“BEWARE, OUR CHILD,”THEPON Q’TARCLERICS HADwarned. Their words had been haunting, urgent.“The Conclave fleet has survived the Necrophagians’ dying Forestallments. They approach the Citadel as we speak.”
Stunned by the unexpected warning, Serena had immediately gone to her knees.
“You must leave the Citadel at once to join Einar and Reznik at the Recluse,”the voices had gone on to say.“You will be safe there. Take the dead child’s body with you, and the Vagaries documents that you have prepared for travel. Just before leaving you must enact the four spells hidden in the bowels of the Citadel. Go quickly. Time grows short.”
Then the voices had vanished, leaving her no opportunity to answer.
Desperate with concern, Serena had immediately summoned the island’s most senior consul and issued urgent orders. The other consuls and Valrenkians had also been apprised of the imminent danger. As she ran across the inner ward, panic swept the island.
Docked at the Citadel’s underground pier, what few ships Serena still possessed were being frantically loaded with people, goods, and craft tools. Every Vagaries book, scroll, and parchment had been packed into crates days ago, awaiting the order to be moved. Today that frightening directive had come.
Serena reached one of the fortress porticoes and charged along its length until she found the old door. She called the craft and tore it open with such force that it nearly separated from its hinges. Hoping that she would be in time, she ran down the stairs.
When she reached the subterranean room, she quickly brought life to the wall sconces. As the room came alight, she stole precious seconds to reacquaint herself with what needed to be done. She rushed across the room to the far wall, touched it, then called the proper spell.
Soon the wall morphed into the black visage board she had seen before. Four separate formulas written in Old Eutracian hauntingly rose from its depths. Marshaling her concentration, she called on the first two spells simultaneously.
As she hoped, the wall’s left side started changing to show another panel. Then the familiar light appeared, illuminating the panel’s opposite side.
She was again looking deep into the Sea of Whispers. Its underwater beauty beckoned serenely, belying the frantic exodus taking place aboveground. Looking back at the visage board, she read and summoned the third spell.
Just like before, the shimmering seascape rushed toward her. Faster and faster it came, until it slowed to show the underwater cliff lying tens of leagues away. Dark and ominous, the centuries-old formation lay waiting to be called on.
Closing her eyes, Serena did her best to calm herself. When she felt sure, she opened her eyes, then summoned the fourth and final spell.
The final calculations, she thought. The ones the Heretics had said never to invoke without their blessing. Even she did not know what they would bring. She knew that she should not linger and watch. Even so, her curiosity demanded that she stay long enough to see what the unknown fourth spell would do.
Almost at once the giant underwater ledge started to shift. Rumbling mightily, it broke free from its resting place to go sliding forward, tumbling into the dark abyss lying before it. Then it was gone, leaving in its place nothing more than a gaping undersea cavern. The whirling debris slowly settled, and the view cleared again.
When it was over, she was sure that she had failed, and panic gripped her. Then she saw something miraculous start to happen. Entranced, she stepped closer to the panel.
A massive wave was being generated by the underwater landslide. Even though the seawater was transparent, the craft brought the wave’s form into such stark relief that she could discern it easily. Suddenly its length and depth seemed without limits as it extended west and started rising violently toward the surface. Only then did the Citadel queen fully understand what she had loosed on the world.
As the wave climbed from the seabed she started to turn away. But then she saw something from the corner of her eye, and she looked back toward the panel. In their infinite wisdom the Heretics had woven another facet into the spell.
Dark creatures rose from the cavern created by the cliff’s departure. Swirling higher and higher, they accompanied the terrible wave toward the ocean surface. As she watched them go, the Citadel queen smiled.
After causing the viewing panel to vanish, Serena ran back up the stairway to take her place aboard one of the departing ships.
AS TRAAX PULLED HIS DARK WINGS THROUGH THE SKY, HISthoughts turned to Duvessa. He was glad that she had come on the mission to take the Citadel.
But she had not been amused when he had insisted that she serve on a different vessel than theTammerland. Traax had his reasons for this decision-not the least of which was that he was always distracted when his betrothed was nearby. Duvessa was traveling aboard theCavalon, as were all the female warriors serving under her command. Her healers were divided equally between the ships, so that they could tend to the casualties that might be incurred during the quest.
Looking down at the ruby pin stubbornly attached to his body armor, he allowed himself a smile. She will be a wonderful wife, he thought. We will raise our children to be honorable and strong.
Traax was leading a scouting party east, high over the waves. Nine more warriors followed behind him in an arrowhead formation. It was their job to scout for enemy ships, and to try and sight the Citadel. Before sending them aloft, Tyranny had said that the fleet had traveled far enough to the east so that a scout patrol might sight the fortress.
But they had not found it, and they were nearing the point of no return for this patrol. Traax’s keen dead-reckoning skills told him that after no more than another half hour of flying, they would be forced to return to the ships. Trying to scan as much of the sea as possible, Tyranny had sent other scout patrols along northeasterly and southeasterly routes as well. Traax hoped that the others were having better luck. As he sensed a sudden change in wind direction, he veered a bit south to stay on course. The warriors behind him followed suit.
They had been lucky to survive the Necrophagians. That had been two days ago, and during that time theTammerland had been adequately repaired. With the acolytes rested, the fleet had again taken to the air and made good time. Traax guessed that without interference, what was once a thirty-day sail between continents in conventional frigates had been cut to a mere week in the Black Ships-even less if enough accompanying mystics could keep them in constant flight.
Just then he noticed something strange. For as far as he could see to the north and south, the sea’s horizon was rising violently into the air. A huge wave was forming, dwarfing even those that had been created by the Necrophagians’ dying Forestallments.
But this wave was different in more ways than its great size. Rising to at least one hundred meters, its tumbling leading edge was heading due west, directly for the fleet. There was no doubt that this wave was a ship-killer of the highest order.
Stopping to hover, Traax held up one arm. The other warriors came to gather nearby. Saying nothing, Traax pointed east.
The wave was rushing toward them at an amazing speed. Traax knew that the swiftest Minion fliers could reach twenty-five leagues an hour and sometimes more. To his dismay, it seemed that the monstrous wave was moving at least that fast. Warning the Conclave meant that messengers would have to return immediately if they were to take advantage of their closer proximity to the ships. But if they couldn’t at least match the wave’s speed, it would roar beneath them and reach the unsuspecting fleet first. Traax understood that the craft was at work here. Serena had sent this thing at them, and somehow the Black Ships had to survive it.
His mind racing, Traax looked at his warriors. He would send only two, he decided. Should the awful wave change speed or course, he would need reserve warriors to inform the fleet.
“Axel and Valgard!” he shouted. “Return to the ships as fast as you can! Tell the Conclave about this new threat! Warn Tyranny that there is no use changing course to the north or the south to avoid it, because it stretches as far as the eye can see!” Knowing his next order would be difficult for them to obey, he gave them a commanding look.
“Should either of you collapse from fatigue and fall to the sea, the other is forbidden to save him!” Traax shouted. “I know that Minion custom dictates that no warrior be left behind! But as your commander I am countermanding that tradition! Go! The fleet’s survival depends on you!”
“We live to serve!” the two handpicked warriors shouted. Then they were gone, winging their way west.
Looking back, Traax and his remaining warriors saw strange beings exploding from the wave’s top to take to the air. The warriors were too far away to see what the things looked like. Traax decided that because the creatures were born of the terrible wave, they too must be products of the craft, and therefore a deadly threat.
As the beings collected in the air they circled busily into a dark swarm. Then they started soaring directly toward the hovering warriors.
Traax watched for a few moments, then drew his dreggan; the other warriors followed suit.