Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LII

As Vivian approached the far end of the palace courtyard, she nodded to the warriors guarding the drawbridge. Even though she was in a hurry, she kept her pace slow and deliberate. The warriors smiled and snapped to attention as she walked by.

Pulling the hood of her red cloak up over her head, she exited the grounds and wended her way down one of Tammerland's busier streets. Only when she knew she was out of sight of the palace did she change direction and pick up her pace.

This time she would have both good and bad news for Bratach. He would be pleased to hear that Lionel the Little was dead, but Satine's identity had been revealed, and Vivian could see no end to the trouble this news might bring. Who could have imagined that one of the Valrenkians would be captured and interrogated? Silently cursing, she hurried on.

It was now late afternoon, the sun just low enough to play hide-and-seek among the higher rooftops. Shafts of fading sunlight sliced down into the alleyways, and the air felt warm and humid. Some of the food vendors were busily closing up their carts as they stopped work for the day. Little by little, enticing aromas faded from the air.

But for each cart that departed, a tavern lamplight came alive, signaling the change of venue for the pleasure-seekers who frequented this part of town. Soon the mood in the streets would turn even more drunken and dangerous, she knew.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for hours. She stopped to buy a bag of freshly boiled peanuts from a crippled, blind vendor about to close up his cart. Two blocks later, her fingers covered with oil and her belly quieting, she found herself reminiscing about how she had met Wulfgar. Even though their meeting had been brief, she had immediately become his-heart, mind, and soul.

Like the other women of her kind, she had been silently called to the Redoubt through a process of the craft known as the River of Thought. At that time the wizards, the Jin'Sai, and the Jin'Saiou had been locked in mortal conflict with Wulfgar and his forces. Like the other women of her sisterhood she had immediately felt the River's irresistible call, telling her to end her current duties and make her way to Tammerland. The women had been ordered to gather in the Hall of Supplication. Wigg and Faegan were already there, waiting for them. After showing the wizards the tattoo of the Paragon on her shoulder, each sister was asked to perform some small act of the craft. Next, their blood signatures were compared to those in the palace records and examined for any evidence of Forestallments or other tampering. Only then did Wigg induct them all into the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt. Finally they were shown their new home-the magnificent secret hallways and chambers lying deep below the palace.

Vivian had been overjoyed. To gather with her sisters to study and practice the craft had long been her greatest dream. But then Wulfgar had come to her. He had introduced her to a totally different dream-one for which she would willingly discard her previous vows. Suddenly, the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt had become the object of her undying hatred, something that she would now do anything in her power to destroy.

The meeting between Vivian and Wulfgar had occurred on the night Wulfgar's demonslavers attacked the palace. The royal residence was in turmoil, and those Minion warriors remaining were clearly losing the fight. Tristan, Shailiha, Wigg, Abbey, and the bulk of the warrior forces were away, trying to hold off Wulfgar's fleet. Of those able to wield the craft, only Faegan, Celeste, and the acolytes remained behind.

Frantic to help, Vivian and the other sisters had left the Redoubt to go to the aid of the warriors. Vivian had been hurrying toward the door of her chambers when it suddenly opened of its own accord. Strangely, no one stood on the other side. Shaking her head in confusion, she started to leave. That was when Wulfgar materialized before her. The magnificent Scroll of the Vigors also appeared, hovering gently by his side.

On trembling legs she retreated into the room, almost falling as she stumbled against a nearby chair. The imposing man walked purposefully into the room, the Scroll following him. Without looking back, he caused the door to close. Then Vivian heard the lock turn over, telling her that she was his prisoner.

She had no idea whether the man before her was friend or foe. He was tall, with long, sand-colored hair and commanding hazel eyes. She tentatively decided that, since he had access to the Redoubt and was obviously in possession of the Scroll, he must be some unknown ally of the wizards. She couldn't have been more wrong.

The man smiled at her. His mesmerizing gaze seemed to look right into her soul.

"Who…who are you?" she asked.

The man clasped his hands together. "I am Wulfgar," he answered. "I am your new lord."

At the mention of his name, Vivian's blood ran cold. The enemy of the Vigors that everyone was trying to vanquish stood here, in her personal chambers! But why?

Stunned, she took another step back. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. Finally, she found her tongue.

"What do you want of me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Where are Faegan and Celeste?"

Wulfgar smiled. "I have just come from a meeting with them," he answered. "After the application of some rather inventive persuasion, the wizard finally gave up the hiding place of the scroll. Celeste tried to resist me, and for that she paid dearly."

Vivian's knees buckled and she half-sat, half-stumbled into the chair. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Are they dead?" she asked.

"The wizard is alive, but very much the worse for wear. As for Celeste, I have no idea. Nor do I care. I do not wish to speak of them. I wish to discuss you and your future in the craft."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have sought you out for a particular purpose," he answered. "You should be honored. Tell me, what is your name? Do not lie, for I shall know."

