Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LXXV

Why does my shoulder hurt so much? he wondered. can't they just leave me alone? I wish they would stop talking and let me sleep. Don't they know that I'm the Jin'Sai?

With a groan, Tristan opened his eyes. At first everything was out of focus. Soon things became clearer. Celeste's lined face looked down at him, and her gray hair brushed against his cheek.

Wigg and Ox's faces appeared behind her. Celeste and Ox smiled broadly. Wigg wore the typically condescending scowl that seemed always reserved for castigating him.

"So you have finally decided to return to us," the First Wizard said. "By the time we reached you, you had lost a great deal of blood. How do you feel?"

Tristan tried to sit up, but the pain in his shoulder forced him back down. He was in his tent, lying on several Minion blankets.

Wigg pressed a wooden cup against the prince's lips. "Drink," he said.

"What is it?" Tristan asked thickly.

"If you must know, it is ground root of canckleberry, sliced blossom of synthia, and boiled water. It will help you to recover your strength. It will also aid the spell of accelerated healing that I granted over your wound. Out here in the wilderness, it was the best I could come up with."

Tristan took a gulp of Wigg's potion; it tasted awful. He winced.

"Your cure is worse than my injury," he said.

Smiling, Celeste bent to kiss him. "We were so worried about you," she said. "For a time, I thought I was going to lose you forever."

Tristan smiled back and gingerly raised himself up onto his elbows.

Suddenly it all came flooding back. Satine, the fight in the meadow, his wound, her death…He twisted to look down at his left shoulder. The arrow shaft had been removed. Bandages had been wound around the joint, and spots of azure blood dotted the fabric. The front of his black leather vest was streaked with dried azure blood. Pain momentarily overwhelmed him, and he settled back down upon his makeshift bed.

"It was Satine," he said.

"We know," Wigg answered. "Her body matched the description given to us by Uther. We buried her in the meadow. I found some interesting items hidden in the lining of her cloak. Faegan was right about her methods of killing. I found something even more interesting in one of her boots," he added wryly.

"And what was that?" Tristan asked.

"A list," Wigg answered. "I haven't made complete sense of it yet, but I think it might be a list of safe houses. I recognize many of the names matching the addresses-all onetime Consuls of the Redoubt. It appears torn at the bottom, as though she wanted part of the list removed for some reason. I suppose we'll never know."

"She hesitated," Tristan said, more to himself than to the others. Then he looked up. "She had me dead to rights, and then she hesitated. Why would she do that?"

Wigg shook his head. "Perhaps it was a sudden lapse in resolve. Who knows? In the end, all that matters is that you survived and she did not."

"How did you find me?"

"I wake up by fire to see you gone," Ox said. "Other warriors say they see you go off to horses. I go to find you. Just as I first see you, you kill Satine. I call out for wizard and other warriors."

"What time of day is it?" Tristan asked.

"Midafternoon," Wigg answered. "Do you feel well enough to travel in a litter? We're losing valuable time."

Tristan raised himself up again. "I'll ride."

"Oh, no," Wigg answered adamantly. "I can't take the chance of your wound opening up again. Besides, we're down to Shadow and one other horse." He gave Tristan a critical look. "You managed to get my mare killed, remember?"

Tristan nodded. "Very well," he answered. "And I'm sorry about your horse."

"If Tristan travels by litter, then so do I," Celeste announced.

"Very well," Wigg said. "Let's go."

Wigg looked over at Ox. "Tell the warriors to strike the camp," he said.

As Ox went to follow his orders, Wigg and Celeste helped the prince to his feet. Three hours later, Tristan looked down from his minion litter. They were traveling through the flat grasslands of Farplain, as they had been for the last two days. Wigg's spells had helped his shoulder greatly, but it still throbbed from time to time. As a precaution he periodically flexed his muscles to keep them from stiffening. The exercise hurt like the blazes, but he knew that later he would be glad he had done it. His weapons were back in place over his right shoulder. At least the arm I rely on the most was spared, he thought.

Ox flew alongside the litter. He looked over from time to time, as if he were expecting the prince to do something foolish-like dive out to the plain below, perhaps. One corner of Tristan's mouth curled into a smile. After the scare he had given them all last evening in the meadow, he really couldn't blame Ox for being so protective.

Celeste lay asleep on the floor. Her hair was completely gray now, and her skin was lined with wrinkles. Her face had an unhealthy pallor, and it was growing difficult for her to move. Even so, he loved her as much as ever.

Down on the ground and slightly ahead of the flying Minion cohort, Wigg led the way on Shadow.

Tristan cursed softly. He hated traveling so slowly-especially when every moment was so important to Celeste. He knew that Wigg felt the same way, but what else could they do? Every time Wigg tried to charge ahead, he lost the spell-only to have it return when he slowed. It was an agonizingly frustrating way to travel.

