protected the fore-buildings and keep, the Recluse’s innermost sanctuary. Unlike the dark and foreboding towers and outer ward areas, the architecture at the Recluse’s heart looked more refined.
Even Einar stared in awe. The Recluse had to be at least half again the size of the royal palace in Tammerland. And that didn’t include the huge secret areas belowground-the reason this place was so valuable to him. Einar couldn’t imagine how many different rooms and hallways there might be. From each corner turret, a flag carrying theJin’Sai ’s heraldry waved proudly.
The majestic structure had been partly destroyed when theJin’Sai defeated the Coven. Einar was forced to admit that the Minions had done a superb job of restoring the structure to its original glory. It was also said that this was where theJin’Sai had married Celeste, the First Wizard’s only child.
Thank you for rebuilding the Recluse, Einar thought. We will put it to good use.
Just then he saw an enveloper approaching. Fluttering its sides, it landed gently before the cone. Pushing two envelopers aside, Einar walked from the cone’s darkness and into the midday light.
The consul thought for a moment. “Is it safe to enter the Recluse?” he asked. The enveloper answered with a dip of its head.
“Good,” Einar said. “It is time to inspect our newest prize.”
Einar ordered the enveloper cone dismantled and watched as the litters were again loaded. Soon he, Reznik, and the others were winging their way toward the smoking Recluse. Soaring over the castle walls, even Einar was surprised by the immense carnage. As the litters settled in the outer ward, their passengers jumped to the ground.
Although the envelopers and shrews had devoured most of their victims, Minion bodies still littered the castle. Blood ran deep across the stone floors. The occasional dead shrew and enveloper could also be seen, but not in enough numbers to affect Einar’s plans. Some interior areas were afire.
Still rooting out survivors, angry shrews roamed the Recluse freely. Despite using the craft, Einar could barely see his envelopers. But he knew they would also be looking for stragglers.
Whenever a surviving warrior was found he was devoured on the spot. Minion screams occasionally filtered down the Recluse hallways to fade away in the spacious outer ward. Here and there a dead, white-winged Gallipolai could be seen among the other victims. Einar knew that more than three thousand warriors had guarded the Recluse. Most were dead. Any survivors would soon join them in the Afterlife.
Einar and Reznik suddenly heard some unusual grunting sounds then smelled an overpowering stench. Before they departed the Citadel, Serena had warned them about the shrews’ strange habits. But until seeing it for themselves, they hadn’t fully appreciated their grotesqueness.
Many satiated shrews had already started coughing up their victims’ bones and clothing. Given the shrews’ huge numbers, the regurgitated piles-not to mention those left by the envelopers-were forming all too quickly. Soon the Recluse would be littered with them. Unless they were cleared away, disease would follow. Einar didn’t hesitate. Summoning his remaining Valrenkians and consuls, he pointed to the growing piles.
“Use the craft to vanish those leavings!” he ordered. “Unload the craft tools and extinguish the fires! We need this place intact!”
As they set about their work, a consul approached. He bowed. His name was Actinius. A heavyset man in his mid-forties, he was Einar’s consular second-in-command.
“My lord,” he said. “By your order, a group of shrews are holding some Minion survivors at bay.”
“Good,” Einar answered. “The warriors will prove useful. Do you know where they are?”
The consul smiled. “One need only to follow the blood trail.”
“Show us,” Einar ordered.
Actinius immediately started leading them across the bloody outer ward, then toward the fore-buildings and keep. Walking up the majestic steps, they entered the grand foyer. Despite having been wrecked by the fighting, the room’s original beauty was apparent.
The foyer was three stories high. Overhead, skylights showed dark, passing clouds. More than one dozen variegated columns stretched their way to the ceiling, and the floor was a black-and-white checkerboard affair. Tables, sofas, and chairs-now damaged and smeared with blood-lay scattered about. Wrecked paintings and ripped tapestries hung drunkenly on the walls.
