CLOSING HIS EYES, TRISTAN RUBBED HIS TEMPLES WITHhis fingertips. He was exhausted. Worse, he was deeply concerned over the news he had recently gotten. After taking another sip of wine he looked worriedly into his friends’ faces.
He was in Faegan’s chambers in the depths of the Redoubt. It was the day following his visit to the highlander camp, and the hour was late. Abbey, Aeolus, and a Minion warrior of new acquaintance sat at the table with him. As the prince considered his options, the remains of an ashen log crumbled to its death in the fireplace grate, its sound the only break in the gloomy silence.
While viewing Tristan’s medallion yesterday, the prince and Abbey had seen some of the mayhem overtaking the Conclave fleet. Mad with worry, they had wanted to watch longer, but Tristan reluctantly followed the Crysenium Envoys’ advice and ended the spell. After that he had paced the palace like a caged animal, fearing for his friends and warriors who were so far out to sea.
Three hours later, Faegan’s azure portal had unexpectedly appeared on the palace grounds. As its whirling vortex coalesced, a terrible sight formed. Wounded warriors emerged in droves to collapse on the grass. Some died where they fell.
Tristan had been quickly summoned from his bed. Surmising that the Conclave had sent the wounded home because of their overwhelming numbers, he had immediately summoned Aeolus, Abbey, and every acolyte and Minion healer. Even Mallory, Martha, Ariana, and the palace gnomes were working feverishly, doing what they could to help tend the wounded.
A few hours later the entire palace and its surrounding areas were overflowing with Minion wounded and dying. As Tristan frantically directed the emergency efforts, an unknown warrior approached him, bearing a letter. After telling Tristan he had just arrived through the portal, he went to one knee and humbly handed the correspondence to hisJin’Sai.
The letter was addressed to Abbey. But the warrior had been given orders that if theJin’Sai had returned, it should be given to him instead. Tristan recognized the red wax seal immediately. Its imprint bore the lion, the broadsword, and the letters “SG.”
He tore the envelope open and read its contents quickly, then looked at the warrior who had brought it. “What is your name?” he demanded.
“Kratos,” the warrior answered.
“You were part of the recent fighting that took place over the Sea of Whispers?” Tristan asked.
“Yes, my lord. I killed six of the beasts. I had never seen anything like them.”
Tristan’s response was immediate. “Are you familiar with the herbmistress named Abbey?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Go to her,” he said. “She is in the Chamber of Supplication, tending to the wounded. I want her and the man named Aeolus to immediately join me in Faegan’s quarters, in the Redoubt. I want you there too.”
Kratos clicked his heels together. “I live to serve,” he said. Tristan watched him hurry off.
That had been one hour ago. As he again looked down at Shailiha’s letter, he sensed the burden of command that would be weighing so heavily across his sister’s shoulders. Before allowing Kratos into the room, he had shown the letter to Abbey and Aeolus. Picking it up, he silently read it again:
Dearest Abbey,
As I write this, we are doing all we can to tend to the thousands of warriors wounded in a recent air battle with Serena’s forces. It is plain that there will be far too many for us to treat. We have therefore activated Faegan’s portal, so that they can be sent home. We pray that you, the acolytes, and the Minion healers will save as many as you can. Know too that for the next several days, Faegan’s portal will reappear at midday, and stay open each time for as long as he can sustain it.
Serena’s creatures were beaten back, but at a terrible price. Early estimates show that at least a full third of our warriors are dead or wounded. TheMalvina, the Florian, and the acolytes who captained them were lost to a giant wave that we believe was conjured by Serena. The other four Black Ships were damaged, but Tyranny says that they can be repaired. Sadly, a scout patrol led by Traax has gone missing. The longer they are gone, the more we fear them dead.
As the hours pass, I struggle with the decision about whether to carry on to the Citadel. I will confer with the other Conclave members and decide shortly. If in your judgment more warriors can be spared from the palace, please send them to us. Should there be any news about Tristan please tell us. Besides our many troubles, we all worry for him desperately.
Love,
Shailiha
Letting go a deep breath, Tristan folded the letter, then replaced it into its envelope. After sliding it beneath his worn leather vest, he looked at Kratos.