His thoughts again found their way back to Satine. She had perhaps been the best adversary he had ever faced, and he knew that he was lucky to be alive. On their way from the camp, he had seen the simple stone marker that Wigg had erected at her fresh grave. He had used the craft to inscribe the single word "Satine" into its face, along with the date of her death. It was all that they really knew about her. Who was she, and who trained her so well? the prince wondered. He would probably never know.

Below, Wigg brought Shadow to an abrupt stop. For several moments the wizard did not move. Then he looked up and waved the warriors down.

Tristan's heart fell. The sun was setting, and the wizard had chosen this spot to camp for the night. This was the only reason they could be stopping-because there was nothing but grasslands for as far as the eye could see.

He looked down at Celeste as they descended, and closed his eyes against the pain he felt for her.

The Minions and their litters landed. Celeste stirred and sat up. Running one hand back through her hair, she blinked. Tristan helped her from the litter, and they walked over to Wigg. Her gait was even slower now, her limp more noticeable.

The wizard dismounted, handing Shadow's reins to a waiting warrior. He looked perplexed.

"What is it?" Tristan asked.

At first Wigg did not answer. He simply stared out over the vast grasslands as if searching for something.

"I've lost it," he said softly.

"Lost what?" Celeste asked.

"The River of Thought," Wigg answered. "Its pull upon me has vanished."

"But how can that be?" Tristan protested. "You weren't traveling fast enough to lose the spell."

Wigg sighed. "There can be only two explanations," he said. "The first is that the spell has been broken somehow-which would mean that we may never find the place we are searching for."

"And the other answer?" Tristan asked.

"The other possibility is that we have arrived, and the pull from the River of Thought is no longer required."

Tristan looked around. All he could see was waving grass.

"But how could this be the place?" he asked. "There's nothing here."

Wigg was about to answer when they all heard a rumbling. Almost simultaneously, the ground began to shake. Shadow and the other horse reared up and whinnied in fear. As they looked around, the warriors of the Minion cohort automatically drew their blades.

The rumbling sound grew louder and the earth shook more violently, making it difficult to remain standing. Tristan was about to order everyone into the air when he saw a pinprick of azure light form in the grass. He pointed it out to Wigg and Celeste. As the light grew in size and intensity, everyone stepped back.

Something emerged from the ground. At first they could see only azure light, but then another form started to take shape. It was like an arrow, with four sides extending down from its pinnacle. On and on it came, thundering up from the soil and tearing fresh sod loose as it grew. Its azure light was nearly blinding. Then it came to a halt. The rumbling sound died away, and the ground stilled once more.

Tristan gazed at it in amazement. A shimmering azure pyramid stood before him, its smooth shiny sides reflecting the dwindling daylight.

"I think it's safe to say that we have arrived," Wigg said softly.

Tristan was about to answer when a brilliant white door appeared in the pyramid's wall. The door slowly moved to one side, and a soft blue light spilled out over the threshold and onto the grass. Tristan looked over at Ox.

"Make camp here," he ordered. "Wigg, Celeste, and I are going inside. There is no telling how long we might be gone-or whether we will return. Under no circumstances are you or any of your warriors to follow us inside. You will simply have to wait for our return. Do you understand?"

Ox's face fell, but he knew his duty. "I live to serve," came the standard reply. "Luck with you."

Tristan looked over at Wigg and Celeste and they nodded back. He took each of them by the hand, and together they walked into the magnificent structure. After several steps, by silent, mutual agreement the three of them stopped, breath held, eyes wide with wonder. The inside of the structure was far larger than its outside had led them to believe. Stunned, Tristan looked over at Wigg.

"How can this be?" he asked.

"Nothing is impossible within the purview of the craft," Wigg answered. "But I must admit that this comes close."

They stood in the middle of a huge foyer that branched off into several seemingly endless halls. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all constructed of what looked like azure glass. Soft light of the same color illuminated the place, radiating from everywhere, yet originating from nowhere. The only other color was a bloodred image of the Paragon, inlaid in the center of the floor. Silence reigned.

"What do we do now?" Celeste asked at last. Her voice, brittle and dry, echoed down the halls. Tristan took her withered hand.

"There can be only one answer," Wigg said. "We pick a hallway and begin walking. It seems to me that-"

He stopped in midsentence.

"What is it?" Tristan asked.

Eyes glued dead ahead, Wigg pointed. "Look," he said.

Another pinprick of azure light was forming in the air. As it grew in intensity it spun, and a form started to take shape in its midst. The form grew longer and wider until it was clearly identifiable as a boy. He glowed softly with the color of the craft. Tristan guessed him to be no more than nine or ten Seasons of New Life.

