The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Seventy-two

B y the time Tristan's litter and its accompanying Minion forces reached Tammerland, night was falling. Little had been said during the trip, and it had seemed to the prince that for some reason Wigg and Abbey had remained especially distracted. But he had to admit that he, Shailiha, and Tyranny had all been quiet as well, their hearts heavy with concern about what might have become of Faegan and Celeste.

Tristan was about to give the order to take them down when Wigg leaned out of the litter and looked around. After a time, it seemed he had found what he was searching for. "Have the Minions land us on that rise coming up!" he said firmly. "There is something we must do before going any farther!"

Scowling, Tristan glared at the wizard. "Are you mad?" he shouted. "Celeste and Faegan might be fighting for their lives for all you know! We have to get to the palace!"

"No!" Wigg shouted back. He reached out and took Tristan by the shoulders. "You must trust me! There are things that Faegan, Abbey, and I have not told the rest of you!" For a moment Tristan actually thought that the wizard might go so far as to use his powers, if need be, to enforce whatever he had in mind.

"Now do as I say!" Wigg shouted. "And have them land the litter on that rise below us! And don't send your troops into the fight until I have done what I came here for!"

His jaw clenched in anger, Tristan looked out of the litter and shouted some orders out to Traax. Almost immediately the litter and the Minion host started toward the rise. As they reached the top, the palace grounds came into view below. Tristan looked down and took a short breath. The blood and bodies of both Minion and demonslaver alike littered the palace grounds. The survivors were still battling. The Minions, greatly outnumbered now, were clearly losing this fight. Most of them had been forced into the courtyard, their backs up against one of the inner walls as the demonslavers rushed them time and time again.

Some of the demonslavers were also dying, but it seemed that for every one of them that went down, two or more Minions died just as quickly. There were so many demonslavers upon them that the Minion warriors could not even take to the air.

His heart full of rage, Tristan spun around and glared at Wigg with angry, beseeching eyes as they landed.

"What's wrong with you?" Tristan shouted as he thrust one hand out, pointing at the ongoing massacre. "Can't you see that if I don't release my warriors, the ones down there will be cut to pieces?"

Wigg grabbed him by the shoulders again. "What I am about to do must be done!" he said harshly. "There is no time to explain! You simply must trust me! What do you want to save the most, eh? Some of the Minions who have sworn to defend you, or the very craft itself?"

Letting go of the prince's shoulders, Wigg turned to Abbey. Tristan watched as the lead wizard took a piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to her. It was covered with what looked to be Old Eutracian. Then he touched the locket she always wore around her neck and kissed her cheek. Fear on her face, she stood and exited the litter. Wigg waved his arms at the Minions. "Well don't just stand there!" he shouted. "We must go now!"

As the litter and the Minions climbed back into the sky, Abbey lifted her head and watched her lover depart. One tear of concern fell down her cheek.

B y the time the litter reached the palace, Tristan, Shailiha, Tyranny, and the Minions were spoiling for a fight. But by now Wigg had convinced them of why they must not participate, and also of their need to stay close to him.

Looking down into the courtyard from the roof on which they had landed, Tristan saw his Minions finally go flying down and begin tearing into the surprised demonslavers. Before landing he had given Traax orders to leave none of the white-skinned monstrosities alive. Grinning broadly, the Minion second-in-command had nodded in agreement.

Wigg stepped from the litter and glanced up toward the sky. He was greatly relieved to see that the twin orbs of the craft were not visible; that meant that if Wulfgar was indeed here, he had not yet conjured them. But it was imperative that they find Morganna's firstborn before he was able to enact the Forestallment that would allow him to destroy the Orb of the Vigors.

If Wulfgar was cloaking his blood from Wigg, and he had also been gifted with the powers of invisibility by Krassus, trying to find him could be a nightmare, if not a complete impossibility. Their only hope lay in the fact that Wulfgar had clearly not yet destroyed the Orb of the Vigors, for Wigg still possessed his powers. And so if they could not find Wulfgar, Wigg would force him to come to them.

There was only one way to do that.

Wigg would conjure forth the twin orbs of the craft before Wulfgar did. For wherever the orbs were, Wulfgar would also have to be in order to carry out his plan.

Wasting no time, Wigg raised his arms.

As the four of them watched, a gigantic glow coalesced in the inky night sky. The glow began to spin, quickly becoming the Orb of the Vigors, the massive, golden globe of energy that sustained the altruistic side of the craft. The pale white beams that radiated from its center lit up the night sky for what seemed to be leagues in every direction. Tristan suddenly realized he had never witnessed the orbs at night. It was an awesome sight.

