“What do you suggest?” a different female voice asked.
“Cleric researchers have nearly perfected the spell we need,” he answered. “You all know the one I mean.”
“The fabled nautilus effect?” another female voice asked. “That spell’s existence has been rumored for centuries. Do you mean to say that we are finally nearing its unraveling?”
“Yes,” the other answered. “It is supposedly linked to the rare gift of Consummate Recollection. If we are successful it will open entire new vistas about blood signature science. We should have it soon. I suggest we keep him alive and that Xanthus be its first recipient.”
One by one thePon Q’tar clerics announced their agreement. Without ceremony they left the room.
The azure bands binding Xanthus disappeared and he fell to the floor. Later he would awaken in the darkness of his cruel prison, only to again wonder why his masters would not believe him.
In three more days he would have his answer.
CHAPTER XLV
“BEWARE, OUR CHILD,”THEPON Q’TARCLERICS HADwarned. Their words had been haunting, urgent.“The Conclave fleet has survived the Necrophagians’ dying Forestallments. They approach the Citadel as we speak.”
Stunned by the unexpected warning, Serena had immediately gone to her knees.
“You must leave the Citadel at once to join Einar and Reznik at the Recluse,”the voices had gone on to say.“You will be safe there. Take the dead child’s body with you, and the Vagaries documents that you have prepared for travel. Just before leaving you must enact the four spells hidden in the bowels of the Citadel. Go quickly. Time grows short.”
Then the voices had vanished, leaving her no opportunity to answer.
Desperate with concern, Serena had immediately summoned the island’s most senior consul and issued urgent orders. The other consuls and Valrenkians had also been apprised of the imminent danger. As she ran across the inner ward, panic swept the island.
Docked at the Citadel’s underground pier, what few ships Serena still possessed were being frantically loaded with people, goods, and craft tools. Every Vagaries book, scroll, and parchment had been packed into crates days ago, awaiting the order to be moved. Today that frightening directive had come.
Serena reached one of the fortress porticoes and charged along its length until she found the old door. She called the craft and tore it open with such force that it nearly separated from its hinges. Hoping that she would be in time, she ran down the stairs.
When she reached the subterranean room, she quickly brought life to the wall sconces. As the room came alight, she stole precious seconds to reacquaint herself with what needed to be done. She rushed across the room to the far wall, touched it, then called the proper spell.
Soon the wall morphed into the black visage board she had seen before. Four separate formulas written in Old Eutracian hauntingly rose from its depths. Marshaling her concentration, she called on the first two spells simultaneously.
As she hoped, the wall’s left side started changing to show another panel. Then the familiar light appeared, illuminating the panel’s opposite side.
She was again looking deep into the Sea of Whispers. Its underwater beauty beckoned serenely, belying the frantic exodus taking place aboveground. Looking back at the visage board, she read and summoned the third spell.
Just like before, the shimmering seascape rushed toward her. Faster and faster it came, until it slowed to show the underwater cliff lying tens of leagues away. Dark and ominous, the centuries-old formation lay waiting to be called on.
Closing her eyes, Serena did her best to calm herself. When she felt sure, she opened her eyes, then summoned the fourth and final spell.
The final calculations, she thought. The ones the Heretics had said never to invoke without their blessing. Even she did not know what they would bring. She knew that she should not linger and watch. Even so, her curiosity demanded that she stay long enough to see what the unknown fourth spell would do.
Almost at once the giant underwater ledge started to shift. Rumbling mightily, it broke free from its resting place to go sliding forward, tumbling into the dark abyss lying before it. Then it was gone, leaving in its place nothing more than a gaping undersea cavern. The whirling debris slowly settled, and the view cleared again.
When it was over, she was sure that she had failed, and panic gripped her. Then she saw something miraculous start to happen. Entranced, she stepped closer to the panel.
A massive wave was being generated by the underwater landslide. Even though the seawater was transparent, the craft brought the wave’s form into such stark relief that she could discern it easily. Suddenly its length and depth seemed without limits as it extended west and started rising violently toward the surface. Only then did the Citadel queen fully understand what she had loosed on the world.
As the wave climbed from the seabed she started to turn away. But then she saw something from the corner of her eye, and she looked back toward the panel. In their infinite wisdom the Heretics had woven another facet into the spell.
Dark creatures rose from the cavern created by the cliff’s departure. Swirling higher and higher, they accompanied the terrible wave toward the ocean surface. As she watched them go, the Citadel queen smiled.
After causing the viewing panel to vanish, Serena ran back up the stairway to take her place aboard one of the departing ships.
AS TRAAX PULLED HIS DARK WINGS THROUGH THE SKY, HISthoughts turned to Duvessa. He was glad that she had come on the mission to take the Citadel.
But she had not been amused when he had insisted that she serve on a different vessel than theTammerland. Traax had his reasons for this decision-not the least of which was that he was always distracted when his betrothed was nearby. Duvessa was traveling aboard theCavalon, as were all the female warriors serving under her command. Her healers were divided equally between the ships, so that they could tend to the casualties that might be incurred during the quest.
Looking down at the ruby pin stubbornly attached to his body armor, he allowed himself a smile. She will be a wonderful wife, he thought. We will raise our children to be honorable and strong.
Traax was leading a scouting party east, high over the waves. Nine more warriors followed behind him in an arrowhead formation. It was their job to scout for enemy ships, and to try and sight the Citadel. Before sending them aloft, Tyranny had said that the fleet had traveled far enough to the east so that a scout patrol might sight the fortress.
But they had not found it, and they were nearing the point of no return for this patrol. Traax’s keen dead- reckoning skills told him that after no more than another half hour of flying, they would be forced to return to the ships. Trying to scan as much of the sea as possible, Tyranny had sent other scout patrols along northeasterly and southeasterly routes as well. Traax hoped that the others were having better luck. As he sensed a sudden change in wind direction, he veered a bit south to stay on course. The warriors behind him followed suit.
They had been lucky to survive the Necrophagians. That had been two days ago, and during that time theTammerland had been adequately repaired. With the acolytes rested, the fleet had again taken to the air and made good time. Traax guessed that without interference, what was once a thirty-day sail between continents in conventional frigates had been cut to a mere week in the Black Ships-even less if enough accompanying mystics could keep them in constant flight.
Just then he noticed something strange. For as far as he could see to the north and south, the sea’s horizon was rising violently into the air. A huge wave was forming, dwarfing even those that had been created by the Necrophagians’ dying Forestallments.
But this wave was different in more ways than its great size. Rising to at least one hundred meters, its tumbling leading edge was heading due west, directly for the fleet. There was no doubt that this wave was a ship-killer of the highest order.
