SITTING AT HIS DESK IN HIS PRIVATE QUARTERS ABOARD theTammerland, Wigg heard the ship’s bell, telling him that it was midafternoon. Putting down his quill, he stopped to listen. Wafting through the open starboard windows from three decks above, the bell’s chimes were reassuring yet frustrating. Tristan had been right when he said that time had no meaning in this underground labyrinth of azure water, rock walls, and bright radiance stones. Despite all that he had experienced during his more than three centuries of life, Wigg was forced to admit that the absolute lack of nighttime was something truly extraordinary.
After placing the quill into its holder and closing the leather-bound volume before him, Wigg put the book to one side. Since the final defeat of the Coven he had been writing almost daily in his private journal, recording all the amazing things that he had witnessed. Part of him wished that he had been doing so since he was a boy, because the idea of being able to revisit any previous day of his choosing held a certain attraction for him. But as with so many of life’s projects, the needed resolve had come late. Because his life had been so hectic in recent years, his journal often went unmarked. But it was a worthwhile project, he reasoned, even if parts of it were written days or weeks later. He smiled wryly as he thought about Faegan and the crippled wizard’s gift of Consummate Recollection. He had no need for such a mundane tool as a daily journal.
As Wigg rose from his desk, his burns unexpectedly snapped at him again. Wincing, he nearly cried out. He took a deep breath and called the craft, forcing the pain back into its lair. Only then did he walk gingerly to the room’s starboard side and recline on the upholstered bench lying beneath the row of open windows. Reaching out to the table before him, he poured a glass of wine, then turned to gaze outside.
TheTammerland and theEphyra were making good time, or so he supposed. But because the monolithic rock walls surrendered few clues about how fast the Black Ships traveled, gauging the ships’ speed seemed as pointless an endeavor as trying to measure the passing time. Like the others aboard, Wigg found that sleeping in perpetual light was nearly impossible. Three days had passed since the channel walls had arisen and Tristan’s little fleet had escaped Khristos and the Blood Vipers. Because of the constant light and the mind-numbing sameness of the scenery, those three days had seemed like three weeks.
Tristan kept ordering Night Witch patrols out ahead of the ships, a decision with which Wigg heartily agreed. But with the return of each patrol the report was always the same: Nothing lies before us except this endless channel. Even so, everyone kept hoping that the devoted witches would sight something that might give the conclave an inkling about where they were headed and what they were facing. Gingerly placing his legs atop the bench, Wigg sighed and took another sip of the excellent wine.
Just now Astrid was piloting theEphyra. Jessamay was topside, piloting theTammerland from the comfort of an upholstered chair near the ship’s bow. Wigg smiled again as he supposed that the ever watchful Tyranny was surely standing by Jessamay’s side, second-guessing every course adjustment the sorceresses made.
Although her burns were worse then Wigg’s, Jessamay insisted on fulfilling her share of the piloting duties. So far there had been no mishaps, but the rocky walls always loomed near, and not one of the four mystic pilots could afford to let his or her guard down when empowering the vessels. It was exhausting work, and Wigg knew in his heart that it would be a miracle if the ships didn’t eventually strike the walls, or-Afterlife forbid-collide with one another.
As soon as the ships left the waves, Minion shipwrights had performed airborne inspections of the ships’ hulls. Everyone was relieved when the warriors reported that they saw nothing suspicious. The ever-skeptical Wigg had insisted that one of them carry him in her arms and let him see for himself, but even the First Wizard could find no apparent damage.
Still, Wigg remained concerned. He knew that these first inspections might mean little, for if azure water had seeped into the ships’ timbers, it could be doing damage sight unseen. Because there was no way to be certain, all he could do was wait and continue to order regular inspections. Of perhaps even greater concern was the supposedly great distance to Shashida-if indeed that was where they were headed. But other worries also gnawed at the old wizard-concerns that had less to do with the perpetual light, the monotonous view, or the state of the ships’ hulls.
Like Tristan, Wigg was bone-tired and sick of seeing so much death and destruction. The three centuries since the end of the Sorceresses’ War had given him a long time to reflect. Then the Coven had unexpectedly returned, and with them yet another period of violence, political uncertainty, and upheaval in the craft that had persisted almost without pause right up to the present day. Although he tried his best not to show it, the defeat of the Coven and the powerful Vagaries servants who followed them had taken their toll on him. There had been little time in which to simply laugh, live, and love-the truly important things that make life worth living. Moreover, he adored Abbey and missed her keenly, every passing day forcing him to wonder whether he would ever see her again.
