Jessamay pointed to a crooked symbol on one of the parchments. "Look at this," she said. Faegan glanced over.
"This symbol is shown over and over again in both Failee's writings and the Scroll of the Vigors," she said with excitement. "I believe that-"
Suddenly there came an urgent pounding on the door. Angry at the interruption, the wizard scowled.
"Enter!" he called out.
The double doors parted briskly, and Abbey, Shailiha, and Tyranny tromped into the room. The privateer and the princess were dirty from head to foot. Faegan was grateful to see them alive, but he could also tell that they were in no mood for small talk.
They walked to the table, and Tyranny leaned her hands upon its shiny surface.
"I'll make this simple," she said. "At least one third of the fleet is gone, as is half of the Minion cohort that sailed with us. The Black Ships went through us like we were made of parchment. By now they have no doubt reached the coast." She looked over at Jessamay.
"Wigg said that you once served aboard those vessels," she added.
"During the battle, they did things we had no idea they could do, things we couldn't begin to fight against! I think you have some explaining to do."
Tyranny struck a match against one of her knee boots and lit a cigarillo. Given the immense value of the documents and dried herbs in the room, Faegan was about to protest, but when he caught the defiant gleam in her eyes, he decided against it.
Tyranny took the wine bottle from the table and she poured herself a glassful. She dropped unceremoniously into a chair, and threw a long leg up over one of its arms. Shailiha and Abbey sat down next to her.
"First, give me your report," Faegan said to her.
Before beginning, Tyranny took a deep draft of smoke, followed by another gulp of wine. They seemed to calm her.
"As I just told you, we were defeated. I had sixty-two warships at my disposal-far more than enough, I thought, to deal with the enemy. But I was wrong. I have never seen anything like what happened out there in my life."
For the next quarter hour, Tyranny described the sea battle. When she finished, Faegan looked over at Jessamay.
"When you served aboard the Black Ships three centuries ago, did they have these fantastic abilities?" he asked. "If so, why didn't you and Wigg tell us about them?"
Jessamay shook her head. She seemed as stunned by Tyranny's story as the wizard.
"No," she insisted. "The Black Ships could soar above the waves, but never fly so high or as fast as Tyranny describes. Nor could they absorb bolts of the craft without suffering harm. Had we known, we would have certainly told you." She thought to herself for a moment. "There can be only one answer."
Faegan nodded. "Wulfgar has enhanced their capabilities," he said. He looked at Shailiha. "Were you able to determine what cargo the Black Ships carry?"
Shailiha shook her head. "Other than the swarms of demonslavers aboard, there was no way to tell."
"What about Sister Adrian and K'jarr?" Jessamay asked. "Did they survive?"
"Yes," Tyranny answered, "but just barely. Adrian was in the crow's nest of the Reprise when it came down. She was able to use the craft to break her fall. K'jarr was wounded in the arm, but he will recover. Duvessa survived, as well. But several acolytes of the Redoubt went down with their ships. Shailiha and I thought it best that we come ahead of the returning fleet by way of Minion litter, so as to make our report. Scars is bringing home what's left. It's not a pretty sight. They should be anchored off the Cavalon Delta by tomorrow morning."
Faegan looked down at his hands. Sensing his distress, Shailiha put a hand on one of his. "How goes your research?" she asked.
The wizard sighed. "It does not go well," he answered. "But we are hopeful."
"What we are being forced to do is essentially reverse all of Failee's original work," Jessamay told them. She turned to Abbey. "We have discovered that the answer must be a complex combination of craft calculations and herbmastery," she said. "We could use your help."
Abbey smiled. "Of course," she answered. "But tell me-has there been any word from Tristan and his group?"
"No," Faegan answered. "But we mustn't take that as a bad sign."
"And what about the warriors who watch the pass through the Tolenkas and those who follow the orb?" the herbmistress went on.
"Have you heard from any of them?"
"No," Faegan answered. "But that does not mean bad news, either. If those at the pass haven't sent word, then that simply means that nothing has changed. And as for those who are trying to follow the orb-well, that was probably a wild-goose chase from the start."
"Why?" Abbey asked.
"The orb is in constant motion. In its natural state, it is invisible," he explained. "To be seen, it generally must be called into view by a practitioner of the craft-or, at least, that is how things used to be. But since the orb was wounded, it seems to be in view much more often. If it is randomly disappearing and reappearing, it must be giving fits to the warriors who were assigned to follow it."
"Wulfgar must be marching toward the Tolenkas by now," Shailiha said. "Only the Afterlife knows what havoc he is causing while we sit here and speculate. We have to do something!"
"Agreed," Faegan said. "We must send another force to attack him. Perhaps we can do on land what we could not do on water. I will have Traax organize the Minion forces and we will make a battle plan. If Wulfgar breaches the pass and unleashes the Heretic hordes, then nothing can stand in his way."
"Except perhaps for the blood of the Jin'Sai," Shailiha said softly. "Or mine. If we learn that Tristan is"-she faltered for a moment, then rallied-"dead, you must train me as fast as possible. I will do whatever it takes to stop Wulfgar and avenge my brother's death."
"Wulfgar would have anchored as deep as possible in the huge bay that stretches from Shadowood to Malvina Watch," Tyranny said. "Several Minion outposts dot that section of coastline, don't they?"
The wizard nodded. "Yes, and the outposts are already on alert. But given what I have heard here today, I can't hold much hope that they will be able to stop him by themselves." His face was very grave.
"May the Afterlife care for their souls," he said.
CHAPTER LXXIV
As Wulfgar stood on the eutracian shore, the sea wind brought the stench of death to his nostrils. It was midday, and the Black Ships lay anchored in the bay. Six of the seven members of his macabre council remained aboard their vessels, awaiting further orders.
The sky was clear and bright, save for the pungent smoke that curled toward the heavens. Even though the Minion warriors had fought well, their outpost had fallen quickly. The Enseterat, his seven dark captains, and the crushing number of demonslavers had overwhelmed the garrison easily.
The rough-hewn structure's four long log walls rose nearly twenty meters into the air. Numerous scorch marks and gaping holes were all that remained where azure bolts had exploded against them. Lookout posts stood at each of the four corners, and several crude buildings occupied the spacious grounds inside. Parts of the outpost still burned.
Wulfgar knew that the entire Eutracian coast was dotted with such garrisons. He would not bother to attack them; it was unnecessary. Nor would they be immediately alerted to his presence, for not a single Minion warrior had escaped to tell the tale.
The ground was soaked with Minion and demonslaver blood. Hungry flies had already begun to feast. Eleven surviving warriors hung nearby, tied by their thumbs to the horizontal beam that stretched across the opening where the outpost gates used to stand. One of them was Olaf, the commander of the garrison. Saying nothing, they all looked down at Wulfgar with hatred, their eyes glazed with pain.