The Fifth Sorceress, page 24
Tristan placed the chain and medallion around his neck, and he looked down at the jewelry as it twinkled against the black leather of his vest.
‘Thank you, Mother,’ he said, his voice cracking slightly. ‘I shall wear it always, no matter where my life leads me.’ Turning to his sister, he could see tears in her eyes. ‘And thank you, Shailiha,’ he said softly. ‘For everything.’
Shailiha cast him a knowing smile through her tears.
Even though he does not realize the full impact of what he just said, I could never have asked for more, Morganna thought. Wear it well, my son, with or without us.
She stood and beckoned him toward her. Tristan immediately rose and embraced his mother, but as he did so she made sure that neither of her children could see the lone tear that had begun to wend its way down her cheek.
The many oil sconces and chandeliers burned brightly in the ornate meeting room, and the hour was late. The heavy, self-imposed burden of complete silence reigned over everything as the many men sat there in their dark blue robes, waiting for their revered teachers. It was rare for the Directorate to call such an impromptu meeting, especially at this hour of the night, and every one of the men in the rather stuffy, ornate room knew it. Something was afoot.
Before being allowed entry to the room each of them had been made to stand before the Lead Wizard himself and raise the sleeve of his robe, showing Wigg the tattoo of the Paragon upon his upper right arm. They had also been asked to perform some small use of the craft, in order to prove that they were in fact endowed and truly belonged here. Therefore the process of admittance to the meeting had taken hours to perform. Such precautions were a rarity, indeed.
There were several hundred of them in attendance, and although they were only a fraction of their total numbers they nonetheless represented the best of their kind. These hand-chosen men were the finest, the most highly trained of their brotherhood, other than the wizards of the Directorate.
The meeting room they had been summoned to was sumptuous, and the delicate, light blue Ephyran marble of the walls, ceiling, and floor belied the serious, questioning attitude of those who had been ordered to attend. This room was in the farthest reaches of the Redoubt and was used only very rarely, when absolute security was required. The scent of anticipation swirled heavily upon the air.
Finally and without fanfare, the Directorate of Wizards entered the room from a door at the end of the hall and, all except for Wigg, walked to a row of high-backed chairs upon the raised dais at one end of the room. Wigg, Tretiak, Killius, Maaddar, Egloff, and Slike – the ancient heroes of the Sorceresses’ War. Each of them wearing his gray robe of office and his braided wizard’s tail falling down the center of his back, they stared politely out at the crowd. One by one they took their chairs, except for Wigg. The Lead Wizard remained standing and turned to address the group. The room somehow became even more still as Wigg looked out upon their numbers, rather unsure of how to begin. We have never asked such a thing of them before, the Lead Wizard thought. We have never asked them to kill. And I am not sure myself how to ask them to perform the tasks that only they are now capable of accomplishing.
‘Consuls of the Redoubt,’ Wigg began, raising his voice so that all could hear. ‘Time is short; therefore I shall be brief. It is my unfortunate task to inform you all that our nation is being plagued by creatures the likes of which we have not seen for hundreds of years. They have already killed several of the Royal Guard, and are no doubt responsible for the mysterious disappearances of several of your brothers over the course of the last few months. Since those of you here are without the aid of time enchantments, you have probably never seen the beings of which I now speak. But rest assured they do once again exist, apparently roaming the countryside at will, and the Directorate is asking your help to protect the citizenry from them.’
The consuls turned to one another with puzzled looks upon their faces, but none of them spoke as they waited respectfully for the Lead Wizard to resume his address.
‘The creatures of which I speak are the blood stalker, which seeks out and destroys males of endowed blood, and the screaming harpy, the giant bird of prey with the head of a woman. We believe that an unknown disturbance in the natural flow of the craft has reactivated some of these beings, and we now ask your help in destroying them.’ It pained the old wizard to lie to these brothers of endowed blood who sat so respectfully before him. But he had no choice.
‘As you know, the coronation of the prince is almost upon us. It is for this reason that we are unable to use the Royal Guard in this endeavor, since their attendance at the palace shall be needed for matters of security, including controlling the crowd. Due to the unsurpassed popularity of both the prince and the king, the attendance is expected to exceed all known records. Under normal circumstances the Directorate itself would have helped guide you in this charge, but we, too, must remain at the palace, for the same reasons as the Guard.
‘Those of you who were selected to be here this night were chosen because of your long years of service and your relatively higher abilities in the craft,’ he continued. ‘I charge each of you to select eleven others, taken from members not present, and to form small companies of a dozen each. Each of these squads is to go out across the nation in search of these monsters, to destroy them wherever they are found.’
Wigg turned around slightly and gestured to the other wizards seated behind him. ‘The Directorate will give you detailed training in how best to kill these nightmares, but let me say this first: the blood stalker can only be killed by crushing its skull. And the yellow brain matter that flows from it is fatal. Under no circumstances are you to allow it to touch your skin. The harpy, on the other hand, has no such danger in its bodily fluids but is infinitely stronger, larger, and therefore more difficult to kill. The best methods for its destruction are fire or the use of a wizard’s warp, crushing it to death.’ He paused, thinking of the warp he had used to kill the harpy.