His hair was dark, his eyes were large and expressive. Completely naked, he stood there before them without shame.

Staring, Tristan realized that he could actually see through the boy, as if the boy was made of azure fog. It was like looking at a ghost. Perhaps that is exactly what he is, the prince thought. Suddenly the apparition knelt.

Not knowing what to do, Tristan looked over at Wigg and then back at the boy. "You may rise," he said awkwardly.

"So it is true after all," the boy said. "The Jin'Sai really is of this world. That must mean that the Jin'Saiou-she who was prophesied to be your twin sister-must now also have mortal form. Is that not true?"

"Yes," Tristan answered simply. "But how could you know?"

The boy pointed to Tristan's wound. "The dried azure blood on your vest. It is said that the true Jin'Sai or the Jin'Saiou might possess such blood." He paused. "So you have come to me at last."

He looked at Wigg. "It is also said that the watchwoman of the Chambers of Penitence recently oversaw the requisite trials of an ancient wizard who wore the Paragon. And that as a result of his trials, she provided his friend with herbs and oils that would help them in their struggle against the Vagaries. It was the reenactment of your greatest regrets that she oversaw, was it not?" he asked.

Stunned, for a moment Wigg couldn't find his voice. His time in the Chamber of Penitence was not long past, and it had taken all his strength to survive his experience there. Finally he spoke.

"That is correct," he answered. "But how did you know?"

"First of all, you wear the stone," the boy answered. "It was the nearness of the stone that alerted me to your presence and activated the structure in which you now stand. And, secondly, the watchwoman and I serve the same masters. We have done so for aeons. They see all."

"The Ones Who Came Before," Wigg said.

"Yes."

"But you are so young," Tristan said. "If what you say is true, then how is that possible?"

"I am aeons old, but for your benefit I have taken a form that your minds could understand and that you would find pleasing," the boy said. "But if this form doesn't suit you, I can take on another appearance.

"It is my task to watch over this place, this wonder left behind by the Ones. It is also my duty to serve those who come here bearing the stone and wishing to serve only the Vigors.

"There is far more history about our land and the craft than you know. Many others who have worn the stone have visited here, long before you. I helped them as well. Even so, our struggle against the Vagaries seems to know no end."

"Are you the one known as the Scroll Master?" Tristan asked.

The boy smiled. "Yes, among other things."

"And what is this place?" Wigg asked. "Is this the Well of Forestallments?"

"Yes," the boy answered. "But as is true with so many other wonders of this world, it too has another name, and another purpose."

"And what is that?" Celeste asked. Her voice was faint, and she clung weakly to Tristan's arm. The prince held her close.

"It is also known as the Abyss of Lost Souls."

"I don't understand," Wigg said.

"The craft is a vast universe, of which you have charted but a little," the boy said. "But you will understand far more by the time you leave here."

The boy gave Celeste a puzzled look. Gliding closer, he examined her, then looked at Wigg again.

"She is of your seed," he said. "And she is dying. What is left of her blood signature is vanishing as we speak."

"That is true," Wigg answered anxiously. "But how could you-"

"And you, Jin'Sai," the boy said, interrupting the wizard. "I see your blood at work there. Did you not know that a union between your blood and hers would result in such a tragedy? Did your wizards not inform you of this? The warning was clearly illustrated in the Scrolls of the Ancients. Is this why you have come to me-to try to save the life of this woman?"

"Yes," Tristan answered. "But we have other reasons for searching you out, as well. The Orb of the Vigors has been wounded and it is bleeding. It wreaks havoc across the land. The Enseterat-my half brother-is returning to Eutracia to oversee its death throes. The Tome states that only the Jin'Sai or the Jin'Saiou might be able to heal the orb, but only after being granted the proper Forestallment. That Forestallment can supposedly be found in the scrolls, but we had no time to search them out. So we chose to find you instead."

"Tristan, my love…" Celeste suddenly whispered.

Finally overcome with weakness, she fainted. Struggling against the pain in his shoulder, Tristan caught her and he lifted her into his arms.

Wigg rushed over. Lifting one of her eyelids, he looked into her eye. What he saw there turned his face ashen. He shook his head.

"She's nearly gone," he breathed.

As tears of desperation welled up in Tristan's eyes, he looked at the boy.

"Can you help us?" he pleaded.

The boy nodded. "You were right to search me out, Jin'Sai," he said.

"I will do what I can. I know that you love her. But if the Enseterat has been loosed upon the world, the task before us has suddenly become far greater than the saving of a single life, no matter how dear she may be to you. Follow me."

With Celeste in his arms and Wigg by his side, Tristan followed the boy down one of the endless hallways.