me, or to rescue you. I expect you to honor our bargain. If you refuse, your Minions will die. Either way, I grant you some time alone with them before I approach.”
Tristan spurred Shadow forward. He soon saw the abandoned campsite. Stopping his horse, he looked around.
“Sheathe your weapons and show yourselves!” he shouted into the night. “This is an order from yourJin’Sai!”
Knowing that Tristan’s words superseded all else, the warriors obeyed. Tristan soon heard the familiar sound of dreggans sliding into their scabbards.
Traax showed himself first. Then the five flying warriors landed and the rest came out from hiding. Traax hurried to his lord’s side. Casting a wary glance downhill, he saw that Xanthus had not moved.
Traax looked worriedly at Tristan. His face drawn and pale, theJin’Sai seemed exhausted. “Are you well, my lord?” Traax whispered.
“Well enough,” he answered. “It is good to see you, my friend. There is no use in whispering. Because he commands the craft, Xanthus probably hears everything we say.”
Looking around, Tristan acknowledged the other warriors. Their faces grim, it was clear they were spoiling for a fight. “Xanthus says that there are twenty-five warriors here with you,” Tristan said. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” Traax answered. “Another twenty-five wait at the base camp, making fifty in total.”
Tristan looked around at the anxious warriors. He knew that his next order would be nearly impossible for them to accept, even from him.
“Drop your dreggans!” he shouted. “You have no chance against the Darkling.”
Even though the order had come directly from theirJin’Sai, at first the warriors hesitated. Then the razor-sharp swords started falling to the ground. Looking down at Traax, Tristan saw that his second-in-command had not complied.
“You too,” he added sadly.
Traax looked aghast at Tristan. To a Minion, the mere idea of surrendering one’s sword was blasphemy. “Butwhy, my lord?” Traax asked. His incredulity was such that his voice had become little more than a whisper.
“We are fifty-one warriors!” he protested. “If we all attack at once, I know that we can kill that bastard! You have but to give the word!”
Tristan shot Traax a determined look. “We cannot defeat him!” he answered. “I have seen the things he can do! I have no choice but to go with him through the pass!”
Stupefied, Traax took a step backward. “But Xanthus serves the Vagaries!” he argued. “Only he knows what will happen to you on the other side! You mustn’t do this!”
Tristan gazed deeply into Traax’s eyes. For everyone’s good, the order had to be followed. “Commander!” he said sternly. “Drop your sword!”
Knowing he must obey, Traax took a deep breath. His dreggan fell to the ground.
“Does Faegan live?” Tristan asked anxiously.
Traax nodded. “Yes,” he said. “He was badly burned, but he will recover.”
“Good,” Tristan said. “What about the ball guests he accidentally injured?”
“Several Minions and humans were killed outright, and some survivors still lie near death. The Minion healers and the acolytes are doing all they can for them. Shailiha ordered us to come here, to intercept you.”
Turning in his saddle, Tristan looked down the moonlit hillside. Xanthus was still keeping his word. The prince turned back to Traax.
“I expected as much,” he said. Then Tristan saw the ruby pin attached to Traax’s body armor. He fully understood the custom. He managed a slight smile.
“That betrothal pin comes from Duvessa, I’d wager,” he said.
Traax nodded. “She does me a great honor.”
“In truth, you honor each other,” Tristan answered.
Reaching beneath his vest, Tristan produced the hated black mask. He held it to the moonlight for a moment before handing it to Traax. A confused look overcame the warrior’s face.
“Xanthus insisted that I wear it,” Tristan explained. “He didn’t want me recognized while he committed more atrocities. I’m glad to be rid of it. When you see Shailiha, give it to her.” Tristan leaned down on his saddle pommel. “I assume that because you are here, the Conclave has yet to set sail for the Citadel,” he said.
“They had not done so when I left. I cannot vouch for after that.”
“After I am gone, I want you to fly back to the palace,” Tristan ordered. “Tell the Conclave what happened here. Shailiha must attack soon! Every second we wait, our position weakens. I am more convinced than ever that our answers lie across the sea.”
Worry crowded its way onto Traax’s face again. “Is there truly no other way?”
“Not that I can find,” Tristan answered. “If I refuse, he will keep on killing. Worse, we might lose the Paragon forever.”
Wondering what fate awaited him, Tristan looked past Traax toward the shimmering azure wall. His jaw hardened.
“I will do everything in my power to return,” he added softly. “Tell Shailiha that I love her. In my absence-be it a day or forever-you are to follow her orders like they were my own. In the event of her death, the wizards command you.”
“Your time is up, Jin’Sai!” they suddenly heard Xanthus call out. “I am about to approach! If your warriors resist me, they will die!”
Spurring his stallion onward, Xanthus neared the campsite. As the Darkling neared, the prince could sense every warrior tensing, each desperately wanting to pick up his sword. To Tristan’s relief, not one did.
Xanthus glanced around at the discarded dreggans. Looking at Traax, he smiled.
“Very sensible,” he said. He looked over at Tristan. “The Heretics await you. It is time to go.”
Tristan gave Traax a final look of farewell. “Remember my orders,” he said. “Do not try to follow us.”
It was rare to see Minion weakness. Even so, Traax’s eyes were damp. Collecting himself, he clicked his boot heels together. “I live to serve!” he said.
Tristan looked at Xanthus. “I am ready,” he said.
Shimmering brightly, the pass stood about twenty meters up the hillside. As the helpless warriors watched, Xanthus spurred his stallion toward its splendor. Tristan followed.
The azure glow was nearly blinding. Even so, it gave off no heat. Just like the first time Tristan had come here, white light shards danced to and fro within its limitless depths.
Raising his arms, Xanthus called the craft. A white vertical line formed on the center of the wall. Xanthus spread his arms, and the pass divided into two halves. Gazing in, Tristan saw only blackness. Xanthus looked over at the prince.
“It is our time, now,” he said softly. “No otherJin’Sai orJin’Saiou has ever been so privileged. Take care not to leave my side. Alone, your death is inevitable. I will place a spell over our mounts so they remain calm, and do our bidding. Come, Jin’Sai. Together we will make history.” Spurring their horses forward, Tristan and Xanthus entered the darkness and disappeared.
The azure wall closed behind them, leaving the Minions alone again in the night.