Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

He was terribly weak from blood loss, but his wings had not been injured and the fleet was close. Suddenly remembering what Faegan had said about not leaving any evidence behind, Garvin nearly fainted again as he picked up the empty vial and returned it to his waist pouch.

It was all he could do to get airborne. He knew that a direct flight path back to the Black Ships would probably mean the difference between him living or dying. But he dutifully chose to follow orders and backtrack along the more circuitous route that had brought him here. His mind light-headed and his muscles feeling like they were made of lead, Garvin did his best to head west.

After finally crashing to the deck of theTammerland, he lived just long enough to tell his tale.

AS DAWN BROKE THE FOLLOWING DAY, TRISTAN NERVOUSLYpaced the bow of theTammerland. The Conclave’s plan was clever, but not without its weaknesses. Everything would have to go exactly as planned, and each player in the scheme would have to do his or her job perfectly. This time Tristan would commit all his forces. If the attack failed, there would be no second chance.

He sadly looked down toward the deck. Black sailcloth had been wound around the corpse lying there. Tristan had known Garvin for only a few hours, but he had liked him. Garvin had finished his mission successfully, but that didn’t guarantee that Faegan and Abbey’s formula would work. Either way, the sailcloth was a fitting burial shroud. Later on, Garvin’s corpse would be cremated, alongside the other warriors who would fall this day.

Carrying two cups of hot tea, Shailiha appeared by Tristan’s side. She gave him one and they stood together drinking for a time, watching the fog lift from the blood-soaked killing field. Dark and foreboding, the castle seemed to crouch threateningly atop its mist-shrouded island like a giant spider. Shailiha gave her brother a supportive pat on one arm.

“Soon,” she said simply.

“Yes,” Tristan answered. “Your idea is brilliant.”

“As is yours,” she answered. “But for us to take the castle, both plans have to work, don’t they?” After taking another sip of tea, she gave him a short smile. “We make a good team,” she added softly. Tristan smiled back at her, then looked down the length of theTammerland.

Thousands of warriors stood topside, waiting to attack. Far more filled theTammerland ’s lower areas. Gathered on the ship’s bottom deck, the highlander horsemen waited nervously astride their mounts. The ship’s giant rear hatch had been lowered, allowing them easy access to the ground. The Minions aboard theEphyra, theFlorian, and theCavalon were also waiting, and ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

Tristan cast his gaze toward the rising sun. Although attacking at night was tempting, the Conclave members knew that it had to be done in sunlight. Even if Serena’s flying creatures could be marked, they would be difficult to find in the dark. And so the Conclave had nervously waited for the sun’s rays to break over the eastern horizon before launching the attack.

Tristan watched as the remaining Conclave members wended their way through the warrior and highlander throngs. As they crowded around, he smiled at them. Each had his or her own special skills, and they would all be needed today. Tristan again looked at the sun and decided that the time was right. He turned back to face the Conclave.

“Each of you knows your orders,” he said, “so there is no need for me to repeat them. Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay, it is time to take to your ships. Wait for the signal before starting your spells.” The three mystics gave the prince a farewell look, then left to command their respective vessels.

Wigg came to stand beside theJin’Sai andJin’Saiou. The look on his face was concerned, thoughtful.

“We of the craft have never tried anything like this before,” he said. “Our plan might easily fail. But I can think of no finer practitioners to attempt this than Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay.” He placed his gnarled hands on Tristan’s and Shailiha’s shoulders. “We will try our best,” he said.

“We know,” Tristan answered. “In the end, that’s all any of us do. It’s time to get started.”

Tristan turned toward Traax and Rafe. “Take your forces afield and form your ranks,” he said. “You know your orders. Remember, we are committing everything to this attack. It will be all, or nothing. Once your advance starts, move fast. But don’t charge until you see my signal.”

Traax came to attention. “I live to serve,” he said. After giving Duvessa a look of farewell, he ran off to carry out his orders.

Rafe responded by giving Tristan a final slap on the back. “No matter what happens, it was a pleasure knowing you, dango!” he said, then walked off to join his horsemen belowdecks.

Wigg moved a bit closer to Tristan. “I might have been wrong about those highlanders,” he admitted softly. Tristan’s only answer was a smile.

After a time, Tristan saw his forces gather on the field. Their great numbers would soon be easily visible to the enemy, and he was counting on that.

With their weapons gleaming in the sun, thousands of Minions stood in tightly formed phalanxes. Traax and Ox were at their head. Ahead of the phalanxes were hundreds of mounted highlander horsemen, their colorful clothes in direct contrast to the Minions’ dark hair and body armor. Knowing that they were about to go into battle, the highlander warhorses pawed the ground and strained against their bits and reins.

We will soon know, Tristan thought as he looked back at Wigg. May the Afterlife be with us.

He gave Wigg a nod. Wigg nodded in return.

The First Wizard raised one hand. An azure bolt shot from his fingertips and went flying into the air, signaling that the attack should start.

At once the highlander horsemen charged toward the Recluse while half the Minions flew low cover. The other half ran across the ground behind them. It was a breathtaking sight. Even from the deck of theTammerland Tristan could feel the ground tremble as his forces gathered speed and tore for the Recluse. To draw Serena’s forces out as quickly as possible, the highlanders and Minions started screaming out insults and epithets of every conceivable kind.

As expected, shrews again surfaced from the lake to face their foes. Snarling and shaking their heads, they thundered toward the approaching Conclave forces. As the two terrible armies charged, Tristan turned his spyglass toward the Recluse walls. Wigg remained by his side, waiting for Tristan’s next order.

Come, you bastards, the prince’s mind begged.

And then he saw them. Like the time before, thousands of small areas on the Recluse walls started shifting, telling him that Serena’s flying creatures were about to join the battle. Now there could be no reprieve, no turning back from the Conclave’s plan.

“Do it!” Tristan shouted at Wigg.

At once the First Wizard loosed another azure bolt into the air. This time it was a signal to Faegan, Aeolus, and Jessamay. Then Wigg raised his arms, just as Tristan knew the other three Conclave mystics would be doing. As the prince turned his gaze to the lake surrounding the Recluse, he held his breath.

The entire lake started rising into the air. It was the single-most stunning display of the craft Tristan had ever seen.

The formula Faegan and Abbey had concocted had three stages, and each one had to work perfectly for the plan to succeed. First, at Faegan’s command the formula would spread quickly throughout the lake. Then the formula would be called on to hold the lake in its original shape as the mystics lifted it into the air. Finally, it had to change the color and consistency of the lake water.