BY THE TIME WIGG, FAEGAN, AND JESSAMAY FINALLYstruggled their way back to theTammerland ’s top deck, the scene before them was so terrifying that they all stopped short the second they cleared the hatchway.
The fog had rolled in over the night sea from seemingly nowhere and everywhere, engulfing the entire fleet. Thick and gray, it clung to everyone’s clothes and skin. With the fog’s arrival the temperature had plummeted, making everyone’s breath appear as ghostly vapors. The wind had calmed, resulting in a glass-smooth sea. Their dreggans drawn, thousands of Minion warriors crowded the fleet’s top decks.
Some of the fog had coalesced into massive columns, rising from the water. As the Conclave members knew would happen, the columns had morphed into giant hands, each pair grasping a ship by opposite ends. All the fleet’s ships were thus caught. As the Necrophagians’ wailing assaulted their ears, Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay hurried to find the others.
The princess and the captain were standing in the bow with Adrian, Traax, and Scars. Although their insane howling was growing ever louder, the Necrophagians had yet to appear. Tyranny spun around to give Wigg a serious look.
“What about the aft hallways?” she shouted. “Were you able to seal them from the sea?”
Leaning closer, Wigg put his mouth near Tyranny’s ear. “Yes!” he shouted back. “But the meeting room is completely flooded! The strain of keeping the spell in place is exhausting the three of us!”
Regardless of the Necrophagian threat, Tyranny was sea captain enough to know that the condition of her crippled vessel came first. She immediately ran to the starboard gunwale, then looked over the side. Her worst fears were quickly realized. Because of the flooding, the flagship was riding dangerously low in the stern, and threatening to go down. Tyranny knew that the trapped seawater was immensely heavy, forcing her to wonder whether the mystics would be able to return theTammerland into the air.
“We’re foundering!” she shouted as best she could above the terrible wailing. “The flooded compartments are nearly sinking us! Even if we unfurl the sails, there is no wind to fill them! Our only hope is to fly away!” Grabbing Wigg by his shoulders, she glared desperately into his face. “Please tell me that you and the others can release us from the Necrophagians’ grip and get us aloft!”
Wigg shook his head in frustration. He was about to answer when Shailiha called out. She was standing at the opposite gunwale with an astonished look on her face. The others hurried to her and stared over the side.
The sea around the fleet had begun to bubble and roil, like something was trying to come to the top. Then faces started to form on the ocean surface. The Necrophagians-the ages-old Eaters of the Dead-were coming into view.
Everyone stared in awe at the rapidly forming beings. There seemed to be hundreds of them. Their flesh was a mixture of sea green and dark red and streaked with ancient wrinkles and boils. Where eyes and mouths should have been there were only dark, empty holes. Then the wailing unexpectedly stopped. As the faces drifted ominously among the waves, an eerie silence reclaimed the night.
Faegan looked at Wigg and Jessamay. “Follow me!” he ordered.
Praying that his assumptions about the Necrophagians were correct, he levitated his chair and soared over the gunwale to hover directly above the hundreds of menacing faces. Wigg and Jessamay quickly followed him. As the three mystics hovered in the air, they looked down on the terrible threat.
“You are all about to die!”the Necrophagians suddenly shouted as one.
Their words were so explosive that everyone thought their eardrums might burst. Such torrential wind accompanied the Necrophagians’ unexpected statement that the three hovering mystics struggled mightily to keep from being blown far out to sea, their robes and hair flying as the awful wind struck them.
As the angry Necrophagians waited for a response, the terrible wind subsided. Composing himself, Wigg looked down into the awful faces lying just meters below his boots.
“Why must we die?” he asked respectfully. “We have done nothing to harm you. We only ask permission to cross, and we will pay if we must. That is the standard arrangement, is it not?”
“You and theJin’Saiare responsible for the death of the Enseterat!”the voices answered.“You also wish to attack the Citadel. That must not be allowed to happen. We are ordered to destroy you.”
“Ordered by whom?” Faegan asked.
“Fools!”the voices screamed.“Powers far beyond your ken command us!”
Faegan suddenly realized that his suppositions about these strange beings might be true after all. That would explain so much! But it would also make crossing nearly impossible.
“It was Wulfgar who freed you from your previous territories as he traveled west on his way to Eutracia, was it not?” Faegan asked. “Then he ordered you to follow him to the Eutracian coast, and to help him in his invasion. But the invasion failed and Wulfgar was killed, leaving you free to roam the sea at last.”