Then the darker, menacing Orb of the Vagaries took shape, its blackness scratched through by bright lightning.

Tristan glanced down to see that the battle in the courtyard below was winding down at last. The surviving demonslavers were being systematically beheaded, just as he had ordered. Traax and Ox landed quietly by his side. Ox looked exhausted, and one leg was wounded. Traax gave his lord a nod, and Tristan nodded back. Satisifed, he looked up at the sky again.

Then Wigg lowered his arms, and a strange sense of quiet descended over everything. The night larks and tree frogs stopped calling out to one another, and the branches of the trees below were no longer swishing to and fro, for the wind had suddenly stopped, as well. The orbs continued to hover silently, as if waiting for something to happen.

And then they changed.

Tristan glanced over at Wigg and saw the lead wizard shake his head, telling him that it was not he who was causing this phenomenon. Wulfgar, he thought.

The orbs had moved closer to each other than he had ever seen. Shards of lightning had begun to shoot back and forth between them, and the orbs themselves were shaking. Tristan glanced at Wigg to see that the lead wizard's face had blanched as he watched, spellbound.

A band of azure light took form between the orbs. It slowly extended itself from the side of the Orb of the Vigors, growing hauntingly until it reached the Orb of the Vagaries and attached itself.

Then this new connection between the orbs transformed itself from mere light into what looked like a tangible mass. It glowed ever brighter, until it became almost impossible to look upon. Suddenly, Tristan knew what it was.

The Isthmus: the bridge between the two sides of the craft that would somehow allow the destruction of the Orb of the Vigors.

And it had been conjured by Wulfgar.

A deep, commanding laugh shattered the silence. Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny drew their swords, blades ringing loudly as one through the air. As they did, the laugh came again.

"Tell me, Brother," a voice said. "Do you really think you can kill me with a weapon as crude as that?"

They all looked around, but they saw nothing except the magnificent orbs. The laugh came yet again, mocking them.

Then an azure glow began to build on one side of the roof. Turning, his hand clamped tightly around the hilt of his sword, Tristan watched as the glow took shape. As it coalesced, he and Shailiha found themselves staring at their long-lost sibling, the half brother they hadn't known existed until only a short time ago.

Wulfgar was wearing emerald silk trousers and a matching jacket that lay partially open, exposing his muscular chest. His sandy hair was pulled back from his forehead.

In his arms he held the Scroll of the Vigors.

If Wulfgar had the scroll, that meant he had found Faegan, Tristan realized. Was the wizard dead? And what had happened to Celeste?

Placing the precious scroll down on the roof, Wulfgar gave them all a menacing smile and took several brazen steps nearer.

At that moment, Wigg raised his arms and sent twin azure bolts at Wulfgar.

Casually, almost lazily, Wulfgar also raised his hands and caught a bolt in each. Then, placing his hands together, he joined the two bolts into one and took another step forward. As he did he looked squarely at Wigg and smiled again. Then he spread his fingers.

The azure bolt went screaming back toward Wigg and struck him squarely in the chest, throwing him high into the air, and across the roof. He landed hard on his back, unconscious. The front of his robe was scorched and smoking, and his arms were outstretched, as if in supplication.

Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny ran to him and knelt down. Wigg didn't seem to be breathing. Standing slowly, Tristan glared back with hatred at the monster that had just dared call him brother.

"Is he dead?" he asked, his body shaking with anger. He wanted to attack Wulfgar then and there. But after all he had just seen, he knew it would be hopeless.

Wulfgar simply smiled.

"I asked you a question, you bastard!" the prince raged. "Is Wigg dead?"

On hearing the insulting reference to his parentage, Wulfgar's face fell for a moment, and his gaze hardened. Then his composure resurfaced again.

Wulfgar pursed his lips. "Probably," he answered shortly. "I don't really know. Nor do I care, any more than I care about Faegan, or the daughter of the so-called lead wizard." Then the smile came again. "Don't you see?" he asked. He gave a sarcastic laugh. "I'm still rather new at all this."

Completely beyond anger, Tristan took a determined step forward, but Shailiha grabbed his arm. Tristan stopped, but continued to stare into Wulfgar's eyes.

"You had best listen to our sister," Wulfgar said. "You are untrained, and I could kill you with a single thought."

"Then why don't you?" Tristan snarled.

"I may do that yet," Wulfgar answered softly. "But as you have apparently guessed, I have other, more important business to finish first. A mission that your late son first entrusted to Krassus, and then Krassus entrusted to me." A new thought seemed to cross his mind, and he smiled at Tristan.

"Tell me, Jin'Sai," he said nastily. "What does it feel like to know that you have not only murdered your own father, but have also lost your only child, as well?"