‘And lastly,’ he said more slowly, ‘know that many of you in this room may not be coming back, that you may quite possibly perish in these attempts. We have no idea how many of these beings are loose in the nation, but we are reasonably sure that there are far more than the two we have already dispatched.’ He paused, lowering his head slightly. ‘May the Afterlife grant you the wisdom to prevail.’
And may all of us, each and every one, survive the events of the next few days.
Chapter Seven
Kluge shuddered, partly out of sexual need and partly out of emotional longing as she slowly licked the unusually tender area high up on one of his wings, the small spot at the top that she knew from experience was a Minion area of sexual pleasure. They had been at sea for fourteen days now, and she had said little about their mission, other than occasionally making sure they were on course for the proper area of the Eutracian coast and verifying that all the other warships were dutifully following. Even today, when she had casually ordered him to her stateroom, and she had alluded to no more than a discussion of their mission.
Naked, Succiu slid up closer behind him as he sat on the edge of the large bed. She rather painfully bit the side of his neck as she hungrily watched his sexual excitement come to fruition.
‘I assume, Mistress, that my presence here involves more than simply receiving my orders for tomorrow,’ he said, trying to contain both his sarcasm and his intense longing for the second mistress. He had heard stories of those who had not pleased her, and despite how much he enjoyed these times with her, he had no desire to join the ranks of lesser men who had not risen to the challenge. He would do as he was told.
She threw a shock of her long, silken hair back over one shoulder and reached languidly around him, her long, painted nails teasing his groin.
‘You assume correctly, Commander,’ she said coyly. ‘It has been too long since we have joined, and despite our closeness during the last fourteen days, until now I had never been able to find the right moment. As you are aware, the First Mistress does not know of the times that we share together in this way, and would indeed not be pleased to learn of it. But, then again, she does not need to know, does she?’
Kluge shook his head slightly. Both he and the second mistress were well aware of the fact that when Failee had first perfected the Minions, the First Mistress had forbidden any such contact between her creations and the Coven, or the Minions and the native women of Parthalon, for that matter. All mating must be strictly for the purposes of siring more warriors, she had said. And it is exactly like Succiu to rebel against her, Kluge thought to himself. Especially when it come to her needs of the flesh. The first few times she had ordered him to lie with her he had feared for his life and had been barely able to perform. But, with the passage of time, not only was he at least partially able to satisfy her amazing hungers but he had come to want her heart, as well.
‘You continue to dare to defy Failee in this way, even now, at this most important of times?’ Kluge asked. He knew that Succiu was deadly, and that he must obey her orders to the letter, whatever they may be. But he also had no desire to have the First Mistress learn of their trysts and punish him with death, simply for submitting to the beauty before him.
‘Failee is my problem, not yours,’ she said dismissively.
Slowly uncoiling her long legs from beneath her, she moved away from him and sat up on the bed, holding her knees in front of her. For a brief moment something in her countenance had changed – become even more conspiratorial. It was almost as if Succiu regarded Failee as something of a challenge, and a welcome one at that.
‘The First Mistress long ago abandoned her earthly pleasures and turned her talents solely toward the mastery of a certain aspect of the craft,’ she continued coyly. She began to circle the inside of his ear maddeningly with her tongue. ‘But I, the second mistress, refuse to be bound by her constraints in this regard,’ Succiu continued. ‘Besides, aren’t you pleased?’
‘Of course, Mistress,’ he answered automatically.
‘But business before pleasure. Turn around and face me,’ she ordered.
He turned around on the black silk sheets and found himself gazing directly into the dark, almond eyes. She was looking at him with dead seriousness, the playfulness now completely gone.
‘Tomorrow is a very special day,’ she said. ‘We shall have been at sea for fifteen days with favorable winds at our backs, and so we must prepare. Listen carefully, for my orders are very explicit, and must be followed to the letter. If tomorrow does not proceed exactly as planned, you will have no need to worry about your attack, for we will all be dead and no trace of us, not even of our armada, will be found.’
Kluge immediately understood the reference: the Sea of Whispers. The ocean that could never be crossed. His knowledge of it was limited only to what he had heard from the Parthalonian nationals, and the brief mention of it by Failee during his meeting with the Coven.
‘What I am about to tell you is for your ears only, and even then it will not be complete,’ Succiu began seriously. ‘Much of what will happen tomorrow to ensure our crossing will become apparent to you then. In addition, should any of your officers learn the nature of tomorrow’s events beforehand it might prove unsettling to them, and there is no need of that.’ She paused, looking into his eyes, obviously expecting him to agree.
‘I understand, Mistress,’ he said purposefully.
‘Good,’ she said without emotion. ‘Besides, a full explanation of tomorrow could take hours, and I have other plans for the use of our evening together.’ Her tongue licked her upper lip while her eyes grazed over his body. It was not love for him that she was displaying, he knew, but simply a need that she would order him to fulfill. As a master would command a slave, he thought. And despite the fact she knows how much I love her, she will let me occasionally possess her body but never her heart, for the blood that runs through my veins is not endowed.
