STANDING AT ONE OF THE BLACK SHIPS’ STARBOARDgunwales, Shailiha, Adrian, and Tyranny felt the bracing ocean wind against their faces. Although all three women were tired, being at sea again was welcome.
It was just after midnight on the Sea of Whispers. The winds were steady, helping the Conclave make good time as their fleet plowed its way east, toward the Citadel. The sky was clear, allowing the stars to twinkle brightly. Their pitching forms dark as night, the remaining five Black Ships dutifully followed Tyranny’s flagship.
Because the vessels had been returned to the Conclave’s service, Jessamay had suggested that they be reanointed with their original names. The Conclave had wholeheartedly approved. The Black Ships were once again theEphyra, theIllendium, theMalvina, theFlorian, theCavalon, and theTammerland. Tyranny had chosen theTammerland as her personal flagship.
The fleet’s departure had come earlier than planned. After returning from their meeting with Aeolus, the three women and Wigg had discovered that the vessels were ready to depart, several hours ahead of schedule. Because time was essential, Shailiha decided to sail immediately.
As usual, Faegan intended to remain behind and concentrate on his research. But the more he thought about the mission, the more the Citadel’s untold mysteries beckoned. Moreover, his unique gifts might be needed, because not one Conclave member truly knew what dangers they might be facing. At the last moment he had agreed to come along. As a precaution he had hurriedly packed the specialized craft tools needed to conjure his azure portal, among other wizardly items.
Abbey remained behind. Should the prince return home, Wigg wanted someone in authority to inform Tristan about recent events, including the surprise visit to Aeolus. Although she was disappointed, Abbey had accepted her passive assignment graciously, and had promised Shailiha that she would take good care of Morganna.
Cupping her hands against the wind, Tyranny lit a cigarillo, then tossed the dead match over the side. As she cast an expert gaze over her huge flagship, she smiled.
The Black Ships were plowing through the waves, rather than flying over them. After weighing anchor, Adrian and her acolytes had powered the vessels through the air for several hours. They had made amazingly good time. But the women had eventually tired, forcing the fleet to sail for a time in the traditional way. It would be back and forth like this all the way to the Citadel, Tyranny knew. When the fleet was aloft, little work was needed from the Minion crewmen. But now that the ships were afloat, the warriors were busy.
As she watched them go about their duties, Tyranny had to admit that the Minions were superior to human crewmembers in every way. Male and female warriors swarmed expertly over the ships’ decks. Others worked the sails and rigging, adjusting them quickly to the shifting weather conditions. Winging their way aloft, they rose confidently to the great heights commanded by the vessels’ towering masts, then hovered as they worked. Unlike human crewmembers, warrior patrols could scout the sea for leagues in every direction, and did so constantly. And perhaps most important, Tyranny knew the warriors’ fighting abilities firsthand.
The Black Ships had been loaded nearly to the sinking point with warriors, food, and weapons. If the attack on the Citadel became protracted, these precious cargoes would have to sustain the siege until victory was won. Given how fast the ships were traveling while so heavily burdened, Tyranny could only guess at their speed after some provisions had been consumed, and the vessels became lighter. Compared to the ships and crews she was used to commanding, the Conclave privateer had never felt so powerful or so confident.
A wry look overtook her face as she took a final drag on the cigarillo, then tossed it overboard. She tousled her short hair. Believing in your own infallibility is a terrible mistake out here, she reminded herself. That will get you killed as fast as anything.
She turned to look at Shailiha. The princess was wearing a gray jerkin with dark trunk hose and black knee boots. A sword hung from her left hip, and a sheathed dagger lay tied down to her right thigh. Her long blond hair was pulled behind her head and collected by a gold barrette. Tyranny secretly enjoyed seeing the princess dressed this way, for it seemed to put the two of them on a more equal footing. The privateer looked at Adrian.
“Why don’t you go and get some rest, Sister?” she asked. “You look exhausted.”
Adrian gave the other women a tired smile. “I was thinking that exact thing,” she answered. “With your permission, Your Highness?”
Shailiha nodded. “Certainly,” she answered simply. “Sleep well. I have a feeling we will need your skills soon enough.” With a bow, Adrian walked away. Shailiha gave Tyranny a knowing look.
“So what is it that you do not wish Adrian to hear?” Shailiha asked. As she looked back out to sea, her hair swayed gracefully behind her in the wind. “Given that there are no problems with the fleet, I can only guess that the subject is personal. And if it is,” she added quietly, “then it probably has to do with Tristan.”
Tyranny nodded. “I’m worried for him,” she said.
