Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

“Perhaps,” she answered. She looked at Faegan. “You say that you would need a great deal of some liquid substance to make Tristan’s idea work,” she mused. “Are you saying that you four could never conjure that much-even if the acolytes helped?”

“It’s highly doubtful,” Faegan answered. “And even if we did, Serena would see it as we tried to move it closer to the Recluse. Moving that much so far and so fast would probably be impossible in itself.”

Shailiha thought for a moment. “Would water work?” she asked. “By that I mean, could you use the craft to color it, and make it sticky, somehow?”

“I suppose,” Jessamay answered. “But why do you ask?”

“Because the lake surrounding the Recluse is full of it,” she answered. Realizing that she had seized on something, the princess leaned forward over the table. “If you could add color to it and change its composition, could you four lift it into the air and cause it to spread out?” she asked.

Aeolus’ eyes narrowed. “Perhaps,” he said, rubbing his chin, “if each of us tried to lift only his or her share. But even then it would be a monumental undertaking.”

Shailiha looked at Abbey. “Can you come up with a concoction that would spread quietly if placed into the lake water and would then change its color and consistency only when you ordered it to? And then could you somehow make it explode on command?”

“Perhaps,” Abbey said. “But I would need Faegan’s help. I have most of my herbs and oils aboard. Provided we can come up with a basic formula, your other requirements could then be incorporated with various spells.”

“Good,” Shailiha said. “Then this is what I propose…”

As the princess outlined her plan, Tristan smiled. It was truly ingenious. But even if it allowed his forces to overcome Serena’s flying creatures and the shrews were also dealt with, that still didn’t grant them entry to the Recluse. The fortress walls were several meters thick, and probably impervious to azure bolts. And despite the Recluse’s size, its outer ward wasn’t large enough to accommodate landing even one of the ships behind the fortress walls. Then there remained the problem of Serena’s consuls.

While he glumly thought about the Recluse’s seeming invulnerability, a curious thought struck him. As the idea took shape, he turned it over in his mind. After Shailiha finished explaining her idea, Tristan looked at Wigg.

“Tell me,” he said, “can you, Aeolus, Faegan, and Jessamay empower the Black Ships if you areinside of them?”

Wigg rubbed his chin. “I don’t think it has been tried, but I can’t see why it wouldn’t work,” he answered. “Because we needed to see where we were going, we always chose to empower them from abovedecks.”

“And could you use the craft to temporarily provide certain parts of the ships with extra fortification?” Tristan asked.

“I suppose so,” Wigg answered. “But what are you suggesting?”

Tristan started to explain his plan. The more he described it, the more he realized how well it might follow Shailiha’s idea. The strategies would need split-second timing, but they just might work. When he finished speaking he sat back in his chair. To his relief, everyone approved.

One hour later they had a fully formed attack plan, and the Conclave mystics went to work.

GARVIN WAS SMALL FOR A MINION WARRIOR. BUT WHAThe lacked in stature he more than made up for with courage. He was also resourceful, a good swordsman, and a fast flier. Because of these admirable traits, Traax had suggested him for a vitally important mission. To help him hide in the night sky, his exposed skin and his shiny weapons had been rubbed with charcoal.

The entire Conclave had questioned him for more than an hour before finally agreeing on him as their choice. As he stood on theTammerland ’s moonlit deck, the importance of his impending mission began to sink in. In the finest Minion tradition he was ready to do his best, no matter the cost to himself.

It was nearly midnight of the evening following the failed probe of the Recluse defenses. All the Conclave members were on deck to see Garvin off, as were throngs of anxious Minions and highlander horsemen. Tristan would soon order a group of warriors to conduct a diversionary tactic designed to draw Serena’s servants away from the Recluse. If the diversion failed, Garvin knew that he would probably be killed.

It had taken Faegan and Abbey all day and part of the night to produce the small amount of fluid that he would soon carry. It was precious, they had told him. The highly concentrated formula had exhausted Abbey’s supplies of certain herbs and oils, ensuring that producing another batch would be impossible. The campaign for the Recluse and the future of the Vigors relied on Garvin’s success. There would be no second chance.

Garvin looked to the night sky. TheJin’Sai was standing beside him as they waited for the right time to send him aloft. If a suitable cloud formation formed, Garvin could perhaps use it to hide in. As he looked west, it seemed that he was about to get his wish. He pointed skyward.

“Look there,” he said to the others. “That might do.”

Tristan stared at the passing clouds. They were dense and moving east to west.

“What do you think?” he asked Traax.

Traax nodded. “I agree,” he said. “If we don’t take advantage of this formation, we might not get another one.”

“All right,” Tristan said to Garvin. “Hide in those clouds and travel with them as they move. Stay close enough to their lower edges so that you can see the ground. When the diversion starts, you know what to do.”

Tristan held out the precious glass tube. It was about four inches long by one inch wide. A simple cork secured its top. The dark green formula trapped inside swirled and eddied with a life of its own.

Garvin carefully took the tube from Tristan and secured it in a leather pouch tied around his waist. He clicked his boot heels together.

“I live to serve,” he said quietly. “And I won’t let you down.”

Tristan nodded. “Go,” he said softly. “May the Afterlife be with you.”

Everyone watched Garvin leave the deck and soar into the sky. Following his orders, he headed east and climbed quickly. They soon lost track of him as he approached the cloud formation.

Tristan turned to Ox. “Now comes your turn,” he said. “Take your force and head slowly for the castle’s southern face. Give them plenty of time to see you. When the shrews attack, fight them for a short time, then sound a retreat. We will surely lose some warriors to Serena’s shrews and camouflaged creatures, but that can’t be helped if we’re to give Garvin enough time. Go, and good luck to you.”

Puffing out his barrel chest, Ox clicked his heels together and smiled. He turned to gather his warriors. In moments he and three hundred others had landed on the ground to start skulking toward the moonlit castle.

As he watched them go, Tristan clenched his jaw. There was much about this plan that he didn’t like, but it was the best that he and his Conclave had been able to devise. For Garvin to succeed, Ox and his group had to entice Serena’s creatures far from the Recluse. Even so, Gavin would have to perform his part of it quickly, and without being seen.

Tyranny walked across the deck to stand beside Tristan. Trying to calm her nerves, she produced a cigarillo and lit it. After taking a deep lungful of smoke she reached out to take his arm, then gently tugged him to one side.

“Good luck,” she said simply.

“Thank you,” he said. He gave her a searching look. “No hard feelings about our earlier conversation?” he whispered.