Dripping seawater from bow to stern, she slowly climbed about twenty meters into the air.
Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay could see the strain on Adrian’s face. Walking closer, the First Wizard knew that the most difficult moment had again come.
“Good!” he said gently. Her concentration firmly locked on her work, Adrian did not look at him.
“Now,” Wigg said, “while maintaining the current vacuum, enlarge it and draw it down toward the ship’s bow.”
Straining to keep her focus, Adrian did as the wizard asked. This time the spell seemed to hold.
“Don’t be alarmed when she starts to move forward,” Wigg whispered.
No sooner had the wizard spoken than the great vessel started to glide over the waves. A joyous look overcame Adrian’s face.
“Good!” Wigg shouted. “But continue to concentrate! We can celebrate later!”
As the vessel gained speed, Jessamay and Faegan came nearer. The air rushing by them began teasing their hair and clothes. Smiling broadly, the crippled wizard slapped one hand down on the arm of his chair.
“I believe she’s got it!” he exclaimed. He gave Wigg a knowing wink. Wigg nodded, then looked back at Adrian.
“Since things are going so well, let’s try some basic maneuvers,” he said. He knew that Adrian was tiring, but pushing her would help strengthen her newfound talent.
During the next hour, Wigg showed Adrian how to change the ship’s speed, direction, and hull pitch by altering the vacuum’s intensity and shape. Now that she had the knack of it, Adrian was performing brilliantly. So much so that Wigg decided it was time for another test.
“While continuing to sustain the spells, walk to the bow and guide us home,” he ordered. “If you feel yourself tiring, shout out at once. We will quickly augment your power.”
Adrian slowly lowered her arms. She was beaming with pride. So far so good, she thought.
She walked to the bow, and steadied herself by grabbing part of the rigging. The other three mystics felt the huge ship start to carve a gentle turn in the air. Soon she was pointing straight toward the Eutracian coast.
Satisfied, Wigg walked over to the port gunwale. Jessamay came to join him. For several moments they didn’t speak, choosing instead to simply enjoy the wondrous sensation.
Jessamay smiled. “It’s been a long time since we stood on these decks, eh, First Wizard?” she asked. “Then again, in some ways it seems like only yesterday.”
Wigg turned to look at her. She expected to see a smile on his face, but only sadness showed.
“A long time indeed,” he answered. “It’s good to have you back.”
“You miss Celeste terribly, don’t you?” Jessamay asked.
Wigg looked back out to sea. “Yes,” he answered. “She was my only child. Perhaps the hardest part is that I knew her so briefly. She suddenly came into my life as a fully grown adult, only to age quickly, then die in my arms.”
Taking a deep breath, he paused for a moment as the sea wind continued to harass his robe. “A father isn’t supposed to outlive his child,” he added quietly.
Jessamay placed a hand over his. “I know,” she answered.
Wigg returned his gaze to Jessamay and took in her long, curly blond hair, blue eyes, and slim figure. She was pretty, in a wholesome, country-girl sort of way. Her simple green shirt, dark trousers, and black boots enhanced that impression. Three centuries earlier, Wigg had granted her the time enchantments. At the time she had been thirty-five Seasons of New Life. Even though she was nearly as old as he, she didn’t look it-a fact everyone had trouble remembering. But her power was formidable, and the wizards knew that her gifts and knowledge would soon prove invaluable.
Suddenly they heard Adrian cry out. With a frightened look on her face, she turned toward them. The Black Ship was slowly but inexorably gliding down toward the ocean.
“I can’t hold her!” Adrian shouted. “I’m too tired!”
Smiling, Wigg looked over at Jessamay. “Would you like to do the honors, or shall I?”
“I’ll take her,” Jessamay answered. “It has been three hundred years since I tried, but I used to be pretty good at this! Let’s see how much speed I can get out of this old bucket!”
Jessamay hurried to stand beside the acolyte. She said something to Adrian, and the tired First Sister gratefully started unraveling her spell. After summoning the spell’s lengthy calculations, Jessamay took over for her.
At once the great ship regained altitude, and her speed rose markedly. Gathering his robe against the strengthening wind, Wigg was suddenly reminded of how fast these amazing vessels could fly, given the proper mystic to captain them. With Jessamay at the helm they would be home in minutes.
Then other, more dangerous thoughts revisited him. Turning west, he looked out over the ocean again. His mind started unknowingly echoing some of the same concerns that had teased Serena, only two days before.
The enemy lies out there, he thought. Only the Afterlife knows what new horrors await us. Turning back to the east, the ancient wizard watched the Eutracian coast grow closer.
CHAPTER V
BRENT WAS DOING HIS BEST TO IMPALE A WORM ONTOhis fishing hook, just as his father had shown him. But the slimy little creature kept wiggling about, adding to the difficulty. Every time Brent tried, the worm somehow seemed to outsmart him. Slipping from his grip, it plopped into the Sippora River. Brent guessed that his father would not be pleased.
Instead, the lean, middle-aged man only smiled. Reaching into his bait box, he produced another worm and handed it to his son. He considered doing the job for him, but he wanted the boy to learn on his own.
Brent took the worm and started the frustrating process again. At seven Seasons of New Life, he found preparing the hook far less fun than dangling the line in the water and waiting for a fish to come along.
Finally succeeding, he beamed a smile up at his father, then lowered his line into the swift-moving Sippora. The river was fairly shallow here, making this a perfect place to find Eutracian trout.
Alfred watched Brent’s line go out and take the bait downstream. When it had traveled far enough, Alfred told his son to stop letting it go. The red-and-white cork attached to the line bobbed happily as it fought the current.
The late-afternoon sun slanted across the water; it would be time soon to return to their small village of Charningham. Many such farming hamlets bordered the Sippora. Lying well to the north, Charningham had been spared the wrath of the orb’s recent rampage. Rumor had it that Prince Tristan had somehow used the craft to heal the orb and restore the river’s vitality. Everyone had been grateful for the good news.
Alfred looked up from his line. He and Brent were sitting on wooden chairs, atop a stone bridge stretching over a curved neck in the river. A farmer by trade, Alfred owned much of the surrounding land. To the east, Charningham stretched out before them. Colorful wildflowers dotted the intervening fields for nearly as far as the eye could see.
Evening was fast approaching. Cicadas and tree frogs sang happily. The Sippora burbled noisily, adding its unique contribution to nature’s chorus. The river pulled on Alfred’s fishing line, gently reminding him to pay attention.
Looking down, he affectionately tousled Brent’s blond hair. They already had two trout in the quiver, and the last one was still flapping about. One more and they would go home. Annabelle could do miraculous things with trout. Tonight’s dinner might be late, but definitely worth the trouble.
That was when things suddenly changed.
The Sippora River impossibly stopped flowing. Alfred had often seen the river meander or rush, depending on the season. But this was different. A curious expression on his face, Brent looked up at his father.
Then the breeze abruptly quieted. So did the singing of the cicadas and tree frogs.
Everything suddenly carried a deathly stillness about it, like nature herself had somehow lost her never-ending vitality. Rising from his chair, Alfred looked downstream. His hands tightened around his fishing rod.
Dark and unmoving, a rider could be seen on the western bank. Dressed all in black, he simply waited there,
