Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

“A kisa for your thoughts,” Wigg said, bringing the princess back to the present. Looking over at his craggy profile, she smiled.

“I was just thinking about how much things have changed,” she answered. “And about how much we’ve all lost, yet also gained.” She looked over at Tristan again, to see that he was still painstakingly sharpening his sword. His silhouette dark against the moonlight, he did not look back.

“Do you think that the peace will hold?” she asked.

“For a time,” Wigg answered. “But periods like this have always been fragile. Several things still threaten our security.”

Wigg took a deep breath. “We must secure the Scroll of the Vagaries,” he added, “and Serena must be dealt with. I am sure that she is of highly endowed blood, and that makes her immensely dangerous. Wulfgar would have never chosen her as his queen otherwise. There is simply no telling how much craft training she might have already had. From that mission you and Tyranny carried out at the Citadel not long ago, we also know that she is pregnant. That means that there will soon be another child in the world of your family’s bloodline. As long as Serena controls the other scroll and has gifted consuls working in her service, we will always be in danger.

“Our recent examination of the azure pass also concerns us greatly,” Wigg added. “The terrible hordes Wulfgar used to attack Tammerland came through there, but we have yet to learn any of its secrets. Who knows what other horrors may lie in wait behind that glowing wall? Faegan, Jessamay, and I think that the calculations needed to breach the pass might be found in the Scroll of the Vagaries. But would having them do more harm than good? Only time will tell.”

Summoning a mental image of Shawna the Short rocking Morganna in her arms, Shailiha smiled. For no good reason, Wigg again poked at the fire.

“There are other things to consider,” he said, “things that easily eclipse our storming of the Citadel, or whether the calculations we seek to breach the pass can be found in the other scroll.” He looked over at Tristan again, then back into the fire.

“And they all have to do with the amazing revelations about you, your brother, and your destinies,” he added.

Shailiha nodded. “The things that the Scroll Master told him,” she offered.

“That’s right. When Tristan explained them to me just before he finally destroyed theEnseterat, at first I couldn’t believe my ears. We are still trying to come to grips with what they might mean. His training should start soon, but Faegan, Jessamay, and I would much prefer to see his heart lighten before we start. His full attention and willingness to learn will be crucial. But there is no telling when that might be.”

Turning from the fire, Wigg looked at Shailiha. “You know how stubborn he can be,” he added.

Shailiha understood Wigg’s worries. During his time with the Scroll Master, Tristan had learned not only where Forestallments came to reside after a blood signature’s human host dies, but also that there had been many otherJin’Sais andJin’Saious who had arrived long before he and she. Every one, the Scroll Master said, had failed in their attempts to unite the two sides of the craft.

The Scroll Master also told Tristan that Celeste-despite how much Tristan loved her-was not his destiny. Had she lived, he would have been forced to leave her for the good of the craft. Another love would come to him, and it would be a love like no other. When Tristan saw her he would know. It would be she who would become his true love, and bear his children. And when she arrived to take part in his life, she would not be what he expected.

Shailiha knew that Tristan did not want to believe that. Nor did the First Wizard, she guessed. But the word of the young Scroll Master was not to be doubted. Despite how much he had loved Celeste, Tristan found himself having to accept these painful facts.

When Tristan finally finds this new woman, will he be able to love her in the way that the Scroll Master foretold? Shailiha wondered. Or will Celeste’s memory continue to so crowd his heart that there will be no room for anyone else?

Perhaps most important, in a painful application of the craft the young Scroll Master had used the spells given him by the Ones Who Came Before to change Tristan’s blood back to red. He would now be able to wear the Paragon and start translating the Prophecies-the third and final volume of the Tome that only he or Shailiha were destined to read.

But before that process started, the wizards and Jessamay had agreed that the consular safe houses needed to be wiped out. Each time they approached one it had been all they could do to convince the prince not to go charging in, trying to kill every consul he could find. Since Celeste’s death he seemed to possess an even deeper, more blinding hatred of all things connected to the Vagaries, and he mercilessly acted on it with every opportunity.

Shailiha often wondered what her late parents would think of her and Tristan helping to round up and sometimes kill former Redoubt consuls. Sometimes she felt like their parents’ spirits were looking down on her and her brother, watching them struggle to fulfill their destinies.

She looked back at Tristan. His silhouette dark in the moonlight, he continued to hone the already razor-sharp blade. Sensing his pain, Shailiha closed her eyes.

SECRETS AND GIFTS, SHE THOUGHT AS SHE QUIETLYwalked the corridors. That is all I have left of what my lord so graciously bestowed upon me. But the secrets and gifts that remain in my heart and in my blood signature shall be enough to pluck my revenge from the ashes.

As she walked, she clutched a withered rose to her breast, and a tear came to one eye. The droplet slowly traced its way down one cheek.

Soon, my love, she thought. Soon I will avenge your death.

Serena walked slowly down the Citadel hallways, her black silk gown rustling pleasantly as she went. Dark ringlets lay on her shoulders. Although her blue eyes were tinged with grief, they also carried a commitment to see the Heretics’ goals attained. She would struggle until her efforts ended either in the death of theJin’Sai, or in her own. Wiping the tear from her face, she walked on.

Two months had passed since Wulfgar’s unsuccessful invasion of Eutracia. The rose that he had bound to his life force before departing the Citadel had told Serena his fate. If the rose withered, she would know he had died, and she would be the new ruler of the Citadel.

When the impossible had happened, and the rose had died before her very eyes, she had been in her private chambers, taking tea. Her grip had faltered, and her teacup had smashed upon the floor as she cried her grief to the heavens. Without a doubt, she knew: TheEnseterat was dead.

At that very moment, a searing pain had racked her belly, its strength so great that she was sure she would die as well. The first of the horrible contractions came quickly as her endowed blood surged hotly through her veins. Then she felt something inside her slip.

Collapsing to the floor, she began to bleed and give birth. Just moments before she fell unconscious, she managed to place an azure field around the little corpse that lay there beside her like a bloodied doll.

Summoned by her screams, her servants soon found her. Teetering on the cusp of death, Serena lingered under the care of her worried consuls for two more days.

On the third day her consciousness sensed the Heretics of the Guild for the first time, as their voices roused her from her nether-sleep. Opening her eyes, she commandingly raised one arm to order her shocked servants from the room. After they had gone, she closed her eyes again.