Turning around, Shailiha leaned her back against the gunwale. Smiling slightly, she crossed one foot over the other. “Oh, I think it’s more than that,” she said. “You love him, don’t you?”
Knowing she had been found out, the privateer nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” the princess answered. “Especially after hearing what you said to him, just before he disappeared with Xanthus. Tristan’s heart still suffers from Celeste’s passing, but less so than before. In truth, he might be ready to start another relationship. But there is something else about my brother that you need to understand.” Turning back to the sea, Shailiha thoughtfully laced her fingers atop the polished deck rail.
“Until the return of the Coven, Tristan’s entire life-and mine as well-had seen nothing but wealth, ease, and privilege.” She smiled knowingly. “Many thought him arrogant and spoiled. And in some ways, I suppose that they were right. The strange thing is that he never wanted such pampering. He begged our parents night and day to let him pursue a rough-and-tumble career in the Royal Guard. But of course they could not allow it, for they knew that his path lay in a different direction. That always rankled him, and forced him to feel like his destiny was someone else’s to govern. To really know Tristan is to understand how much he hates being told what to do.” Shailiha paused for a few moments, thinking.
“Then, in the space of only a few hours, everything changed,” she went on. “The Coven resurfaced to capture me and the Paragon. Tristan had to grow up literally overnight, so that he could serve the craft, and what remained of his family and his nation. Now he is the ruler of Eutracia, and I am his successor. But it goes far deeper than that. You and the others probably believe that being royalty somehow makes fulfilling our destinies easier. If you do, you’re wrong. Given all the added burdens our offices demand, being the prince and the princess sometimes makes our lives more difficult. Many things weigh heavily on each of us.”
Tyranny gave Shailiha a wry look. “So what are you saying?” she asked. “That I should somehow pity you two? I’m sorry, Your Highness. If you expect that sentiment from me, you’ve chosen the wrong woman.”
Shaking her head, Shailiha laughed quickly down her nose. “No, of course not,” she answered. “What I’m saying is that if you intend to enter Tristan’s heart, go slow. He has many burdens with which to cope. You see, in his earlier, carefree days, he never needed to approach women-they almost always approached him, and he grew tired of it. I have often thought that one of the reasons he was so drawn to Celeste was that she was at first so unavailable to him, and on so many levels. The fact that he was the prince meant nothing to her, and he found that intriguing. It’s true what they say, you know.”
“What’s that?” Tyranny asked.
Shailiha smiled. “That we always want most what we cannot have,” she answered.
Tyranny stared at the deck for a moment. “Thank you for that insight,” she said. “I never considered Tristan that way.”
“You’re welcome,” Shailiha answered. “But don’t come crying to me if he remains aloof! Many women have tried to get truly close, but only Celeste succeeded. Even so, my brother can get under a girl’s skin.”
“I know,” Tyranny said quietly. “I have become one of them.” Looking out to sea, the privateer sighed.
“I will be eager to see him again,” she said, “if and when he returns to us.” Almost immediately, Tyranny regretted her remark. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s just that-”
Giving her a little smile, Shailiha put one hand over hers. “It’s all right,” she said. “We all miss him. We must remain optimistic. When he finally comes home, we can take turns shouting at him for being away so long!” Both women laughed at that idea.
Just then they saw Traax running their way. Stopping abruptly, he clicked his heels.
“Begging your pardon, Your Majesty,” he said, trying to catch his breath. “The wizards are calling an emergency Conclave meeting.”
Tyranny’s wariness resurfaced. “What is it?” she demanded. “Have our patrols sighted something?”
Traax shook his head. “No, Captain,” he answered. “Nor do I know why the wizards deem this impromptu gathering to be of such importance. All I know is that we must go quickly.”
“Very well,” Shailiha said. “Lead the way.” Traax turned and hurried off with the women in tow.
Finally reaching the stern, Traax led Tyranny and Shailiha down a series of hatchway steps. Three decks down he left the stairway to continue along a lamplit hallway, then continued on toward the ship’s stern. Finally he stopped before mahogany double doors. Even before Traax knocked, the women could hear shouting coming from the other side. Without waiting for a response, the Minion commander opened the doors and the three of them walked into the room.
The chamber stretching before them was large and sumptuously decorated. Each Conclave member knew this place. Long ago, this suite of rooms had served as the captain’s quarters, when the ship had sailed against the Coven in the service of the Directorate. The arrangements were the same aboard each Black Ship. But here on theTammerland, Tyranny had graciously given these chambers over as the Conclave’s meeting place.
