Savage Messiah

CHAPTER LXXIX

Tristan awoke to find he was standing up, the young Scroll Master beside him. As his vision cleared, the Jin'Sai looked around in awe. He had long believed that he would never see a room larger than the Hall of Blood Records, but what he saw here made even that great place seem small by comparison.

Like the others before it, this chamber was also constructed of glowing azure glass. The ceiling had to be at least one hundred meters high. Massive columns rose to meet it.

A seductive cross between the finest of choir voices and the gentle tinkling of glass wind chimes teased his hearing. Saying nothing, the young Scroll Master watched and waited as Tristan took in the scene.

Row upon row of glowing azure bookcases stood in neat ranks, filling the hall from one side to the other. They seemed to stretch into infinity.

"What is this place?" Tristan asked with wonder and respect.

The Scroll Master turned to him. "Your wizards and sorceresses are wrong," he said, "about so many things. They always have been. But even without the direct guidance of the Ones, and with only the Tome and the Scroll of the Vigors to guide them, their advancement has been exemplary."

It was not lost on Tristan that the Scroll Master hadn't actually answered his question. "I don't understand," he said. "What have they been wrong about?"

"A great many things, I'm afraid," the boy answered. "Perhaps their greatest mistake of late has been their misguided theories regarding the art of Forestallments. But that is understandable. Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay are little more than three centuries old. That length of time is but a single heartbeat in the life of the craft. They remain infants in the ways of magic."

Tristan was becoming impatient. "You haven't answered my first question," he said. "What is this place?"

"We are standing in the presence of one of the greatest achievements of the Ones," the boy said. "The Well of Forestallments. Come with me."

The boy floated toward one line of shelves. As Tristan followed along, his boot heels rang out against the floor, mingling with the comforting sounds that came from everywhere at once. They traveled a long way before stopping. Pointing to one of the bookcases, the boy indicated that Tristan should walk around to face it.

"Do not be threatened by what you see," the boy said. "Although it will be unexpected, it cannot hurt you."

Tristan was devastated by what lay before him. Taking a quick breath, he stepped back. He couldn't believe his eyes.

It was the face of Failee.

Failee-the mad First Mistress of the Coven and onetime wife to Wigg. The woman who had ordered the deaths of his parents and the Directorate of Wizards, absconded with both the Paragon and his twin sister Shailiha, and one of the Coven of Sorceresses he had killed with his first and only use of the craft. Memories flooded his mind as he stood there looking at the face of the woman he had hated for so long.

He finally realized that he was looking at only a death mask. He relaxed a bit. Taking a deep breath, he walked closer.

From the depths of the shelf, Failee's face hovered behind what seemed to be a curved pane of clear glass. Her eyes were closed. Azure light highlighted the contours of her face, and words in Old Eutracian were inscribed into the area just below the mask. He looked down.

The cubicle below the one holding Failee's likeness was also encased in glass, but what it contained fascinated Tristan even more.

Like tributaries snaking away from a river, dozens of azure Forestallments twinkled there. Many more words in Old Eutracian were inscribed below them. The Forestallments hovered vertically in space; amazingly beautiful, they sent out shimmering waves of azure as they rotated side by side.

Looking to the right, Tristan saw the death masks of Vona and Zabarra-two of the other sorceresses he had killed-along with two more cubicles of Forestallments.

Then his eyes fell upon the death mask of Succiu. He stepped over to stand before it.

He had never believed that he would see her face again, and doing so now gave him no joy. Under Failee's orders, she had raped him and imbued still-dormant Forestallments in his blood signature. She had also been the mother of Nicholas, Tristan's only child. As he looked at Succiu's beautiful almond-shaped eyes, a shudder went through him. Like those of the others, her Forestallments were displayed just below her death mask.

Overcome with curiosity, Tristan looked down the limitless length of this case. Death masks and their accompanying Forestallments lined both sides for as far as he could see. Then he realized that it was the slowly revolving forestallments that were the source of the lovely tinkling sounds.

He turned to the Scroll Master. "Why would the Ones build such a place as this, only to record the expired Forestallments of the dead?"

