They had risen only to about the height of the Black Ships' oncoming mainsails. Demonslavers swarmed over the enemy decks, shouting at them and brandishing their swords. They were so close now that Tyranny could see the eerie glow pouring from the captain's angry eye sockets.
"Hurry!" Shailiha screamed.
Tyranny read the second passage aloud as fast as she could. The sextant and the map started to glow. The map unfolded itself and hovered in the air. The sextant took its readings from the sun, then a beam of light shot from it to the map. The beam burned a direct course from their current position back to the Reprise.
Tyranny was about to recite the last of the incantations when she heard the unmistakable sounds of swordplay. She turned to look, and her breath caught in her lungs.
Their litter was literally bumping up against the mainmast of one of the Black Ships, and the demonslavers in the rigging were hacking relentlessly at Scars, Shailiha, and the three warriors. More slavers were climbing up, and it would be only seconds now before all was lost.
Scars reached out and grabbed one of the slaves by the arm. He gave it a short twist and broke it. Wasting no time, he tore the creature away from the rigging and threw him down to the deck. The screaming slaver hit hard, head first.
The rest of Tyranny's group was fighting wildly with their swords. But for every slaver that they cut down, two more rose to take his place. The glowing litter swung wildly back and forth, banging uncontrollably into the Black Ship's mainmast and threatening to send its occupants tumbling out at any moment. Several of the slavers began to swing shiny grappling hooks. Fighting the temptation to draw her sword, Tyranny looked back at the parchment and read the next incantation.
The litter shot higher into the sky. Finally free of the Black Ship's mainmast and rigging, it spun around to face northwest. Then it sped off, the amazing force of its momentum throwing all of the occupants crashing backward. Somehow, the sextant and the map stubbornly remained in place near the middle of the litter, guiding it on its way. Fighting the force of the oncoming wind, the exhausted passengers began to claw their way back to their seats.
Sheathing her sword, Shailiha looked over at Tyranny. Her face and arms were splattered with blood, but she was unhurt. Micah and K'jarr had suffered superficial wounds. Striving to work against the wind, Crevin did what he could to tend to them.
The two women looked east, back toward the Black Ships. To their relief the ships were already little more than dark bumps on the horizon. The privateer and the princess smiled at each other.
Tyranny looked down at the demonslaver still lying unconscious on the floor of the litter. Then she turned her gaze northwest again toward where the Reprise circled, awaiting their return. It would be good to feel the ship's sturdy, shifting decks beneath her boots again.
Suddenly she thought of the Jin'Sai. We have what you sent us for, she thought. But how will you receive the news of your half brother? Too tired for words, Tyranny closed her eyes and laid her head against the sidewall of the litter. As she did, the sun rose in earnest, bringing with it the promise of a beautiful day.
CHAPTER LVIII
Dax and the two warriors flying escort on either side of him were glad to see the sunrise. They had flown throughout the cold, cloudless night; the sun would bring welcome warmth to their wings and to the air that filled their lungs. As the morning light improved, Dax looked down to get his bearings.
He was relieved to see that they were still on course. They were flying south, following the Sippora River, and were about halfway to Tammerland. Dax had left camp far later than he would have liked, as there had been important matters to attend to. Rufio had been well liked, and his fellow warriors had taken his death hard-especially since there had been no body to immolate. Dax's first order of business had been to oversee an impromptu memorial service in the slain warrior's honor.
He then told his troops about the azure wall barring the entrance to the pass and he assigned a group of warriors to watch over it. If it changed in any way, they were to report it at once. He also assigned fresh troops to monitor the orb and issued them identical orders. According to the latest report, the deadly sphere, having created the new pass, had turned south again, still hemorrhaging golden energy. Where it would go from there was anyone's guess.
It had been the dead of night by the time Dax had been ready to depart for Tammerland to make a report to the Jin'Sai and his wizards. As the only living warrior who had seen the azure wall, he felt it was his duty to make the report personally.
The young Minion captain stole a few moments to close his bloodshot eyes against the wind. The respite felt wonderful. He had been awake for nearly thirty-six hours, and he was exhausted. Bowing to the inevitable, he opened his eyes again and looked down to make sure that the Sippora was still below them.
To make his group a little warmer, he led them to a lower altitude. As his view of the river improved, his eyes narrowed. I must be seeing things, he thought. He blinked, but the scene remained the same. To his utter amazement, the normally mighty Sippora had turned black and looked as thick as tar. Its banks teemed with refugees and loaded-down beasts of burden, all walking south along either side of the river. The crowds seemed to stretch on forever. They weren't simply fleeing, Dax realized. They were moving permanently, and it seemed that they were all on their way to Tammerland.
Stunned, Dax quickly signaled to his warriors, and the three of them soared down to take a closer look.
There were no major cites in this part of Eutracia, but the Sippora's fertile banks were lined with small farming villages. The water table was notoriously low here, and wells had never been a viable option. But that had never mattered, because for centuries the majestic river and its hundreds of tributaries-supplied by the glacial runoff from the Tolenkas-had easily provided all the water these peaceful farmers could use, both for drinking and for irrigation. It had also granted excellent fishing and trapping, and its fast-moving branches could always be relied upon to turn the waterwheels that milled the farmers' hard-won grain. But now all that had changed.
Dax thought for a moment. If he and his escort swooped closer, he knew that they would frighten the people. But it couldn't be helped. He simply had to know more. Using hand signals, he ordered his warriors down. Buffeting the air with their dark wings, they came to land on the western bank of the river.
As the Minions set down, citizens screamed, scattering with their burdened animals as fast as they could. Dax had harbored a slight hope that he might speak with some of them. But it was clear that he wouldn't get the chance.
Accompanied by his warriors, he walked closer to the river and looked down.
The once beautiful Sippora had become a terrible sight. The water-if one could still call it that-had turned black. As thick as molasses, it moved at about one-third of its normal speed. At first its soft, pliable surface seemed unbroken. But occasionally it would crack open, hiss noisily, then send pent-up energy high into the air.
The Minions could easily feel the damaged river's intense heat, and see the steam that rose from it. Then the Sippora's awful stench reached them. It smelled like a cross between rotting fish and human waste. Everything the river touched, it turned black; the ground on either bank was scorched for quite some distance. In places where the banks had been dry, grass fires had ignited. Many still burned.
The river looked like death itself. Nothing could live in that, Dax thought. But what had caused this horror? Suddenly he understood.
The energy spraying from the ruptured orb had polluted the river, he realized. During the darkness of their night flight, he and his warriors hadn't been able to tell the difference. But in the light of day it was clear that the river's toxic flow was headed straight for Tammerland. When the stinking, superheated mass finally reached the capital, the entire city would go up in flames.