A curved staircase stood against the room’s far side. Its upper landing split off into two opposite directions, each leading to the various second-floor rooms. Minion dead also lay here, as did the odd shrew and enveloper. Walking across the floor, the three mystics did their best to avoid the blood.
As Actinius led them upstairs and down a hallway, Reznik suddenly understood why Einar had ordered that some Minions be spared. The Recluse was vast; finding the chambers they needed would certainly prove problematic. Once they were located, his collaborations with Einar could start in earnest. If they could finish their research in time, the world would be theirs to command.
As they approached the hallway’s end they heard snarling shrews. The consul stopped before an open doorway. Leading the others into the room, Einar looked around.
The once-elegant bedroom was a wreck. Like the Recluse’s foyer, this chamber was spacious and pleasant. A large four-poster bed stood against one wall, its sheets and bedcover ripped to shreds. Most of the furniture was overturned. Einar noticed that the windows’ stained glass had been destroyed, allowing the midday breeze to harass the patterned curtains. He turned to look at the captured warriors.
Two snarling shrews held four Minions at bay. Severely wounded, three were too weak to fight. Unable to rise, they sat on the floor, trying to stanch their wounds.
The exhausted fourth warrior gallantly protected his brothers. Waving his dreggan, he was doing his best to keep the shrews at bay. Einar noticed that the shrews had wisely trapped the Minions in one corner, preventing them from taking flight through the smashed windows.
Einar stepped closer. Looking at the warriors’ armor insignia, he was delighted to learn that each fighter held considerable rank. He was pleased, because they would probably have the information that he needed.
Einar boldly walked to stand between the warriors and the shrews. Without taking his gaze from the warriors, Einar ordered the shrews to back off. The snarling beasts retreated toward the door. The warrior protecting the others glared hatefully at Reznik, then Einar.
“What is your name?” Einar asked. His voice was controlled, almost courteous.
“I am Derrick,” the warrior answered. He raised his sword a bit higher. “Who areyou?” he demanded. He was so exhausted he could barely speak. “Why have you attacked us?”
“My identity is of no consequence to you,” Einar answered. “But your rank as a Minion officer matters greatly. The Recluse is vast-therefore I require a guide. Although it’s beautiful, most of this place means nothing to us. Our only reason for being here is to gain access to Failee’s research chambers.”
Smiling, Einar placed his hands into opposite sleeves of his robe. “You are going to show me those secret doorways,” he added quietly.
Laughing, Derrick lifted his sword point higher. “Never!” he shouted. “Because you command the shrews, it is clear that you serve the Vagaries. Serena is no doubt your queen. We would gladly die before helping you!”
Einar shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I was once one of the First Wizard’s most powerful consuls. My gifts have only grown since then. Allow me to show how vulnerable you are.”
Stretching forth one hand, Einar called the craft. To his great surprise, Derrick suddenly felt his dreggan handle become warm, then hot. Soon it was too scalding to hold, forcing him to drop it to the floor. He watched in awe as the dreggan melted at his feet, forming a pool of liquid steel and gold. Enraged, Derrick glared at the consul.
“Now then,” Einar said calmly. “You will escort us to the lower regions.”
The warrior remained defiant. “No,” he answered quietly.
“Then perhaps another object lesson will help,” Einar replied.
Pointing one hand toward the bleeding warriors, Einar again called the craft. An azure bolt loosed from his fingertips to go tearing across the room. Striking a wounded warrior in the forehead, the bolt blew his cranium apart. Blood, bone, and brain matter flew into the air and splattered against the rear wall. Einar lowered his hand.
“Do as I ask or your two remaining friends will suffer the same fate,” he warned.
Gritting his teeth, Derrick shook his head. “Do what you will,” he said. “Our answer remains the same.”
Frustrated by the warrior’s stubbornness, Einar again raised his hand. Then a thought came to him. There