The room’s large rear wall was also the ship’s stern. It was laden with opened, wood-slatted windows and intricately carved artwork. A rectangular meeting table sat in the room’s center, around which all of the other Conclave members were already seated. Patterned rugs lay atop the hardwood floor, and upholstered furniture had been strategically placed around the room. A doorway in the right-hand wall led off to a bedroom, sitting room, and washroom. Soft light was provided by oil lamp chandeliers, each swinging gently in opposite rhythm to the rocking ship.
As she walked to take her seat at the table, Shailiha was surprised to see Faegan scowl and angrily bang his fists down atop his chair arms. The princess gave Tyranny a questioning glance, but all the equally confused privateer could do was to sit down and shrug her shoulders.
“And I’m telling you that this is my fault and mine alone!” Faegan shouted at Wigg. “I can’t believe I was so stupid! We simply aren’t prepared! If they were to attack now, our entire fleet might be done for!”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jessamay countered. “Not one of us realized it, either.”
“What’s all this ruckus about?” Shailiha shouted, quickly taking control of the meeting. “Has something happened?”
Wigg laced his long fingers on the table top. “Not yet,” he answered. “But we just realized how perilous our situation might already be. Before we explain, you must order that each ship’s sails be furled, and that the fleet come to a standstill. If we drift, we drift. It can’t be helped. We must not travel any farther east until we have devised a proper plan.”
“What are you talking about?” Tyranny demanded. “After making such good progress, why on earth would you want us todrift? That is when a warship is at her most vulnerable!”
“Not in our case,” Wigg answered cryptically.
“Please explain,” Shailiha said.
“It’s about the Necrophagians,” Faegan answered for the First Wizard. “We believe it possible that they might attack at any time. We must not move farther east until we have devised a plan to deal with them. How foolish we were not to see it before now!”
“We all understand the threat,” Shailiha said. “But surely we do not have to worry about it just yet. Everyone knows that Necrophagian territory is in the middle of the sea, a good fifteen days’ sail from either coast. With the acolytes empowering the fleet, we have made good time so far. But even I am sea dog enough to know that we couldn’t possibly have reached the ocean’s midpoint this quickly.”
“Normally we would agree,” Jessamay said. “But during Wulfgar’s second invasion attempt, things changed. In truth, we might already be in Necrophagian territory.”
Tyranny leaned forward and gave Jessamay a hard look. “How is that possible?” she asked.
“You’re forgetting something,” Wigg answered. “Something that the rest of us also neglected before we sailed. During Wulfgar’s second invasion of Eutracia, we defeated theEnseterat, but not all his servants. When last we saw the Necrophagians, they were still alive. They had followed Wulfgar to a point near the Eutracian coast, where the climactic sea battle between the Minion fleet and the Black Ships took place. If they did not return to their old territory, we might already again be in Necrophagian waters. Either way, we must quickly form a battle plan to deal with them.”
“But how did Wulfgar manage to bring the Necrophagians that far west in the first place?” Tyranny asked Wigg. “To call them into his service, he must have had some power over them. Where did that come from? Even Failee didn’t seem to control them to such an extent. I don’t remember you, Faegan, or Jessamay telling us the answer.”
“That’s because we don’t have one,” Faegan said. “At least not one that we believe we can rely on. Because of the relatively short time Wulfgar lived at the Citadel, we can only assume that all of his gifts were granted to him by way of the Vagaries Forestallments. If that is true, then the Scroll of the Vagaries must contain the needed spell to command the Necrophagians. Or perhaps Wulfgar simply bartered with them to do his bidding, as Failee did. He would have been in a position to offer them far more than she could have at the time. In any event, once the Vagaries scroll is in our grasp, we’ll know more.” Faegan paused for a moment, thinking.
“As you also know, we believe that the Necrophagians are transformed members of the Ones Who Came Before, captured by the Heretics during the War of Attrition,” he added. “Instead of killing them outright, our guess is that the Heretics condemned the Ones to the depths, forcing them to do their bidding. We have further theorized that the Heretics did this to add yet another layer of protection to the Citadel. What better way to defend an island than with endowed underwater beings, perpetually lying in wait to devour anyone who came near? But all this remains pure conjecture. Only on reaching and taking the Citadel can we be sure. And you can bet that Serena will have more than one nasty surprise waiting for us when we arrive.”
“Ifwe arrive,” Adrian added. “As you said, first we must deal with the Necrophagians.”
Tyranny stood up from the table. “I’ve heard enough,” she said. “I will immediately give the order to furl our sails. I will also order the other ships’ crews to do the same. It will put us off schedule, but for the time being it seems that there is no other choice.” Shaking her head, Tyranny scowled.
