parents, you must. Our country needs a formal ruler.”
Before the princess could answer, Aeolus reached out and took one of her hands into his.
“TheJin’Sai is right,” he said. “We must accept the fact that although we can communicate with one another, the Conclave of the Vigors is probably forever divided, and our struggles have become separate and distinct. You are the reigningJin’Saiou and rightful heir to the throne. It is only right that you take power.”
Taking a deep breath, Shailiha looked at her brother. Although she could see and hear him as if he were sitting by her side, she missed him badly. She missed his impetuousness, his strength, his laughter, even his moodiness. But she also knew that he might never actually be with her again, and because of that, he was right. It was time for her to shoulder her responsibility.
“I accept,” she said to everyone. “And I thank you for your trust in me. But I think it only right that I not succeed to the throne until our struggle with the Viper Lord is finished. We must focus all of our attention on the calamity at hand. This is no time to prepare for a coronation.”
Wigg smiled broadly at her. “Spoken like a true queen,” he said. “Your parents would be proud.”
Mashiro reached out and touched Tristan on one arm. “With all due respect, Jin’Sai, we must end this viewing,” he proposed. “Both the Conclave and theInkai have urgent matters to attend to, and time is of the essence.”
Although Tristan did not want to see his sister go, he knew that theInkai elder was right. Looking back into Shailiha’s eyes, he told her so.
“I agree, brother,” she said. “Please stay safe, and may your coming battle see a victory for the Vigors.”
“And yours,” Tristan said.
With that, Mashiro dismantled the spell, and the image vanished.
After taking the medallion into his hand, Tristan held it thoughtfully for several moments before again placing its chain around his neck.
“Now, then,” Mashiro said soberly. “It is time.”
Tristan and the others knew full well what Mashiro meant. TheInkai elder would now imbue Tristan’s blood with Shashida’s versions of the banned forestallments and the language fluency forestallments. Each time before, the process had been excruciating and this time would likely be worse. Even so, there was no other choice, no going back.
“I understand,” Tristan said. “Where shall it be done?”
“The venue is immaterial,” Mashiro answered. “This meeting chamber is as good a place as any. The process will take some time and you must remain strong. If you survive the ordeal, you and Vespasian will be the two most powerful mystics in the world. You will not be as well trained in the craft as he, but your gifts of manipulating nature will be equally strong. Aside from Vespasian’s ability to rain fire as described by Julia, we cannot know the natures of his other banned gifts, or how many he possesses. But thePon Q’tar will not know that of yours, either. Are you still sure that you wish to do this thing?”
“Yes,” Tristan answered simply. “It has to be.”
“Very well,” Mashiro replied. “Because of the exquisite pain that you will suffer, Hoshi will place a warp about you to keep you from thrashing. We apologize for such crudeness, but it is needed to keep you from harming yourself.”
Mashiro nodded at Hoshi. She in turn looked at Tristan with sad eyes.
“Forgive me,” she said quietly.
At once Tristan felt himself engulfed in a warp the likes of which he had never experienced. Although it was not painful, his immobilization was perfect, unrelenting. The only movements allowed him were his quickening breath and the blinking of his eyes. Nervous perspiration started on his brow in anticipation of the horror to come.
Out of respect, Mashiro cast a sad look at Wigg, the man who had for so long been Tristan’s best friend and mentor. Although he too was saddened by what was about to happen, the First Wizard knew that there was no other choice if Shashida and the Vigors were to survive Vespasian’s onslaught. Closing his eyes, he gave Mashiro a reluctant nod.
At once a terrible fire poured through Tristan’s bloodstream. He desperately needed to move, to scream, to cry out and beg that it stop. But he couldn’t. He could only endure it. On and on the pain went, coursing through his system like a raging river. Sweat poured into his eyes, his heart raced, his soul shrieked in torment. As the process continued unabated, some were forced to turn their heads, while others brushed away tears that only kept returning.
In the end, the torturous process would take five full hours.
CHAPTER XLV
TWO DAYS AFTER DESTROYING THE CITY OF KAGOYA, Vespasian triumphantly stood in the Shashidan valley through which ran the mighty Alarik River. It was midday, the weather clear and bright. As he looked out across the amazing scene, the emperor couldn’t have been more pleased.
His destruction of Kagoya had been total. Despite the lengthy warnings that he had received from Gracchus, even he had been astonished by his new gifts. As Gracchus said, choosing a particular forestallment and then summoning its power had been simple things. Controlling it as it went about its awful work and then causing it to vanish on command had been far more difficult, however. With experience, your ability to control your new gifts will only grow, Gracchus had told him. Like some highly addictive drug, Vespasian’s new gifts beckoned tantalizingly, and he hungered to taste them again. With his day terrors finally gone and the banned forestallments waiting to be summoned, he had never felt so alive.
On seeing their emperor destroy Kagoya, his legionnaires had acquired an even greater reverence for him. They now considered Vespasian a demigod, his awesome command of the craft unlimited in its scope and fury. The final victory over Kagoya had fully redeemed the scheming lead cleric in the emperor’s eyes, and everyone believed that the total dominance of the Vagaries would not be long in coming.
Aside from his supply lines that stretched ever northward, Vespasian’s entire war machine had been moved to this valley by way of hundreds of azure portals. The Shashidan resistance had been stronger here, and many legionnaires had died.
Even so, the campaign had progressed too easily, Vespasian thought. His massive war machine’s string of successes continued to worry him and his advisors. It was almost as if the Shashidanswanted them to succeed, but the Rustannicans were at a complete loss as to why this might be the case. What was done was done, Vespasian realized, and there would be no turning back until their mission was complete. To stop the campaign now that the gold deposits had been taken would be absurd, even though the newly empowered warlord and every advisor in his service feared that a Shashidan trap was in the making. They had come for the gold, and they would stay in this place and take it.
Trying to cast off his concerns, Vespasian turned to admire the lush, beautiful valley and the majestic river that flowed through it. This area was one of the most awe-inspiring that he had ever seen, not to mention the richest. In the Rustannican dialect it was called Vallesis Majestatis, or the Valley of Majesty. The Shashidans called it Tani Kinkiro, the Valley of Gold. Vespasian found both names apt.
Running due north and south for more than one hundred leagues, at the valley’s heart laid the mighty Alarik River, fed by its seemingly endless branches. Legend said that hundreds of centuries were needed for the river to carve its way south through the imposing granite peaks and to divide them into two separate mountain ranges. On leaving the valley the river flowed south toward the broad, flat plains that would later give rise to Ryoto, the capital of Shashida.
The opposing mountainsides rose leagues into the air, their tops so high that they lay perpetually covered with snow and ice. The craggy slopes had long ago become laden with pine trees, their green needles casting a clean scent into the air. Lush pastures and knolls lay on either side of the Alarik, their gentle swells extending from the riverbanks to where the mountainsides began rising toward the sky. Fish filled the Alarik and its many branches, and wildlife of every kind flourished amid the serene protection granted by the opposing mountain ranges.
To everyone’s surprise, the phrase “Shashidan gold mines” had been a misnomer. On reaching the Vallesis
