Savage Messiah

CHAPTER VIII

"You must eat something!" shawna the short exclaimed at the two worried women sitting before her.

The huge breakfast tray that Shawna had prepared sat on the meeting table before them, untouched by Shailiha and Celeste. Morganna, Shailiha's toddler, lay sleeping in her stroller by the princess' side, while Caprice sat perched on the top of the princess' high-backed chair. Shawna loved these two women, and in recent days the princess had come to rely upon the gnome wife heavily-especially as a trusted nanny for Morganna.

Shawna let go another exasperated sigh. Then she busily smoothed out her stark white apron. Her slate gray hair was tied in the back in its usual unforgiving bun, and she wore square, no-nonsense shoes, their laces tied with double knots so that they wouldn't come undone.

When Shawna's infamous ire was up, her attitude usually stayed that way for some time. By now nearly everyone in the palace could attest to that fact.

Normally, Shailiha and Celeste found Shawna's antics comic. But given recent events, they were unnerved to their very core, and neither of them found Shawna particularly amusing.

Ever since Tristan's absence on his quest to destroy the Gates of Dawn, Shailiha and Celeste had become very close, especially in their shared love for him. They both missed him terribly, and hoped against hope that he would return to them, just as he had done so many times before.

For Celeste, the pain ran deep. Not only was the love of her life missing, but her father, as well. Each of these men had only recently come into her life, and she couldn't face the thought of losing them both.

Unable to sleep, the princess and Wigg's daughter had been up all night, trying to console each other and keep fear at bay. When dawn broke, a Minion warrior brought them a message. Faegan was calling an emergency meeting of the Conclave in two hours-whether Tristan, Wigg, and Traax had returned or not. The two women could only guess at what Faegan wished to say. They doubted the news could be good.

Shailiha grasped the gold medallion hanging around her neck and held it tightly-as if doing so might somehow bring her closer to her brother, wherever he might be.

"Are you quite sure that neither of you will eat anything?" Shawna pressed, bringing the princess back to the present. Shailiha shook her head. Celeste followed suit.

With a sorrowful look, Shawna walked over and placed one of her small, gnarled hands over Shailiha's. The princess could feel the calluses on Shawna's palms, garnered from centuries of hard, honest work.

"They'll be back, just you wait and see," the gnome wife said softly. Then she thought for a moment. "Shall I take Morganna with me?" she asked. "The child will need to eat soon. And knowing how Master Faegan likes to go on and on, the meeting could be a long one." A hint of a smile crossed Shawna's face. Shailiha found herself unable to return it. But she looked over at her daughter and nodded.

"That might be for the best," she agreed.

Turning, Shawna went to the stroller and reached up to grasp its handle. It was nearly as tall as she. When she was gone, a sad silence descended.

The chamber was spacious, constructed of a beautiful light blue marble with dark blue veins running through it. Artwork decorated the walls and patterned rugs warmed the floor. The small crackling fire in the hearth gave off a comforting aroma. But the true centerpiece of the room was the massive meeting table sitting in the middle of the floor.

Constructed superbly by Minion craftsmen on Tristan's orders, the table was Eutracian mahogany, inlaid in the center with an image of the Paragon. Each of the ten luxurious, velvet-upholstered chairs surrounding it had the name of its owner carved into its high, curved back.

Shailiha ran one hand over the highly polished tabletop, reflections from the fireplace dancing between her fingers, but she was blind to its beauty. Then she felt Celeste's hand on her arm, and she looked up.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I am not with child," Celeste said shortly.

"I see," the princess said. "How long have you known?"

"Only since this morning. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I knew how upset you already were, and I didn't want to add to your burdens. I wanted Tristan to be the first to know, but I needed to talk to someone. Do you think he will forgive me for not telling him first?"

Shailiha did her best to give her a reassuring smile. "Of course he will," she answered. "Until you tell him, it shall remain just between us."

Celeste knew that Tristan would have mixed reaction to the news-as she herself had. Both of them knew that any child conceived now, before Tristan's blood was changed back to red, would be grotesquely deformed. But they both also yearned to bring a child into the world, to love and to care for. Perhaps one day, she thought. They could not lose hope.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at Shailiha, only to see that the princess' expression had darkened.

"But you must tell him as soon as you can," Shailiha said. "Then your father, and Faegan. I think you know why."

Celeste knew what the princess was really trying to tell her. The azure glow of the craft had appeared just after she and Tristan had first lain together. Since she wasn't with child, the glow must have meant something else-something only the wizards would be able to unravel. Worry stabbed her heart and she shuddered.

Tyranny was fuming. as she stomped down the spacious halls of the Redoubt following behind Ox, the heels of her knee boots echoed loudly against the marble floors.

