Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

“And I keep telling you how wrong you are!” Xanthus protested as he angrily strained against his bonds. “I am no traitor! I saw theJin’Sai die in the red desert with my own eyes! It was not I who conjured the Borderlands! If anyone is responsible for theJin’Sai ’s death it is you!”

“Mind your tongue!” one of the female clerics shouted. “There was an army of Ones advancing-we did what we had to! How dare you question our wisdom! We are not some gaggle of low-ranking Imperial Order officers for you to berate! We are members of thePon Q’tar! Any one of us could kill you with a single thought!”

Xanthus’ mouth turned up into a sneer. “But you won’t,” he answered sarcastically. “You need to learn whether I’m telling the truth.”

The lead cleric had heard enough. “Guard!” he shouted.

Double doors immediately opened in the wall behind Xanthus’ chair. Light streamed in, hurting his eyes again. Two high-ranking Imperial Order officers quickly entered the room. The azure bands binding Xanthus disappeared.

“Take this traitor back to his hole!” the lead cleric ordered. “As punishment for his insolence he is to be denied food for the next two days.” The two officers promptly manhandled Xanthus from the room. As the doors shut behind them, the darkness returned.

“When will the index spell be ready?” one of the clerics asked.

“Within another moon,” the leader answered. “Then we will have our answers. Even so, theJin’Sai has escaped us. But if Serena succeeds, Tristan and his sister will be of little consequence.”

“We have just proven that one’s blood signature holds the entire account of its owner’s life,” he added. “Even we clerics at this table would never have believed that possible. It is often said that the eyes are the window to the soul. But after witnessing the nautilus effect, now I say that the true window to the soul is one’s blood signature, in all of its amazing splendor.”

“Do you still believe that Xanthus is a traitor?” another of them asked.

Several quiet moments passed before the lead cleric answered. “Only time will tell,” he said. “If he is, he will be killed. If not, we might find another use for him after all.”

After picking up Xanthus’ file from the table, he squired the other clerics from the room.

AS SHE AND HER WARRIOR SCOUTS SAT ATOP PART OFthe smashed deck, Duvessa raised her eyes to the sky. Her heart fell as she realized that the coming darkness would drastically impede her search.

It was early evening of the day following the attack on the fleet. Even the famous Minion battle with Nicholas’ forces high over Farplain had not caused so many casualties. As she looked down at the floating wreckage, the premier warrior-healer fervently hoped that she might find some fellow warriors still alive.

Wigg had been right. Had she ordered a search party aloft yesterday, they would not have gotten far before tumbling into the sea. It would have been a Minion suicide mission, pure and simple. Even so, Duvessa knew that there would have been no shortage of volunteers.

As her group had traveled farther east, they had all realized that not even Traax could have stayed continually aloft for this long. Any survivors would be in the ocean, and that only lessened their already meager chances for survival. As she and her warriors had focused their attention on the waves, they found Black Ship wreckage. Each piece had to be investigated. Eventually she and her scouts had landed on a section of aft decking to take a rest.

At first Duvessa had been surprised to see wreckage of any kind. To her mind, the wave had been so tall and strong that no part of either lost Black Ship should have reappeared. But after giving the matter some thought, she understood. After engulfing the ships and breaking them apart, the wave had sent debris tumbling east, down its backside. The trough’s impetus had then carried the wreckage even farther.

As Duvessa surveyed the flotsam, she realized that she had no idea from which ship it had come. Not knowing somehow added to the forlornness of it all. It was strange to see it like this, as it wandered the sea by itself. The deck boards were broken or missing in many places and most of the ship’s wheelhouse was gone. Sections of tangled rigging still lay about. Finding this wooden island had come just in time, for the tired patrol had been nearing the point of no return when they spotted it. Although it held no sign of Traax’s group, the respite it granted was welcome.

As Duvessa tried to decide what to do, she looked at her exhausted male and female warriors. Each had eagerly volunteered. As their commander she had every right to force them eastward until they plunged to their deaths from exhaustion. Despite how much she loved Traax, that was not an order she was prepared to give. If they turned around now, with any luck they would make it back to the fleet. But even the current was against her. Their wooden island was quickly drifting east, adding urgency to her decision.

She thoughtfully touched Traax’s betrothal pin still attached to her armor. Finally deciding, she stood and gathered her warriors’ attention.

“I’m ordering you all back to the fleet,” she said.

The warriors had been expecting this, and each understood her real meaning. She was going to continue searching for Traax’s group to her death, if need be. But because they were already at the point of no return, she would not ask them to continue on with her. Yesterday this mission would surely have meant their deaths. Today, if there was a chance the others could get back, she would make them take it.

One of Duvessa’s most trusted warrior-healers stood. Her name was Kefira. At twenty-five Seasons of New Life, she was one of the best long-distance fliers in the entire Minion force. Although she regarded her commander with humility, she meant to be heard.

“With all due respect,” she said, “we have a suggestion.”

Duvessa didn’t like having her orders questioned. But out of respect for Kefira she decided to listen. “Speak quickly,” she said. “What daylight remains is rapidly fading.”

“I will go with you,” Kefira proposed. “Two pairs of eyes are far better than one. The others will spend the night here, atop this wreckage. Although it is damaged, it seems to be in no imminent danger of sinking. If you and I have not returned by dawn, those remaining behind will fly back to the fleet. It is a sound tactical decision, mistress. We bore enough food and water to last until morning. By then those staying here will be refreshed and will have a better chance of getting back alive.”

Duvessa understood the real reason behind Kefira’s plan. Those who stayed behind had no intention of resting. They planned on keeping up the search, using the ravaged deck as a base from which to send smaller patrols north and south. She gave Kefira a grateful look.

“Very well,” she said. “But are you sure that you want to accompany me? You’re probably signing your own death warrant.”

Kefira gave her commander a knowing smile. “I live to serve,” was all she said.

Duvessa looked at the others. “You are each in agreement?” she asked. “Any who wish to go back now may do so without shame.”

The five males and four females nodded. Minions to the end, Duvessa thought. She looked back at Kefira.

“Very well,” she said. “You and I will leave at once.” While the others stood to honor them, their commander looked into every face. “Thank you,” she said softly. Without speaking, her warriors came to attention.

After climbing back into the sky, Duvessa and Kefira made a circle over the shabby wooden island before turning east toward the growing darkness.