"What happened?" Tristan asked anxiously.
"We were returning to the delta when these slaver ships suddenly appeared out of nowhere," Tyranny answered. "Thank the Afterlife there weren't more of them than this! They had completely surrounded us, and we had no alternative but to stand and fight. For some reason it seemed imperative to them that they not allow us any closer to the mouth of the Sippora, and they fought like they were insane. Had your warriors not arrived when they did, we probably wouldn't be standing here talking to each other." She took another drink from the bottle, then smiled again.
Something she had said to Tristan struck a nerve. But before the prince could answer her, Wigg's voice cut him off, separating him from his thoughts.
"Tristan!" the lead wizard called out. "Come here and look at this!"
The prince turned to see Wigg standing beside Scars at the starboard gunwale, staring down into the surrounding sea. Tristan and the rest of them walked over to join him and looked down as well.
Scars and a handful of Tyranny's crewmen were tossing demonslaver corpses and body parts into the sea. For the first time Tristan saw the horrific, serpentine sea slitherers as they hissed viciously at each other, competing for the next mouthful of warm flesh.
"What in the name of the Afterlife are those things?" Shailiha breathed, her voice little more than a whisper.
"They are certainly a product of the Vagaries," Wigg mused, "although in all my three-hundred-plus years I have never seen their kind before. I suspect they were meant to follow Wulfgar's fleet as an additional form of protection. Much like the screechlings. Very clever, when you think about it. One beast to serve him in the sea, and another to serve him in the sky."
Tristan looked at Traax. "Before we leave here, select a contingent of warriors to stay behind and deal with these abominations," he ordered.
Traax came to attention and snapped his boot heels together. "It shall be done," he replied quickly.
Tristan had an important question for Tyranny. But before he could ask her, Scars reappeared by her side. There was a strange look on the giant's face.
"Begging your pardon, Captain, but during their searches of the demonslaver ships, our crew made an unexpected discovery."
"What is it?" she asked.
Turning, Scars pointed one of his huge paws toward the bow deck. "More slaves," he said quietly.
Tyranny snapped her head around. Forty filthy, emaciated slaves, men and women alike, had appeared before them on the deck. Shackled together by hand and foot, many of them could no longer stand. Some were on their knees, while others simply lay on the bloody deck, slowly dying. A few stood, looking at their saviors as though they had just descended from some long-forgotten dream.
Tyranny took a slow step toward them, then another and another, her eyes on a male slave. His hands were crippled and his face and body were covered with soot, as if he had just come from some kind of forge. Dressed in only a tattered loincloth, he had a long, filthy beard and hair that nearly reached his shoulders.
Then the wine bottle dropped from Tyranny's hand, and she began to walk faster, then faster still. Finally she was running for all she was worth across the bloody deck.
"Jacob?" she breathed, not daring to believe. "Jacob… Jacob!"
As if locked within some kind of dream, Twenty-Nine simply stared at her as she came running toward him. With tears in his eyes, he fell to his knees sobbing. As she reached out her arms, Tyranny's face reflected exultant joy.
Dropping to her knees, she placed a hand on either side of Twenty-Nine's face and looked into his eyes. Tears cascaded freely down his cheeks, and he wrapped his shaking arms around her and held her close, as though he never wanted to let go. Pulling him to her, she closed her eyes and began gently rocking him back and forth as she ran one hand down over his long, dirty hair. After what seemed forever, he looked back into her face.
"Mother and Father?" he asked, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper.
Tyranny shook her head. "No," she whispered back.
Hearing boot heels, Tyranny looked up to see Tristan standing beside them. "Your brother?" he asked softly.
Tyranny nodded. "Jacob," she said, turning her eyes back to him. "I had almost given up hope."
Tristan was about to speak again when a quick, dark shadow passed over the deck. Looking up, he saw a Minion warrior half flying, half tumbling down out of the sky. His chest and arms were covered with blood, and one of his wings seemed to be injured.
He was flying from the direction of the palace.
Traax and two others immediately took off, reaching their wounded comrade just as he was about to give up and come crashing to the deck. Holding him in their arms, they landed gently and laid him down. Everyone crowded around.
The warrior's wounds were grave. Wigg immediately knelt down and placed one palm on the Minion's forehead. The wizard closed his eyes. Upon opening them again he stood up and, looking sadly over at Tristan, shook his head.
Kneeling down, Tristan looked into the warrior's face. His eyelids were heavy, and his breathing was labored. Blood ran from his wounds to mingle with that already on the deck. Tristan lifted the warrior's head up.
"Can you hear me?" the prince asked gently.
The warrior nodded weakly. "Yes, my lord."
"Did you come from the palace?"
Another nod.
"What happened?"
Reaching out to grasp Tristan's forearm, the Minion tried to bring his face closer. Tristan leaned farther down-so close that he could hear the death rattle starting to build in the warrior's lungs. The Minion's body was shaking; a trickle of blood ran from one corner of his mouth.
"Demonslavers," he whispered. "Too many of them… so many of us dead…" His face constricted with pain, he looked up into Tristan's eyes. "You must hurry, my lord… Celeste and the wizard Faegan… They're…" With a final, wheezing rattle, the last breath escaped from the warrior's lungs, and his eyes closed.
Gravely, Tristan laid the warrior's head down on the deck of the Reprisal. Standing, he stared for a moment into Traax's eyes.
Then he ran toward the litter. Shailiha, Abbey, and Wigg followed him. He helped the others safely inside, then was about to get in himself when Tyranny brushed by him and began to climb in.
Grabbing her by the arm, Tristan gave her a hard look. "What about Jacob?" he asked.
Stopping, she turned and looked at him. "I'm coming with you," she said flatly, as the wind moved through her hair. "I owe you this. If you hadn't seen to it that I had been given these ships, my brother would still be out there, somewhere. And as for Jacob, he couldn't be in safer hands. Scars will care for him as he would care for me."
"Besides," she added, "I have a feeling that you're going to need all the swords you can muster."
As she started to climb in again, Tristan pulled her back. "There's something I have to know," he asked her urgently. "Did you see any humans during your fight with the demonslavers? Anyone of the craft?" When Tyranny shook her head, Tristan's heart sank.
Quickly the two joined the others in the litter. As the litter rose from the decks of the Reprisal, the sky around it became dark with Minion warriors. Like a strange cloud, it turned to the southwest and sped across the sky. Soon the rich, green grasses of the Cavalon Delta appeared below them.
As Tristan looked out of the litter, a single, burning thought kept crowding out all his other fears.
Celeste.
CHAPTER
Seventy-one
W ith a wave of one hand, Wulfgar caused the hovering violin and bow to change the tune they were playing. Listening to the new haunting melody, he closed his eyes and leaned back luxuriously in his chair. When he finally opened his hazel eyes again, he began to speak in an even, measured tone; just as a father might speak to a son whom he had decided needed to be punished.