Silence reigned again. Faegan cast a knowing glance at Wigg and Jessamay. The First Wizard raised an eyebrow. It seemed that Faegan had struck on something important-something the Necrophagians were uncomfortable dealing with.
“Tell me,” Faegan pressed. “With Wulfgar dead, has Serena become your new mistress?”
“Our true masters are the same as they have always been, their magnificence long since ensconced on the other side of the Tolenka Mountains,”the voices answered.“Travelers may form bargains with us, just as Failee and Wulfgar did. But they can never truly rule us. That remains the province of only one group of indomitable mystics, the likes of which your minds cannot grasp. We tell you these things only because you are about to die.”
Like the Necrophagians were suddenly humbled by this new topic, their voices had quieted to their usual whisper. The terrible wind that had once accompanied their screeching also stilled, as did the sea. But the mysterious hands of fog still held each vessel tight in their iron grips.
Fascinated, Faegan lowered his chair closer to the waves. “Who are these great mystics?” he asked. “Are they the Heretics of the Guild? Do you commune with them?”
At first the Necrophagians did not answer. When they finally did, their voices were even softer, like they were speaking of the divine.
“We commune with only the most powerful of the Heretics,”the voices answered,“those in whose blood the highest gifts of the Vagaries flow.”
Intrigued by the Necrophagians’ answer, Faegan thought for a moment. “Who are these mystics?” he asked again. Like the Necrophagians, his voice had also become a whisper.
“They are the embodiment of the Vagaries,”the voices answered back.“They are the ones to whom all other Vagaries practitioners bow. They are the Pon Q’tar.”
“You were once members of the Ones Who Came Before, were you not?” Faegan pressed. “Captured in the War of Attrition, you were morphed by the Heretics into the Eaters of the Dead. Then you were ordered to remain in this sea forever, protecting the Citadel by devouring any who dared come near. Some of you even commanded these Black Ships in the service of the Vigors. Isn’t that true? Will you not spare an answer, and grant the dying wish of an old, foolish wizard?”
Tense moments passed.“We do not…remember,” the chorus of whispers answered.
“What is thePon Q’tar?” Wigg asked.
“Enough of this!”the voices shouted back, their voices thunderous again.“You are of the Vigors! You mean to attack the Citadel! It is time for you to die!”
Everyone aboard the Black Ships knew what would happen next. Using their massive arms of fog, the Eaters of the Dead would relentlessly pull the vessels under. Then they would greedily consume every living person and warrior, sucking them into their gaping maws. There would be no escape, no reprieve. Unless the three frantic mystics could devise a way to stop it, everyone would die here and now on this sea. Worse, the ramifications of the slaughter would resound through the centuries, perhaps sealing the Vigors’ fate forever.
The attack on the Citadel would not happen, and the Vagaries scroll would not be captured. Serena would continue to rule in Wulfgar’s stead, free to attempt her still-unknown mission with almost no resistance. And Tristan-should he one day return from the Tolenkas’ other side-would become nearly bereft of help to carry on his destiny. There would be no one save Abbey to train him, and as a partial adept she could teach him only so much. There would be almost no surviving Minion armies for him to command. The Redoubt consuls-although imprisoned-would remain in the grip of the Vagaries and present yet another disturbing threat. And perhaps worst of all, theJin’Saiou would not remain alive to carry on the fight for him, should he die.
Everythingrelied on their living through this, Wigg knew. It has all boiled down to this day, this hour, this second, adrift on a strange sea so far away from home. Trying desperately to devise an escape plan, he looked over at Faegan and Jessamay.
Faegan had the tiniest seed of an idea, but he knew that he couldn’t risk telling the others for fear the Necrophagians would hear him. What he needed most was time. Without consulting Wigg or Jessamay, he decided to take the risk.
“Before you take us, I ask one favor,” he shouted adamantly. Wigg and Jessamay gave him puzzled looks, but knew better than to ask.
“What is your favor, Vigors wizard?”the terrible voices demanded.
“We have deities to whom we pray,” Faegan lied. “We revere them, much like you do thePon Q’tar. Thousands of us are about die. Please allow us a short time to explain our failures to our fellows, and to ready our souls for the Afterlife. Grant us this small courtesy, and in return I promise that our people will go willingly into your cold embrace.”
For a time the waves’ swells slapped gently, almost reassuringly against the Black Ships’ hulls. Finally the Necrophagians broke their silence.
“Out of respect for the craft, we grant you a time in which to ready your souls,”the voices answered.“But the grace period will be short. Prepare to die, mortals.”
