Robert Newcomb - A March into Darkness

Still, disadvantages loomed. The demonslavers-the macabre army Wulfgar had employed to invade Eutracia-were all dead, leaving the Citadel largely unguarded. The majestic Black Ships in which Wulfgar had transported his army had also been lost to her. But she still had nearly one hundred consuls at her command, plus the Corporeals. Most important, she possessed the Scroll of the Vagaries-the ancient document containing every Vagaries Forestallment calculation known to man.

She knew that the Conclave would try to take the scroll from her. But by then she would be ready for them. Soon the Redoubt wizards would be dealing with an entirely new host of problems, the likes of which they had never seen.

Choosing a stone bench beneath a willowberry tree, she sat down. As the breeze ruffled her mourning gown she reached down to smooth out the dress. Einar and Reznik came to stand before her. When she was satisfied, she looked up at Reznik.

“Never discuss our plans before my handmaidens,” she said. “You and your people are merely guests here. I will kill you without remorse if you violate my confidence again.”

The blood rushed from Reznik’s face. “Yes-yes of course, Your Grace,” he stammered. “You have my deepest apologies.”

Serena nodded. “Now to answer your question,” she said. “Yes, the Darkling has arrived in Eutracia. By now he should be about his mission.”

Einar smiled. “That is indeed good news,” he said.

“Yes,” Serena answered. “TheJin’Sai and his Conclave are about to get the shock of their lives. I wish I could be there to see it.” She suddenly remembered the little corpse lying in state in the crypt, and her face darkened. “Though it will never make up for Clarice’s death,” she added softly. Einar and Reznik waited while she composed herself.

“Is there news regarding the project I entrusted to you?” she asked her consul at last.

Einar sighed. “The issues are complex,” he answered. “We have done almost all that can be accomplished here at the Citadel. Once we have traveled to Parthalon, the real research can start. But as you know, before we leave we must be sure that the Citadel is protected. The Redoubt wizards and theJin’Sai andJin’Saiou will soon come for the scroll-and for you.”

Serena nodded. “Keep me informed. Your work is vital to the Heretics’ plan.” She again looked at Reznik.

“And you?” she asked. “Have you and your group been helpful to my consuls?”

“We have been as much aid as our limited gifts allow, Your Grace,” Reznik answered. “The going is slow, but Einar and I believe that we are on the right track. Every Valrenkian is doing what he or she can to aid the cause.”

Serena nodded. “Good,” she said. “Leave me. I have much to consider and I wish to be alone.” With deep bows, the two men left for their respective research areas.

Finally alone, Serena looked around. The birds were singing again, and the early-afternoon sun felt good on her face. Standing, she looked up to the barbican surrounding the fortress. She gently levitated herself.

Higher and higher she soared as the sea breeze billowed her black gown. She landed gently atop one of the wall guard paths, then turned west to look out over the Sea of Whispers.

The dark blue ocean tide was high. From where she stood she could smell the salt air and hear the waves crashing in their endless assault against the shore. The white gulls called noisily to one another as they sought out their next meal.

Enjoy what peaceful time you have left, Jin’Sai, she thought. You will soon pay for your crimes.

“NO, NO, NO!” WIGG CRIED OUT, RAISING HIS HANDS INfrustration. “You’re losing her again!”

Seeing that it was already too late, the First Wizard braced himself.

The great ship fell a good ten meters through the air, then slammed mightily back down onto the ocean. The impact shot seawater plumes high into the sky, and the vessel heeled hard to starboard. Faegan’s chair on wheels nearly tipped over. Wigg slipped to one knee. Seawater fell down, drenching everyone again.

It was plain to see that the two wizards were becoming furious. For her part, it was all Jessamay could do to keep from howling outright. Twice this morning she had already laughed uproariously, adding to the wizards’ growing aggravation and embarrassment.

Sister Adrian stood nearby with a sheepish look on her face. Her red acolyte robe lay soaked against her skin, making her plump figure look thinner. Her sandy hair lying wet on her shoulders, she pursed her lips, then looked toward the deck.

She would have to try harder next time. If she didn’t succeed soon, she feared that the First Wizard’s head might explode with frustration.

It was a sunny day in Eutracia, and the sea winds were light. It was a perfect time to start the acolyte’s training, the two wizards had decided. But as they stood on the drenched deck, they were starting to have their doubts about this project.

With the consuls’ safe houses finally dealt with, the group had returned to Tammerland two days ago. They were all glad to be home, but many important actions still awaited the Conclave’s attention. By mutual agreement, the most vital of these was to devise the plan of attack against the Citadel.

There was more than one reason why capturing the Vagaries scroll had become so important. Without it, Serena and her traitorous consuls would be far less powerful. Wigg and Faegan were acutely aware that the longer she held the document, the greater the likelihood that she would imbue herself with yet more Forestallments. And with the scroll safely in the hands of the Conclave, other Vagaries practitioners would find themselves at a distinct disadvantage. But no matter the Conclave’s battle plan, the siege of the Citadel would be problematic. With the bulk of the Minion armada destroyed, the Black Ships would have to take them there.

Providing I ever get these monstrous vessels to obey my commands, Adrian thought. She had to admit that as the morning wore on, she was becoming less and less optimistic.

Fuming and stamping about like a wet hen, Wigg angrily shook the water from his robe. Then he reached over one shoulder to grasp the braided queue of gray hair falling down his back. After squeezing out the seawater, he tossed the braid back again.

Adrian heard a strange noise. She turned to see several fish flopping around on the deck. Pointing a finger at them, she called the craft and tossed them overboard.

Faegan tilted his head. Inserting a finger into one ear, he tried to free some trapped seawater from his ear canal. His gray hair lay all about his shoulders. Finally overcome, Jessamay just had to laugh again. Wigg scowled.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded. “This is serious work!”

“That might be,” she answered, “but I just can’t help it!”

The blond-haired sorceress was as wet and frustrated as the others, but it didn’t seem to bother her. Smiling, she placed her arms akimbo.

“You should see yourselves!” she exclaimed. “Wigg, I haven’t seen you this perplexed since you were a boy! You had just accidentally blown up your father’s laboratory. As I remember, Faegan was in on it with you. You two were inseparable, even then! Let me remember-what was it that you miscreants were trying to do? Ah, yes-something about perfecting a spell that would allow you the power to turn lead into gold. I thought your father was going to kill you both!”

“I remember,” Wigg grumbled. He looked down at Faegan to see the crippled wizard still trying to drain his ear.

“They wereyour calculations, you know!” Wigg hollered at him.

Faegan looked up crookedly. “Oh?” he shot back. “Just who can remember back that far, eh?”