She returned to her more businesslike demeanor. ‘Tomorrow at dawn, forty dead Parthalonian slaves will be brought to our vessel. One each from forty of our warships. They will be brought to us in skiffs by the captains of these vessels, and are to be laid naked in four rows upon the deck of this command ship.’ She spoke as casually as if she were discussing what the weather might be like tomorrow.
Kluge stared at her, speechless. Forty dead slaves to be brought here?His mind reeled. He couldn’t possibly imagine the purpose of such a thing.
‘Just before dawn, each one of the dead slaves will have been murdered in their sleep personally by the captain of each of the forty vessels, then stripped naked. The slaves were handpicked and put on board each of the ships by Failee herself before we sailed, and each of the warship captains were informed of their individual orders long ago. One of your tasks tomorrow will be to retain order among your troops and officers when the bodies are brought aboard. Our survival depends upon it.’
The killing of captive slaves that were purposely brought upon a Minion mission? His brain fairly screamed the bizarre nature of it at him. Why bring them at all, if only to kill them now, halfway across this mysterious sea? And Minion warriors had certainly seen their share of dead slaves. Succiu knew that. So why would there be difficulty in maintaining order? Too stupefied to respond, he just sat there in abject disbelief of what he was hearing.
Regardless of the fact that she could sense the incomprehension and confusion in his eyes, her gaze became no more compassionate as she went on with her instructions.
‘After the events of tomorrow, the reasons for these actions shall be clear,’ she said. ‘Actually, I am more than certain that you will agree with me when I say that there was absolutely no other choice. At dawn I want you standing next to me on deck, and I will do my best to explain as events unfold. The only thing I shall tell you now is that tomorrow you will become one of the very few who understand why it is called the Sea of Whispers.’
For the first time in his life, he thought he could sense fear in her voice.
She got out of bed, walked naked to the ornate sideboard beneath the stained-glass windows of her cabin, and poured herself a glass of wine. She turned to him and raised the bottle questioningly, but he shook his head. Shrugging her shoulders, she came back up behind him in the great bed and took a sip.
‘Assuming we survive tomorrow and we have crossed this horrible sea, I shall order that we drop our sails and congregate approximately one and a half day’s sail from the Eutracian coast,’ she continued, apparently now lost in her thoughts. ‘That will be the day of the abdication ceremony. The closest Eutracian soil will then be a peninsula called Far Point. It is an area that is surrounded by dangerous reefs and therefore typically not used by Eutracian fishermen. Thus, it is highly unlikely that our fleet will be seen, especially under the coming cover of darkness. There are to be absolutely no lanterns lit. During the course of that day, you are to arm your warriors and give each of your officers their attack orders. Leave nothing out, especially the importance of taking Shailiha alive, and the capture of the Paragon. It will then be their individual responsibilities to return to their ships and inform their respective troops of their orders. That same afternoon, the Minions will fly for the coast, which should take no more than five or six hours. Six of your strongest are to carry a specially designed litter in which you and I will be transported.
‘We shall fly under my direction directly to the woodlands surrounding the palace at Tammerland, just out of sight of the Royal Guard that shall be stationed in and around the palace for security during the abdication ceremony,’ she continued. ‘By the time we reach the palace, night will already have fallen, but the abdication ceremony will not yet have begun. At my order, you will then begin your attack. As you know, the precise timing of the attack is crucial – that is, the moment the Paragon has been immersed in the water of the chalice. Our ally at the Eutracian court shall already be inside attending the ceremony, and will inform me mentally of the precise moment.’
Kluge thought of the mind-link he had witnessed between Failee and their ally at the Eutracian court. Apparently more than one of the Coven was trained in this particular talent.
‘After the battle,’ she continued, ‘we will light a series of signal fires in a nearby coastal area called the Cavalon Delta, and our captains will approach the coast and moor there.’ She took another sip of the wine, and then set the glass upon her bed stand. She raised her dark eyes up to him again. ‘But first, we must survive tomorrow.’
Her eyes seemed to glaze over briefly, and Kluge could see raw hunger once again begin to build there. But it was not sexual desire. It was the intense need to return to her homeland, bringing as much death as possible with her. He very much doubted the wisdom of asking her any questions just now, despite the fact that he had so many.
Kluge then watched as her expression began to evolve into a different, more erotic, and even more commanding hunger. She picked up the wineglass and walked around the edge of the huge bed, kneeling down before him.
‘Poor Kluge,’ she whispered teasingly, as she smiled up at his dark face. ‘I know how you feel about me, and how you would like to possess me in a way other than simply the physical, but it’s quite hopeless, don’t you see?’ She took another sip of the wine, clearly enjoying the opportunity not only to use his body, but also to insult his mind. ‘Your blood simply does not entice me the way endowed blood does. But that is not to say you are without your uses.’
Endowed blood, Kluge thought. That which I do not have. His mind went back in time to the unique, hungry look in Succiu’s eyes when she had so carefully observed the prince of Eutracia during the Coven’s meeting in the palace. He and his endowed blood shall die slowly, Kluge promised himself. Much more slowly than the others.
He closed his eyes as Succiu poured the warm, red wine onto his abdomen and hungrily began to lick it from his groin.
