It is not only for ourselves that we fight the Vagaries, but also for those who left behind so many treasures-such as the Tome, the Paragon, and the Scroll of the Vigors. We fight to preserve the legacy of the Ones Who Came Before.
SMILING TO HIMSELF, EINAR WATCHED HIS SERVANTSgo about their work. From where he and the others waited they could see only glimpses of the fighting, but they knew it would be intense. Serena’s lead consul had no doubt about the outcome.
Peering out from another camouflaged cone formed by his envelopers, Einar looked to the sky. It was midday in Parthalon. Dark clouds were forming, and it would rain soon. He hoped to take his latest victory before the storm broke.
Some of his consuls and Valrenkians had been left behind to oversee the Ghetto while a contingent of envelopers and swamp shrews protected them there. By the time this new prize had been secured, those left behind would be well along in their part of the plan.
Although the distance between the Ghetto of the Shunned and this new place was short, Einar had taken great care that his forces not be seen. The Parthalon population was most concentrated in the north. Though Einar knew that the populace could give him no real trouble, it was in his best interests to remain unnoticed-at least until this second goal had been secured. He knew it would not fall as easily as the Ghetto. But taking this place was paramount to the Heretics’ plan, so it had to be done. Smiling again, he returned his gaze to their newest prize. They would capture the Recluse.
Built with slave labor more than three centuries past, the Recluse sat on a high island in the middle of a lake. The large water body surrounding it rippled slightly in the freshening wind. The castle was reached by a long bridge, which was the only way in or out.
The wooden drawbridge meeting the lake bridge was lowered, and flanked on either side by high barbicans. Just beyond, the outer courtyard areas would be filled with desperately fighting Minion warriors. Beyond the first two gate towers were another two towers. Another portcullis stood between them, banning entrance to the inner ward. These two gate towers seemed to be the only opening in the walls surrounding the castle. They also protected the fore-buildings and keep, the Recluse’s innermost sanctuary. Unlike the dark and foreboding towers and outer ward areas, the architecture at the Recluse’s heart looked more refined.
Even Einar stared in awe. The Recluse had to be at least half again the size of the royal palace in Tammerland. And that didn’t include the huge secret areas belowground-the reason this place was so valuable to him. Einar couldn’t imagine how many different rooms and hallways there might be. From each corner turret, a flag carrying theJin’Sai ’s heraldry waved proudly.
The majestic structure had been partly destroyed when theJin’Sai defeated the Coven. Einar was forced to admit that the Minions had done a superb job of restoring the structure to its original glory. It was also said that this was where theJin’Sai had married Celeste, the First Wizard’s only child.
Thank you for rebuilding the Recluse, Einar thought. We will put it to good use.
Just then he saw an enveloper approaching. Fluttering its sides, it landed gently before the cone. Pushing two envelopers aside, Einar walked from the cone’s darkness and into the midday light.
The consul thought for a moment. “Is it safe to enter the Recluse?” he asked. The enveloper answered with a dip of its head.
“Good,” Einar said. “It is time to inspect our newest prize.”
Einar ordered the enveloper cone dismantled and watched as the litters were again loaded. Soon he, Reznik, and the others were winging their way toward the smoking Recluse. Soaring over the castle walls, even Einar was surprised by the immense carnage. As the litters settled in the outer ward, their passengers jumped to the ground.
Although the envelopers and shrews had devoured most of their victims, Minion bodies still littered the castle. Blood ran deep across the stone floors. The occasional dead shrew and enveloper could also be seen, but not in enough numbers to affect Einar’s plans. Some interior areas were afire.
Still rooting out survivors, angry shrews roamed the Recluse freely. Despite using the craft, Einar could barely see his envelopers. But he knew they would also be looking for stragglers.
Whenever a surviving warrior was found he was devoured on the spot. Minion screams occasionally filtered down the Recluse hallways to fade away in the spacious outer ward. Here and there a dead, white-winged Gallipolai could be seen among the other victims. Einar knew that more than three thousand warriors had guarded the Recluse. Most were dead. Any survivors would soon join them in the Afterlife.
Einar and Reznik suddenly heard some unusual grunting sounds then smelled an overpowering stench. Before they departed the Citadel, Serena had warned them about the shrews’ strange habits. But until seeing it for themselves, they hadn’t fully appreciated their grotesqueness.
Many satiated shrews had already started coughing up their victims’ bones and clothing. Given the shrews’ huge numbers, the regurgitated piles-not to mention those left by the envelopers-were forming all too quickly. Soon the Recluse would be littered with them. Unless they were cleared away, disease would follow. Einar didn’t hesitate. Summoning his remaining Valrenkians and consuls, he pointed to the growing piles.
“Use the craft to vanish those leavings!” he ordered. “Unload the craft tools and extinguish the fires! We need this place intact!”
As they set about their work, a consul approached. He bowed. His name was Actinius. A heavyset man in his mid-forties, he was Einar’s consular second-in-command.
“My lord,” he said. “By your order, a group of shrews are holding some Minion survivors at bay.”