“What else can you tell us?” he asked.
“Little, my lord,” Kratos answered. “TheJin’Saiou has explained matters well. The wizards cremated our dead. Everyone worries for the fate of Traax’s lost patrol.”
On hearing about Traax again, Tristan sadly shook his head. He was glad that Ox was still at the highlander camp, and unable to hear the news.
“Thank you,” Tristan said to Kratos. “Your service has been admirable. Please wait in the hall.”
Kratos bowed.“Jin’Sai,” he said simply. He walked across the room and let himself out.
Leaning his forearms on the table, Tristan closed his eyes. “It’s my fault,” he said. “Had I come home sooner, I would never have allowed the fleet to sail.”
“I don’t understand,” Aeolus said. “You gave them the order to attack, did you not? Surely you suspected that Serena would have traps lying in wait.”
“Yes,” Tristan answered. “But that was before I knew.”
“Knew what?” Aeolus asked.
Abbey touched Tristan on the arm. “I assume that you asked Aeolus here because you wanted the wisdom of an experienced Vigors wizard,” she said. “But even he can’t help unless he is fully informed. I suggest you tell him everything that you told me.”
Leaning back in his chair, Tristan gave Aeolus a hard look. “Twice now, you have been invited to join the Conclave,” he said. “But I still have no answer. If I am to tell you all I know, it will only be after you accept membership. Will you join us or not?”
As Aeolus looked at the tabletop, a sea of emotions both old and new flooded through him. He looked back at the prince. “Aside from the fleet’s predicament, how serious is the overall threat?” he asked.
“It is the worst we have ever known,” Tristan said. “It is greater than the return of the Coven, Nicholas’ Gates of Dawn, and Wulfgar’s effort to pollute and destroy the Orb of the Vigors. I daresay it is even more dire than the Sorceresses’ War of three centuries ago. Conflicts and forces are in play that you couldn’t start to imagine.”
Aeolus looked over at Abbey. “We have known one another for a long time,” he said. “I don’t distrust theJin’Sai ’s word, but I want to hear you say it. Is the threat truly as terrible as he says?”
Abbey nodded. “Yes,” she answered. “Unless we stop it, everything we hold dear is doomed.”
For several long moments silence filled the room. Aeolus looked into Tristan’s eyes. “I accept,” he finally said.
Tristan was pleased by Aeolus’ answer. But before giving his final stamp of approval, he wanted to be crystal clear about some important points.
“I know how you feel about the craft and your school,” Tristan said. “You must promise to live here at the palace, to accept my orders at all times, and to willingly use the craft when needed. Do you agree?”
“Yes,” the wizard and martial master answered. Then he gave Tristan a smile. “I also promise to train you nearly to death in your pursuit ofK’Shari. ”
Tristan finally smiled back. “Fair enough,” he said. He looked over at Abbey. “The Conclave again numbers ten souls,” he said.
Abbey nodded. “So it would seem,” she answered, “if Traax still lives.” Realizing his oversight, Tristan nodded sadly.
For the next hour, Tristan told Aeolus all about his journey with Xanthus. Aeolus became nearly speechless at the tale. For several moments he looked at Tristan like the prince had lost his mind. “Is what you say true?” he breathed.
“Yes,” Tristan answered. “Had I not lived it, I would find it equally incredible.”
Aeolus shook his head in disbelief. “Amazing,” he said. “And yet, it explains so much. But you still haven’t discussed the immediate threat.”
Tristan’s face became grim. “Simply put,” he said, “unless we can stop her, Serena will soon have the ability to simultaneously change every right-leaning blood signature in our world leftward. With everyone of endowed blood so strongly influenced to worship the Vagaries, everywhere east of the Tolenkas, the Vigors will cease to exist. The Forestallment allowing this power is being held by thePon Q’tar. They have yet to trust its calculations to Serena’s mind. But when the right time comes, they will.”
“I beg the Afterlife,” Aeolus breathed. “Abbey told me that Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay had found the formula allowing them to change blood signature lean. But I never suspected that all the signatures of one type or another could be affected at the same time!”
