It was easily the size of an average human. The seven dark talons at the end of each hand looked as though they could tear a man in half with a single swipe. Arteries and veins pumping black blood lay just below the surface of its translucent skin.
It turned its head and looked at them calmly for a moment. Then it opened its mouth, snarled, and launched itself straight up into the air. As it rose it turned itself over to land upside down on the ceiling. Somehow it simply hung there, defying gravity. Snarling again, it ran across the ceiling as easily as if it had been on the floor.
Stunned, Tristan watched helplessly as it tore across the room. Then it stopped, and flipped over to fall back down. As it fell, it swiped a taloned paw at a Minion warrior, breaking his neck.
Blood rushing from the gaping wounds, the Minion fell to the floor. Landing on top of him, the hideous beast let go another awful snarl, shook its head, and took a ripping bite out of the warrior's broken neck.
Two of the warriors standing nearby raised their dreggans to strike it down. But with lightning speed it launched itself into the air again, this time opening its wings as it went. It flew across the room, landed solidly upon the far wall, and clung there, looking down at them. It shook its head, blood running from its jaws, and hissed another savage warning.
Twirling around, Tristan saw that the other puddles had now birthed more of the awful monsters.
One of the creatures snapped open its wings and launched itself at the prince. Dreggan held high, Tristan waited until the last possible moment, then swung the heavy sword for all he was worth. As the blade whistled around it took off one of the thing's lower legs, and the monster cried out in pain. Black blood spurted from its wound.
Undeterred, it backed away in the air and attacked once more. Tristan forced himself to wait again, then lifted the point of his sword and impaled the thing through the chest. Black, sticky blood ran down over his hands. The stench was nauseating.
Impaled upon Tristan's dreggan, the beast screamed and lashed out with its talons, scratching him across the face. With every ounce of his strength, Tristan thrust the blade higher. The light went out of the creature's eyes.
Dropping the point of his sword to the floor, Tristan pushed the corpse off his blade with one foot. Trying to catch his breath, he turned to look around the room.
The Minions were battling ferociously, but the creatures had the advantage of being able to run across the walls and ceilings. Amid all of the confusion, Tristan had no way to tell whether his warriors were prevailing.
Cutting another of the screaming things down out of the air, Tristan glanced frantically around, searching for Wigg and Celeste.
The wizard and his daughter were hovering high in the air near the ceiling. Whenever a monster attacked, Celeste killed it. The ends of her fingers were scorched black, and she looked near the point of total exhaustion.
Behind her, Wigg was using the craft to seal off the spaces between the bricks in the walls. Little by little he succeeded in using an azure force to blanket the cracks, and keep any more of the oozing fluid from entering the room. If he could finish in time, they might all have a chance at survival.
Another of the things flew at Celeste from her blind side. Realizing that she didn't see it, Tristan tossed his dreggan into his left hand, reached behind his right shoulder, and grabbed one of his throwing knives, which he let fly straight for the creature's head. He held his breath as the silver blade spun across the room.
The knife blade pierced one of the monster's outstretched wings, pinning it to one of the bookcases.
Screaming, it tried to remove the knife, but it couldn't reach it. As it hung there struggling, its black blood ran down the spines of Failee's cherished books.
Finally, the room began to quiet. With the exception of the creature nailed to the bookcase, all of the monsters looked to be dead. But so were a good number of the Minion warriors.
Exhausted, the Minions began tending to their wounded. Tristan wiped his sword blade clean, slid it back into its scabbard, and tried to catch his breath.
Wigg and Celeste descended to the ground, and Tristan realized that it had been Wigg who had been keeping her in the air.
She walked weakly to the prince, and he held her. She felt heavy in his arms and he knew that she was close to passing out. He pushed some of her red hair away from her face, and she managed to give him a brief smile. Tristan looked over at Wigg.
"I think you have some explaining to do," Tristan said.
"First things first," Wigg answered. Reaching out, he lifted one of Celeste's eyelids and peered into her eye. Then he placed his palm on her forehead. He closed his eyes. After a few moments, he nodded.
"She will be fine," he said. "She has overtaxed her gift. She is still unaccustomed to using her powers for such a sustained period. But that will come with practice." Then he took up one of her hands and examined her scorched fingertips.
"She possesses the greatest ability with azure bolts that I have ever seen," he added. "If we can one day safely activate the rest of her Forestallments, she will truly be a wonder."
"First Wizard, if you please!" Alrik shouted. Wigg went to the stricken warriors and employed the craft to help them as best he could.
Celeste looked up into Tristan's face. Her smile was stronger this time, and she stood on her own. Then she stretched up and gently kissed the scratches on his cheek.
"I should come on these adventures of yours more often," she said.
"Especially if it means ending up in your arms."
Smiling, he stroked the side of her face.
Wigg and Alrik appeared by Tristan's side. "How bad is it?" the prince asked.
Alrik scowled. "At least half of them were injured," he said. "Several of them are beyond hope. The First Wizard was kind enough to grant those three painless deaths." The wizard concurred with a nod.
Tristan lowered his head for a moment as he thought. "Have the dead and wounded escorted back to the surface," he ordered. "I want another dozen fresh warriors to join us down here. We don't know what may still await us." With a click of his heels Alrik left to attend to his new orders.
An angry scream came from the other side of the room. Whirling around, Tristan saw that it had come from the lone surviving creature still pinned to the bookcase. He exchanged glances with Wigg and Celeste, and then they all walked over.
The beast had lost a great deal of blood. It had to be nearly dead, yet it found the energy to snarl at them again, red Minion blood staining its open mouth.
Studying it, Wigg placed his hands into the opposite sleeves of his robe.
"It's called a Wingwalker," he said. "Like the blood stalkers and Screaming Harpies, it was one of the Coven's tools during the Sorceresses' War. I have not seen one for more than three hundred years. Unlike the stalkers, these creatures are not particularly intelligent. Nor do they command the power of speech. They were conjured strictly for killing. They were a blunt instrument to be sure, but they were also particularly effective." He looked at the prince. "Does it seem familiar to you in any way?"
Tristan nodded. "They look something like Wiktors."
"Correct," Wigg said. "My guess is that Wiktors are early descendants of the Wingwalkers. From Wingwalker to Wiktor-and then, eventually, through Failee's magic, Minion warriors." He turned and looked back over to where the warriors were standing. "But I wouldn't tell them that," he whispered.
"How did they know we were here?" Celeste asked.