The Scrolls of the Ancients

CHAPTER

Forty-seven

G eldon felt the sharp sea wind running through his hair as he stood at the bow of the Savage Scar, the flagship of the Minion fleet. More than two hundred other such ships sailed with her through the restless Sea of Whispers. The sky was darkening, and the three rose-colored moons had just risen, bathing the froth-tipped waves in their glow.

As the hunchbacked dwarf swayed back and forth with the rhythmic rocking of the vessel, he looked out across the sea and was again reminded of how much had changed since the Chosen One and the lead wizard had first come to his home nation of Parthalon. There were still so many troubles that would have to be surmounted if Eutracia, Parthalon, and the people he cared so much about were ever to find true peace.

Reaching up to his throat, he touched the place where he had been forced to wear the jeweled, iron collar of Succiu, second mistress of the Coven of sorceresses. Then a short smile passed his lips. He owed not only his freedom, but his very life to Wigg and Tristan; and he would do anything they asked of him. Right now, that meant seeing the Minion fleet safely to Eutracia.

Nearly three weeks had gone by since the wizards had sent him through Faegan's portal to Parthalon. Their orders had been explicit: The fleet was to leave their moorings at Eyrie Point immediately, carrying as many of the Minion warriors as they could hold. On the way back, they were to fan out and search for any sign of Tristan.

With so many ships and warriors at his disposal, Geldon could scour large sections of the ocean at a time. Even so, he was enough of a realist to know that they had in fact searched only a small fraction of the Sea of Whispers, and it troubled his heart to think that he might never see the prince again.

The trip so far had been horrific. Several days earlier they had been forced to sail through the area of the sea controlled by the Necrophagians, the beings also known as the Eaters of the Dead. Knowing that there was no choice, Wigg and Faegan had reluctantly granted permission for the Minions to engage in a shipboard battle to the death, an activity guaranteed to provide the forty fresh corpses required to appease the Necrophagians and gain permission to cross these waters.

After the battle, in place of the usual Minion tradition of the burning of the dead, Traax had ordered a short period of respectful mourning. Then the corpses had been lowered over the side to be consumed by the horrible faces that came rising hungrily to the surface of the waves.

The noise and gore that followed had been terrible. Geldon had been unable to watch the once-magnificent warriors consumed by the ever-ravenous, circling maws that prowled the surface of the sea. But at last the Necrophagians, sated for the time being, had disappeared beneath the waves, and the ship had been allowed to proceed with its voyage.

Geldon wondered whether they would ever know just who the Necrophagians were, or why they existed here in the midst of this harsh, cold ocean.

Sighing, he shifted his weight on the barrel he was standing upon, placed his hands on the gunwale, and gazed out again at the ever-changing sea. He felt as much as saw Traax quietly come to stand by his side. For a time neither of them spoke.

From the corner of his eye, Geldon suddenly saw a fleeting shadow cross the deck. Then came another, and yet another. Glancing up, he saw the returning squadron of Minion warriors carefully circle the Savage Scar, then land lightly on the ship's decks. They looked forlorn, their wings drooping down tiredly. Seeing this, he frowned. Another unsuccessful search, he surmised.

He watched as the warrior leading this particular group gathered himself up, snapping his wings into place behind his back before he approached. When he reached them the warrior bowed, the heels of his black boots coming together with a crisp, automatic snap.

"Your report?" Traax asked.

"Two more ships were boarded and searched, sir," the warrior answered tiredly. "I am sorry to report that they revealed nothing. And neither of them were slavers."

"Very well," Traax answered.

It was clear by the look on the Minion commander's face that he was disappointed. Traax had fought bravely beside Tristan in the skies over Eutracia just before the collapse of the Gates of Dawn, and the two men now respected each other greatly. Added to this was the fact that Tristan was his sworn liege, and so it was Traax's duty to do everything within his power to find him.

"How many more groups still search the sky tonight?" he asked the warrior.

"Just one, sir," the officer replied. "But I respectfully suggest that no more be sent out until dawn. Heavy clouds are rolling in from the west, making the surface of the sea difficult to observe. It was only by luck that we were able to find the fleet again."

Traax nodded his understanding, his face darkening a bit more. "You are dismissed," he said simply. With another click of his heels, the warrior walked away to take advantage of some well-deserved rest. Traax turned back to look at Geldon.

"Our search continues to go poorly," he said to the dwarf. "The Chosen One's wizards will not be pleased."

"I know," Geldon answered, equally dejected. "We are now just a bit more than two days from the coast. The farther west we sail, the less likely we are to find the prince. But orders are orders."

Saying nothing more, he turned back to the sea and again cast his eyes out over the waves. Traax, too, remained silent, lost in his own maze of concerns.

The silence was broken by the return of the last of the night's Minion search squadrons, coming to land on the deck.

At first glance these warriors seemed even more exhausted than the previous group had been. But then Geldon could see that they were talking animatedly among themselves; they looked almost happy, in fact.

The officer in charge hurried up to Geldon and Traax and bowed, clicking his heels. His name was K'jarr, and he was one of the finest long-distance fliers in the Minion force. Geldon found himself holding his breath in anticipation.

"Speak," Traax ordered quickly. "Do you have word of the prince?"

"Regrettably no, sir," K'jarr answered. "But we have discovered something else that might be of use to us in our search."

"And that is?"

K'jarr smiled. "We found a small patch of fog. It is less than a two-hour flight, south-southwest from the fleet's current position."

At first Traax seemed annoyed by what he viewed to be an inconsequential find. "And this is important because…" he said, exercising his considerable authority as he allowed his words to trail off.

"Its nature is highly unusual," the officer answered. "It does not ebb and flow with the winds, as one would expect. Instead it just stays in one place constantly, somehow always retaining its shape. Then, after about an hour of high surveillance, we began to observe the ships."

Geldon's eyes lit up. "What ships?" he asked eagerly.

"A great many vessels came and went from within the depths of the fog," K'jarr replied. "It is difficult to say for sure, but to me they looked like fighting ships. It seemed they were preparing for something. We continued to circle high above, using the clouds for cover. I doubt that we were observed. Instead of soaring down to investigate further, I thought it best to bring the squad directly back, so as to give you my report as soon as possible."

After nodding his approval to the officer, Traax turned questioning eyes toward Geldon. "Does any of this mean anything to you?" he asked urgently.

"No," the dwarf answered. "But if ships are coming and going from the midst of this unlikely haze, there must surely be more to it than meets the eye. If it truly does not move, then it is probably some manifestation of the craft. Magic is afoot."

"Exactly," Traax answered with a menacing grin. It was the first time Geldon had seen him smile since Tristan disappeared. "Do you think your wizards would mind very much if we made a small detour?" he asked conspiratorially.

Geldon thought for a moment. "I'm not sure," he answered. "But we're about to, anyway." He looked back at the officer who had just given them the mysterious news.

"Give the heading to the helmsman, and tell him to make the appropriate course change," he ordered. "We are going to investigate this immovable fog bank of yours. How long do you think it will take the fleet to reach it?"

"If the winds hold, we should be there by dawn," K'jarr answered. "Perhaps sooner."

"Very well," Geldon said. "Go now."

The officer bowed to both of them and clicked his heels together, then left.

"Tomorrow should prove to be a most interesting day," Traax said quietly.

Taking a deep breath, Geldon looked back into the Minion's intelligent, hazel eyes. "And so it shall," he agreed.

Neither of them fully realized just how meaningful Traax's observation was about to become.