“Interesting,” he said simply.
Tristan took a moment to look around. It seemed that the fighting on the wall tops had all but ended. As he turned back toward Einar he placed the point of his blade against the consul’s bare chest, then removed his boot from his throat. Wigg stepped beside Tristan to look down at the traitor.
“Hello, Einar,” he said calmly. “It’s been a long time.”
“Not long enough, you bastard,” Einar answered. Despite his perilous situation, he gave Wigg a nasty smile.
“You might find Serena,” he said. “But you’ll never capture her. Her powers have become as strong as yours, First Wizard- or whatever grandiose title you’re giving yourself these days. Serena’s daughter has been reborn, and Serena will do anything to protect her.”
As the battle quieted, Tristan pulled Einar to his feet. But as he came up, the consul produced another dagger from inside the folds of his severed robe and thrust its blade straight toward Tristan’s neck. Shailiha gasped; even Wigg realized that there was no time to summon the craft.
As the silvery blade neared Tristan’s jugular, the prince slid leftward. Grasping Einar’s dagger hand, Tristan twisted it, then drew it in a large circle. Before he knew what was happening, he had thrown Einar headlong from the guard path.
Screaming wildly, the consul hit his head on the stone steps, breaking his neck. He landed on the inner ward’s tile floor with his head lying at an unnatural angle against one shoulder. Einar’s death had taken less than three seconds.
Shailiha looked at Tristan’s sword, then she searched her brother’s face like she was seeing both for the first time. “How…?” she asked.
“This isn’t the time to discuss it,” Tristan answered. “We need to go.” With Shailiha in the lead, they ran across the guard path, down the stone steps, and started across the inner ward.
Although the battle had quieted on the wall tops, the savage fighting in the Recluse proper forced Tristan to realize that his assault could still fail. Minions, envelopers, highlanders, and shrews still waged desperate war against each other, and as yet neither side sensed victory.
As they neared the palace steps, more than once Wigg was forced to kill ravaging shrews, and Tristan’s glowing blade cut two swooping envelopers from the air. On the way they came across Ox, Traax, and a group of warriors. TheJin’Sai quickly ordered them to follow along. Soon their party reached the marble steps, and they charged up into the Recluse.
The search for Serena had begun.
CHAPTER LXIX
UNDER TRISTAN’S ORDERS, FAEGAN, AEOLUS, AND JESSAMAYwere also searching for Serena as they cautiously prowled the Recluse’s second floor. Like everywhere else, the fighting there was a terrible mixture of smoke, magic, and sudden death.
Shrews and envelopers still controlled the Recluse, but the tide was slowly turning. Faegan had ordered a dozen Minion warriors to follow his group up the stairs. Not to be outdone, Rafe and twenty of his highlander riders had spurred their horses up the foyer staircase to follow along.
Blood smeared the second-floor walls, and the hallway floors were littered with bodies from both sides. Smashed furniture, torn paintings, and ripped draperies lay everywhere. Stained-glass windows were scattered in pieces around their broken window frames. Levitating his chair as he went, Faegan led the charge. The hallways were so wide that Aeolus, Jessamay, and several warriors could run alongside him.
Faegan soon saw an intersection up ahead. The area was huge. Five massively wide hallways joined ends there, creating a pentagonal sitting area. The center of the intersection was open and overlooked the marble floor below. A huge ceiling mirror hung directly above the intersection opening, reflecting a fountain sitting on the first floor. The fountain water shot high into the air, climbing up through the intersection opening before falling back. An intricately carved wooden railing protectively lined the intersection’s five angled sides. It was a beautiful part of the Recluse that incongruously belied the brutal ugliness taking place elsewhere.
As Faegan and his party neared the intersection they suddenly heard screeching sounds. Searching for prey, dozens of envelopers soared upward from the first floor to careen through the intersection’s open center. At once the sitting room became a riotous madhouse.
The Conclave mystics immediately raised their hands. Azure bolts struck many envelopers, killing them instantly. But soon the flow of envelopers became a constant stream, forcing Faegan to admit that his group could not overcome them. Just then the warriors started charging ahead to engage the envelopers.
“No!” Faegan shouted at the warriors. “There are too many of them for you to kill! You must come back!” As the warriors returned, Faegan looked anxiously at Aeolus and Jessamay.
“Unless I miss my guess, the beasts will gather for a coordinated assault!” he warned them. “Then we will act!”
As they waited and watched, it became clear that Faegan was right. Soon the intersection was full of envelopers, ominously circling the massive room. So many were gathering that Jessamay could imagine no way to survive their impending onslaught. While more soared up from the first floor to join the whirling maelstrom, she frantically looked at Faegan.
“Whatever you have in mind, you must do it soon!” she shouted.
Faegan shouted out a quick series of orders to Jessamay and Aeolus. It worked once, so it should work again, he reasoned. But we must perform our parts to perfection, or we’re all dead.
Envelopers finally stopped rushing up from the first floor. Knowing that they hadn’t a second to lose, Faegan gave the order, and the three mystics raised their arms.
Faegan acted first by sending an azure bolt toward the ceiling mirror. On hitting the mirror, the reflected beam streamed straight down into the water swirling in the massive fountain. Calling on the same spell that Wigg had used for the Recluse lake water, Faegan commanded the fountain water to keep its shape and lift into the air. The ring of water quickly levitated to the second floor, engulfing the surprised envelopers.
Twin beams shot from Aeolus’ and Jessamay’s hands. The beams hit the ring of water, and it started twinkling with an icy blue. Then it instantly froze solid, trapping all the envelopers in midflight.
As Aeolus and Jessamay lowered their hands, Rafe trotted his horse through the warrior ranks to stop beside the mystics. He had seen many amazing things this day, but this feat stunned him most of all.
“I beg the Afterlife…,” he breathed.
The huge, frozen ring imprisoning the envelopers revolved gently in the air. Rafe correctly guessed that it revolved because of the momentum it had gathered when the circling beasts first entered it. He turned his incredulous gaze toward Faegan.
“Are they dead?” he asked.
Faegan rubbed his chin. “I don’t know,” he answered. “If not, they soon will be. We will sustain the spell and let them freeze to death.”
“Reznik!” a male voice called out from the floor below. They heard boot heels running across marble.
“Einar is dead!” the unfamiliar voice shouted. “If you want to live, you must come with us!” As he heard the words, Faegan stiffened.
Reznik.
Without hesitation, Faegan flew his chair into the sitting room. Narrowly missing the hovering ring of ice, he launched over the railing and soared down toward the first floor.
Aeolus and Jessamay realized that they had no choice but to go, too. As they levitated over the railing they heard two thunderous explosions boom out. The Minions dutifully followed the mystics. Unable to go with them, Rafe and his riders charged their horses back down the hallway in search of more prey.
When Aeolus and Jessamay landed on the first floor they saw two dead consuls with their heads blown apart. One lay on the floor. The other hung on a wall, his chest impaled by an iron sconce bracket. Bits of the smashed globe the bracket had once held lay on the floor, beneath the dead consul’s dangling feet.
Faegan sat nearby. His arms were raised, and dark smoke drifted from his scorched fingertips. He faced a