But even these concerns paled when compared with the singular worry that had troubled him from the moment the subtle matter had been so unexpectedly released in the Redoubt and tempted him and his friends into this strange quest. More than anything, he worried about what they might find in Shashida and what effect it would have on Tristan.
Wigg was not Tristan and Shailiha’s father. Even so, since their births he had carefully watched theJin’Sai andJin’Saiou grow to adulthood. He had done all that he could to shape their values and beliefs according to the principles of the Vigors, and had he been their real father he could not be prouder. He had witnessed their nearly simultaneous births while using the craft to help their mother, Morganna, deal with her pain, and he had comforted Nicholas I as he watched his wife suffer. As had been foretold in the Tome, an azure glow surrounded the blessed event, assuring all that the Chosen Ones had finally come. And since the deaths of the king, the queen, and the other members of the Directorate of Wizards on that tragic day of Tristan’s aborted coronation, Wigg knew that he alone could best serve as the Chosen Ones’ mentor. As his responsibility grew, so did his worry for them.
This is what vexes me so, he realized-the loss of so many loved ones and friends to the horrors of the Vagaries. The loss of the Chosen Ones would be felt by us all, to be sure, but such a catastrophe would tear my heart in two.
In truth he had always worried more for Tristan than for Shailiha, and there were ample reasons why. Tristan was the impulsive one, the headstrong one, the one who always challenged every answer with yet another question. Shailiha was more thoughtful and better able to harness her emotions. She was every bit as capable a leader as her brother had come to be-perhaps even more so, given her greater proclivity to think before acting. But because Tristan was prophesied to be the first of them to try and bring peace to the warring nations of Rustannica and Shashida, Wigg’s worry for him was the greatest.
Every soul aboard these two ships was risking his or her life to find Shashida, and not knowing the nature of its culture was also deeply unsettling. If the Ones truly were the world’s greatest masters of the Vigors, it should follow that they would be compassionate and understanding. But what if they were not, and their only interest in Tristan was some arcane use of his blood to win their terrible war for them? Wigg wondered. Could this be what the Tome referred to when it said that Tristan’s blood would serve some higher purpose than had ever been seen before? After so many aeons of war, had the Ones become like thePon Q’tar, and were they now willing to win at any price-including Tristan’s death? Or in the end would they-
Suddenly an urgent pounding was heard on the doors. Pushing aside his thoughts, Wigg placed his wine glass on the table.
“Enter!” he called out.
The doors parted and Scars stood there. Without invitation the first mate hurried into the room and approached Wigg, a concerned look on his face.
Wigg sat up quickly. “What is it?” he asked. “Has something happened?”
“One of the Night Witch patrols found something ahead in the channel,” Scars answered. “Tristan wants you to come right away.”
Wigg came to his feet, his eagerness temporarily brushing aside his pain. “Is it Shashida?” he asked breathlessly.
“I wasn’t told,” Scars answered. “Come-we must hurry!”
Just then Wigg felt theTammerland stop in midair, telling him that Jessamay was causing the ship to hover. Wasting no time, Wigg and Scars headed for the cabin door.
When they reached the bow topside they found Tristan, Tyranny, and Jessamay there, huddled around a lone Night Witch commander and simultaneously bombarding her with questions. Many warriors had also rushed forward to hear what she had to say. Wigg approached and elbowed his way through the crowd.
“A ship, you say?” he heard Tristan ask. “What kind of ship? Where is she?”
The Night Witch Tristan was questioning looked rather young, and she seemed intimidated by her anxious superiors. She looked at herJin’Sai with an expression of subservience.
“Yes, a ship,” she answered. “She looks very old and her timbers are black. I daresay she’s easily the size of ours.”
Seeing Wigg, Tristan asked, “Could she be another Black Ship? Did Black Ships exist before those that you and the other wizards built to serve in the Sorceresses’ War?”
Wigg scowled. “It’s possible, I suppose, although I never considered it. The plans and accompanying enchantments for the Black Ships were found in the Caves of the Paragon, so someone might have used them before we did and then returned them to their hiding place. We always assumed that the documents were left behind by the Ones, but we could never be sure.”
Wigg gave the Night Witch a commanding look. “What is the condition of this ship?” he asked. “Is anyone aboard her?”
The Night Witch shook her head. “We saw no one,” she answered. “Nor did we board her, for fear that craft use might be afoot. Her hull is nearly gone, and she lies beached on a huge rock shelf along one channel wall. She rests on what remains of her port side. Much of her is smashed beyond salvage.”
Wigg nodded. “You were right not to board her,” he said. “Can you tell us anything else?”
“Only that if you wish to view her, you should do so from a hovering litter,” she answered. “The channel narrows up ahead and it looks barely large enough for our ships to pass through. From here on, the channel zigzags. Trying to keep the ships away from the rock walls while also inspecting the wreck from the ships’ decks would be difficult.”