As if it could somehow grant a modicum of safety, she retreated a bit more into the chair. "Vivian," she answered. "Vivian, of the House of Wentworth."

For a moment Wulfgar searched her face. Then he smiled again.

"As I walked in invisibility through the Redoubt, I searched for unusually gifted blood," he said. "That is what brought me to your door, Vivian. Do you know that the quality of your blood is quite high? Whosoever of the acolytes would become my servant must have the quality of blood equal to the tasks that shall be asked of her. Sister Adrian-your would-be leader-would have been my first choice. But she is already above ground, among the others of your sisterhood. And for obvious reasons, what must be done to turn you to my cause can only occur in private. You are my second choice, Vivian."

As she began to understand Wulfgar's horrible plan, her fear was slowly replaced by anger. She raised an arm and pointed at him. A narrow beam of the craft shot from her fingertips and barreled straight for his heart.

Slowly, Wulfgar smiled and raised one hand. The azure beam crashed against his palm. The beam fizzled, then dripped harmlessly to the floor. Wulfgar lowered his hand.

"Do not try that again, Vivian," he said. "I have taken pains to find you, and my time grows short. Soon I must complete my business with the Orb of the Vigors. I do not wish to kill you, but if you try my patience again, I will not hesitate to do so."

"What do you want of me?"

Wulfgar pursed his lips in thought.

"I believe that my plan for the orb will succeed," he said. "But if for some reason it should not yet I survive the day, I wish to leave someone here who is loyal to my cause. Such a person could be of great help to me in the future. The recently departed son of the Jin'Sai knew the value of an alternative plan, should his first one fail. His was to leave the Scrolls of the Ancients in the base of the Gates of Dawn. This very moment one of them floats by my side, while its mate is safely ensconced elsewhere. So you see, my child, Nicholas' lessons were not lost upon me."

He took another step closer. Vivian cringed.

"The small legacy of the craft that I plan to leave in my wake will be you, my dear," he added.

Wasting no more time, Wulfgar pointed at her and enveloped her in a wizard's warp. She struggled to break free, but it was hopeless.

He walked closer. Placing his hand upon her forehead, he smiled down at her. She tried to scream. She couldn't.

"There, there," he cooed softly. "Do not fear, my child. You are about to receive the greatest of gifts. I shall redeem you from the twisted mire that is the Vigors, and deliver you to the light." Wulfgar closed his eyes. An azure glow surrounded them both.

Exquisite pain coursed through her, and her body jangled like a marionette's, dancing convulsively upon some unseen master's strings. Her blood pounded so hard through her veins that she could hear her own heartbeat. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and foam dripped from one corner of her mouth. The torment was unrelenting and all-encompassing. Finally it stopped. Wulfgar removed his hand from her forehead and the glow disappeared. She was drenched in sweat, but otherwise felt unharmed.

"Rise and face your new lord," he said.

Vivian smiled as she stood up from the chair. She had never before felt so alive. Raising her arms over her head, she stretched her lithe body like a cat. Wulfgar saw that her gaze held nothing but adoration for him.

"Whom do you serve?" he asked.

"Only you, master."

"And which side of the craft do you cherish above life itself?"

"Only the Vagaries."

"Extend one arm. I must be sure of my work. Do not be afraid. I will temporarily enhance your vision, so that you might see what I see."

Vivian held out one arm. Narrowing his eyes, Wulfgar caused a small incision to form in the soft underside of her wrist and a single blood droplet to well from it. The droplet hovered in the air and immediately began to twist itself into her blood signature.

As she watched it revolve before her eyes, Vivian gasped. Her blood signature had been altered. It now tilted slightly to the left, indicating her new proclivity to practice the Vagaries.

Satisfied, Wulfgar caused the blood signature to vanish and the incision to heal. Vivian stared at him with rapt admiration.

"How is this possible, master?" she breathed.

"In truth, I cannot take the credit," Wulfgar answered. "Your conversion was accomplished via a little known but immensely powerful Forestallment, handed down by Failee, Wigg's deceased wife. Ironic, wouldn't you agree?"

Vivian nodded.

Wulfgar explained her new role as his spy here in the Redoubt. He taught her how to mask her blood signature with an image of her old one. He told her who Bratach was, and described his role in their cause. And he taught her how to use the grains of wheat to leave secret messages in the fountain. Satisfied, he had then taken his leave of her to go to the palace roof to confront the Orb of the Vigors.

Wulfgar had not succeeded in polluting the orb that night. But upon reading the first message left for her by Bratach, Vivian had been overjoyed to learn that her new master had survived, and that he would soon return.

Setting aside those memories, Vivian turned another corner to find herself in the roundabout, where the indigo of the coming night played deftly upon the fountain and its dancing waters. She walked to it and sat down upon its edge.

This time she didn't have to wait for the traffic in the roundabout to lessen. There was no one there to see her take the grains of wheat from her pocket, or notice the narrow bands of azure escaping from between her fingers.

The azure slowly died, and Vivian placed her hand into the water.