Through his spyglass, Merriwhether watched as the northeastern section of Tammerland erupted into chaos. He turned to his lead demonslaver.
"Signal the other ships," he ordered. "We're going down."
"Yes, my lord." The slaver ran off to carry out his orders.
As each of the huge vessels landed on the outskirts of the city, their stern doors slowly lowered.
The first of the Earthshakers lumbered out. It wore a massive bridle, and a demonslaver sat on its back. Free of its confines after so long, the beast raised its head and gave an earsplitting scream. The others soon followed.
Once assembled, they headed into the city. Demonslaver troops poured from the dark hulls to follow the huge monsters, short swords drawn. Merriwhether gave the order to ascend again, and the fleet rose into the air.
In the wake of the K'tons, the Earthshakers destroyed every structure in their path with mighty swipes of their massive tails, the earth trembling beneath their every step. Walls, roofs, and glass exploded into shards of shrapnel. Whatever remained alive in the swaths cut by the K'tons and the Earthshakers was systematically butchered by the demonslavers. The six Black Ships sailed over the destruction left by their servants.
The army of the Vagaries moved inexorably forward, leaving nothing standing, nothing moving, nothing living. Only black, charred rubble and thousands of corpses, blood, and body parts remained.
Merriwhether raised his arms to loose azure bolts, but then he stopped himself. Looking down, he smiled. His use of the craft was unnecessary, he thought. His servants were doing the job well enough on their own. By this time the next day, they would be at the palace walls.
Merriwhether watched as his fleet sailed silently over the carnage. He smiled again. Soon his lord would arrive, and he would be pleased with his servants' work. As he sat at the war table on the palace roof, Faegan examined the scale model of Tammerland. Using his gift of Consummate Recollection, he had conjured the model the previous night while waiting for his group to return from their secret labors.
Blessedly, everyone he had sent out had returned safely, their tasks performed as well as possible. Now they all stood by his side, their faces clouded with worry.
The fire and smoke choking the city grew closer to the palace with every passing moment. According to the status reports brought by the Minion scouts, the situation was deteriorating rapidly. If Wigg and Tristan did not return soon, all of his work and planning would be for nothing. Wulfgar would be victorious, and the Vagaries would rule for all time.
Faegan also worried about the fate of Traax and his war party. There had been no word from them, and that only made the situation more desperate. Without Traax's warriors, he knew he couldn't dare deploy those Minions that remained at the palace. Few as they were, they constituted the last line of defense. He had therefore ordered the scouting parties only to observe, not to engage, any enemy forces they might discover.
Duvessa and Dax had worked tirelessly to make the castle secure. But Faegan knew that if Traax hadn't stopped Wulfgar, only hours remained before all was lost.
A scouting party landed upon the roof. Their leader quickly walked over to the table, a worried look on his face. He came to attention and clicked his heels.
"Your report," Faegan said.
Looking down at the model, the scout pointed toward the northeastern section of Tammerland.
"There," he said darkly. "Six Black Ships have arrived. Tens of thousands of flying monsters followed and even more are coming. As the beasts began attacking the city, the ships landed and unloaded huge creatures that are destroying every building they approach with their massive tails. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed such a thing to be possible. Demonslaver forces were also deployed from the ships. As the great beasts and flying monsters do their dirty work, the slavers follow along behind, killing off survivors. The Black Ships sail along overhead."
Faegan looked down, then back up at Jessamay. There could be little hope for them now, despite all of his planning and preparation. The look on the sorceress' face told him she understood.
"There is something that the two of you aren't telling us," Abbey said. "What is it? We have the right to know."
"Earthshakers," Jessamay said.
"What?" Shailiha asked.
"Earthshakers," Jessamay repeated. "Massive beasts that Failee and the Coven used three centuries ago during the Sorceresses' War. Wulfgar must have found the formula for their conjuring in the Scroll of the Vagaries."
"Is there no way to defeat them?" Shailiha asked.
"Azure bolts can harm them," Faegan said, "if enough are loosed against them. But even if Jessamay and I were able to get close enough to try, the captains of the Black Ships would quickly defeat us. Six against two are odds that even she and I can't overcome."
He looked back up at the scout. "There were only six Black Ships, you say-not seven?" he asked.
"Six, my lord."
"Did you see Wulfgar aboard any of them?"
"No."
Faegan remained silent for a time as he looked back down at his model.
"What are your orders, my lord?" Dax asked. The young Minion officer was clearly spoiling for a fight.
Before answering, Faegan raised one hand and burned away the northeastern section of the model, as the scout had described. In size, it roughly matched the other destroyed areas that lined the Sippora. By the wizard's reckoning, one-third of the capital already lay in ruins. He could only assume that an equal proportion of her inhabitants were now dead.
The Enseterat had planned exceedingly well, and his strategy was plain to see. Traax had not stopped him; the flying beings that the scout referred to must surely be the Heretic hordes. And since the scout made no mention of Wulfgar, that could only mean that the Enseterat was searching for the damaged Orb of the Vigors.
With the Sippora doing part of the work, and the attack of the Black Ships and their creatures coming from the opposite direction, the pace of the destruction would now double. Together they would close in on the palace. When the Earthshakers arrived, even the thick castle walls would bow to their fury. Faegan balled his hands up into fists and banged them down on the arms of his chair.
"Like it or not, we must wait," he said softly, defiantly. "I know how badly you all want to take action, but we cannot. We need Traax's forces, and Wigg and Tristan. Until they arrive, sending our small force of warriors out against the invaders would be sheer suicide. I simply won't do it. We have to trust in the Jin'Sai, and hope he and the First Wizard arrive in time."
CHAPTER LXXXV
They were making good time. standing in the bow of her flagship, Tyranny scraped the common match against the side of her scuffed knee boot. She cupped her hands and lit the cigarillo dangling from her lips. Blowing the smoke out through her nose, she shook out the match and cast her gaze out over the Sea of Whispers.
It was midday and the weather was favorable. Bright blue sky stretched overhead, with just the occasional trace of a passing cloud. The easterlies were strong, forcing her fleet to tack back and forth as they made their way north, up the coast. They sailed behind her in an arrowhead formation. A red image of the Paragon adorned each of their mainsails, bright and brazen for the world to see. Looking up, she silently blessed the good weather, for it would help her Minion scouting parties perform their searches.
She looked eastward. Her gut told her that the remainder of the demonslaver fleet was out there somewhere. Scars was fond of saying that she could smell a demonslaver from fifty leagues away. She smiled to herself. Perhaps he's right, she thought. But right now all I smell is salt air.
Tyranny was far from confident about the hurried repairs that had been made to her ships. Even as she plowed through the waves, the sturdy Reprise groaned in ways her skipper had never heard. But Tyranny had to believe she would hold together, just as she had done so many times in the past.