The boy smiled. "Those persons who are represented here are quite dead, that's true," he said. "But the Forestallments that their blood signatures once carried are not."

"That's impossible," Tristan said. "When one of the endowed dies, his or her blood signature and Forestallments die with them. That is why there is always an accompanying atmospheric disturbance-it is the craft's way of reacting to the passing of a collection of Forestallments. Wigg and Faegan are sure of it."

"No," the boy said. "Your wizards are wrong. Forestallments do not die unless they are dismantled by a proper spell of reversal. If their host dies before this is accomplished, they leave the host and travel here, causing the disturbances you describe. They do so because of a process of the craft that the Ones refined just before they disappeared, but it does not always succeed. If they are unsuccessful in their journey, their owners are condemned to the Abyss of Lost Souls.

"The words in Old Eutracian inscribed below the Forestallments identify them and illustrate the spells required for their conjuring and their dismantling," the boy went on. "Your wizards are right about one thing, though. The Scrolls of the Ancients were written by the Ones and the Heretics of the Guild. Collectively, they contain the spells required to both form and dismantle nearly every Forestallment known to man."

Stunned, Tristan looked around the chamber once again. "But that still does not answer my question," he said. "Why did the Ones build this place, and why are the Forestallment branches collected in this way?"

"Two reasons," the boy answered. "The first is the most obvious. A properly induced Forestallment is a precious thing. Here they would always remain safe from harm, as would the required spells."

"And the second reason?" Tristan asked.

"They built this place for the Jin'Sai and the Jin'Saiou," the boy said gravely. "They knew that it would help you in your struggle to combine the two sides of the craft. Once your blood is healed, the Ones have dictated that three of these preserved Forestallments are to be given to you and activated-and then three shall be selected for Shailiha, should you die or otherwise fail in your destiny. Your wizards were wise not to activate the Forestallments that Succiu imparted to your blood. Had they been brought to life improperly, they would have killed you.

"Do not be misled," he warned. "The Well of Forestallments has existed for aeons. But it was not built with such care and so lovingly maintained for all this time for only you and your sister."

"Who else was it built for, then?" Tristan asked.

"It was built for the other Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious who came before you and Shailiha-and for those who may have to follow you, should you both fail to join the two sides of the craft."

Tristan's jaw fell and the breath rushed out of his lungs.

"But I am the Jin'Sai!" he exclaimed. "And Shailiha is the Jin'Saiou! The Tome says so! How could there have been others before us?"

"Think for a moment," the boy said. "The Tome makes mention of a Chosen One who will be preceded by another. But does it say how many pairs of these twins there might eventually be?"

"As far as I understand it, no," Tristan said. He simply couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"And does the Tome mention you or your sister by name?" the boy pressed.

"Not that I have been told," the prince answered.

"Then how can you and your wizards be so sure that you and Shailiha have been the only ones?" the boy asked. "There have, in fact, been dozens of Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious before you. Over the aeons they have always arrived in pairs-one girl child and one boy. So far, each pair has failed to unite the two sides of the craft. And like you and your sister, each pair thought themselves the only ones-unless they succeeded in finding me, as you have, and were informed about the true nature of things. But you, Tristan, are the first to use his gifts without the advantage of training. Your blood is the first to turn azure. When the Tome speaks of this, it is referring directly to you. We know that now."

"But how can that be," Tristan protested, "when so much of what the Tome prophesied about me has already come true? Are you saying that the Jin'Sais before me also followed the exact same path as I have in life?"

"Of course not," the boy answered. "That would be illogical. But only in your case have so many of the prophecies come true-that is why hope runs so high that you shall be the one to finally succeed. Only time will tell."

Tristan shook his head in disbelief. "But the Ones hid the Tome and the Paragon in the Caves!" he protested. "During the Sorceresses' War it was Wigg who first found them and brought them to light. If that is the case, how could previous Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious have learned about and employed the craft?"

"Because it was not Wigg who first discovered the Tome and the Paragon," the young Scroll Master answered. "Nor was it the Ones who hid them. It was the previous Jin'Saiou.