“Nor did we,” Tristan said.
“How is such a thing possible?” Aeolus asked.
“On Wulfgar’s death, Serena’s unborn child miscarried,” Tristan answered. “Before leaving for Eutracia, Wulfgar magically bound his life force to Serena’s, so that she would know if he died. But he underestimated the spell’s strength. When I killed him, the spell caused the miscarriage and nearly killed Serena. The dead baby was a girl. Serena calls her Clarice. She blames me for her child’s death.”
“Go on,” Aeolus said.
“Serena has enchanted the baby’s corpse, ensuring that it won’t decay,” Tristan said. “The corpse figures prominently in the Heretics’ plan.”
“But why preserve an infant corpse?” Aeolus asked. “It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Ah, but it does,” Tristan answered. “Before Wulfgar was killed, he spirited the Valrenkians away to the Citadel. Reznik, the most adept among them-and Einar, Serena’s lead consul-are conducting grotesque experiments. They are trying to refine a lost spell written by Failee, just before she died.”
“To what end?” Aeolus asked.
“To bring the dead back to life,” Tristan answered quietly.
For several moments no one spoke. Stunned, Aeolus sat back in his chair. “But why?” he breathed.
“They would use this spell to revive Clarice,” Tristan answered.
“But why is the life of one child so important?” Aeolus asked.
“Because that child’s living blood is the last piece of the puzzle,” Tristan answered. “If Clarice can be revived, she will be the only person in the world who carries the late Queen Morganna’s blood that has not been affected by a Forestallment, as mine and Shailiha’s have. It would be virgin territory, if you will. Because she is Morganna’s descendant through Wulfgar, her living blood will be of great power. It would not be as strong as mine or Shailiha’s. But it would reign third most powerful in our world-dwarfing even yours, Wigg’s, Faegan’s, and Jessamay’s.”
“Why go to all the bother?” Aeolus asked. “Why don’t thePon Q’tar clerics grant the Forestallment calculations directly to Serena’s mind now? Then she could imbue the Forestallment into her own blood and morph all of the right-leaning blood signatures at will.”
Leaning over the table, Abbey looked into Aeolus’ eyes. “Because even Serena’s blood, potent as it is, is not strong enough to accept such an amazingly strong Forestallment,” she explained. “Only Morganna’s blood or some derivative will suffice.”
“And Clarice’s blood is strong enough?” Aeolus asked. “Even though Wulfgar was your half brother, and his daughter is two generations removed from Morganna?”
“Yes,” Tristan answered, “provided her blood has never been imbued with any other competing Forestallments. In this, her blood is unique in the world. On bringing Clarice back to life, she will be the only living person of Morganna’s blood walking the earth with a left-leaning blood signature, and controlled by those who worship the Vagaries. When Clarice reaches maturity, thePon Q’tar will provide her mother with the Forestallment allowing all right-leaning signatures to be changed leftward at once. Serena will then grant that Forestallment to her daughter’s blood. Clarice will call it forth, forever sealing the Vigors’ doom everywhere east of the Tolenkas. It would be about twenty years before this could happen. But you and I know that twenty years is only a blink of an eye in the history of the craft.”
Aghast, Aeolus slumped back in his chair. He stared blankly down at the tabletop for some time before returning his gaze to the prince.
“It’s monstrous,” he whispered. “You’re right. This threat eclipses even the Sorceresses’ War. I assume that we three are the only Conclave members who know about it?”
“Yes,” Tristan answered. “But there is more to tell you. Despite your experiences in the Sorceresses’ War, you will find the rest of the tale difficult to hear.”
“Please continue,” Aeolus said.
“Both the Ghetto and the Recluse have been conquered by Serena’s forces,” Tristan said. “All the Minion warriors who once manned those strongholds are dead. Serena needed the Ghetto because there she could easily secure large numbers of vulnerable people all at once, rather than having to waste time scouring the countryside for them. The lepers are being taken to the Recluse and used as subjects for Reznik’s and Einar’s bizarre experiments. They are killing them and using Failee’s continually refined formula on them, trying to bring them back to life.”