Her encounter with the slaver frigate had so angered Tyranny that she had cowed even the stalwart Ox. That anger had lasted throughout her journey back to the Redoubt in the personal litter Tristan had given her. The muscles in her jaws clenching, the privateer continued to seethe.

The demonslaver frigate had somehow escaped all twelve of her ships. How? She'd had the enemy vessel dead to rights. Escape should have been impossible.

There could only be one answer to how the warship had eluded her grasp, yet her mind shied away from the awful conclusion. She needed to talk to Faegan, and she needed to do it now.

When she and Ox reached the double doors of the meeting room, the two Minion guards standing on either side snapped to attention. At a nod from Tyranny, Ox left her, and the guards swung open the massive portals.

Hoping for the best, Tyranny squared her shoulders and walked in. She was immediately disappointed. Tristan, Wigg, and Traax were not there.

The other six permanent members of the Conclave waited in their respective seats. Faegan was speaking. Upon seeing her come in, he politely stopped, looked at her, and nodded. When Tyranny glanced around the room, she saw sadness and concern on every face.

Tyranny went to embrace Shailiha, Celeste, and Abbey, and did her best to offer them support. Then she took her seat.

She was painfully aware of the empty chairs on either side of her. Normally, Tristan would sit to her right and Wigg to her left. Having no one on either side gave her a strange, isolated feeling, despite the presence of the other people in the room.

Tyranny trained her wide blue eyes on the wizard. Faegan looked tired and drawn. The bloodred Paragon hanging around his neck twinkled brightly in the light of the chandelier.

She saw that both the Tome of the Paragon and the Scroll of the Vigors had been brought here, presumably for safekeeping. The massive, white leather-bound Tome sat in one corner upon a black marble pedestal, its gilt-edged pages lying open. The scroll hovered beside it in the air, spelled there by Faegan.

The scroll was half a meter wide and about one meter long unrolled. A gold rod, with knobs on either end, ran through its center. A gold band engraved with Old Eutracian secured the tightly rolled document at its middle. Tyranny winced when she remembered how much of the precious document had been burned, that night on the roof of the palace. Large sections of the fine vellum were charred and flaking. Even so, it remained magnificent. Finally she looked back at Faegan.

"There is still no word of Tristan, Wigg, or Traax?" she asked.

"No," Faegan answered. "But they are three highly resourceful individuals-especially when they are together. We must not give up hope."

"I have urgent news," Tyranny said. "My fleet sighted a lone demonslaver ship only hours ago, and she-"

She stopped cold when Faegan stiffened and cocked his head to one side.

Then a brief smile overcame the wizard's face-the first in two days. And then everyone became aware of a growing hubbub in the hallway outside. Suddenly, the double doors burst open, and Tristan, Wigg, and Traax staggered through the doorway.

All three were dirty from head to toe, covered with what looked like some sort of ash. Much of the right side of Wigg's robe had been scorched away to reveal right hand and right leg covered with red, blistered burns. Tristan looked unharmed, but his hair had been singed. Traax's long, dark hair had been burned, too, as had part of his leather body armor. All three looked exhausted.

With joyous cries and teary eyes, Celeste, Shailiha, and Abbey stood and raced to embrace the men.

Feeling a bit like an intruder on the tender scene, Tyranny lowered her head and gazed at the inlaid tabletop. She wanted to share her joy at Tristan's safe return, but that did not seem appropriate.

At last, Tristan helped Wigg to his seat, and then he and Traax sat down. Tristan smiled over at Tyranny, and she smiled back. The Jin'Sai nodded his greetings to the rest of the table.

Faegan placed his gnarled hands flat on the tabletop and looked at Wigg.

"You are severely burned, my old friend," he said. "But at first glance your injuries do not appear to be life-threatening. You have treated yourself with an incantation of accelerated healing, I presume? And something to help with the pain?"

Wigg reached to his left and took Abbey's hand, then nodded. He remained silent, knowing full well what Faegan's next question would be. Faegan leaned forward, his eyes shining with curiosity.

"Tell me, is it as we feared?"

"Yes," Wigg said sadly. "But I regret to tell you that there is other news, and it is equally grave."

"What is it?" Abbey asked.

"An entire village is gone," he whispered. "Brook Hollow. The energy dripping from the Orb of the Vigors burned the place to ash. Try as I might, there was nothing I could do to stop it." Taking his hand back from Abbey, Wigg wiped tears from his eyes.

"We were right, Faegan," he went on. "The Orb of the Vigors is torn-no doubt a result of Wulfgar's attempt to destroy it by polluting it with the Orb of the Vagaries. It is dripping the pure energy of the Vigors. For all I know, it may continue to do so for all time."