“How far away is she?” Wigg asked.
The young Night Witch thought for a moment. “Distance is difficult to gauge here, but I would guess that the site is about two leagues off our bow. Fresh warriors should be able to keep a litter hovering for a sufficient time as you search the wreck and then bring you home without difficulty.”
“Thank you,” Tristan said. “You have done well. Go and rest.”
After clicking her boot heels together, the tired young warrior gave Tristan a short bow, then went off to go belowdecks and find a place to sleep.
Tristan gave Wigg a wry smile. “What say you?” he asked. “Do you feel up to a little adventure?”
Perhaps it was only his earlier thoughts come back to haunt him, but Wigg sensed peril up ahead. The discovery of a vessel resembling a Black Ship gone aground in this newly birthed channel seemed impossible. Of even greater concern was whatever terrible force had tossed her onto the rocks, and that the channel narrowed markedly. Even so, he knew that this find must be seen.
“Very well,” he answered Tristan. “But we must be careful.”
Tristan looked over at Scars. “Wigg, Tyranny, and I will go,” he ordered. “Have a litter made ready at once. Two hundred armed warriors will accompany us. Tell them to stay alert, because we cannot know what awaits us. You and Jessamay will stay here to mind theTammerland. And send a messenger to theEphyra, informing Astrid and Phoebe what’s going on.”
As Scars rushed off, Tyranny gave Tristan a grateful look. “Thank you for taking me along,” she said. “Truth be told, if you hadn’t asked me, I’d be pitching a fit right now.”
Tristan let go a short laugh. “I know,” he answered. “But don’t chalk it up to kindness. I will need a maritime expert out there, and that’s you.”
He turned to see a litter being untied from the deck and a host of warriors rushing to man it. “Let’s go,” he said to Wigg and Tyranny. “If nothing else, this should prove interesting.”
Wigg raised an eyebrow in Tyranny’s direction and the privateer smiled back, acknowledging Tristan’s gift for understatement. They climbed into the litter, and the Minion bearers took it aloft.
No sooner had the litter become airborne than its passengers heard a great tumult from theTammerland ’s crowded decks. As hundreds of Minion warriors cried out in wonderment, Tristan, Wigg, and Tyranny turned to look.
The subtle matter secured in Wigg’s quarters had somehow freed itself from its glass vial and come soaring through one of the open windows on theTammerland ’s starboard side. The amazing substance twinkled brightly in the light of the radiance stones as it flew in a long stream to find its freedom in the air above the water. Everyone stood gaping as it collected near the departing litter for a moment, then streamed away over the water and down the length of the channel.
Knowing how important the magical substance was to their safe return home, Tristan shouted out orders to the litter bearers to follow it and keep it in their sight. Like Wigg, he was terrified that they might lose possession of the subtle matter forever.
What is it doing? Tristan asked himself as he felt the litter lurch forward and pick up speed. And what in the name of the Afterlife caused it to so suddenly free itself? Suspecting correctly that the ride was about to become a wild one, Tristan gripped one side of the litter for dear life, then shouted to Wigg and Tyranny to do the same.
As they tore down the length of the channel in pursuit of the subtle matter, the oncoming wind ripped at their hair and clothing and caused their eyes to water. Tristan had never seen Minion warriors fly so strenuously, and he knew that they couldn’t keep this pace up for long. But the priceless subtle matter was pulling away from them, despite how hard the straining Minions pulled the litter through the sky. Knowing that they would soon lose track of it, Tristan made a decision.
“Despite your injuries, can you empower this litter and fly it faster?” he shouted at Wigg. “We’re falling behind!”
“Yes!” Wigg shouted back, trying to be heard above the rushing wind. “But if I do, the litter bearers must release us and then follow as best they can! That means we will arrive at the shipwreck unguarded, and there is no guarantee that I can keep pace with the subtle matter! I won’t be able to keep this speed up for long, but it seems that I must try if we are to have any chance of staying with it!”
“Then do it!” Tristan shouted back.
He immediately worked his way to one side of the litter, then the other, as he barked out identical orders to the bearers. On his hand signal, the Minions simultaneously let go of the litter, then started trying to keep pace alongside.
To Tristan’s horror, the litter plunged straight down toward the azure waves. Just as it was about to hit, Wigg’s use of the craft blessedly took hold and the litter lurched upward again and gained more speed. But as he strained to look ahead, Tristan could see that their maneuver had cost them precious time and that the subtle matter had gained even more ground in its chase toward the unknown.