Tristan took a slow, measured step forward. "The same way it will feel when I kill my only brother," he growled quietly. "Sad, but necessary."

Wulfgar shook his head. "Krassus told me you would be inordinately stubborn in your beliefs," he said. He looked down into the courtyard to see that the prince's Minions were finishing off his demonslavers. Strangely, he seemed quite unconcerned.

"Don't you care about what is happening to them?" Tristan asked.

"Why should I?" Wulfgar answered. "You have apparently done away with my fleet, or you wouldn't be standing here. I don't know how you did it, and I don't care. None of that matters any longer, for neither of your wizards can help you. The demonslavers, the screechlings, and the sea slitherers were only a means to an end. Besides, the slavers were all originally your subjects, not mine.

"And by the way," he continued, "order those Minion warriors behind you to go back down into the courtyard and tell the others not to come up. If any of them approach, our lovely sister-your famous twin-will die."

Turning, Tristan looked at the warriors and gave them a nod. Reluctantly they jumped from the edge of the roof and soared toward the courtyard.

Trying hard not to look up at the hill above them, Tristan turned back to Wulfgar. He could only hope that after hearing what Wigg had told them in the litter, Shailiha and Tyranny would have the good sense to do the same.

He thought desperately, as if by willing it hard enough he could somehow make them hear him. If Wulfgar turned his gaze there, they would all be finished.

"Now then," Wulfgar said, almost politely. "Shall we begin?"

Raising one arm, he encased everyone before him on the roof in a wizard's warp. Tristan couldn't move any of his limbs, but he found that he still controlled his powers of speech. Apparently satisfied, Wulfgar stared calmly at the people trapped in his warp.

"You're going to destroy the Orb of the Vigors, aren't you?" Shailiha asked. "That's what this has been about all along!"

"Of course," Wulfgar answered calmly. "But before I do, there is something I would like the two of you to know. It will pain you to hear it, I'm sure. But then again, making my brother and sister happy isn't really why I have come."

"What is it?" Tristan asked.

Looking over to one side, Wulfgar pointed down at the Scroll of the Vigors.

"That scroll," he began, "the one you held in your possession so briefly, holds many of the answers you seek. Yes, Jin'Sai, it even tells of the potential coming of your azure blood, and of how you might eventually rid yourself of it. But now, with the scroll in my possession, none of those things will ever happen. For until your blood reverts you cannot be trained, cannot wear the Paragon, and cannot read the Tome, and you will be unable to fulfill your so-called destiny. You will even be barred from siring children, for your tainted blood would be far too dangerous for any woman's to join with. Have your friends the wizards told you that yet? Your famous, all-powerful blood that was to have empowered you above all others is now the very thing you must most despise." The wicked smile came again.

"Aside from me, of course," he added knowingly. He turned to look at the orbs.

"How can one of our blood be so evil?" Shailiha shouted at him. "Doesn't any part of you care about the horrific, irreparable damage you are about to cause?"

Turning back from the orbs, Wulfgar looked directly into his sister's eyes.

"Evil, you say?" he asked her. "Don't you understand? I have no concept of the word 'evil.' As Krassus was so fond of saying, we of the Vagaries simply have a different point of view."

Turning again, he raised his hands. Almost immediately the orbs began burning brighter.

Never taking his eyes from his bastard brother, Tristan turned his thoughts toward the hill.

A bbey saw Wulfgar turn toward the orbs and saw them glow even more brightly. She levitated the parchment Wigg had given her so that it hovered in the air before her. Opening the cinch bag at her waist, she took out a pinch of precious herbs and placed them on the tinder she had prepared and lit. Then she stood back and used her gifts to force the fire higher and higher. When it was at last about two meters high and a meter wide, she crooked a finger toward her, ordering the flame to divide into two unequal branches. Curling her finger again, she pointed to the right, and the smaller of the two flames flattened out, coming dangerously close to scorching her hands and face. Looking down, she blessed the Afterlife that Wulfgar's back was still toward her.

She threw another pinch of herbs into the branch of flame, then reached for and opened the silver locket that hung around her neck. The usual dark locket of hair, the one belonging to the lead wizard, still lay inside as always. But now there was another with it. It was sandy colored, and secured around its center with a red ribbon.

It was Wulfgar's-the lock of hair that she had first seen in the Hall of Blood Records when Wigg had explained Wulfgar to them and shown them his blood signature. The lock of his hair that his grandmother had taken from him before her daughter gave him over to the orphanage, thirty-four years ago.

She removed the ribbon and divided the lock of hair into two halves, than dropped one half into the lower of the two flames and held the other half high. She was ordering her flame to find Wulfgar, even though he was in plain view.

