attack the Citadel! It is time for you to die!”
Everyone aboard the Black Ships knew what would happen next. Using their massive arms of fog, the Eaters of the Dead would relentlessly pull the vessels under. Then they would greedily consume every living person and warrior, sucking them into their gaping maws. There would be no escape, no reprieve. Unless the three frantic mystics could devise a way to stop it, everyone would die here and now on this sea. Worse, the ramifications of the slaughter would resound through the centuries, perhaps sealing the Vigors’ fate forever.
The attack on the Citadel would not happen, and the Vagaries scroll would not be captured. Serena would continue to rule in Wulfgar’s stead, free to attempt her still-unknown mission with almost no resistance. And Tristan-should he one day return from the Tolenkas’ other side-would become nearly bereft of help to carry on his destiny. There would be no one save Abbey to train him, and as a partial adept she could teach him only so much. There would be almost no surviving Minion armies for him to command. The Redoubt consuls-although imprisoned-would remain in the grip of the Vagaries and present yet another disturbing threat. And perhaps worst of all, theJin’Saiou would not remain alive to carry on the fight for him, should he die.
Everythingrelied on their living through this, Wigg knew. It has all boiled down to this day, this hour, this second, adrift on a strange sea so far away from home. Trying desperately to devise an escape plan, he looked over at Faegan and Jessamay.
Faegan had the tiniest seed of an idea, but he knew that he couldn’t risk telling the others for fear the Necrophagians would hear him. What he needed most was time. Without consulting Wigg or Jessamay, he decided to take the risk.
“Before you take us, I ask one favor,” he shouted adamantly. Wigg and Jessamay gave him puzzled looks, but knew better than to ask.
“What is your favor, Vigors wizard?”the terrible voices demanded.
“We have deities to whom we pray,” Faegan lied. “We revere them, much like you do thePon Q’tar. Thousands of us are about die. Please allow us a short time to explain our failures to our fellows, and to ready our souls for the Afterlife. Grant us this small courtesy, and in return I promise that our people will go willingly into your cold embrace.”
For a time the waves’ swells slapped gently, almost reassuringly against the Black Ships’ hulls. Finally the Necrophagians broke their silence.
“Out of respect for the craft, we grant you a time in which to ready your souls,”the voices answered.“But the grace period will be short. Prepare to die, mortals.”
Beckoning Wigg and Jessamay to follow him, Faegan quickly soared up and over theTammerland ’s gunwale. The First Wizard and the sorceress landed beside him.
As everyone crowded around Faegan’s chair, he closed his eyes and placed his fingertips on either side of his head. Normally the Conclave members would have left him alone to sort out his thoughts, but this time they had no such luxury. Squatting down before his chair, Shailiha took his ancient hands into hers.
“Please tell us that you have a plan!” she whispered urgently.
Faegan opened his eyes, then looked up at Wigg and Jessamay. “If the Necrophagians’ hands of fog can hold the Black Ships in place then they must have genuine substance, regardless of their appearance,” he said, half to himself. “And if that is true, then they might not be beyond harm.” Faegan looked at Tyranny. “I assume that we carry barrels of pitch, with which to repair the Black Ships’ hulls?” he asked.
“Of course,” she answered. “Each ship carries several.”
“Good!” Faegan said. “But it is only theTammerland ’s that I need.” He then looked at Traax. The warrior quickly snapped to attention. “I want ten barrels of pitch taken to the end of the hallway that reaches the flooded meeting rooms,” he ordered. “The water is high belowdecks, making this a nearly impossible job. Even so, it must be done quickly. Once there, you’ve got to keep the barrels close until I arrive! Go!”
Traax immediately ran off to carry out his orders.
“What in the name of the Afterlife are you doing?” Wigg demanded. “Adding more weight to theTammerland ’s stern will only make things worse! We’re nearly going down as it is!”
“I know!” Faegan answered. “You must trust me!”
Beckoning everyone closer, he quickly outlined his plan. When he was finished he looked at Adrian.
“I know you’re exhausted!” he said. “We all are! Even so, your part in this is vital! If you fail, we all do!”
“I’ll do my best,” Adrian answered.
Wasting no time, Faegan looked at the waiting Minions and barked out a series of orders. Quick as a wink, one warrior scooped Adrian up in his arms like she weighed nothing. Then hundreds more got busy, sheathing their dreggans and running about theTammerland ’s deck in search of stout rope. They soon formed strict lines before the wizards and the sorceress, each one carrying a coiled section of rope slung over his or her shoulder. Finally satisfied, Faegan looked first into Wigg’s eyes, then Jessamay’s.
“Give me as much time as you can, then send Adrian over the side and the warriors into the air,” he said. “This will be a close-run thing!”
“Good luck,” Wigg said.
“And to you,” Faegan answered back. Leaving his chair behind, he soared toward the ship’s stern, then disappeared down the deck hatchway.
Clearly stunned by the audacity of Faegan’s plan, Shailiha and Tyranny turned to stare blankly at Wigg. “Can this work?” Shailiha breathed.
Wigg shook his head. “We’re about to find out,” he answered.
“Your time is up, mortals!”the Necrophagians suddenly screamed.“You must meet your deaths! There are many thousands of you aboard these vessels. For that reason your flagship will succumb first. Then we will take the others, one by one!”
Wigg snapped his head around to look at the warrior holding Adrian. “They’re about to sink us!” he shouted. “Go! And may the Afterlife protect you!”
Launching himself into the air, the warrior flew over the port gunwale, then down within meters of the sea. With Adrian in his arms he started flying along the length of the ship and toward theTammerland ’s stern as fast as his wings could take him.
Just then theTammerland lurched sickeningly. Wigg looked forward then aft to see that the huge hands were starting to pull her down. As the waterline rose up her sides, theTammerland rocked, and her hull groaned. With a great cracking sound, one mast split in two under the unprecedented stresses to come crashing down, killing dozens of warriors instantly. Wigg ran to the port gunwale and looked over the side. Soon the rising water would conquer the top deck. The stricken ship and all her passengers would be done for.
Suddenly everyone heard an explosion come from the stern, followed by another terrible howl from the Necrophagians. But this time the seaborne monsters were not wailing with anger, Wigg realized. They were screaming in agony. Everyone turned to look sternward, where the warrior carrying Adrian had flown.
Another massive explosion tore through the air, then another and another. Not one of them could see Adrian as she went about her work, but in their hearts they knew that the First Sister would be doing her utmost as she sent azure bolts tearing into the hand of fog that gripped the ship’s stern.
After being struck by one more blazing bolt, the Necrophagian arm was finally rent in two, releasing the ship’s stern from its torturous grip. As the huge hand tumbled into the sea, dark green blood spurted from the arm’s ragged stump. Looking over the side, Wigg saw Adrian and the warrior again soaring low over the waves, this time approaching theTammerland ’s bow.
Wigg and the others watched as Adrian, still in the warrior’s arms, started attacking the hand holding the bow. Three bolts came in rapid succession, each narrowly missing the ship’s hull. They tore into the hand of fog just below the wrist, severing it from the arm. As more green blood spurted from the fresh wound to land in the sea, the Necrophagians again screamed in agony. Her task about theTammerland done, Adrian immediately ordered her warrior to fly her to the other Black Ships, to start the same process and to shout out orders to the acolytes aboard them.
Knowing that theTammerland had been freed, Wigg spun around to look at the lines of waiting warriors. “Now!” he shouted.
At once the warriors started moving. Working swiftly, they tied their ropes to theTammerland ’s many mooring cleats, then took off, letting out line as they went. After tying the lines about their waists, they hovered and watched.