Suddenly a sharp right turn loomed up ahead. The subtle matter veered effortlessly to negotiate it, then disappeared around the bend between the two rock walls. Hanging on as best they could, Tristan and Tyranny nearly fell from the careening litter as Wigg banked it hard to the right, trying to make the dangerous turn. Zooming through the narrow bend, the litter righted quickly and tore on in pursuit of the fleeing subtle matter.
Tristan strained his vision to try to make out the subtle matter, but the oncoming wind made seeing difficult. Holding onto the litter for dear life, he inched his way closer to Wigg.
The strain showed clearly on the wizard’s face, forcing Tristan to wonder how much longer Wigg could keep them aloft. No one knew what effect the azure water might have on humans should they crash into the channel, and the prospect terrified him. Inching closer, he placed his mouth near Wigg’s ear.
“Can you see the subtle matter?” he shouted.
“Yes!” Wigg shouted back, the wind whipping violently at his hair and robe. “But it still gains ground! When we reach the wreck we must decide!”
“I know-we must either carry on after the subtle matter or stop and view the wrecked ship!” Tristan answered. “But the ship is going nowhere! We must keep after the subtle matter at all costs!”
“Perhaps!” Wigg answered, every fiber of his being trying to summon yet more power into the speeding the litter. “But I’m nearly exhausted! If we crash into the azure water, no one knows what will become of us!”
As another sharp bend approached, Tristan considered Wigg’s warning. The subtle matter was important, he decided, but it wasn’t worth their lives.
“Then put the litter down alongside the wreck, if you must!” he shouted.
Still trying to keep the subtle matter in view, Wigg nodded, then threw the litter around another sharp bend, nearly driving the litter into the rock wall on the left-hand side. Then came another quick series of sharp turns. During the third turn, the right leading corner of the litter struck the rock wall, smashing part of the litter to bits. Most of the litter’s right side suddenly gave way and tumbled into the azure water with a great splash. As Wigg desperately negotiated the next few blind turns while also trying to keep up speed, the damaged litter rocked sickeningly, threatening to throw everyone from its meager safety and into the sea.
As the litter rounded the next bend, the sidewalls started to narrow dangerously, adding another threat to the pursuers’ plight. Then they were suddenly around the bend and chasing down another length of straight channel. As the litter carried them along above the waves, Wigg, Tristan and Tyranny finally saw the shipwreck in the distance. Looking farther, they saw something else-something disheartening and totally unexpected.
They were fast approaching a dead end.
Like the channel walls, the rocky edifice at the channel’s end rose straight up out of the sea. Its craggy surfaces reached all the way to the radiance stones lining the channel ceiling, and it stretched from one side to the other, leaving no option but to stop the litter in midair. As Wigg slowed the litter, Tristan scanned the wall. He could find no cracks or caves in it, telling him that their journey to Shashida had reached an abrupt and unsuccessful end. Tristan and Tyranny looked around for the subtle matter that had led them here, but it had vanished.
Using his last bit of energy, Wigg gently set the litter down atop the huge rock ledge in the right-hand channel wall. The litter was dwarfed by the ledge and the great wrecked ship that lay on it. As the three passengers left the wrecked litter, the two hundred armed Minions finally reached this strange place. At a hand signal from Tristan they drew their dreggans and landed warily atop the rocky shelf.
Tristan gave Wigg a sad look. “It seems that this is where our dream ends,” he said. “I had such hopes…”
“You’re right,” Tyranny said. “We can do nothing but go back. If Khristos still waits for us on the far shore, we will have to fight our way out of the Caves.”
“So it would seem.” Wigg replied. “But for now let us finish what we came here to do.” As Wigg turned to look at the great wrecked ship, so did Tristan, Tyranny, and the hundreds of warriors.
Despite her ravaged condition, the vessel remained magnificent. Easily the size of theTammerland, she rested on her port side, just as the young Night Witch had reported. Her hull seemed cannibalized, as though her hull ribs and timbers had been chewed on by some great unknown beast. In some places, parts of her ribs still arched away from her gunwales like wizened fingers. Broken masts and sail spars lay everywhere atop the rocky ledge, and battered and torn sailcloth draped her topside like dingy burial shrouds.
Like those of theTammerland and theEphyra, her timbers were dark as night. Seeing such a once magnificent vessel looking as if it had been fed upon by some ravenous creature was an eerie feeling. As the wind blew through her wooden bones it whistled hauntingly, as if trying to warn the audacious visitors to flee before they too came under the spell of whatever had done this terrible deed.
Tristan walked to the wreck and reached up to touch one of the few remaining hull ribs. Ashen flakes loosened from it to drift away on the channel breeze. Hoping to find more clues to the ship’s history, he led Wigg and Tyranny on a long walk down her side and toward her stern. An elaborately carved plaque affixed to her stern readIntrepidus.