She knew she was risking her life by doing so. She was only a partial, and so her attempt to find Wulfgar, one of those of the womb of Queen Morganna, would undoubtedly call forth the Furies-the same phenomenon that she had experienced that day in the courtyard when she, Faegan, and Shailiha had nearly been killed while trying to find the prince by employing a drop of his twin sister's blood.

But this time, she prayed, she had the answer.

A s the orbs and the Isthmus joining them glowed ever more brightly, Wulfgar smiled. Even though the Forestallment required to accomplish his task was immensely refined, the concept behind his mission was exceedingly simple. He could still hear Krassus explaining to him how it was to be done, as though it were only yesterday.

First, call upon your blood and conjure forth the Isthmus. When the Isthmus has appeared and the orbs seem stable, then use your mind to open the gate at the end connected to the Orb of the Vagaries, and allow its dark energy to trickle through. As it begins to reach the Orb of the Vigors, open the other end of the Isthmus and force the dark energy inside the Orb of the Vigors without allowing it to return to its source. The Orb of the Vigors shall therefore become polluted, while the Orb of the Vagaries shall remain pristine. When enough dark energy has finally been transfused, however, the cataclysm will wish to commence, and you must be exceedingly careful lest you risk the destruction of the world, for chaos is the natural order of the universe. But if done correctly, before the great cataclysm occurs the controlled nature of your work will cause the Orb of the Vigors to explode in a great ball of fire and light, and your mission will be complete. The Vigors will be no more, Wulfgar, and you may return to the Citadel and rule in splendor forever.

Closing his eyes, Wulfgar used his mind to open the floodgate at the end of the Isthmus touching the Orb of the Vagaries. As he did, its destructive energy trickled into the Isthmus and flowed down the length of its interior, making it darker as it went. Any second now, Tristan saw, the energy of the Vagaries would reach the Orb of the Vigors, and everything they treasured would be gone forever.

J ust as it had done that day in the courtyard, the top of Abbey's gazing flame began to swell. The viewing window also began to form, but that was not her main concern this time.

Looking at the parchment hovering in the air before her, she began urgently reading aloud the formula that Wigg and Faegan had found in the Scroll of the Vigors only days before-the formula that the community of partial adepts had for centuries whispered would countermand the action of the Furies and send the energy back to the subject a thousandfold.

With a great explosion her gazing flame burst, throwing her to the ground. But unlike the previous time, that was not the end of it.

Sheets of pure energy shot from the exploding flame, illuminating everything for leagues around. The night sky erupted in a cacophony of noise and light as the energy streaked down the hill, searching out the subject that was to have been viewed.

Wulfgar.

Sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, Wulfgar turned for a moment to look up the hill. As the light shards came nearer, his face contorted into a mixture of confusion and terror. Then the Furies, magnified a thousandfold, found him.

Ignoring the orbs, Wulfgar turned to confront the Furies in a desperate effort to save his life. Frantically he sent azure bolts against them. But to no avail.

As the bolts slammed into the energy cascading down the hill, they simply fizzled away against it, dissipating into nothingness. Unaffected, the Furies continued toward him. Tearing across the roof, they passed over the Scroll of the Vigors and headed unerringly for Wulfgar.

As they approached their target, they began to produce a whirling maelstrom that soon surrounded him, trapping him within its confines. As it closed in on him, Wulfgar could feel the intense heat it emitted. He knew that if he remained inside, he would die. For a few precious moments he turned his hateful gaze on Tristan and Shailiha.

They heard him scream insanely. Then the scream died away. The maelstrom closed in hard-and exploded.

As the force of the blast tore through the night air, Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny felt the searing heat and power of the dying Furies from the confines of Wulfgar's deteriorating warp. Trees from the nearby hill were uprooted and sent flying into the air, and parts of the palace roof exploded, sending marble pieces high into the sky. Then the warp finally vanished altogether, and Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny collapsed to the roof. Tristan could barely move. Craning his neck, he looked over to see that the two women were either unconscious or dead.

It was all the prince could do to look up at the glowing orbs of the craft. Wulfgar's Isthmus had vanished, and the orbs seemed to be undamaged. Suddenly, they were gone.

Using what strength he had left, Tristan looked over at the scroll. Blessedly, it still lay on the palace roof, where Wulfgar had left it.

In horror he saw that the Scroll of the Vigors-the only known document in the world that could provide the answers he so desperately needed about himself-was burning. He tried to crawl toward it. But his strength gave out, and he collapsed back down to the roof.

The last thing he remembered before passing out was his Minion troops finally landing on the roof beside him, and Traax and Ox running toward the burning document.