Some guests instinctively tried to flee the room, but they found that the doors wouldn’t open. Tristan could only imagine that the Darkling had used the craft to lock them. Alarmed by the strange noises coming from the Great Hall, Minion sentries on the doors’ opposite sides called out in concern and started pounding on them. But Tristan understood that it didn’t matter how many warriors might barge into the room. If they threatened Xanthus, he would kill them all.
Without warning, the Darkling raised a skeletal hand. An azure bolt streaked from his palm to go flying straight toward Faegan.
The crippled wizard raised his arms in a try to ward it off, but he was too late. Xanthus’ bolt blew Faegan’s chair apart, throwing the wizard three meters into the air. Thrown rearward, Faegan crashed hard against Tristan’s empty chair, then finally landed atop the dais floor and didn’t move.
Wigg ran across the floor to his friend. Wasting no time, Jessamay, Abbey, Adrian, and Duvessa all hurried to the room’s other end, to see what might be done for the wounded guests.
His rage nearly overtaking him, Tristan glared angrily at the monster seated atop the black horse. He desperately wanted to go for his throwing knives, but he knew better than to try. Many surviving guests were cowering in the room’s corners. The air was smoky from Xanthus’ and Faegan’s bolts, and its charred scent harassed his senses. Pieces of Faegan’s chair lay scattered across the floor, some of them lying in pools of blood.
Looking up, Tristan saw that the remaining fliers had attached themselves to the ceiling corners in an attempt to keep from harm. His jaw hardened as he saw the blood from the dead guests’ mangled bodies approaching his boots.
Tristan removed his mask and dropped it to the floor. He looked back at Xanthus. The Darkling slowly lowered his arm. His glowing eyes confident, he smiled again.
“It is time for us to leave, Jin’Sai, ” he said. “Unless you want to see more of these puny humans die.”
“Is the crippled wizard dead?” Tristan demanded.
“I don’t know,” Xanthus answered. “Nor do I care. Your welfare is my only concern.”
Tristan looked back at Wigg. The First Wizard paused in his examination of Faegan to look at the prince and gravely shook his head.
“Give me a moment to consult with my Conclave,” he demanded.
“Very well,” Xanthus answered. “I grant you five of your world’s minutes.”
Taking Tyranny by the hand, Tristan walked her to the dais. Wigg was kneeling over Faegan’s body. The First Wizard’s eyes were closed. His ten fingertips lay on either side of Faegan’s head. The lower half of Faegan’s robe was burned away, showing his hideously mangled legs.
Everyone knew better than to speak during Wigg’s examination, so they stayed silent. Finally Wigg removed his fingers from Faegan’s skull and opened his eyes. Desperately anxious for an answer, the others huddled nearer.
Tristan looked frantically into the First Wizard’s eyes. “Is he-”
“No,” Wigg whispered, hoping that Xanthus wouldn’t hear him. “Faegan lives, but barely. Xanthus’ bolt struck Faegan’s chair, but part of the bolt’s energy was transferred to Faegan’s body. His brain and nervous system are severely shocked, and his heartbeat is wildly irregular. If I can get him to the Redoubt, Jessamay and I might be able to save him. If not, he will die.”
Tristan turned to glare at Xanthus, then looked back at Wigg. “Something doesn’t make sense,” he said.
“What is that?” Shailiha asked.
“It’s obvious that Xanthus has attainedK’Shari, ” Tristan answered. “It is said that those possessing that discipline never miss. And yet, his bolt struck Faegan’s chair, so-”
“Xanthus never intended to kill him,” Tyranny interrupted. “But if he really was sent here by the Heretics, why didn’t they order him to destroy us all, right here and now?”
Tristan shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “There is far more to this than meets the eye. If Xanthus or the Heretics wanted me dead, I would be.” He looked into Shailiha’s face.
“It seems that there is only one way to find out,” he added gravely.