“Is that Old Eutracian?” he asked Wigg.
The wizard nodded. “In our modern tongue, she would be known as theIntrepid. ”
“She is easily as large as theTammerland, and she shows similar lines,” Tristan said. “I think that she was built from the same plans that you and the Directorate members used so long ago to build your fleet against the Coven. Could she have been one of yours?”
Wigg shook his head. “No,” he answered. “We had no Black Ship by this name-although her name could have been changed, I suppose. But I agree that she is much like theTammerland and theEphyra. ”
“You’re right.” Tyranny agreed. “But who built her? And how did she come to be wrecked on this ledge?”
Wigg pursed his lips. “There are two possibilities,” he answered. “Either some great force threw the ship here, or her crew purposely beached her.”
“Why would they beach her?” Tristan asked. “They could simply have reversed course.”
“Perhaps they didn’t have the chance,” Tyranny offered. “If they were being chased by something, they mightn’t have had that luxury. One doesn’t exactly turn these great ships quickly. Besides, the dead end meant that they couldn’t go on.”
“Well said,” Wigg replied. “But there might be another answer as well.”
“Such as…?” Tyranny asked.
Raising one arm, Wigg called the craft to send a narrow azure beam against one of the few remaining hull ribs. He held the beam in place for a time, then moved it back and forth with a sawing motion. Soon an end of the rib fell to the rocky ledge.
The three visitors and a host of curious Minions walked nearer. Nodding, the First Wizard pointed at the smooth end of the rib. To everyone else’s surprise, its freshly exposed interior glowed brightly with the distinctive hue of the craft.
“So the spells used to strengthen theIntrepidus remain in place,” Tristan said. “That’s surprising after all this time, but it doesn’t explain your other reason why she might have been deliberately beached.”
Wigg lifted an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it?” he asked. “I suggest you think again.”
Tyranny grasped the frightening possibility before Tristan. “It’s because of the azure water in the channel!” she exclaimed. “What we feared might happen to our ships happened to this one! The water seeped into theIntrepidus ’ hull and destroyed it little by little! That’s why it looks like it’s been eaten away!”
Wigg nodded. “It would explain a great many things,” he said. “And if this is truly what happened to theIntrepidus, the future doesn’t bode well for theTammerland and theEphyra. ”
“But we can fly our ships back,” Tristan argued. “With any luck, we won’t have to put down in the water again.”
“True,” Wigg answered. “But for all we know, theIntrepidus was in the water for no longer than were our ships-perhaps less. If this is what happened, I suspect that the damage is insidious, eating the wood from the inside out. And if that’s true, then by the time the damage is seen it might already be too late.”
“That could be what happened,” Tristan agreed. “But it still doesn’t explain how she came to be beached this way.”
“As Tyranny said, if they were being chased and they encountered this dead end they might have had no choice but to set her down on this rocky shelf,” Wigg replied. “In any event they would have done everything in their power not to set her back down on the water. But when they landed her on the ledge, her rotting hull gave way and she rolled over on her port side, marooning her here forever. If her crew was being chased, they might all have been killed. If not, they probably starved to death.”
“A precious Black Ship and her gallant crew, all lost,” Tristan mused. “What a terrible waste.”
Wigg placed his hands into opposite robe sleeves, then cast his discerning gaze up the side of the great vessel that lay there like some monstrous beached whale.
“Don’t be so quick to mourn either this ship or her crew,” Wigg replied quietly.
“What do you mean?” Tristan asked.
“Although theIntrepidus was likely built and skippered by mystics, who’s to say that they were Vigors practitioners?” the First Wizard asked.
“Do you have reason to believe that this ship was manned by Vagaries worshippers?” Tyranny asked.
“Unknown,” Wigg answered. “But the possibility seems equally likely.”
“All of which raises other questions,” Tyranny said. “What freed the subtle matter? Or did it somehow free itself? Why did it lead us here, and where is it now?”
Tristan took a quick look around but could see no trace of the beautiful material that had a mind all its own. “It’s gone,” he said. “We can presumably fly our ships back through the channel and reach the sandy shore, but what then? Without our subtle matter or a way to produce more, theTammerland and theEphyra must be left behind. With no way to build cradles for them, they will be forced to sit atop the waves and later suffer the same fate as theIntrepidus. ”
“And if theIntrepidus perished because of the water, we dare not salvage anything from her, because it might only make matters worse,” Tyranny said.
Wigg shook his head. “I disagree,” he countered.
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“Probably the only damaged parts of her were those that touched the water,” Wigg answered. “As one looks at the ship from the waterline up, she seems sound.”