“But allowing warships to aimlessly drift in such a time of danger goes directly against every fiber of my being,” she added. She looked at Shailiha. “With your permission, Princess, I will take my leave.”
Shailiha nodded. “Be quick,” she said, “and return. We still have need of your counsel.”
After giving the members a short bow, Tyranny hurried out the double doors. Almost immediately the Conclave heard her loudly calling out for Scars.
“She’s a good woman,” Wigg said. “Now then, let’s discuss how to deal with the Necrophagian threat. As we have done before, we can ask for Minion volunteers to fight to the death, to supply the Necrophagians their usual bounty of forty dead bodies as payment to sail across their territory. But I think that-”
His face suddenly blanching with surprise, Wigg’s eyes went wide. At first Shailiha and the others wondered why. But when Wigg spoke again, they quickly got their answer.
“I beg the Afterlife,” Wigg said.
The wizard’s breath was coming out in white, vaporous clouds. Then everyone suddenly realized that the temperature had plummeted, causing their breath to also become ghostlike vapors in the unexpected coldness.
Suddenly theTammerland lurched to an abrupt stop. Tilting hard on her bow, the ship’s stern literally lifted from the sea. She came to a standstill so quickly that all the furniture slid across the room, the oil chandeliers swung violently, and Adrian and Wigg were launched from their chairs to go tumbling to the floor.
With a tortured groan theTammerland ’s black timbers stressed agonizingly against one another as she crashed back to the sea. Then the huge ship rocked back and forth violently, finally finding her equilibrium again. No sooner had Wigg and Adrian scrambled to their feet than a dense fog started rolling in through the stern windows.
Thick and gray, the fog slithered in like predatory snakes. It quickly covered the floor and stuck fast to everyone’s clothes and skin. It soon was knee-deep, and everyone became awash in its velvety embrace. Then the unthinkable happened. Out over the sea, more fog formed, then started morphing into a gigantic hand.
Shailiha watched speechlessly as the hand’s fingers reached their way in through the stern windows. Glass broke, solid iron window casings snapped apart, and ornate wall carvings went tumbling to the floor. Then the hand closed around theTammerland ’s stern to start crushing it like an eggshell.
Splitting into hundreds of shards, the stern’s upper section came crashing apart, partly exposing the room to the sea. Salt water immediately started pouring in, threatening to engulf the entire room. Screaming and waving his arms, Wigg ordered everyone to run for their lives. The Conclave members finally reached the door.
Wigg ushered Jessamay, Shailiha, and Adrian through first, followed by Traax. Then the First Wizard and Faegan went through. As the rushing seawater poured into the hallway, Wigg spun around to face everyone.
“Go!” he screamed. “Try to climb the stairway to the top deck! Jessamay, you stay here! Faegan and I need your gifts!” As the sorceress stayed behind, Traax and Adrian started working their way down the flooded hallway.
“What are you going to do?” Shailiha shouted.
“We will try to seal the meeting room from the sea!” Wigg shouted. “But this is no place for you! Go with the others!”
Realizing that she could not help them, Shailiha gave each mystic a supportive look. “Be careful!” she shouted. The rising water in the hallway was nearly at her knees.
“Get out of here while you still can!” Wigg shouted. “Do it now!” Turning away, Shailiha started wading down the hall as fast as she could go.
The seawater rapidly approaching his waist, Wigg turned to look first at Jessamay, then Faegan. As the crippled wizard hovered in his wooden chair just above the rushing water, there was desperation in his eyes.
“We have to try to seal this doorway!” Wigg shouted. “Are you with me?” They both nodded.
“There is no time to discuss this; just follow my lead!” the First Wizard shouted. “If we can contain the water in the meeting room, we might have a chance!” Wigg raised his arms and pointed them at the open door.
At once twin azure bolts streamed from the wizard’s hands, pouring their power over that part of the door’s surface that was still above the rising seawater. Faegan and Jessamay followed suit, their bolts adding strength to Wigg’s.
“Now!” Wigg shouted. “And with everything you have!”
Just as the three mystics started straining to push the door closed, a strange sound came to their ears. Soon it became earsplitting, rising even above the noise of the rushing water.
From somewhere on the mysterious Sea of Whispers, the Necrophagians could be heard making their demands to Tyranny. But unlike every other time the Conclave had encountered the Eaters of the Dead, this time the beings were not demanding the usual forty dead bodies as payment to cross their territory.
They were demanding the lives of everyone aboard.