The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Fifty-six

B y the time Tristan had bathed, dressed, and finally reached the courtyard, the sun was nearing its zenith. Abbey, Wigg, Faegan, and Shailiha were already there, waiting for him. Caprice, Shailiha's violet-and-yellow flier of the fields, was perched calmly on the princess' outstretched arm. Shailiha had left her daughter in the care of the gnome wives, Tristan assumed. As he joined the group, he gave Celeste a knowing smile.

Seeing Tristan, Wigg scowled and loudly cleared his throat. "And now that we're all finally here…"

Tristan paused in midstride. Glancing at Wigg, he sighed and pursed his lips.

The lead wizard turned to Abbey. "Are you ready?" he asked.

Running one hand worriedly through her thick salt-and-pepper hair, the herbmistress nodded. "Perhaps this time our luck will hold." She looked over at Faegan. The Paragon, hanging around his neck, sparkled in the sun.

"But given the fact that we still do not completely understand the Furies, I suggest we take some protective measures," she added. "We have postulated that the Furies arise only when the blood of the Chosen Ones is involved in this process, but we also must admit that our understanding of this remains limited. I have no desire to relive what happened the other day. To that end, I have a suggestion."

Faegan looked up from his chair. "Indeed," he replied. "What is your idea?"

"Can you use the craft to fashion something to contain my gazing flame?" Abbey asked him. "Something that would be strong enough to shield me from the Furies, if need be, but that my hands and my gifts might also be able to actually reach through, so that I still might accomplish my work?"

Faegan nodded. "There is a variation of the wizard's warp that should do."

Raising his arms, he called the craft. As he did, the familiar azure glow appeared. Then the glow coalesced into a gleaming, transparent cube sitting silently before them on the grass of the courtyard. Open at the top, it was about five meters high, and another five meters across on each side.

Tristan guessed that Faegan had left the cube's top open purposely, so that if the process erupted the force would go upward, harmlessly releasing its power into the sky.

Faegan lowered his arms. "That should suffice," he said thoughtfully. "I have fashioned it to be as strong as I know how, yet also accommodate your other demands. But what you need to understand is that whenever a warp is constructed so that one may pass any part of his or her body through it, by necessity some of its inherent strength is lost." He went quiet for several moments. "I certainly hope it will be enough," he added casually, his sense of understatement not lost on the others.

"Then it is time for me to begin," Abbey said quietly. She held one of her arms out toward Faegan. "The herbs I specified?"

Faegan untied the leather cinch bag from around his waist and handed it over to Abbey. Then the herbmistress turned to Wigg. "And the fragment from the Scroll of the Vagaries?"

As Wigg took the vellum from within his robes, he looked down at it, and a look of concern crossed his face.

"Tell me, Abbey," he asked her. "Do you need all of the vellum to view the other scroll?"

"While the relative size or quantity of the matching item is important, it is not so critical to the process as the quality and quantity of the herbs," she answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because if this thing blows up in our faces, I would prefer that we only risk half of the vellum, rather than all of it. Do you think you could be successful using only one half?"

"Perhaps. We won't know until we try."

Nodding, Wigg looked over at Faegan. "What say you?" he asked.

"I think we should proceed," Faegan said knowingly. "But we must also tell them the other reason we wish to divide the vellum in half."

"And what might that be?" Shailiha asked quizzically.

"Consider the following," Faegan said as he pushed his chair closer. "While it's true that Tristan brought us the vellum, and that we believe it came from the Scroll of the Vagaries, we still have no way of knowing who put it into his boot. Or even why, for that matter. Since only Krassus and the woman Tristan describes as Grizelda supposedly had access to the scroll, logic would dictate that it had to be one of them. But why would they do such a thing? They certainly do not wish to aid us in our search for the Scroll of the Vigors. But there is one thing Krassus and his herbmistress very much would like to see us accomplish on our own," he added wryly.

"And what is that?" Celeste asked.

"To die," Tristan said softly, half to himself. He looked over at the wizard in the chair. "That's what you're getting at, isn't it? You and Wigg believe that Krassus and Grizelda have somehow enchanted the vellum to destroy us, should we try to use it to view the other scroll. An enchantment set to enact with the onset of Abbey's flame." Angrily, he shook his head. "How could I have been so blind!" he groaned. "I might have gotten us all killed."

"Don't be so hard on yourself," Wigg said, laying one hand on the prince's shoulder. "Faegan and I came to this hypothesis only hours ago ourselves, as we were examining the vellum."

Tristan scowled as he thought about it all. Then he suddenly realized that part of the wizards' theory made no sense. "But how could he know I would escape?" he asked.