Beckoning Wigg and Jessamay to follow him, Faegan quickly soared up and over theTammerland ’s gunwale. The First Wizard and the sorceress landed beside him.
As everyone crowded around Faegan’s chair, he closed his eyes and placed his fingertips on either side of his head. Normally the Conclave members would have left him alone to sort out his thoughts, but this time they had no such luxury. Squatting down before his chair, Shailiha took his ancient hands into hers.
“Please tell us that you have a plan!” she whispered urgently.
Faegan opened his eyes, then looked up at Wigg and Jessamay. “If the Necrophagians’ hands of fog can hold the Black Ships in place then they must have genuine substance, regardless of their appearance,” he said, half to himself. “And if that is true, then they might not be beyond harm.” Faegan looked at Tyranny. “I assume that we carry barrels of pitch, with which to repair the Black Ships’ hulls?” he asked.
“Of course,” she answered. “Each ship carries several.”
“Good!” Faegan said. “But it is only theTammerland ’s that I need.” He then looked at Traax. The warrior quickly snapped to attention. “I want ten barrels of pitch taken to the end of the hallway that reaches the flooded meeting rooms,” he ordered. “The water is high belowdecks, making this a nearly impossible job. Even so, it must be done quickly. Once there, you’ve got to keep the barrels close until I arrive! Go!”
Traax immediately ran off to carry out his orders.
“What in the name of the Afterlife are you doing?” Wigg demanded. “Adding more weight to theTammerland ’s stern will only make things worse! We’re nearly going down as it is!”
“I know!” Faegan answered. “You must trust me!”
Beckoning everyone closer, he quickly outlined his plan. When he was finished he looked at Adrian.
“I know you’re exhausted!” he said. “We all are! Even so, your part in this is vital! If you fail, we all do!”
“I’ll do my best,” Adrian answered.
Wasting no time, Faegan looked at the waiting Minions and barked out a series of orders. Quick as a wink, one warrior scooped Adrian up in his arms like she weighed nothing. Then hundreds more got busy, sheathing their dreggans and running about theTammerland ’s deck in search of stout rope. They soon formed strict lines before the wizards and the sorceress, each one carrying a coiled section of rope slung over his or her shoulder. Finally satisfied, Faegan looked first into Wigg’s eyes, then Jessamay’s.
“Give me as much time as you can, then send Adrian over the side and the warriors into the air,” he said. “This will be a close-run thing!”
“Good luck,” Wigg said.
“And to you,” Faegan answered back. Leaving his chair behind, he soared toward the ship’s stern, then disappeared down the deck hatchway.
Clearly stunned by the audacity of Faegan’s plan, Shailiha and Tyranny turned to stare blankly at Wigg. “Can this work?” Shailiha breathed.
Wigg shook his head. “We’re about to find out,” he answered.
“Your time is up, mortals!”the Necrophagians suddenly screamed.“You must meet your deaths! There are many thousands of you aboard these vessels. For that reason your flagship will succumb first. Then we will take the others, one by one!”
Wigg snapped his head around to look at the warrior holding Adrian. “They’re about to sink us!” he shouted. “Go! And may the Afterlife protect you!”
Launching himself into the air, the warrior flew over the port gunwale, then down within meters of the sea. With Adrian in his arms he started flying along the length of the ship and toward theTammerland ’s stern as fast as his wings could take him.
Just then theTammerland lurched sickeningly. Wigg looked forward then aft to see that the huge hands were starting to pull her down. As the waterline rose up her sides, theTammerland rocked, and her hull groaned. With a great cracking sound, one mast split in two under the unprecedented stresses to come crashing down, killing dozens of warriors instantly. Wigg ran to the port gunwale and looked over the side. Soon the rising water would conquer the top deck. The stricken ship and all her passengers would be done for.
Suddenly everyone heard an explosion come from the stern, followed by another terrible howl from the Necrophagians. But this time the seaborne monsters were not wailing with anger, Wigg realized. They were screaming in agony. Everyone turned to look sternward, where the warrior carrying Adrian had flown.
Another massive explosion tore through the air, then another and another. Not one of them could see Adrian as she went about her work, but in their hearts they knew that the First Sister would be doing her utmost as she sent azure bolts tearing into the hand of fog that gripped the ship’s stern.
After being struck by one more blazing bolt, the Necrophagian arm was finally rent in two, releasing the ship’s stern from its torturous grip. As the huge hand tumbled into the sea, dark green blood spurted from the arm’s ragged stump. Looking over the side, Wigg saw Adrian and the warrior again soaring low over the waves, this time approaching theTammerland ’s bow.