“Aren’t they worried that the use of lepers might somehow alter or ruin their experiments?” Aeolus asked.
Tristan shook his head. “No,” he answered. “Dead is dead.”
Aeolus stared blankly at Tristan. “What will you do?” he asked.
“I will do the only thing I can,” the prince said. “I will order the fleet home.”
“But by now they must be near the Citadel,” Aeolus protested. “Why not let them continue on and capture Serena and her dead baby girl? If they succeed, the threat is ended and the Recluse can be dealt with later.”
“For one thing, I fear that there has been too much attrition in the Minion forces for the campaign to succeed,” Tristan answered. “Serena is being aided by the Heretics. Two ships have already been lost, and one-third of the warriors are casualties. Our forces need to come home so that they can regroup, and be joined by the highlander cavalry.”
“Will you go through the portal to give this order?” Abbey asked Tristan.
Tristan shook his head. “I would like to, but I mustn’t,” he said.
“Why not?” Aeolus asked.
“You’re forgetting something,” Tristan said. “Crysenium’s existence is a secret, and must be kept that way. If I am captured, the information might be tortured from me. Nor may either of you go for the same reason. For the time being, we must allow no one with the fleet to understand my true motives for ordering them home. To do so could alert those at the Recluse. Instead, I will send a letter back to Shailiha, citing her recent losses as the only reason for my decision. I suspect that given the situation, she might soon come to that decision on her own, anyway. When our forces return we will quickly ready another invasion fleet, including the highlander horsemen. Then we will sail for Parthalon and lay siege to the Recluse.”
“We will attack the Recluse?” Abbey asked. “Not the Citadel?”
“That’s right,” Tristan answered. “We can only guess at whether Serena remains at the Citadel, but weknow that Einar and Reznik have taken sanctuary in the Recluse. Stopping them from completing the formula will be as effective as capturing Serena and Clarice. Both are needed for the Heretics’ plan to work.”
Aeolus thought for a moment. “If thePon Q’tar are in possession of a powerful Forestallment that alters all blood signature lean at once, then why haven’t they used it against their enemies on their side of the world?” he asked.
“They tried to do so, aeons ago,” Tristan answered. “And they nearly succeeded. Luckily, the Ones got wind of it and developed a counterspell. Millions were converted before the Ones could turn the tide.”
“Why can’t the counterspell be used on this side of the Tolenkas to protect us?” Abbey asked.
“I asked the Envoys the same question,” Tristan answered. “Simply put, there isn’t enough time. You must remember that our knowledge and power in the craft is infantile compared to that possessed by the Ones and the Heretics. I was told that our learning to employ the spell could take far longer than the time required for Clarice to grow old enough for her blood to accept the needed Forestallment.”
Tristan stood from the table, walked to Faegan’s desk, and looked through its drawers. He soon produced a parchment, an inkwell, and a quill. After giving the issue some thought, he penned a letter to Shailiha. When he had finished he placed the letter in an envelope, sealed it with hot wax, then removed his signet ring and forced an impression into the fresh wax.
He turned toward the door. “Guard!” he called out.
At once the doors opened. A sturdy Minion warrior entered the room and clicked his heels.
“I need to see Kratos,” Tristan said. The warrior bowed, then left the room. Kratos soon appeared. Tristan beckoned him closer and handed him the letter. He gave the warrior a stern look.
“This might be the most important mission of your life,” he said. “When Faegan’s portal opens tomorrow at midday, you are to enter it and return to the fleet. Give that letter to Princess Shailiha. She will surely pen another letter back to me. Bring it back as fast as you can. Until then, you are to guard this letter with your life.”
Kratos bowed.“Jin’Sai,” he said solemnly. As he turned and left the room, Tristan returned to the meeting table.
Silence reigned again. Abbey put one hand atop Tristan’s. “Will your stated reason be enough for Shailiha to obey your orders?” she asked.
Tristan turned to look into the fire. “It has to be,” he said. He turned back to worriedly look at the herbmistress and newest Conclave member.
“If the Conclave doesn’t come home soon,” he added softly, “all is lost.”