Before Tyranny could protest, the wizard quickly raised a hand, stopping her.
“But do not assume for a moment that we might dare to start dismantling her and taking her lumber back to our ships,” he added. “I’m fully aware that such drastic measures would require much fore-thought.”
Tristan was about to reply when a Minion officer came forward to salute him. “Pardon, Jin’Sai, ” he said, “but there is something you need to see.”
“What is it?” Tristan asked.
“Human remains,” the warrior answered solemnly. “And some that don’t look as human as the others. We also found unfamiliar weapons and other war materiel.”
“Show us,” Tristan ordered.
As the officer led the way back across the rocky ledge and toward the theIntrepidus, Tristan soon realized that the Minions must have flown up along her damaged hull and entered through one of the many smashed windows to gain entrance to the ship’s interior. He resolved to do the same.
“I want three of you to fly us up the side and help us enter through the windows,” he said. “Then you can lead us toward what you’ve found.”
The warrior saluted and beckoned two others near. They soon had Wigg, Tyranny, and Tristan in their arms and were soaring up the black sides of the great ship.
Tristan found that viewing the ship from this perspective was an eerie sensation. He also guessed that trying to navigate their way through the stricken ship would be even more disorienting, for they would have to walk along the inside of the port hull as they searched her. Finally reaching the first row of windows, the warriors helped the three explorers inside. They let Wigg, Tristan, and Tyranny go and watched them slide down the interior wall until they reached the deck below.
Tristan was the first to go. Narrowly missing some overturned crates along the way, he skidded down the wall feet first and landed with a thud against the joint where the wall met the deck. He came to his feet to find that he was standing directly in the floor joint, and staying upright was difficult. He then saw Tyranny and Wigg come skidding into the room in the same fashion. Finally the Minion search party followed. As Tyranny and Wigg collected themselves and the warriors formed ranks, Tristan looked around. Because of the brightly lit radiance stones shining down from the cavern ceiling, the interior of the ship had ample light.
The room they had entered was huge, and its odd angle gave one the sensation of being drunk. Because theIntrepidus lay on her port side at about a forty-five-degree pitch, everything was cockeyed. Tristan realized that one could attempt to scale the sloping walls to reach the windows, but after reaching only so far, he or she would invariably slide back down again to land in the joint where the ship’s sides met the deck. Nearly all the objects in the room had tumbled toward the joint to create a long line of debris that was piled high in many places.
It seemed that they had entered the ship’s armory. Tristan easily recognized the uses for the war weapons he saw scattered about, but their designs were unfamiliar to him. Covered in dust and dumped along the length of the floor joint lay examples of the most beautiful and exotic craftsmanship he had ever seen. Some of the longer weapons like lances and spears still lay in their holding racks lining the ship’s sides.
Then he saw some of the skeletons that the Minion officer had spoken of. They lay about in strange poses as if they had been tossed there by the fates, their joints often broken and lying at unnatural angles. To a man they wore magnificent gold breastplates and matching greaves and gauntlets. Iron spears, metal shields, and odd-looking gold helmets with cheek guards could be seen lying about. Strangely, the dust-laden images on the shields appeared to be eagles with outstretched wings. The skeletons’ leather battle sandals and warriors’ skirts had long ago fallen to dust, leaving little behind but faint imprints to tell Tristan what they had once been.
As everyone started exploring, Tristan walked a few paces forward while trying to keep his balance. The task was not an easy one. Spying a sheathed sword still in the grasp of a skeletal hand, he reached down to pick it up. As he did, the hand bones fell apart and the leather tooled scabbard turned to dust, leaving behind only the metal weapon it had once protected. Wiping the dust from the sword, Tristan held it to the light of the windows and regarded it with an expert eye.
The sword was beautiful and marvelously crafted. It was shorter than his dreggan, leading Tristan to believe that it was made more for stabbing than for swinging. It seemed to be forged of soft iron that had been strengthened with coal powder, a swordsmith’s technique that was also common in Eutracia. But this was no Eutracian sword.
The two-sided blade still remained exceptionally sharp and had a V-shaped tip. Rather than a blood groove running down the blade’s length, as on a dreggan, each edge of the blade sloped gently upward to form a ridge running down the center, which would cause blood and offal to slough off during battle. The rectangular hilt resting just above the silvery blade was made of solid onyx. The handle was a cylinder of solid ivory with carved finger grooves that perfectly fit Tristan’s grip. At the end of the handle was a round ball of shiny onyx that prevented the sword from slipping from the bearer’s grip.