Wigg and the others watched as Adrian, still in the warrior’s arms, started attacking the hand holding the bow. Three bolts came in rapid succession, each narrowly missing the ship’s hull. They tore into the hand of fog just below the wrist, severing it from the arm. As more green blood spurted from the fresh wound to land in the sea, the Necrophagians again screamed in agony. Her task about theTammerland done, Adrian immediately ordered her warrior to fly her to the other Black Ships, to start the same process and to shout out orders to the acolytes aboard them.
Knowing that theTammerland had been freed, Wigg spun around to look at the lines of waiting warriors. “Now!” he shouted.
At once the warriors started moving. Working swiftly, they tied their ropes to theTammerland ’s many mooring cleats, then took off, letting out line as they went. After tying the lines about their waists, they hovered and watched.
With another shout from Wigg, he and Jessamay immediately stopped the spell they were using to help Faegan seal the ship’s damaged stern from the invading sea. Faegan would know when this happened because he would feel the far greater strain of trying to sustain the spell alone. He would then abandon the spell and allow it to vanish, and the seawater would again start rushing into the ship’s hallways.
At that point Faegan would start his part of the plan-provided the combined efforts of Wigg, Jessamay, and the hovering warriors could take theTammerland aloft. If not, the seawater rushing into the damaged stern would surely sink her before the protective spell could again be conjured, and the Necrophagians would devour everyone aboard.
Raising their arms, Wigg and Jessamay concentrated mightily as they summoned the craft. At the same time the warriors started trying to fly higher, straining with everything they had against the ropes tied around their waists.
Amid the Necrophagians’ awful wailing, Tyranny and Shailiha watched as theTammerland rocked violently, then started to rise. Her timbers groaning, she nosed upward, then crashed mightily back down atop the sea, taking many warriors and their lines down with her. Tangled in their ropes, some struggling Minions were unable to get aloft again.
Screaming in triumph, the Necrophagians pounced on the stricken warriors before they could rise from the ocean. Sucked into the gaping maws, most were cut in half as they were eaten. A clear portent of what would come should Faegan’s plan fail, fresh blood and severed body parts started bobbing atop the waves.
Trying again, Wigg and Jessamay strived with everything they had as the remaining warriors aloft did the same. TheTammerland slowly started to rise. As she did, a desperate thought went through Wigg’s mind.
We just might survive this, he realized. If only Faegan and Traax are still alive.
AS FAEGAN FOUGHT HIS WAY DOWN THE FLOODED HALLWAY, he realized that Traax and the warriors he had ordered to bring the barrels of pitch must have surely drowned. The water was so high that only inches of breathable air remained between it and the hallway ceiling.
Putting his mouth as close to the ceiling as he could, he used the craft to help him struggle forward against the rushing tide. He could easily sense that the communal spell holding back the seawater had been abandoned by Wigg and Jessamay. But if they couldn’t get theTammerland into the air in the next few moments, all would be lost.
Reaching the hallway’s end, he saw Traax and five warriors struggling to stay alive. Their faces nearly touching the ceiling, they were gasping the last of the remaining air as they bravely waited for the wizard. The door to the meeting rooms was wide open, allowing seawater to stream into the ship’s hull unabated. Submerging for a moment, Faegan saw the ten heavy barrels of pitch rolling to and fro on the hallway floor. Coming back to take a gulp of precious air, he grabbed Traax by the shoulders.
“Get…out, all…of you!” he shouted, as some of the rising water went down his throat. Coughing and gagging, he spat it out. “Leave here while you still can!”
Wasting no time, Traax and the others started fighting their way back down the hall. As he watched them go, Faegan was sure that they would never reach the stairway alive.
He took another gulp of air, then submerged again to locate the pitch barrels. Praying that their seals were intact, he used the craft to bring them to the surface but found that the air space was gone, and that the hallway was fully flooded. He quickly invoked a spell to make the most of what air remained in his lungs, but even his gifts would not sustain him for long.
Just then he felt the ship lurch upward at the bow, and he tumbled violently underwater. Higher and higher theTammerland rose until he felt the seawater suddenly rushing in the opposite direction, toward the damaged stern. It’s working, his oxygen-deprived brain told him. Wigg and Jessamay are doing it! Just a little more and we’ll be aloft!
