He looked around, wondering what had happened to the dwarf. The answer arrived with the sound of wings.
Looking up, Tristan saw the sky darkening. The air was soon filled with the sound of many thousands of pairs of swiftly beating wings. At first he could not see, the sun in his eyes, but then winged monsters settled in to cover the walls, rooftops, and streets that surrounded them.
Thousands upon thousands of them came, so many there was no longer any place for them to land. Only a small space was left between the escapees and the growing horde of Minion warriors. Finally they stopped, those that had landed standing silently at attention as if waiting for something. Then, as if by command, those still in the air suddenly flew off, as if trying to find a better vantage point from which to observe what they apparently thought was about to transpire.
Wigg took two steps back to join Tristan in front of Shailiha. The prince looked quickly to the sun. There were only minutes left now.
Despite the thousands of beings crammed into this area of the Recluse, nothing moved. No one spoke.
Tristan looked into the face of his friend and mentor and knew that Wigg, too, realized this was the end. Even the power of the Lead Wizard could not overcome such numbers. This was the place in which they would both die.
And then, finally, the hated voice came, clear and sharp, cutting through the air over the great number of warriors and traveling directly to the prince’s heart.
“Chosen One!” Kluge called from atop the wall directly facing them. “Is this what you have been looking for?”
Tristan and Wigg looked up to see the commander of the Minions of Day and Night standing with Geldon, holding the dwarf’s chain. He smiled wickedly down at the prince. Traax, his second in command, stood obediently next to him. Geldon, still wet from his swim beneath the moat, stood plaintively on the other side of Kluge, looking frantically into Tristan’s eyes, knowing that he had unwittingly condemned them all to a certain death.
Laughing wickedly, still holding the dwarf’s chain by his heavily muscled right arm, Kluge kicked Geldon off the wall.
The only thing that kept the dwarf’s neck from breaking was the quick-witted way in which he reached up to grab the chain. He dangled helplessly, his arms losing strength as the commander of the Minions continued to hold him there, laughing, waiting for the dwarf to lose his grip and finally choke to death before them all. But then suddenly Kluge let go of the chain, and Geldon fell crashing into the midst of the Minion warriors, who erupted into raucous laughter.
Looking down on his troops, Kluge shouted, “Let the dwarf through to join his friends, so that they may all die together! It is somehow more fitting!”
Immediately Geldon ran through the obediently parting warriors to stand with Wigg and Tristan, tears in his eyes. “There was no one here when I arrived,” he said quickly. “And then Kluge himself came flying out of the ruins of the aviary to gather me up and make me climb to the top of the wall. Unknown to us, there were Minion patrols flying very high in the sky, staying between us and the rising sun. It is no surprise we did not see them. Kluge knew we were here, and after my coming into the Ghetto alone it was a simple matter of logic for him to deduce that you were waiting for a signal.” He hung his head in shame. “I’m sorry Tristan,” he whispered. “I am the death of us all.”
“Tristan,” Wigg whispered urgently, “I can kill Kluge if you will let me. But I must know now, while he is out in the open. I cannot save us from what will eventually happen—you must see that as well as I do. Even with the help of the craft I cannot defeat such numbers. And because the Paragon is still in the locket, I am without my powers. I must open the locket and remove the stone. I’m sure that by now it has rejuvenated. If we act in unison I can kill Kluge while you give Shailiha a quick death before the rest of them overcome us. It is the only way,” the old one whispered, looking into Tristan’s eyes with absolute candor. “We will be dead soon, and this is the only way I can see us sparing your sister from that monster on the wall, and still kill him at the same time.”
He put a hand on Tristan’s shoulder. “Remember,” he added sternly, glancing behind him at the inert Shailiha. “No endowed blood can remain in Parthalon.”
Tristan considered the wizard’s words for a moment, but in his heart he knew he could not agree, no matter how certain Wigg was that he could actually kill Kluge. Kluge had no magic to use when we first met, he thought, looking with hatred at the winged butcher that had killed his family. He made no use of the craft. Therefore I will make no such use of the craft now. Live or die, I will meet this man on my own terms, wizard or no wizard.
But before the prince could respond to Wigg, Kluge called out to him again from atop the wall. “Chosen One!” he screamed, his voice alive with hate. “See the present I have brought to you this day!”
Looking up, Tristan thought his heart would tear in half. Narrissa was standing next to Kluge, naked. She was crying, the tears running blatantly down her face, and it was more than obvious that she had suffered every kind of abuse. Bite marks and bruises could be seen on her face and body, and dried rivulets of blood trailed down both inner thighs from her groin to her feet. She cowered with fear before the Minions and the prince, shamefully aware of her nakedness. Tristan felt the blood rise in his veins as never before and took a step toward the wall, starting to draw his dreggan.
“Come no closer!” Kluge immediately ordered. “This Gallipolai has been rather disappointing to me. I never did care for women who called out another man’s name while they were being taken! In fact, there is much to discuss before you and the wizard die. Allow us to come to you!”
Lifting Narrissa as though she were weightless, Kluge snapped open his leathery wings and flew down to land in the center of the square, his back to his troops, directly facing the prince. Taking a few steps closer, he threw the terrified woman roughly to the dirt at Tristan’s feet. She landed hard and curled up into a protective ball, crying. Kluge spat on her as though she were just so much garbage.
Tristan lifted his eyes back up to his enemy without immediately bending over to help Narrissa, despite how much he wanted to. He could not be too careful with this man.
“Don’t worry,” Kluge said, as if reading his mind. “The time will come shortly for you and me, but first there are things I wish to tell you, so that I may see the look in your eyes before you die. Go ahead, Chosen One. Pick up your white-winged whore.” He smiled. “I am done with her.”
Tristan lifted Narrissa into his arms and carried her back to the wizard. Wigg sat her up against one of the wagon wheels and began trying to tend to her wounds as best he could. Tristan removed the blanket from Ian’s body and wrapped it around the quivering, terrified Narrissa, giving her his best look of hope. She smiled back up at him, saying nothing. There was no need, for Tristan already knew what she felt.
Wigg looked quickly up into Tristan’s dark eyes. “You must let me kill him now, before it is too late!” he insisted in a stern whisper.
Tristan gave the wizard a hard look. “No,” he said simply. “I do this on my own terms. And you are not to interfere in any way, including the use of the craft.”
“Tristan, you cannot kill him!” Wigg whispered back. “Forgive me, but he is just too strong. The only reason we are not dead already is because of his intense hatred for you. He obviously wishes to toy with us. Use that to your advantage and at least make some small use of the craft yourself, to help you live through this!”