Geldon tried to recall what Wigg and Faegan had told him about the mysterious mountain range. Lining Eutracia on her entire western side, the Tolenkas had always been insurmountable. No pass had ever been found through the imposing slopes. Their peaks were so high that even the wizards could not climb them. As an experiment, Tristan had recently ordered a group of the hardiest Minion warriors to try to fly over them. They had been forced back by the thin air and the savage, icy conditions that prohibited any traversing of the peaks.
For centuries, rumors abounded about what might lie on the western side of the mountains. Some said that it was a great, dark void, and that if a man stepped too far, he would fall off the edge of the world. Others swore that it was a home to savage, inhuman creatures that would kill every Eutracian man, woman, and child if set free to roam the eastern lands. Still others maintained that the western side held the Afterlife: that the souls of their departed friends and relatives could be found there, that the howling winds that whistled down the slopes were actually the plaintive cries of the dead, and that the runoff of snow during each Season of New Life was in fact their tears, as they cried in their torment to be set free to rejoin the world of the living.
In truth, no one really knew. Wigg and Faegan did not believe such rumors. Even so, when Geldon had pressed them about it, they had abruptly changed the subject. He got the feeling they knew more, but chose not to speak of it.
Geldon looked up toward the peaks. As always, their tips were shrouded in fog. Then he looked back down at the orb, as it blasted through the icy slopes.
Suddenly a new sound could be heard: strange, more ominous than the screaming of the orb. It started softly at first, but soon Geldon felt it as much as heard it. As it grew in intensity, the litter began to shake. He looked around, trying to find the source of the sound. When he finally saw what was causing it, he knew he and the Minions would have to act quickly. They had left most of the warriors behind to eat and rest in a grassy field-and now those warriors were in great danger.
Part of the nearby glacier, melted by the heat from the ruptured orb, had sheared off and roared down the side of the mountain toward the field below. Had it been only snow, it would have been deadly enough. But this was ice, harsh, hammering, unyielding. As Geldon watched, it plummeted on down the slopes and tore into the forest, crushing the pine trees in its path as though they were matchsticks.
The smoke and soot from the orb obscured the onrushing crash of ice from the unsuspecting warriors resting in the field. Wild-eyed, Geldon looked out at Ox, and then both were barking out orders to their bearers to take them back down as fast as they could.
Folding his wings behind his back, Ox launched himself from the litter and soared downward in a near vertical free fall. He opened his wings and swooped upward at the last possible moment, then flew with all his strength as the huge chunk of glacier chased behind him.
As the litter descended, the smoke and soot obscured Geldon's vision completely. He had no choice but to hold tight to the swaying litter and hope that his bearers could find their way out of it. When he could finally see again, he almost wished he couldn't.
Ox had succeeded in ordering most of the remaining warriors into the air in time, but not all. When the massive disintegrating glacier plowed out of the smoke-filled forest, some of them had no chance. They stood there in shocked disbelief as the ice overcame them, burying them instantly. Ox and the survivors, hovering beside the litter, watched in horror as the glacier carved its way across the ground, ripping up the green turf of the fields and throwing great hunks of it dozens of meters into the air.
When its momentum finally waned, the deadly glacier slowed, coming at last to a grinding halt only meters away from the superheated canyon. The rising heat of the canyon melted the ice almost instantly, and its runoff streamed across the ground and into the recently formed gorge. Water soon flowed down the canyon like a raging river.
Taking a deep breath, Geldon looked over at Ox. Nodding back, the warrior commanded his troops to take the litter to the ground.
On shaking legs, Geldon exited the litter and looked back toward the mountains. With the avalanche over, he could once again hear the orb hacking its way through the granite slopes. He turned and walked toward Ox. He would have to return to Tammerland with this news. No note in the world could properly describe what had just happened here.
CHAPTER XXII
By the time Shailiha, Shawna, and the minion warrior arrived at the Conclave chamber, the other members had already taken their seats. After arranging the food to her liking on a nearby table, Shawna pushed Morganna's stroller from the room. The warrior who had escorted them followed Shawna out, closing the large double doors behind him.
The mood in the room was anxious. Tristan seemed especially eager to hear what Wigg and Faegan were about to say. All the Conclave members sat quietly, waiting for things to begin. The two wizards seemed lost in thought as Shailiha took her place at the table.
Shailiha smelled the comforting scent of the burning logs as their flames danced in the light blue fireplace set into the opposite wall. The Tome of the Paragon and the partially burned Scroll of the Vigors lay upon a nearby table.
Clearing his throat, Wigg placed his hands flat upon the tabletop. He looked over at the prince.
"You and I are going to Parthalon," he said. "We must revisit the Recluse. We leave within the hour. It will be shortly after midnight when we arrive, and I suggest some Minion warriors accompany us."
Tristan looked at Wigg as though the wizard had just gone mad.
"Why?"
Picturing the underground rooms of the Recluse, where he, Wigg, and Geldon had been tortured by the Coven, Tristan closed his eyes. He could see the unforgiving gibbets in which the three of them had been imprisoned, the five black marble thrones of the Mistresses, and the snarling reptilian monsters known as the Wiktors. He tried to keep the memories from flooding back-to no avail. He would never forget his torture, and his brutal violation by Succiu. And now, impossibly, the wizards wanted him to go back to the scene of those awful events.
Tristan opened his eyes and placed his forearms on the table. The only sound in the room was the gentle crackling of the fire in the hearth. After running one hand through his dark hair, he looked at the wizards.
"I assume you have a good reason," he said.
"You and Wigg must find the Scroll Master," Faegan said. "He may be the only living person who fully understands the key to changing your blood."
For a short time the room went silent again.
"Who is this person?" Celeste asked at last.
"Our research of the Scroll of the Vigors reveals the existence of one who is the Scroll's earthly master," Faegan answered. "His help could be vital-provided he still lives, of course, and that Tristan and Wigg can find him."
Abbey leaned forward. "There are several of us here who can read Old Eutracian," she protested. "So why do we need this supposed Scroll Master to aid us? Why can't we just keep reading the scroll ourselves to learn what we need?"
"Because time is working against us," Wigg answered. "We still have not heard from Geldon and Ox. We must therefore assume that the orb continues to ravage the land. Those of you who can read Old Eutracian will continue to research the scroll, but if the scroll does indeed hold the Forestallment calculations that will allow us to change Tristan's blood back to red, this supposed Scroll Master may be able to provide them to us long before we happen upon them ourselves. The scroll is huge. It could take us weeks to find what we are looking for. And what if the Forestallment we seek was in a part of the scroll that was destroyed, eh? In that case, only the Scroll Master could tell us what we need to know-if he still lives."