As the ship climbed and her hull tilted even more sharply, the trapped seawater rushed violently astern, cascading out the damaged hull and taking all of the room’s furniture out with it. Soon Faegan’s head was above water again, and he took a life-saving gasp. But he hadn’t counted on how forceful the rushing water would become, as it threatened to take him and the barrels into the meeting rooms.
His body nearly vertical in the raging water, he grabbed a passing wall sconce and desperately hung on as he summoned a spell to try and hold the pitch barrels in place. If the water took them out the damaged stern, all would be lost, regardless of Wigg’s and Jessamay’s success in getting theTammerland airborne. Then the horrible, unexpected pain started. As the seawater rushed aft, searing agony coursed across the exposed nerve endings of his ravaged legs.
He hadn’t taken that into account, and the pain’s sudden ferocity was overcoming the partition in his mind that had for so long helped him deal with his relentless suffering. Trying to keep the barrels near while also attempting to retain his precious sanity, he screamed aloud.
He did his best to hang on, but he knew that his endowed grip was slipping on both the wall sconce and the barrels. A choice had to be made, and the answer was obvious. If the fleet was to be saved, he would have to stop trying to control the pain and concentrate all his power on his grip and keeping the barrels near. Holding on for dear life, he stopped partitioning off the pain.
Except for his torture by Wulfgar during theEnseterat ’s first invasion attempt, Faegan had never endured such agony. Screaming insanely, his eyes bulged and his damaged body convulsed as the water rushed by.
Then it was over, all of the trapped water having found its freedom out the damaged stern. Letting go of the wall sconce, Faegan crashed to the floor. Because of the immensely steep angle on the ship’s bow, he was forced to use the craft just to keep himself and the barrels from skidding down the hallway, into the meeting rooms, and out the ship’s gaping stern.
While sustaining the spell holding the barrels, he allowed himself to slide along the angled floor toward the meeting room door. Seizing the doorknob with one hand as he passed by, he held fast against the ship’s sharp angle of climb. He then called the craft to right the barrels and rip their circular tops away one by one. As the ship continued to climb he ended the spell holding the barrels in place and shoved the door open wider, making way for them. As they tore through the doorway and across the floor he used the craft to turn them so that their opened ends faced him.
His body nearly vertical again, Faegan watched the barrels slide on their sides toward the gaping rent in the stern. The timing would have to be perfect, if only his exhausted blood could still summon enough power to make it so. As the barrels tumbled out the stern and into the night sky, he launched consecutive azure bolts at their open ends.
The barrels exploded, setting the raining pitch on fire. Just then Faegan felt theTammerland right herself into level flight. As he sensed his consciousness going, he hoped with all his heart that his timing had been right. Giving up the fight, he fell onto the wet floor.
THE MOMENT WIGG AND JESSAMAY HEARD THE STERN EXPLOSIONSthey knew Faegan had been successful. With the seawater emptied from her hull, keeping theTammerland airborne was much easier and she climbed faster. After leveling her off, Wigg shouted out orders to several warriors that they should rush to Faegan and bring him topside. As the warriors hurried away, everyone ran to the port gunwale and looked over the side.
Faegan’s plan had been simple in concept, but given the ship’s distressed condition it had been nearly impossible to achieve. As they all watched, the flaming pitch rained down on the Necrophagians; screaming, wailing, and the stench of burning flesh filled the night air.
In their mad quest to devour the fallen warriors, the beings had never seen the fiery deluge coming. As the pitch burned atop the water, the Necrophagians caught fire, their faces morphing into even more grotesque, hideously burned embodiments of what they once had been. As they died, they slipped into the deep, their destroyed faces vanishing.
Wigg quickly turned to look at the other five ships. With the Necrophagians dead, the hands of fog that had not been severed by Adrian also went under, freeing the other ships. At once the acolytes empowered the fleet. Soaring into the night sky, the majestic vessels joined theTammerland.
Wigg knew that all the acolytes empowering the ships would be exhausted. So was he! But he wanted to put as much distance as possible between the fleet and the watery Necrophagian grave site as possible. He told Tyranny so. Then there was also the problem of repairing theTammerland ’s damaged hull before she again rested atop the waves. But if he and Jessamay took turns flying her and resting, they could keep her aloft for some time. Smiling, he turned to look at Tyranny.
“How long will it take to repair the stern?” he asked.
“Your best estimate?” she asked Scars.
The giant first mate rubbed his chin, thinking. “If the wizard and sorceress can keep us continually aloft and the Minion carpenters are as good as I have heard, I would estimate about eight hours,” he answered. “It won’t be pretty, but it will hold.” He gave Wigg and Jessamay a hopeful look. “Can you two keep us flying that long?” he asked.