“Good,” Einar answered. “The warriors will prove useful. Do you know where they are?”
The consul smiled. “One need only to follow the blood trail.”
“Show us,” Einar ordered.
Actinius immediately started leading them across the bloody outer ward, then toward the fore-buildings and keep. Walking up the majestic steps, they entered the grand foyer. Despite having been wrecked by the fighting, the room’s original beauty was apparent.
The foyer was three stories high. Overhead, skylights showed dark, passing clouds. More than one dozen variegated columns stretched their way to the ceiling, and the floor was a black-and-white checkerboard affair. Tables, sofas, and chairs-now damaged and smeared with blood-lay scattered about. Wrecked paintings and ripped tapestries hung drunkenly on the walls.
A curved staircase stood against the room’s far side. Its upper landing split off into two opposite directions, each leading to the various second-floor rooms. Minion dead also lay here, as did the odd shrew and enveloper. Walking across the floor, the three mystics did their best to avoid the blood.
As Actinius led them upstairs and down a hallway, Reznik suddenly understood why Einar had ordered that some Minions be spared. The Recluse was vast; finding the chambers they needed would certainly prove problematic. Once they were located, his collaborations with Einar could start in earnest. If they could finish their research in time, the world would be theirs to command.
As they approached the hallway’s end they heard snarling shrews. The consul stopped before an open doorway. Leading the others into the room, Einar looked around.
The once-elegant bedroom was a wreck. Like the Recluse’s foyer, this chamber was spacious and pleasant. A large four-poster bed stood against one wall, its sheets and bedcover ripped to shreds. Most of the furniture was overturned. Einar noticed that the windows’ stained glass had been destroyed, allowing the midday breeze to harass the patterned curtains. He turned to look at the captured warriors.
Two snarling shrews held four Minions at bay. Severely wounded, three were too weak to fight. Unable to rise, they sat on the floor, trying to stanch their wounds.
The exhausted fourth warrior gallantly protected his brothers. Waving his dreggan, he was doing his best to keep the shrews at bay. Einar noticed that the shrews had wisely trapped the Minions in one corner, preventing them from taking flight through the smashed windows.
Einar stepped closer. Looking at the warriors’ armor insignia, he was delighted to learn that each fighter held considerable rank. He was pleased, because they would probably have the information that he needed.
Einar boldly walked to stand between the warriors and the shrews. Without taking his gaze from the warriors, Einar ordered the shrews to back off. The snarling beasts retreated toward the door. The warrior protecting the others glared hatefully at Reznik, then Einar.
“What is your name?” Einar asked. His voice was controlled, almost courteous.
“I am Derrick,” the warrior answered. He raised his sword a bit higher. “Who areyou?” he demanded. He was so exhausted he could barely speak. “Why have you attacked us?”
“My identity is of no consequence to you,” Einar answered. “But your rank as a Minion officer matters greatly. The Recluse is vast-therefore I require a guide. Although it’s beautiful, most of this place means nothing to us. Our only reason for being here is to gain access to Failee’s research chambers.”
Smiling, Einar placed his hands into opposite sleeves of his robe. “You are going to show me those secret doorways,” he added quietly.
Laughing, Derrick lifted his sword point higher. “Never!” he shouted. “Because you command the shrews, it is clear that you serve the Vagaries. Serena is no doubt your queen. We would gladly die before helping you!”
Einar shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I was once one of the First Wizard’s most powerful consuls. My gifts have only grown since then. Allow me to show how vulnerable you are.”
Stretching forth one hand, Einar called the craft. To his great surprise, Derrick suddenly felt his dreggan handle become warm, then hot. Soon it was too scalding to hold, forcing him to drop it to the floor. He watched in awe as the dreggan melted at his feet, forming a pool of liquid steel and gold. Enraged, Derrick glared at the consul.
“Now then,” Einar said calmly. “You will escort us to the lower regions.”
The warrior remained defiant. “No,” he answered quietly.
“Then perhaps another object lesson will help,” Einar replied.
Pointing one hand toward the bleeding warriors, Einar again called the craft. An azure bolt loosed from his fingertips to go tearing across the room. Striking a wounded warrior in the forehead, the bolt blew his cranium apart. Blood, bone, and brain matter flew into the air and splattered against the rear wall. Einar lowered his hand.
“Do as I ask or your two remaining friends will suffer the same fate,” he warned.
Gritting his teeth, Derrick shook his head. “Do what you will,” he said. “Our answer remains the same.”
Frustrated by the warrior’s stubbornness, Einar again raised his hand. Then a thought came to him. There was a simpler way to get what he wanted. He had never entered a Minion mind. It would prove interesting.
Summoning his powers, Einar invoked the spell allowing him to control the warrior’s consciousness. Reznik and Actinius watched with rapt curiosity.
Suddenly the warrior’s head snapped back, and his eyeballs rolled up in his head-sure signs that his mind had been overtaken. Reznik and Actinius marveled at their master’s talent. Being able to penetrate another’s mind was a rare skill.