"Her name was Elena. She was very old. Her twin brother had been killed defending the Vigors. She had also failed in her destiny, and her life was ending. A war was raging, just as another is about to begin now. Darkness ruled, and few practitioners of the Vigors remained. The dire circumstances of her times dictated that she hide the book and the stone while she still could. Ever since the appearance of the first Jin'Sai and Jin'Saiou, the Tome and the Paragon have been passed down from one trusted practitioner of the Vigors to the next. Elena was the first and only one to hide them. She knew she was taking a terrible chance, but there was no other way.

"It was indeed fortuitous that it was Wigg who found them, many centuries later. Had it been a servant of the Vagaries, our lives would be very different now. During all of this time, the Vigors and the Vagaries have been at odds, with no clear victor. We can only hope that you and Shailiha finally succeed. And not all of the previous Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious are represented here. For you see, the art of Forestallments was lost for centuries before it was revived by Failee."

Stunned by what he had just heard, Tristan suddenly needed to move. He walked away. The Scroll Master did not follow. The prince found all of this too mind-numbing to grasp. It was as if his entire world had suddenly been turned upside down.

After a time, he walked back to the Scroll Master, one question plaguing him.

"I want to know something," he said. "Were Nicholas and Morganna really our parents, or were they simply the vessels the Ones worked through to place us both here upon the earth?"

"Even I do not possess the answer to such a puzzle," the boy answered. "You are both of Morganna's womb. Even so, given the complex nature of the craft and the seemingly infinite powers of the Ones, that may mean nothing. But it is said that if you are successful in joining the two sides of the craft, you and Shailiha shall finally have all the answers you seek. We all hope for that day. I cannot answer all of your questions, but the Ones left others like me behind who may prove helpful-such as the watchwoman of the floating gardens who helped your wizards. Each of us was placed here for a specific purpose-to employ our particular skills to help the Jin'Sais and Jin'Saious as best we could, should they come to us."

"How do I find the others?" Tristan asked.

"I cannot help you with that. The Ones dictated that we may commune with one another, but that we may never divulge our locations to each other. You will find them the same way you found the watchwoman and me-by way of careful research. Their existences are far too valuable to entrust to any other form of detection."

Taken up with all of this as he had been, Tristan suddenly remembered Celeste. "We must hurry!" he said. "Celeste is dying as we speak. My blood must be healed, so that I can go to her. I fear that we might already be too late."

"You are correct, Jin'Sai," the boy said. "But not for the reasons that you believe. We must hurry, but the greatest reason for doing so is that Wulfgar has landed, and his forces are on the move. He has already breached the pass in the Tolenkas and unleashed the Heretic hordes. They make their way toward Tammerland as I speak. But the Ones dictated that I show you this room and make the proper explanations before I tried to heal your blood."

The thought of Wulfgar's return to Eutracian soil made Tristan's blood run cold.

"How can you know all this?" he asked.

"I commune with the Ones, just as I'm sure Wulfgar now does with the Heretics. In many ways, Jin'Sai, the fatal chess match between good and evil has only just begun."

"And Celeste?" Tristan asked anxiously. "Do you know whether she still lives?"

"Yes, although she is fading quickly. But there is something else about Celeste that I have been empowered by the Ones to tell you. It is not something that you will wish to hear."

His face darkening, Tristan walked closer. "What is it?" he demanded.

"I know how much you love her, and we will save her if we can," the boy said. "But in the great adventure that is to be your life, in the end she is not to be your destiny. If Celeste survives, for both your sakes you must leave her. Another shall have the honor of being by your side. You will know her when you see her, and she will not be what you expect."

"You're lying!" Tristan exploded. He took another aggressive step toward the Scroll Master.

The boy raised one hand and the reigning Jin'Sai lapsed into unconsciousness. Before he hit the marble floor, the boy levitated his body. Keeping Tristan hovering by his side, he looked into the prince's face.

"No, Jin'Sai," the boy said softly. "I have told you the truth. But of all the Jin'Sais who have walked this earth in the pursuit of uniting the two sides of the craft, you may have the journey that shall prove the most difficult of all."

Another azure haze began to form, and the prince and the Scroll Master vanished.