Jessamay gave Scars a wink. “After what we’ve just been through, that will be the easy part,” she said. “But the acolytes empowering the other ships don’t have our stamina. We will have to fly in circles above them as they sail the waves and rest. But I agree with Wigg. For the time being, let’s keep putting distance between us and what just happened!”
“Very well,” Tyranny said to Wigg. “Steer your new course south by southwest, if you please.” Then she gave him a broad smile. “I could get used to this,” she added coyly. “I rather enjoy ordering wizards around!”
Wigg grinned back at the privateer. “South by southeast it is,” he answered.
With that, Jessamay stopped augmenting Wigg’s powers. Taking up the rest of the burden so that the sorceress could rest, Wigg altered the ship’s course. The other Black Ships immediately complied.
Just then several warriors appeared. They carried Faegan in their arms. As they lowered him into his chair, Jessamay hurried over to check on him. Traax and the warriors who had been in the flooded hallway appeared, as did Adrian. The surviving warriors who had helped to pull theTammerland into the air landed back on deck.
Faegan was exhausted, soaked with seawater, and shivering. Jessamay pushed some of his long salt-and-pepper hair away from his face. Tyranny and Shailiha also hurried over. The princess lovingly took the wizard’s shaking hands into hers.
“Your plan worked,” she said. “We’re free of them!”
“So I see!” he answered, his teeth chattering. “We were fortunate! For a moment there, I thought that-”
Suddenly a torrential wind tore through the night sky, howling and shrieking, from high above. It slammed down atop the Black Ships with such force that it plunged them seaward, threatening to crash them all into the waves. Doubling his efforts, Wigg met the threat in time and righted theTammerland only meters from the sea. Wheeling around, he was relieved to see that the acolytes aboard the other vessels had been equally successful. Each ship had survived, but was now flying along at the same low altitude as theTammerland.
“What is it?” Shailiha shouted. “What caused that strange wind?”
Running to the port gunwale, Tyranny looked first toward the sea, then into the sky. Nothing seemed amiss.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “I have seen severe wind shears out here before, but nothing so powerful as that. It was almost like-”
Then the sudden wind came again, howling and thundering its way down from the heavens. This time Wigg and the acolytes were better prepared. Even so, it was all they could do to keep their ships steady, to say nothing of gaining altitude. But unlike before, this time the wind didn’t abate. It just kept coming, forcing Wigg to use all his powers to keep theTammerland under control. That was when the thunder and lightning started.
As he tried desperately to keep theTammerland steady, a terrible realization overtook the First Wizard. He looked frantically at Faegan. Silently confirming Wigg’s suspicions, Faegan nodded back darkly, then pounded the arms of his chair in frustration.
“How could I have been so blind?” he raged into the night. “We have just caused our own deaths!”
As lightning tore across the sky in unbelievable patterns and the thunder roared, the sea became illuminated like it was daytime. Thirty-foot swells started overtaking the already-treacherous Sea of Whispers, their tips smashing into the ships’ keels.
This was no sudden storm, Wigg knew. This was the craft at work, and there would be no escape from it. Nor was there time to explain it to the others. At least we were aloft and our sails were furled when it hit us, he realized. Had the ships been sailing atop the ocean, the entire fleet would be lost.
Centuries ago, the Necrophagians had been brought under thePon Q’tar ’s control by Forestallment, Wigg realized. Now that they were dead, their Necrophagians’ Forestallments were being released, just as they always were on the death of their hosts’ endowed blood. But the dead Necrophagians hadn’t been just any practitioners-they had once been members of the Ones Who Came Before-with powers to match.
Suddenly the memory of the dying sorceresses of the Coven went through Wigg’s mind. When they had perished, the release of the sorceresses’ combined Forestallments had shaken the mighty Recluse to destruction. But because of the Ones’ once far greater gifts, the First Wizard knew that what the helpless fleet was about to experience would be far worse.
Suddenly another lightning flash came, lighting up the night. He looked up in horror to see a terrible sight.
Her acolyte apparently unable to keep control, theCavalon had somehow come to a place directly above and at cross angles to theTammerland. Then the heavens let loose again, sending down another terrible blast of wind.
While Wigg watched in horror, theCavalon ’s massive hull came plummeting straight down toward theTammerland. As the flagship’s masts snapped in two like so many matchsticks against theCavalon ’s keel, all Wigg could do was to brace for the impact, and pray.