"From the story you told us, there was no way he could have," Faegan answered. "But you're a very resourceful individual, and your reputation precedes you. We believe he may have enchanted the vellum and then placed it into your boot as an additional strategy, should you somehow actually find your way out of your predicament. Think about it. Why else would Krassus show you the scroll? As anyone in your position would do, you immediately associated the piece in your boot with it, and tried to bring the vellum back to us as quickly as you could." Pausing for a moment, Faegan cast his ever-curious eyes over at the vellum Wigg still held in his hand.

"If you failed to escape, it wouldn't matter," he continued. "If you did, he was prepared. Given the desperate nature of our situation, he is no doubt counting on the fact that we will hurry in our attempts to employ his little gift without first considering the consequences." Faegan took a deep breath. "And he was very nearly proven right."

Deeply discouraged, Tristan shook his head. "So what do we do now?" he asked.

"We do what we came here for," Wigg answered. "Provided, of course, that Abbey is still willing to try. After everything she has just heard, we can hardly condemn her, should she choose to decline."

"And so the other reason why you want to divide the vellum in half is to lessen its deadly effects, should Krassus have actually enchanted it," Tristan surmised.

"Well done," Wigg replied. He looked concernedly over at Abbey. "Are you still willing to try?"

Abbey shook her head. "Just how strong is this warp of yours?" she asked Faegan.

"As powerful as I could make it," Faegan answered. "But there are no guarantees."

Sighing, Abbey rubbed her brow. Then she looked up at Wigg and gave him an ironic smile. "I just had to come back to Tammerland with you, didn't I?" she said ruefully. Glaring back at Faegan, she raised her eyebrows. "Is there nothing else that can be done to help protect me?" she asked. "Surely that legendary brain of yours can come up with something."

Looking up at the sky, Faegan took a few moments to mull it over. "There might be something," he said finally.

"And what is that?" Wigg asked.

"If I begin to see the cube eroding, Wigg and I can try to shore it up again," Faegan answered slowly, thinking out loud. "Though by then it might already be too late."

He looked up into Abbey's eyes. "Do you trust me to keep you alive?" he asked seriously.

Obviously unsure, Abbey hesitated. "Is there any other choice?" she finally asked resignedly. When neither of the wizards answered, she gave a short, derisive laugh. Then she bent over and put her mouth near Faegan's ear. "If you let me die, I'll kill you," she said, fully realizing the absurdity of her words.

Faegan let go a soft cackle. "If you die, I'll let you," he answered. "Now then, shall we begin? But first I suggest that the rest of you retire to a much safer distance. Wigg, if you would."

Wigg nodded, then turned to face the new brick wall he and Faegan had conjured that morning, upon coming to their disturbing conclusions.

Raising one arm, Wigg loosed an azure bolt against it. When the bolt reached it, it flattened out, encasing the wall entirely. Apparently satisfied, the lead wizard dropped his arm.

"Just another little precaution in case something should go wrong." Faegan winked. "Now then, I want everyone except Abbey and myself behind that wall."

Wigg watched them all go, then gave Abbey a kiss on the cheek. "Good luck," he said quietly. Then he joined the others. The wall was just tall enough for the three of them to see over.

When Faegan was satisfied that the others were safe, he looked at the herbmistress. "Please give me the scrap of vellum." Once she did so, he used the craft to divide the ancient skin in two. He returned one piece to her, then nodded. "You may begin whenever you are ready," he told her. "And may the Afterlife look over us."

Taking a deep breath, Abbey opened the leather cinch bag Faegan had given her and removed two smoke-colored bottles. Taking a pinch of herbs from the first bottle, she tentatively reached through one side of the cube, watching as its azure wall closed in around her arm. Finally satisfied, she dropped the herbs to the floor of the cube and withdrew her arm.

Closing her eyes, she bowed her head.

Almost immediately, the familiar golden flame erupted, slowly snaking its way toward the open top of the cube. Abbey reached back through the side and cast a few more of the herbs into the flame. Roaring even higher, the gazing flame gained strength and color. Abbey removed her hand from the cube and backed away a bit. Raising one arm, she silently commanded the flame to split into two separate branches. The smaller of the branches angled toward her.

Opening the other bottle of herbs, she carefully measured some out, then reached into the cube again and dropped the herbs into the nearest of the branched flames.

The two branches rejoined, returning to the vertical. Placing the two bottles on the ground at her feet, Abbey took the piece of vellum in both hands and raised it high.