Lifting the sword higher, Tristan spun it several times through the air. It produced a distinctive hum not unlike that of his dreggan, and because of its shorter length it whirled faster. The sword was impressive, perfectly balanced and no doubt very costly to produce. To whom this sword had once belonged he could not know, but one thing was certain. From the looks of their weapons and armor these dead soldiers had once been a force reckon to with, perhaps easily rivaling the expertise and savagery of his Minions.
As he lowered the sword, Tristan noticed an inscription on the blade. It read:
CARNIFEX MARCUS
LEGIONUS XXIII
The inscription had no meaning for him. Looking across the tilted room, he saw Wigg examining one of the many dusty skeletons.
“Wigg!” Tristan called out. “Please come here!”
Wigg looked up and carefully wended his way over to where Tristan stood. As the wizard neared, Tristan held the sword up.
“What do you make of this?” he asked.
Wigg shrugged. “They’re everywhere,” he answered. “They’re finely crafted, but that one doesn’t look different from the others.” It seemed clear that Wigg found the skeleton he had been examining far more interesting than the sword and that he wanted to return to it. “Is this the only reason you called me over?” he asked.
“This one has writing on the blade,” Tristan answered. “Can you tell me what it says?”
His interest piqued, the First Wizard took the sword into his hands and held it up to the light.
“Carnifex Marcus, Legionus Twenty-three,” he muttered thoughtfully. After thinking for a few moments he handed the sword back to Tristan.
“The root of the wordcarnifex likely signifies ‘murderer’ or ‘scoundrel,’” he said. “And the wordlegionus clearly means ‘legion,’ or some other variant of a word describing a sizable military force. ‘Marcus’ would be a man’s name. These markings doubtless identify the sword’s owner-one Marcus, the great murderer of the Twenty-third Legion, or words to that effect. I suspect that if we took the time to inspect all of these dusty old swords, we’d find that each one bears a similar inscription. Where did you find it?”
Tristan pointed to the skeleton from which he had taken the sword. Wigg walked to it, then beckoned Tristan to come nearer. Noticing what was going on, Tyranny wended her way through the debris to join them.
Tristan and Tyranny grimaced as Wigg calmly bent down, grasped the skeleton’s head, and gave it a sudden, twisting yank. After the neck vertebrae snapped, Wigg lifted the skull high and blew the dust from it.
“I beg the Afterlife,” Tyranny muttered. “Why on earth did you do that?”
“It’s just as I thought,” Wigg said, his curiosity forcing Tyranny’s question aside. Holding the skull out, he turned it to face them. As the empty eye sockets glared at them from the distant past, they looked eerie, menacing.
“Does either of you see anything unusual about this skull?” Wigg asked.
Tristan was intrigued, and he walked nearer. Therewas something unusual about it, he realized. The skull was highly elongated. He looked back into Wigg’s eyes.
“It’s oddly shaped,” he answered. “It doesn’t look entirely human.”
Just then the Minion officer neared. “This is what I was referring to earlier, Jin’Sai, ” he said. “There are many human skeletons here, and some look like this one. This armory is but one room. I can scarcely imagine what we might find if we were to search the entire ship.”
“Why does the skull look like that?” Tyranny asked. “What was wrong with him?”
Wigg smiled. “There was nothing wrong with him,” he answered, “for a Blood Stalker.”
“That’s a Blood Stalker skull?” Tyranny asked.
“Yes,” Wigg answered. “Believe me-I saw enough of them during the Sorceresses’ War to know.”
“What were Blood Stalkers doing aboard this ship?” Tristan asked.
“Serving their superior masters, I presume,” Wigg answered. “In any event, we can now be sure of at least two things. First, this stalker was named Marcus, and he held the title of Carnifex. And second, theIntrepidus was commanded by Vagaries worshippers, for only they employed Blood Stalkers.” After setting the skull down, Wigg took another look around.
“If this ship could talk, her tales would surely be fascinating,” he added softly.
Just then Tristan heard several of the Minion warriors cry out, and he turned to look. The subtle matter had returned and was flying into the armory through one of the many smashed windows lining the tilted port hull. After all of it entered the room, the amazing substance gathered itself up for a moment and hovered above the dusty weapons, armor, and skeletons. Then without warning it divided into three distinct streams, and they headed straight for Wigg, Tristan, and Tyranny.
Tristan panicked as he felt the azure matter wrap around his waist and hold him fast in its iron grip. In moments Wigg and Tyranny were similarly caught up. Before Tristan could cry out, the subtle matter stream lifted him high into the air. Wigg and Tyranny soon followed him, and the three of them could only look aghast at one another.
“Don’t fight it!” Wigg shouted as he watched the others struggle. “We have no choice but to obey! If the subtle matter wanted to kill us, we would have been dead long ago!”
