Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

For the first time since arriving in the camp, Abbey smiled knowingly. Tristan let go a little sigh of defeat. With a single glance from Yasmin, Abbey understands, he realized. How is it that women always know? Sometimes their unendowed powers of perception rival Wigg’s and Faegan’s magic.

Tristan gestured toward the herbmistress. “Abbey of the House of Lindstrom, I’d like to present Yasmin,” he said simply. “Yasmin is the highlander healer I mentioned.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Abbey said.

“And you,” Yasmin answered.

The three of them chatted for a time; then Abbey placed her lips near Tristan’s ear.

“So that’s the highlander healer who helped you, eh?” she asked. She gave him a coy smile. “From the looks of her, I’d say that their men might gladly be wounded! I’m sure Balthazar was right about her healing touch…”

Saying nothing, Tristan sighed and pushed his tongue hard against the inside of one cheek. He decided that it was time to go-for more than one reason. Standing, he gathered everyone’s attention.

“Rafe and Ox, you stay here and collect the horsemen,” he ordered. “Escort them to the palace as soon as you can. Have them take tents among the Minions and see to any other needs they might have.”

Rafe smiled and slapped Ox on the back. “We’ll join him soon, won’t we, Ox?” he said. Shaking his head, Ox scowled darkly.

After saying his good-byes to Gunther, Tristan looked at Abbey. “It’s time to go,” he said. Turning to look at Yasmin, he smiled at her, then kissed the back of her hand.

“Until next time,” he said. As he let go her hand, her perfume lingered.

“Until next time,” she answered back. “I look forward to seeing the palace.”

“Uh, er-yes,” he answered. Abbey grinned widely again.

After wending their way back through the camp, Tristan and Abbey boarded the litter. Soon six stout Minion bearers had taken them skyward. As Tristan watched the camp grow smaller, his mind turned to the Conclave fleet.

They would be nearing the Citadel by now, he realized. Then he thought about what the Crysenium Envoys had told him. Knowing that he had been unable to warn the fleet, a grim silence overtook him. Seeing the change in him, Abbey leaned closer.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I have something to show you,” he answered. “It is time to see what it can tell us.”

Reaching down, Tristan lifted the gold medallion from his chest; then he closed his eyes. Unsure of what was happening, Abbey looked at him curiously.

In his mind’s eye Tristan envisioned the twin medallions. Just as the Envoys had described, the gold discs started glowing in his mind, then merged to form one.

When Tristan looked again, he saw that Abbey’s face had come alive with surprise. He had expected as much. But then Abbey saw the scene depicted on the medallion, and a look of terror seized her.

Quickly turning the medallion up, Tristan looked at it. As he did, his heart skipped a beat.

AMID THE HOWLING WIND AND STINGING SEA SPRAY, Shailiha and Tyranny held on to theTammerland ’s rigging for dear life as Jessamay strained to keep the great ship rising.

Her hands firmly grasping the ship’s wheel, the sorceress screamed as she struggled to augment her power. The angle on the ship’s bow was so severe that from their places in the stern, all the women could see before them was the looming, nearly vertical deck. As the ship’s timbers and masts groaned torturously, Shailiha doubted that theTammerland could hold together for much longer, even if they could avoid the pursuing wave. In the darkness and chaos she had lost sight of the other surviving vessels.

The princess turned to look at the terrible wave chasing after them. Tyranny had done the right thing by changing course and keeping the fleet from hitting the wave head-on. But two of the Black Ships had already been consumed by the wave’s awful power, never to be seen again. TheTammerland had to be at least one hundred meters in the air and climbing quickly, but the wave was looming larger with every passing second. In moments it would engulf the ship’s stern and she would be done for.

Racked with fatigue, Jessamay summoned every scrap of power she could. The stricken ship lurched noticeably higher. Scars helped Tyranny claw her way up the slippery deck to stand beside the sorceress. Once there, the only thing keeping the privateer from sliding aft and tumbling into the sea was her first mate’s massive arms-one holding fast to a wheelhouse cleat, the other wrapped around her waist.

Desperate to give Jessamay an order, Tyranny inched closer. By now the thunderous noise and salty spray accompanying the wave had struck theTammerland full blast, drenching everyone and making it nearly impossible to communicate.

“If you can escape the wave, immediately reverse course and let the ship fall!” Tyranny screamed. “It’s the only way she’ll survive the stresses! But even then I can’t be sure she won’t break apart!”

Although she heard Tyranny, Jessamay didn’t acknowledge it. Screaming, she somehow granted the stricken ship a final burst of energy.

Just as the wave was about to engulf the stern deck, theTammerland lurched violently higher. Even so, the deadly wave’s crest slammed into the ship’s stern keel, levering it upward and suddenly returning her level flight. The wave crest surged onward, thunderously smashing its way forward along the length of the keel.

Jessamay immediately did as Tyranny had ordered. As she turned the great ship one hundred and eighty degrees to starboard, theTammerland literally pivoted atop the foaming wave crest. Then Jessamay recalled her spell, allowing the ship to plummet unaided down the wave’s backside.

Pushing Jessamay to one side, Tyranny and Scars quickly took command of the ship’s wheel. As theTammerland lurched and skidded down the opposite side of the wave, suddenly everything was reversed. Her bow facing down at a sickening angle, the great flagship nearly heeled over and floundered. Then she righted again to continue tearing down the wave’s rearward slope at incredible speed.

Almost as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. With a mighty splash theTammerland plowed into the bottom of the wave’s following trough, throwing Shailiha to the deck. For several frightening moments the ship rocked violently as she tried to find her equilibrium. Finally she settled. In the calm after the storm the wind was still, the sea smooth as glass. The clouds had vanished, leaving behind a moonlit sky.

Shailiha stood shakily to see Jessamay collapse to the deck. They all ran to her. Sitting down, Scars lifted the sorceress’s head into his lap. Still trembling, Jessamay slowly opened her eyes.

“You’ve done it!” Tyranny said. “We escaped the wave. You saved us.”

Jessamay raised her head a bit. “What about Wigg and Faegan?” she asked weakly.

Running to the port gunwale, Shailiha looked westward. About one-third of a league away, the terrible wave was continuing onward. Just like theTammerland, one after another theEphyra, theCavalon, and theFlorian had struggled to the pinnacle of the wave’s crest.

Following theTammerland ’s example, they too reversed course and plummeted down the wave’s backside. Each ship threatened to flounder but later righted. Soon they hit sea level, plowing mightily into the wave’s trough. After rocking back and forth they too settled down.

Shailiha worriedly looked to the sky again. The battling swarms were smaller now, but still killing each other with abandon. The combatants’ forms were merely dark specks, and it was impossible to say which side might be winning. The valiant Minions had apparently kept Serena’s creatures from breaking through their lines. But how many warriors had that cost? she wondered. Was it enough to tempt those monsters to dive on the ships?