As she watched the fire, a rectangular, azure window appeared in its midst. Within its confines, an image slowly formed. Faegan wheeled his chair closer to the edge of the cube and peered in.

A street scene was unfolding. It looked like a plaza of some kind. But which city? Faegan wondered. And for that matter, which country? Eutracia or Parthalon? Trying to examine the image was maddening-like trying to solve a shimmering, constantly moving puzzle with several of the pieces missing. But then Faegan saw the familiar statues.

The Plaza of Fallen Heroes! he realized. The Scroll of the Vigors was there in Tammerland, right under their noses!

But suddenly the piece of vellum in Abbey's hand began to quiver and turn azure. Nearly beside herself with fear, the horrified herbmistress turned to Faegan.

"Get out!" she shouted. She shoved her arm into the warp, and dropped the ancient scrap inside. Immediately, she hiked up her skirts and charged toward the protective wall. Shaking off his shock, Faegan levitated his chair and soared over the courtyard to join her and the others.

As they all watched in horror, the vellum in the cube began to emit strange pinpricks of light. With the birth of the lights came great screeching sounds, so loud that the people behind the wall could barely stand the pain in their ears.

The pinpricks became shafts, and the shafts increased in size and began ricocheting against the inner walls of the cube. Some of them soared up through the open top, screaming their way into the empty sky above. The entire cube shook and jumped violently on the grass.

And then the walls of the cube began to crack.

Like sharp, threatening crevices wending their way through melting ice, the fissures in the walls of the cube started to lengthen. Levitating his chair over the top of the wall, Faegan hovered there and raised his arms. Then he loosed an azure bolt at the disintegrating cube, trying to shore it up against the power of the shrieking beams of light. Straining with effort, Faegan began to shake.

Tristan watched in dread as the walls of the cube continued to shake, split, and crack. Hurrying out from behind the wall, Wigg shot another azure bolt against the cube. But even with the lead wizard's added power, it was clear that Faegan's warp was deteriorating. It wouldn't be long now, Tristan realized, before more of the beams of light were unleashed.

Then he heard Faegan scream something out to Wigg. The lead wizard quickly nodded. As one they both sent out azure bolts to lift the cube from the ground, the piece of vellum still inside it. Using all their power, they began moving it over to one side of the courtyard, near the northern wing of the palace.

Transfixed, Tristan realized what the wizards were about to do. His jaw dropped. Were they insane?

With a great, final heave, the wizards shoved the cube toward double, side-by-side stained-glass windows. It tore through them as if they were made of paper, and kept on going.

Tristan watched, aghast, as the flashes of light screamed within the castle chambers. They lit up the rooms with what looked to be lightning strikes. He heard furniture being rent apart, glass breaking, and interior walls tumbling and crashing. Sections of the palace roof heaved, throwing marble pieces high into the air. Some of the beams of light escaped and tore their way across the courtyard to slam into the opposite wing of the palace.

At last, it was over. Dust and debris choked the entire courtyard. Into its midst, swarms of concerned Minion warriors landed, dreggans drawn. Coughing deeply, Tristan, Shailiha, and Celeste walked out from behind the wall to rejoin the wizards.

"Faegan!" Tristan exclaimed. "What in the name of the Afterlife just happened?"

"Never mind that now!" the wizard shot back, anxiously waving his arms. Tristan wasn't sure he had ever seen him so animated. "The Scroll of the Vigors is in the Plaza of Fallen Heroes, I'm sure of it! But it's on the move! And it seems to be wrapped in something, as if its current owner is trying to hide it! This may be our only chance to bring it back!"

Then he looked over at Abbey. "I want you to remain here," he ordered her. "You've done all you can for now. The rest of you come with me! We have to get to the stables!"

But Tristan had a question, and he urgently grabbed Faegan's arm. "What about the Minions? Shouldn't they help?"

"No," Faegan said thoughtfully. "This must be done very carefully." Pausing for a moment, he looked over to Shailiha to see that Caprice was still perched on her forearm. Wasting no time, he quickly beckoned the princess to him.

Faegan whispered something to her. Shailiha raised the arm holding Caprice and closed her eyes. After several moments the flier launched herself into the air and flew away.

Abbey watched in silence as Wigg, Tristan, Shailiha, and Celeste sprinted from the courtyard. Faegan levitated his chair again and went soaring along beside them. In mere moments they had rounded the corner of the partially destroyed palace and were gone.

Completely exhausted, Abbey stared out over the hissing rubble and tried to fathom what had just happened. No quick answers came. Turning back, she looked apprehensively toward the corner where her friends had disappeared.

Slowly, tiredly, she began making her way back to the palace.