Satisfied, Einar lowered his hand. Weak from blood loss, the other warriors could only watch.
“Now then,” Einar said, “do you know where the secret entrances to the lower regions are found?”
“Yes,” Derrick answered thickly.
“How many are there?” Einar asked.
“Seven.”
“Good,” Einar answered. “You will show us each one.”
“Yes,” the warrior answered.
Einar smiled. “There’s a good fellow,” he said. He turned to look at Actinius. “After we have gone, kill the other two any way you like.”
Actinius nodded. “With pleasure,” he answered.
“Now then,” Einar said to Derrick. “You may lead the way.”
With Einar and Reznik in tow, Derrick walked numbly from the room. Leading them back to the grand stairway, he started down. As they took their first few steps, Minion death screams rang out from the bedroom above.
Two hours later, six secret entrances had been discovered and marked. As Derrick led them toward the seventh, Einar smiled. This had been a productive day.
Derrick stopped partway down another hallway. Reaching up, he grabbed an oil lamp sconce attached to the wall and gave it a sharp tug. As the sconce angled downward, an oaken wall panel slid open. Using the craft, Einar burned a mark into the wall just below the sconce, identifying it for later use.
Like the other disguised passageways, this one’s steps led down into darkness. Suspecting that the First Mistress would have lined the stairway with radiance stones, Einar waved a hand. At once a pale green light illuminated the way. He looked past the helpless Derrick and into Reznik’s eyes.
“I’m going down,” he said. “I want you to return to the outer ward, then issue the needed orders. Have the craft tools and the Scroll of the Vagaries sent down immediately. Above all, ensure that the Recluse is protected.” Then he looked over at the helpless warrior.
“Feed him to the shrews,” he ordered. “In his current state he will give them no trouble. Be sure that no Minions remain alive, then join me in the lower regions. We are about to make history.” Without further ado, Einar disappeared into the depths.
“Come with me,” Reznik ordered Derrick. Having no choice, the officer followed along.
On reaching the outer ward, Reznik called the shrews, envelopers, Valrenkians, and consuls together. After ordering the craft tools and the Scroll of the Vagaries taken to Einar, he selected several consuls to come forward.
“You are to fly back to the Ghetto,” he said. “Tell our comrades that they may start the shipments.” Pausing for a moment, he looked at the remaining consuls and Valrenkians.
“Continue to clean the Recluse and set things right,” he said. “Once that task is done, join Einar and me in the lower regions. The important work is about to start.”
To Reznik’s delight the Valrenkians and consuls started cheering and shaking their fists in the air. He happily joined in. After today nothing could stop them.
Reznik looked at the shrews. Their numbers were so great that they filled the outer ward, spilled across the drawbridge and lake bridge, and out onto Parthalonian soil.
“As many of you as possible will hide yourselves in the lake!” he ordered. “The rest are to patrol the surrounding area. Devour any strangers who come near!”
Snarling and hissing, the shrews lumbered from the castle grounds. Walking to the drawbridge, Reznik watched as shrews by the hundreds submerged into the lake. As the surface stilled, he smiled.
Returning to the outer ward, Reznik raised his hands to the sky. He couldn’t see the envelopers, but he knew they were there.
“Cease your camouflage so that I might see you!” he shouted. At once the sky filled with envelopers, their gray, sleek skin fluttering in the wind.
“Half your numbers are to patrol the sky above the Recluse!” Reznik ordered. “The rest are to become one with the castle! Go!”
Some envelopers dutifully sailed upward, again disappearing as they took on the sky’s and clouds’ exact likenesses. The others soared toward various places on the castle’s structure. Landing flat against the walls, turrets, guard paths, and keep, they soon blended in perfectly with their surroundings and disappeared.
After ordering Derrick to remain where he was, Reznik walked across the drawbridge, then traversed the lake bridge to stand on Parthalonian soil. Looking back at the Recluse, he smiled.
It was amazing. The castle appeared just as it did before the attack. Any force trying to approach would be drawn in by its normalcy, then cut to ribbons before they realized what was happening. Even theJin’Sai ’s entire Minion army could never take this place.
As he walked back across the bridge, he saw a litter carrying consuls soar over the castle walls, then turn southward. From his perspective it looked strange in its loneliness, because the envelopers carrying it could not be seen against the sky.
On walking halfway across the drawbridge Reznik stopped and looked at Derrick. With a glassy, absent look in his eyes, the warrior stood exactly where Reznik had left him. The Valrenkian beckoned him forward. Removing a knife from his belt, he grinned wickedly into the warrior’s eyes.
“Good-bye, you winged freak,” he whispered.
With one sure stroke he cut the warrior’s throat, then pushed him into the lake. Hungry shrews rushed to the surface. Teeth flashed briefly, then the warrior disappeared beneath the waves.
Wiping the blood from his knife, Reznik headed for the inner ward. Just as he started up the foyer steps the impending storm broke, sending a cleansing shower down onto everything. Soon the castle’s interior would look as normal as its outer walls.
Whistling a happy tune, he started the walk toward the secret passageway.