For several long moments there was only the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

"How is it that the three of you survived?" Abbey finally asked.

"We lost nearly all the warriors that accompanied us," Tristan answered. "It was only by the grace of the Afterlife that there were enough warriors still alive to catch us as our burning litter went down. We were outside of the main path of the Orb, and were able to build a new litter from freshly felled trees. The surviving warriors flew us home."

"What direction was the orb traveling in when you left?" Faegan asked.

"North, across the fields of Farplain," Traax answered. "Luckily, that area is largely uninhabited. But the orb's path is erratic. It's impossible to say where it might turn next."

"Do you believe that the orb has been dripping energy ever since that night Wulfgar tried to destroy it?" Shailiha asked.

"An excellent question," Wigg said. "No, I do not think so. If that had been the case, then it would have destroyed much of the palace that night, and a good deal of Tammerland, as it moved away. I believe that the orb was weakened that night, and that it finally ruptured later, in some other part of the country."

"We need to know where the orb is at all times," Tristan said. "Traax, I want you to send out several squadrons of warriors to find it. Once they have, they are to set up a chain of communication so that we will receive regular updates, just as we do with Tyranny's fleet. If the orb moves toward an inhabited place, the warriors must do all they can to warn the populace."

"That may be difficult, Jin'Sai," Traax said. "They still do not trust us."

Geldon spoke up at last. "May I make a recommendation?"

"By all means," Tristan said.

"It seems to me that the Minions need someone to travel with them, to act as a human emissary on their behalf," he replied. "I would like to offer my services."

Tristan looked at the hunchbacked dwarf with true admiration. The small man with the very large heart had proven invaluable to them in the past, and Tristan was sure that this new mission would prove to be no exception.

"Of course," the prince said. "And thank you."

Unable to contain her news any longer, Tyranny spoke up.

"I know all of this is incredibly important, but so is what I have to tell you," she said.

"What is it?" Tristan asked.

Taking a deep breath, Tyranny looked around the table. "Only hours ago, a demonslaver frigate slipped through my fleet," she said. "I believe she was making for the Cavalon Delta. If I'm right, she may already be there."

Tristan's face became grave. "How can that be?" he asked. To Tyranny's relief, he seemed to be more stunned than angry. Reaching up, he ran one hand through his dark hair. "I've sailed with you, and I know how skilled you are! How could a lone frigate slip through a dozen vessels under your command?"

The muscles in Tyranny's jaw clenched. "I had her dead to rights," she answered grimly. "I ordered the fleet to fan out in a battle line and take her. There should have been no possibility of escape. As I watched her approach, she was simply there one second, and gone the next.

"Someone of the craft must have been aboard her, and caused the frigate to disappear," she added. "The same way they did not so long ago, just before we finally smashed their fleet." Sitting tiredly back in her chair, she knew that everyone around the table understood what she wasn't saying.

"Could it be true?" Tristan asked Faegan. "Could Wulfgar still be alive?"

Faegan pursed his lips. "It would explain much," he answered. "Still, that may not be the case."

"Why not?" Celeste asked.

"We believe that Wulfgar received his gifts through Forestallments," the old wizard answered, "the calculations for which came by way of the Scroll of the Vagaries. It is possible that he could also have granted Forestallments to one or more of his consuls before he came to Eutracia to destroy the orb. It could have been one such consul aboard that frigate."

He turned to Tyranny. "Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear," he said. "Even Wigg and I might not have been able to find that vessel, once she had vanished. Still, all of this doesn't answer the greater question, does it?"

"Why Wulfgar or one of his emissaries is really here," Shailiha said.

"It must have to do with the ruptured orb."

Despite all of their concerns, Faegan's impish, familiar smile returned. He loved nothing so much as a good riddle, especially when he was the only one holding the answer.

"Oh, really," he teased Shailiha. "And why must that be the case?"

"He has come here to complete the job he started, has he not?" Shailiha asked. "Or he is dead, and his consuls are carrying on in his stead. Either way, they mean to finish destroying the orb."

Suddenly, Tristan knew what it was that Faegan was getting at. He looked over at his twin sister.

"They don't need to destroy the orb, Shai," he said. "Don't you see? As the Orb of the Vigors continues to drip its energy across the land, it will eventually die on its own."

He looked first at Faegan, and then at Wigg. "I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.

"In truth, we do not know," Wigg answered. "This is a calamity that we never thought we would have to face. We cannot be sure the orb will die, or whether the energy inside of it that sustains the Vigors will replenish itself.

"Either way, Faegan and I fear that without the energy of the orb to sustain the Vigors, our side of the craft will soon cease to exist," he went on. "After all, isn't that what Wulfgar wanted all along? So you see, now the real questions become not only whether he lives, but if he does, whether he knows about the continued draining of the orb."