Tristan started to shout out something, but before he could, the subtle matter whisked him up toward one of the smashed-out windows. Wigg and Tyranny watched in horror as the azure powder dragged Tristan out through the window. Before he knew it, Wigg was taken out the same way, followed by Tyranny.
Dazed and frightened, the wizard and the privateer soon found themselves hovering in the air by Tristan’s side, directly over the narrow channel. Tristan could hear his warriors shouting from inside the ship, and the many others still on the rocky ledge started desperately running as they tried to come to the aid of theirJin’Sai. Some took to the air in an attempt to free Tristan from the subtle matter’s grasp, but Wigg sternly ordered them back.
For several moments the three captives hung in space and looked at one another in terror, wondering what might happen next. But before Wigg could shout out another warning, he got his answer.
The three subtle matter streams spun their captives around to face the dead end. To their amazement, the edifice started to rumble and thunder, just as had the rocky walls near the sandy shore when they first rose to meet the cavern ceiling. The captives watched breathlessly as a thin azure line formed down the center of the end wall. Then the wall began to part, its divided surfaces magically receding into the side walls and sending tons of loose stone crashing down into the channel. The terrifying space in between looked pitch-black and infinite.
Suddenly an awful wind arose, its force so strong that Tristan thought it might throw theIntrepidus free of the rocky shelf and into the channel. The waves rose to many times a man’s height and swayed violently to and fro, imprisoned between the unforgiving walls. Just when Tristan thought he could take no more, a vortex suddenly appeared within the depths revealed by the parting rock walls. It reminded him of Faegan’s portal, but this could not be Faegan’s work, for it was far larger than any portal that Faegan could summon, and its color was much more dazzling.
Soon the howling wind and the whirling vortex had become so overpowering that the three prisoners blacked out. As the wind tore at them, they hung unconscious in the subtle matter’s grasp, and awaited their unknown fates.
Tristan was the first to be called. Without warning the subtle matter holding him flew directly into the depths of the whirling vortex. His arms and legs flailing in the air, Wigg soon followed. Tyranny went next. When the three were gone, the vortex disappeared and the rock walls rumbled shut, leaving no trace of what had just happened. The terrible wind died, allowing the channel waves to again find their equilibrium.
As the stunned Minions looked on, a deathly stillness crept over the channel, the rocky ledge, and the mysterious ghost ship that lay upon it.
TRISTAN AWAKENED GROGGY AND DISORIENTED. HE WASlying prone, and he had no idea how much time had passed since he had been pulled into the vortex. His vision was fuzzy and his head swam sickeningly.
Raising himself up on his elbows, he saw several figures standing before him, but their images were too hazy to distinguish. He tried to look around to find Wigg and Tyranny, but his blurred eyesight failed. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision.
Fearing that he had entered Rustannica, he sat up groggily and reached behind his right shoulder to grasp his dreggan. To his horror, he found that his sword and his throwing knives were gone. He also realized that his clothing had been changed. He now wore a dark blue silk robe wrapped oddly around his body. His knee boots were gone; in their place, thick socks and wooden thong sandals clad his feet.
“You will not need your clumsy physical weapons here in the People’s Palace, Jin’Sai, ” he heard a female voice say. “Please calm yourself. We mean no disrespect, but our magic is far more powerful than that of your Conclave mystics. You feel drugged because you are unfamiliar with our vortex. We deeply apologize for any discomfort you might have suffered, but it was the only way. The feeling will pass, and your vision will clear momentarily.”
As he tried to see through the haze, Tristan thought he saw one of the figures raise a hand and point it at him. At once his eyesight began to improve.
First the cloudiness disappeared, then his double vision cleared to reveal a scene of startling beauty. The room in which he lay was magnificent in its exotic splendor, and the woman who had just used the craft to aid his eyesight was remarkably beautiful. Her long dark hair was piled atop her head in a strikingly unusual way, and a silken robe wound around her body revealed a tantalizing hint of the graceful figure that lay beneath it. Several more women dressed the same way stood beside her, their hands folded gracefully before them.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What have you done with my friends?”
“They are well,” the woman replied. “Because of the strength of your blood, you are the first to awaken.”
“Where am I?” he asked.
The woman bowed deeply from the waist. As she did so, the others followed suit.
“You are safe,” she answered as she remained bowed in his presence. “You are the firstJin’Sai to reach our side of the world, and your arrival has long been anticipated.”
Rising and looking into Tristan’s dark eyes, she smiled. “Welcome, Jin’Sai, ” she said. “Welcome to Shashida.”
Robert Newcomb
Rise of the Blood Royal