Robert Newcomb: Savage Messiah

Tristan ran across the shaking rooftop to join Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay. The three mystics were huddled together, talking urgently.

"Are you ready?" he pleaded. He turned back to see that the first of the Black Ships was already passing over the shattered palace walls. "It must happen now!"

Faegan gave him a weary nod. "We will try," he said.

Wigg and Faegan went to the very edge of the roof. Jessamay stood to one side. The two wizards raised their hands and closed their eyes.

The resulting explosion was deafening, filling the heavens with a thunderous roar. For a split second, a spot of azure light appeared high in the sky, directly over the center of the city. Far brighter than any star, it burst apart, sending brilliant, concentric circles of light cascading for leagues in every direction. As they spread and fell, the circles gradually vanished. In their place a massive azure dome formed, covering the entire city of Tammerland. Its sheer beauty and raw power resonated everywhere at once.

Tristan took Shailiha's hand. Together they stared in wonder at the awesome work of the craft. The trap had closed. There was now no way out for any of them, friend or foe.

As Wigg and Faegan held the dome in place, Tristan turned toward Jessamay. The future of their world now rested upon her abilities alone. Stepping to the edge of the roof, Jessamay raised her hands and closed her eyes.

Across the city, glowing, liquid azure appeared, dripping slowly from the surviving houses, their roofs, and even from the remains of the palace walls. As the precious seconds ticked by, Tristan looked east toward the sections of the city that were still intact. The oozing stuff was showing up everywhere; already eerie, winding rivulets snaked down into the streets and alleys, forming countless, glowing pools. The mission Faegan had sent the other members of the Conclave out on two nights earlier had been successful.

From the first of the glowing pools, a creature took shape. As its head came up to take living form from the enchanted, primordial ooze that gave it birth, it turned to examine the bloody scene with its slanted, yellow eyes.

The first of the Wingwalkers rose.

The Wingwalkers, Tristan thought, as yet another of the Earthshakers' explosions rocked the palace-the same terrible breed of beings that had nearly killed him, along with Wigg and Celeste, in the bowels of the Recluse. Failee's onetime servants, born again from the fluid that Wigg had risked his life to gather in Parthalon. Faegan's attempts to magnify the volume of Wingwalker fluid had been successful! Now tens of thousands of the creatures were rising to the aid of the palace.

Or were they? Tristan's blood ran cold as he suddenly remembered the other, equally important half of the wizards' plan.

Had Faegan and Jessamay been successful in all they had needed to accomplish? Which side of the craft now owned the Wingwalkers' allegiance-the Vigors or the Vagaries?

Tristan held his breath as he watched multitudes of the dreadful things soar up toward the palace roof. As Wigg and Faegan used all their power to support the azure dome, Jessamay raised her hands higher. Thousands of Wingwalkers gathered before her, their number growing by the moment. Legions of slanted, yellow eyes stared at her.

Jessamay's gaze was as hard as granite. Lowering her arms, she pointed down into the palace courtyard.

"Kill," she said.

The Wingwalkers didn't hesitate. At Jessamay's command they turned and tore into the Jin'Sai's foes-those who served the Vagaries and possessed blood signatures that leaned leftward.

With their talons and long, pointed teeth, the Wingwalkers were an equal match for the demonslavers and K'tons. But merely being their equal would not win the Wingwalkers the day, Tristan knew. Their victory would be in their superior numbers. Turning to look back at the northeastern section of the city, he saw thousands upon thousands more rise to join in the fray.

Breathless, he watched as the Wingwalkers descended upon an Earthshaker, digging in with their talons. Screaming in agony, the Earthshaker shook its huge head wildly as the creatures bit great hunks from its flesh. The demonslaver astride it also screamed as the Wingwalkers plucked him from the Earthshaker's back and tore him apart.

Each of the other five Earthshakers met the same fate. One by one the great beasts fell, the ground trembling as they hit. In their death throes, their great, bony tails flapped up and down, smashing against the ground. With each great blow, more of the palace walls came tumbling down.

The demonslavers and the K'tons fared no better. Massively outnumbered by the Minions and the Wingwalkers, they died by the hundreds. Tristan watched in awe as the Wingwalkers defied gravity to scurry sideways along the walls, hang upside down beneath roof alcoves, then spin and cartwheel deftly in the sky to strike down their prey. Bit by bit, the Minions and the Wingwalkers-both onetime servants of the Coven-gained the upper hand.

Some of the K'tons attempted to flee, but were vaporized when they tried to break through the azure dome. Undeterred, still more of them suffered the same fate.

And then the six Black Ships finally entered the grounds of the palace. The six skeletal captains rained bolt after bolt down upon the Wingwalkers and Minions. Many fell, and for a moment Tristan feared that all would be lost despite their valiant efforts. He felt Shailiha's grip on his hand tighten.

But then another great horde of freshly born Wingwalkers descended upon the scene, turning the tide. They swarmed darkly over the vessels' captains and demonslavers, killing them all.

Without their captains to guide them, the great ships careened out of control. Tristan watched, his mouth agape, as the first nosed down to plow along the ground. As its hull tore across the earth of the inner ward, it took down countless hastily erected hospital tents; the people who had been hiding inside of them went screaming and running for their lives.

With a loud groan, the great ship lay over on her port side, but inertia kept her barreling straight for the entrance to the Great Hall. Sending up clumps of ragged earth in all directions, her bowsprit tore through the chamber's double stained-glass doors. With a mighty crash, the ship came to rest.

The other five ships crashed in a similar manner. One by one they banged into the earth and skidded across the palace grounds. Tristan felt the palace quake beneath him as two more ships rammed into its walls.

As the fighting in the courtyard died down, Tristan looked out over Tammerland again. Some of the Wingwalkers and Minions soared over the smashed palace walls to chase down and kill off the demonslavers and K'tons still ravaging the city. New fires were still erupting, and the courtyard resounded with the screams of the wounded and dying.

Tristan and Shailiha went over to join the others. Wigg and Faegan continued to support the azure dome with the craft. Jessamay and Abbey stood staring in horror at the carnage. Wingwalker, Minion, and demonslaver bodies seemed to lie everywhere, as did the dead and wounded who had first come to the palace seeking refuge from the Orb of the Vigors.

As he looked down at his traumatized subjects, Tristan lowered his head. He recalled that day not so long before when he had addressed many of them in the Great Hall and asked them for their trust.

But how will I ever gain their allegiance now? he wondered. How can they trust me when, yet again, the craft has brought them nothing but pain and death?

Then he thought about the three Forestallments remaining in his blood, and the muscles in his jaws tightened.

Hearing the flurry of approaching wings, Tristan turned to see Traax, Duvessa, and Ox land on the roof. They were all worn out and splattered with blood. Dax was not present. Tristan hurried over to them.