Shailiha vehemently shook her head. “No!” she exclaimed. “You mustn’t! I won’t let you! No one knows what that monstrosity has planned for you!”
“The princess is right, my lord!” Traax insisted. “There are at least one hundred male and female warriors in this room, most still carrying their dreggans! With one word from you, they will all attack Xanthus at once!”
Tristan shook his head. “Don’t you see?” he asked. “If Faegan’s bolts couldn’t harm him, then how could a dreggan do so? Besides, if he is attacked he might vanish, and we could lose the Paragon forever. No, my friend- he would only kill more of us in the process. There has already been too much death.”
Tristan looked back at Wigg. “I’m right, aren’t I?” he asked.
Wigg sadly closed his eyes, then opened them again. When he did they were shiny with tears.
“Yes,” he answered. “No matter how many of us attack, I fear we cannot defeat this creature. If his gifts truly are of the Heretics, we would be foolish to try. Even combining my gifts with Jessamay’s and Adrian’s would likely do little good. Despite how much I fear for you, I can see no other course but to let you go.”
“Then I shall,” Tristan said. “I know that I might never return. Either way, these are my orders: First, Shailiha is now the Conclave leader and reigning sovereign. She is also lord of the Minions. Her word is law. Respect her orders as you would my own. Second, speed your plans to attack the Citadel. If it is at all possible, take Serena alive, and capture the Scroll of the Vagaries. It is my belief that Wulfgar’s widow has much to do with this.”
“Your time is up, Jin’Sai!” Xanthus suddenly cried out. “Must more people die because of your indecisiveness?”
Tristan turned to gaze into the monster’s glowing eyes. “Harm no one else!” he shouted. “I will go with you!”
Xanthus grinned, his teeth showing grotesquely in the hood’s recesses.
Reaching out, Shailiha took her twin brother into her arms. She held him close, like she was never going to let go. She placed her mouth to his ear.
“I will find you,” she whispered, her voice cracking, “just as you once had to find me. I swear it.”
“No!” he whispered back. “Promise me that you will attack the Citadel!” Nodding sadly, she finally released him.
Knowing there was little left to say, Tristan nodded at Wigg. Wigg swallowed hard, then nodded back.
Just as Tristan turned to go, Tyranny stepped nearer. She pulled him to her, then kissed him hard on the mouth. She slowly let him go. For the first time since meeting her, he could see that she was shaking.
Rather than seeming surprised, Tristan smiled gently. “I know,” he said quietly. “I always have.”
Stepping off the dais, he walked to where Xanthus sat astride his mount. He looked again into the dark hood.
“I demand to keep my weapons,” he said.
“Granted,” Xanthus answered. “As you have no doubt surmised, you cannot harm me with them.”
Tristan watched in dread as Xanthus raised a bony, glowing hand. Wondering whether the being was about to cause yet more mayhem and death, he held his breath. The answer surprised him. Another shimmering shape started to appear. It slowly coalesced to take a familiar form.
Shadow, Tristan’s black stallion, soon stood where the shimmering had once been. A recent gift from the Minion warriors of Parthalon, the horse danced about a bit as he took in his new surroundings. Shadow was wearing the shiny black tack the warriors had also given the prince. Tristan walked over, grasped the bridle, and rubbed the stallion’s face. Shadow slowly calmed.
After gazing around the disheveled room, Tristan threw himself up into the saddle. As he wheeled Shadow around, the stallion’s iron shoes clip-clopped on the marble floor. Tristan took a last look at the Conclave members, then walked Shadow up alongside Xanthus’ horse.
“It is time, Jin’Sai, ” Xanthus said. In a voice that was almost kind, he added, “We travel to a place beyond description. Obey my every word, and many of your long-held questions will be answered.”
Side by side, Tristan and Xanthus walked their horses toward the rear of the Great Hall. With every step they took, what living foliage still adorned the room withered, then died.
As they neared the far wall, both riders disappeared.
