With a great explosion her gazing flame burst, throwing her to the ground. But unlike the previous time, that was not the end of it.
Sheets of pure energy shot from the exploding flame, illuminating everything for leagues around. The night sky erupted in a cacophony of noise and light as the energy streaked down the hill, searching out the subject that was to have been viewed.
Wulfgar.
Sensing that something had gone terribly wrong, Wulfgar turned for a moment to look up the hill. As the light shards came nearer, his face contorted into a mixture of confusion and terror. Then the Furies, magnified a thousandfold, found him.
Ignoring the orbs, Wulfgar turned to confront the Furies in a desperate effort to save his life. Frantically he sent azure bolts against them. But to no avail.
As the bolts slammed into the energy cascading down the hill, they simply fizzled away against it, dissipating into nothingness. Unaffected, the Furies continued toward him. Tearing across the roof, they passed over the Scroll of the Vigors and headed unerringly for Wulfgar.
As they approached their target, they began to produce a whirling maelstrom that soon surrounded him, trapping him within its confines. As it closed in on him, Wulfgar could feel the intense heat it emitted. He knew that if he remained inside, he would die. For a few precious moments he turned his hateful gaze on Tristan and Shailiha.
They heard him scream insanely. Then the scream died away. The maelstrom closed in hard-and exploded.
As the force of the blast tore through the night air, Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny felt the searing heat and power of the dying Furies from the confines of Wulfgar's deteriorating warp. Trees from the nearby hill were uprooted and sent flying into the air, and parts of the palace roof exploded, sending marble pieces high into the sky. Then the warp finally vanished altogether, and Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny collapsed to the roof. Tristan could barely move. Craning his neck, he looked over to see that the two women were either unconscious or dead.
It was all the prince could do to look up at the glowing orbs of the craft. Wulfgar's Isthmus had vanished, and the orbs seemed to be undamaged. Suddenly, they were gone.
Using what strength he had left, Tristan looked over at the scroll. Blessedly, it still lay on the palace roof, where Wulfgar had left it.
In horror he saw that the Scroll of the Vigors-the only known document in the world that could provide the answers he so desperately needed about himself-was burning. He tried to crawl toward it. But his strength gave out, and he collapsed back down to the roof.
The last thing he remembered before passing out was his Minion troops finally landing on the roof beside him, and Traax and Ox running toward the burning document.
CHAPTER
Seventy-three
"I n the name of the Afterlife, hold still!" Wigg shouted at Rebecca. He had been extremely cranky for the last three days, and it seemed to him that every bone in his three-hundred-plus-year-old body still hurt.
"Tristan!" he growled softly, trying not to frighten the young girl any more than she already was. "Can you get her to calm down somehow? I simply cannot do this properly if she won't stay still!"
Smiling with one corner of his mouth, Tristan took Rebecca by the shoulders and gently pushed her back down onto the table. Then he whispered something into her ear, and she giggled. She promised to remain still as best she could, then gave Wigg a curious look and giggled once more.
Narrowing his eyes, Wigg called the craft and again started employing the process that would begin healing her clubfoot. As he did, Rebecca seemed to calm down. He cast a wary eye toward the prince. "What did you say to her?" he asked.
"Oh, nothing," Tristan answered casually. "Just that whenever you become irritated, the vein in your forehead starts to throb. I suggested she watch it to pass the time, and count how many times it did before you finished."
Sighing, Wigg shook his head, then snorted a laugh and went back to his work.
Tristan, Wigg, Faegan, Abbey, Shailiha, Celeste, and Tyranny were all in attendance here, in Wigg's personal drawing room. The stained-glass windows had been swung open to let in the fresh morning air and the songs of the birds.
Marcus stood next to the lead wizard, and Shailiha held Morganna on her hip. Shawna stood to one side, watching the process unfold. She had become quite attached to Rebecca and her brother, even though Marcus had proved to be quite a handful. Looking around the room, Tristan felt a great sense of thankfulness. He wondered briefly how the wizards would react to what he had planned.
They had all somehow managed to stay alive during their recent ordeal, but just barely. Tristan, Tyranny, and Shailiha had acquired some burns with the onslaught of the Furies, but had been protected for the most part by Wulfgar's warp. Abbey had also been burned, but not more so than the first time the Furies had erupted. Wigg, Faegan, and Celeste, however, had suffered far worse.
Wigg had been deeply injured by Wulfgar's bolts; beneath his robes he was a mass of black and blue, and would be for weeks. But after a few sessions of Abbey's healing skills he was finally feeling better and would continue to improve.
Celeste had also survived, but her left forearm had been broken in Wulfgar's attack, and it was wrapped in a sling. It was only the high quality of her and her father's blood, it was later assumed, that had kept the lead wizard and his daughter alive. Celeste sat in a chair along one wall as her father tended to Rebecca.
Faegan's case was different. His injuries had been physical, to be sure. But they had also been psychological. It was plain by the look on his face that he was ashamed at having been broken by Wulfgar's torture, even though he had succeeded in keeping secret their plan with the Furies. Knowing Faegan as they did, the others realized that it would take the old wizard some time to get over what he considered to be so great a personal failure. Then Tristan was reminded of the time enchantments, and he smiled slightly. If there was one thing the wizards had plenty of, it was time.
As for the Scroll of the Vigors, it had been once again locked away in the Redoubt, awaiting further research. And true to form, ever since Wulfgar had been defeated the two wizards had chosen to rest, rather than make explanations.
Tristan was determined to get his answers, as soon as Wigg finished with Rebecca and while everyone was still here, whether the wizards felt like talking or not. And he had a special request to put before them, one that had been on his mind for some time now. But for that he would wait until the three of them were alone.
Almost a full hour later, Wigg finally stopped what he was doing. After another quick examination of Rebecca's foot, he seemed pleased.
"You may get up now," he said to her. "Place your weight on your foot, and see how it feels."
Rebecca sat up, slipped her legs over the side of the table, and tentatively stood. As she did, her face registered pure joy.
"Marcus!" she shouted gleefully. "Come and look!"
Marcus ran to her side of the table and looked down. His sister's misshapen foot looked completely normal. For the first time in her young life, Rebecca was finally without pain. With tears of joy in her eyes, she began skipping around the drawing room.
She finally stopped in front of the lead wizard. She looked up into his eyes with a humble expression. Then she crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer. With a characteristic rise of one eyebrow, he did as she asked. Before he knew it she had wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.