Looking down at the table, Wigg laced his long fingers together. A grim silence fell over the room.

Tristan looked to Faegan. "What can you tell us about the orb that might help us heal the rupture?" he asked. Despite his exhaustion, his mind was alive with questions.

But Faegan was not ready to answer. "With your permission, I think we should adjourn," he said. "Everyone is exhausted, and Wigg is injured. Besides, he and I need to research this further, if we are to give you a proper answer."

Reluctantly, Tristan nodded. "Very well," he said. "But I want everyone with the exception of Geldon to stay in the palace for now." He looked at Traax. "And I want those search parties sent out immediately. For all we know, the orb could be bearing down on Tammerland this very moment."

Traax nodded. "I live to serve," came his traditional reply.

Tristan gave Tyranny a short smile. "I trust you will not mind accepting our hospitality for a while longer," he said. Not knowing quite what to say, Tyranny smiled back.

"I have one other request," Tristan announced. He looked first at Shailiha, then at Abbey and Adrian.

"The three of you have been treating the wounded in the courtyard and the palace," he said. "Have you gotten any sense of the general feeling among them?"

"We have," Adrian answered. "Most of them remain distrustful of both us and the Minions. Frankly, I can't say I blame them."

"Precisely," Tristan said. "But I think we might be able to turn this awful situation to some useful purpose."

"What are you talking about?" Wigg asked.

"Tomorrow morning I want Shailiha, Abbey, and Adrian to try to convince as many of the refugees as possible to meet with us in the Chamber of Supplication," Tristan said. "They need to be told that the heir to the throne still lives, and that I care about them. This tragedy belongs to all of us, and I want to use it to bring us all back together again, if I can. If we can convince even a few, the word will spread. I realize it will only be a small beginning, but we must try. I want everyone in this room to be there with me."

Wigg and Faegan exchanged smiles.

"Then we are adjourned," Tristan said.

As Tristan led the way from the meeting room, Faegan silently indicated to Wigg that he wanted the First Wizard to stay behind. Wigg nodded back, and then whispered to Abbey that he would meet her later in her private quarters. Abbey was reluctant to leave him, for she was anxious to examine his wounds more closely, but she knew better than to try to change his mind.

When the two wizards were alone, Faegan came straight to the point.

"There is only one way to save the orb, you know," he said.

Wigg nodded. "The Tome states that only the Jin'Sai may heal such damage," he said. "To do that, he must first be trained. And in order for him to be trained, his blood must first be returned to its original state. Why didn't you tell him?"

Faegan sighed. "It wouldn't have been fair," he answered. "I think we owe it to him to inform him in private. I know one thing for sure, old friend. There is far more to all of this than first meets the eye."

"Wulfgar?" Wigg asked. "Do you think he is still alive?"

Faegan sat back in his chair. Wigg could almost see the wheels turning in his head.

"I wish I knew, First Wizard," Faegan answered softly. "I wish I knew."

One of the hearth logs slipped down in the grate. Slowly it collapsed into charred ash while the two ancient mystics sat in silence.

Tristan entered his personal quarters, celeste right behind him. She watched fondly as he unbuckled his sword belt and baldric, and tossed his weapons onto a chair. Then the knee boots came off. In stocking feet, he walked to the windows and closed the draperies.

Celeste smiled. He was filthy from head to toe, and a dark growth of stubble covered his face, yet even so disheveled, he was still the handsomest man she had ever seen.

Returning to her side, he took her in his arms and he kissed her. Closing her eyes, she let herself luxuriate in his presence for a moment. How good it felt to have him back.

"Your time with the orb-was it as awful as Father said?" she asked. Then she saw his face fall, and she immediately regretted her question. His dark eyes looked down into hers with a terrifying sadness.

"Yes," he answered. "It was more horrible than you could possibly imagine. Even after seeing it with my own eyes, I still find it hard to believe. Right now, however, more discussion about the orb is not what I desire."

Celeste smiled mischievously. "Just what might you desire, my lord?" she asked. "Something that I, your humble servant, might be able to provide?" Then she remembered that the wizards had forbidden them to be together in that way.

"Sleep," Tristan answered, his eyes half closed. "I want to sleep for one hundred years."

He walked over to the huge four-poster bed and collapsed upon it, dirty clothes and all. Holding one arm out, he beckoned to her, and she went to lie beside him, her head on his chest. In the silence of the room, she could hear the comforting beat of his heart. Then she realized that there might be no better time to tell him what she must.

"Tristan," she whispered. "There is something that you need to know." Raising her head, she looked into his face. His eyes were already closed.

"Tristan?" she asked softly.

No answer came. Her prince was asleep.