The bolts flew over the fugitive's head and stopped directly in his path, where they split into multiple strands-a glowing azure spider's web stretching from the tunnel's ceiling to its floor, and from wall to wall. Before the man could stop, he ran straight into it. Suspended within its grasp like a fly waiting helplessly for the spider, he struggled mightily to free himself-to no avail.
Jessamay turned to see Tyranny and Shailiha looking down the length of the tunnel, their expressions awestruck.
Wasting no time, Faegan raised his arms again. More azure energy streamed from his hands. It snaked around the outer edges of the web, separating it from the wall and turning it so that the trapped fugitive faced them. Then more azure came, this time creating a transparent wall that separated them from the captive. Faegan lowered his arms.
Hearing a noise, all four of them turned to see Scars hanging by his hands from the damaged shop floor above. He let go and dropped safely into the cellar. Faegan motioned for the giant to come nearer. Scars' shirt was charred and partially burned away, and his massive chest was scalded.
"Hold still," Faegan said. Narrowing his eyes, the wizard invoked a spell of accelerated healing over the burn, and another to take away the pain.
"Better?" he asked.
Nodding, Scars sighed with relief. "Much better, thank you," he answered.
Faegan looked at the others. "Is everyone all right?" he asked. They all nodded.
Shailiha pointed down the length of the tunnel. "What is the purpose of the wall?" she asked.
Faegan gave her a wink. "It will help ensure that our traitor cannot try to hurt us again," he answered. "Follow along behind me, everyone. It's high time we got some answers. But be careful-we do not know what else he is capable of."
Faegan wheeled his chair down the tunnel to a spot just short of the azure wall. Hanging spread-eagled in the web, the man looked down in defiance.
"Very clever, Wizard," Bratach said. "But neither you nor Wigg will defeat Wulfgar. He is about to unleash a devastating force upon Eutracia, the likes of which you haven't seen since the Sorceresses' War."
"Why don't you tell me about it?" Faegan asked, his face hard.
Bratach spat at them in defiance, the spittle running down his side of the azure wall.
"You were once a loyal member of the Consuls of the Redoubt, weren't you?" Faegan asked. "But the son of the Jin'Sai altered the lean of your blood signature, and he turned you to the worship of the Vagaries. Yes, that's right. We know all about it. Tell me: How many more of your traitorous kind still roam Eutracia?"
Bratach remained silent.
"What is your name?" Faegan asked. "You might as well tell us now, for we can always glean it later on from your blood records."
The man's face was a mask of hatred and defiance.
"Very well. Suit yourself," Faegan said, deciding to try another line of questioning. "I will have all of my answers after I enter your mind.
"Where is Satine?" he asked. "She has already killed two of my friends. I have unfinished business with her."
Smiling, the consul shook his head. "You'll never find her," he gloated. "She's far too good at what she does. She's a killing machine. She'll go on and on until she's satisfied every sanction that she accepted, no matter what becomes of me. Whatever else the future might hold for you, from here on, all of your days are numbered."
Pausing for a moment, Bratach smiled down at them. "And as you are all about to see," he added cryptically, "so are mine. Surely you must understand that I cannot allow you to enter my mind."
Faegan took a quick breath. He suddenly understood what was about to happen, but he couldn't predict what form it would take. Without knowing the required counterspell, he was helpless to stop it.
Bratach narrowed his eyes. Almost at once, the glow of the craft surrounded him. His eyes locked upon Faegan's, he began to shudder. Soon he was convulsing madly as he hung in the azure web.
He began to bleed from his ears. Suddenly he convulsed even more violently, and blood began to run from his eyes, nose, and mouth.
Faegan knew what was happening. The yet-to-be-identified consul was committing suicide by enacting a Forestallment that caused him to bleed out, and there was absolutely nothing that he could do about it.
As she stood by the wizard's side, Jessamay understood it, too. Looking over her shoulder at Shailiha, Tyranny, and Scars, the sorceress shook her head.
The blood slipped down Bratach's face to the strands of azure webbing and dripped to the tunnel floor. His blood signature formed here and there, revealing dozens of Forestallments. For his use later, Faegan committed the shape of the signature to memory. Soon there was so much blood that the signatures were engulfed by a single, spreading pool.
Bratach's head slumped to his chest and a final rattle escaped his lungs. He hung there limply in the web, his skin blanched. Knowing he had been bested, Faegan looked down at the pool of blood. As he expected, areas still moved. Finally dying, the trained, endowed blood slowly stilled.
Faegan knew what was coming next. Lifting his head, he augmented his wizard's hearing. The phenomenon started almost immediately.
From the streets above, they heard the wind pick up and start to howl. Louder and louder it became, until the noise hurt their ears. Then the thunder boomed, and flashes of lightning illuminated the cellar. With so many powerful Forestallments dying at once, the wizard could only imagine what it must be like up above, on the streets of Tammerland. The citizens would be scared to death.
He looked back at the pool of blood that only moments before had held one of the greatest secrets of the craft. Perhaps we will one day truly understand what happens when a Forestallment dies, he thought. And why the sky seems to break apart when it does. Perhaps Wigg and Tristan will learn the secret-provided they can find the Scroll Master and the Well of Forestallments.
But for now all I have is another dead traitor upstairs, and his secrets will go with him to his grave.
CHAPTER LXIX
Standing alone in the bow of her flagship, Tyranny took a final draw from her cigarillo. She lazily blew out the smoke and tossed the cigarillo's charred remains into the sea. The waiting was the worst part, she knew. Half of her wanted the impending conflict to start, and the other half hoped that it never would.
After what the traitorous consul in the archery shop had told them, the Conclave knew that Wulfgar's Black Ships were on the way. But given so much coastline to guard-and with only her twelve ships and the remainder of the Minion fleet with which to do it-the task before her seemed impossible.
For the last three days the Reprise and the other vessels under her command had dutifully plowed up and down the Sea of Whispers. Their mission was to patrol the waters between the coastal city of Far Point and the huge bay that bordered Farplain. So far, everything had been quiet.
Faegan had strongly advised her that when Wulfgar arrived, he would probably try to anchor his ships as close to the pass through the Tolenkas as possible. Reaching the azure wall in the mountains would be his first priority. That meant that the most logical staging point for his invasion would be somewhere along the coast that lay just north of Shadowood.
Only fifty-one Minion warships had survived the prior battles with Wulfgar's demonslaver fleet, and their captains were doing their best to help Tyranny patrol. As for the Reprise, her repairs had been hurried but adequate. Though all sixty-three vessels in the fleet were filled nearly to the sinking point with eager warriors, Tyranny shuddered when she thought of how much Eutracian coastline remained open to invasion. She hoped that Faegan's assumptions about Wulfgar's battle plan would prove to be correct.
She cast her gaze back out to sea. It was almost seven o'clock, and the sun had just disappeared below the western horizon. When she was aboard ship, this was always her favorite part of the day.