“We have assigned Joshua to the Redoubt libraries, to research anything that might be useful in discovering more about these flying creatures,” Wigg told her. “But nothing has turned up yet. These beings remain a mystery, as do so many other things.
“There is much to tell you, Your Highness,” he continued rather sadly. “We not only have a great many challenges to face, but we also find that there is now a distinctly limited amount of time with which to deal with them. But to better explain our concerns to you, we would prefer to retire to another room. Due to your inexperience in the craft, this problem must be actually seen with your own two eyes for you to truly understand it.”
Seeing the concern in both of their faces, she immediately agreed. “Of course,” she said. Reaching to a nearby table, Shailiha picked up the sling that the gnome wives had made for her and donned it. Then she lifted Morganna from her crib, and gently placed her into the sling. The baby cooed softly.
Wigg went to door. Morganna cradled closely before her, the princess followed the two wizards and the consul down the great hallways of the Redoubt.
10
Nicholas hovered several feet above the stone floor of the chamber, surrounded by the powerful glow radiating outward from his body. The simple, white robe he usually wore was gone, his muscular, perfect form naked and glistening in the light. Since he had last come here his smooth, black hair had grown slightly longer, his demeanor more mature. He was now the equivalent of approximately fourteen New Seasons of Life.
It was time for him to glean yet more power from the vein. Rising higher into the air, he closed his eyes fully. Lost in the ecstasy of the craft, he began to revolve slowly in the azure light. He shuddered slightly as he stretched his arms out in supplication, welcoming the dynamism he so badly needed. His parents of the Afterlife had called upon him to perform this act today, and he would not fail them.
His body began to shudder more violently with the power, his mouth turning up into a strange, constricted smile of both pleasure and pain. The vein in the walls pulsated more vigorously now with a deep, undulating presence. Very gradually, the glow reached blinding proportions. As its vibrancy increased, Nicholas turned faster and faster in the air, the light from the vein screaming all about the chamber.
And then the vein running through the walls began to bleed out onto the floor of the cave into pools of azure, glowing liquid.
The shimmering puddles undulated with the immense power of the craft. Then slowly, hauntingly, they slithered toward one another, gathering into a larger pool that seethed and writhed with a life of its own. Finally revolving into a whirlpool, it rose slowly into the air just below the boy.
The whirling maelstrom finally stopped turning. With a great cracking sound, it converted itself into bolts of pure energy, shooting upward toward the boy’s body, striking his naked skin over and over again.
Nicholas twirled frantically in midair, screaming aloud, as his body absorbed the ecstasy of the craft—both the Vigors and the Vagaries alike. On and on the azure bolts came, as if they would never end. And then, almost as suddenly as they had begun, they stopped, and the glow of the craft receded.
Immediately he fell to the floor, crashing hard. He stood slowly upon trembling legs, head lowered like an animal. His breathing was ragged and labored, his body bathed in sweat. Finally lifting his head up, he smiled and raised each of his hands, turning up his palms and curling his fingers. Waves of dynamism began coursing back and forth between his palms, and he laughed aloud, reveling in the increase of the pure, unadulterated power he now possessed and the fact that there was still so much more to come. Eventually he lowered his hands and began to speak aloud, even though there was no one in the chamber to hear him. His naked body continued to glisten in the glow of the light.
“Chosen One,” he whispered softly, “my father of this world, you of the azure blood, it will soon be time. Time for you to learn the true reasons for my coming. That day you shall be at my feet, begging for both your own life and the life of your nation.” He paused for a moment, gliding slowly across the short distance to where the vein, seemingly undiminished, ran through solid rock. Lovingly, he ran his hands across its surface, watching it undulate within the hewn stone that imprisoned it.
“You should not have freed me that day, my father,” he continued softly. “For you allowed me to escape both the womb of my sorceress mother and also eventually be released from the common, inferior trappings of this lower, lesser world. It was you, Chosen One, who allowed me to rise to the heights of the Afterlife, and discover my other parents in their omnipotence. Your tears will be great when you learn that the downfall of all you cherish and protect was your doing, and yours alone. Your nation is about to hear a cry such as it has never known, even with the coming of the sorceresses.”
He lay his feverish brow against the cool, pulsing vein. “Your consuls are quickly becoming mine, as is your craft of magic, Father. Soon they shall both join me in my struggle, as shall my hatchlings and yet others of my invention. Only near the end of your life, Chosen One, shall I grant you the true, undeniable knowledge of my existence—I, who embody the unexpected survival of your seed.”
Nicholas turned away from the pulsing vein and floated out of the chamber. The glow of the craft followed him, eventually vanishing from the room.
11
Tristan approached the hidden entrance to the tunnel slowly and carefully. The dead consul lay across his horse’s back; the bloody parchment and the poem it contained were tucked snugly beneath the prince’s black leather vest.
Finding the special boulder, he reached out and touched the spot on it that the wizards had specially infused with the craft. The giant piece of granite slowly rolled away, revealing the darkness of the tunnel beyond. He walked Pilgrim into the tunnel, then touched yet another spot on the inside wall and watched the massive stone roll back into place before touching one of the pale green stones lining the length of the tunnel roof. A soft, ephemeral sage glow immediately illuminated the entire way back to the Redoubt.
He dismounted and pulled the body off of Pilgrim. He removed the dark blue robe he was wearing, then dressed the dead consul in it to give the deceased man a modicum of decency. Both the neat, small hole and the ghastly, empty eye socket stared abjectly up at him.
With a great heave, he lifted the body back onto Pilgrim.
When he finally reached the tunnel’s end, he pulled the body down and left it by the door into the Redoubt. He wished to place the consul in what had once been his father’s private chamber, the room the king had reserved for meetings requiring the greatest secrecy. The odds of it being used at this hour of the day seemed slim. After taking Pilgrim to the underground stables and securing him there, Tristan went back to the body, hoisted it over his back, and walked to the room he had chosen.
Wigg, Faegan, Joshua, and Shailiha, Morganna in her arms, were sitting at his father’s long meeting table in midconversation when he walked in unannounced, the dead consul over his back. Upon seeing the dead man Shailiha immediately wrapped her arms tighter around her baby. The wizards were obviously surprised, but remained calm. They turned to look at each other’s reaction as the prince laid the body down on the couch along the wall.
Knowing he had a great deal of explaining to do, Tristan then turned back to the wizards. He started to speak, but Wigg quickly raised one of his hands, stopping him before he could start.
“We already know you were gone last night, and we also know the reason why,” he said in that casual, yet somehow all-knowing way of his. Shailiha set her jaw slightly in defiance. “But what we don’t know is why you have an obviously dead man in a consul’s robe with you.” Wigg stood and approached the body.