The magnificent First Mistress, he thought as he searched her beautiful face. He continued trying to guess her thoughts even though he knew it was impossible. She is also the estranged wife of Wigg, Lead Wizard of the Directorate. What a strange path this war has woven for us. Only the Afterlife knows how it will all end. If I ever see Wigg again, how might such a bizarre scene play out?
Saying nothing, Failee rose from the luxurious bed and walked naked to the other side of her war tent. As she went, he watched her graceful curves glint in the candlelight. Long dark hair streaked with silver hung far down her back, swishing gently to and fro and brushing her perfect skin.
There was no other sorceress on earth like her and there would never be again, his heart told him. Whatever she asked of him he would do. Not simply because Failee was his lover, but also because he had never known so strong and infallible a leader as she. Her talents in the craft were legendary, her ruthlessness on the battlefield uncompromising.
Sitting down at her dressing table, the naked First Mistress looked into the mirror, then took up a tortoiseshell brush and began pulling it through her lustrous hair. When she went silent like this, there was no use trying to prod her, Khristos knew. Like everything else in her life, conversing was strictly on her terms.
As he waited, Khristos sat up in bed and he looked around. Despite how many times he had visited the First Mistress’s war tent, it never ceased to amaze him. Had he not known better, he might have thought himself to be in the private bedchamber of some queen’s castle rather than amid a huge military camp deep in Hartwick Wood. As usual, wherever the Mistresses of the Coven ventured, every conceivable luxury had been provided for.
The tent was very large, its four long sides and pointed ceiling sturdily supported by gleaming golden poles rather than the customary wooden posts. The dense canvas was dyed dark green to match the forest that surrounded it. Ornately carved furniture and patterned rugs adorned the area, while dozens of candles and oil lamps gave off soft, reassuring light. One table held war charts, texts, and scrolls relating to the craft. Scented oils wafted on the evening air while outside the tent, the familiar sounds of soldiers at arms, neighing horses, and other camp activity sounded into the night.
Two handmaiden mystics armed with swords and daggers stood motionless near the tent entrance, ready to execute any order given them by their First Mistress. As so many times before, tonight they silently watched as Failee and Khristos performed their grasping brand of lovemaking. At first Khristos had found their cool gazes unnerving, but because of his carnal need for Failee, he soon adjusted. For a time he had wondered whether the women were there to protect their mistress should Khristos ever threaten her. Then he had laughed aloud when he realized that Failee would need no help to kill him should she wish him dead. It was widely rumored throughout Failee’s massive war machine that she could kill with a single thought, as could Succiu, Vona, and Zabarra, the other three lesser but equally devoted Mistresses of the Coven.
As Khristos looked into Failee’s mirror, his face reflected back to him alongside hers. The image was serene, like some idyllic portrait of a contented husband and wife lovingly set upon a fireplace mantel. But this image was false, for she bore no love for him. Nor was there any contentment in her, for her war had yet to be won.
Taking a deep breath, Khristos continued to gaze at his reflection. At forty Seasons of New Life he was already an accomplished wizard with few equals. Curly black hair adorned his head, and he was handsome and strong. He had taken many lovers over the course of his life, but none had compared to Failee. As her eyes finally met his, he looked at her with concern.
“You haven’t answered me,” he said softly. “What troubles you so?”
Faille put down her hairbrush as she continued to stare into his eyes from the depths of the mirror. Her answer would surprise him.
“Do you love me?” she asked simply, her usually commanding voice perhaps granting him a bit more compassion than usual.
Sensing that something had changed in her, Khristos sat up in the great bed. “You know that I do,” he answered, “even though you cannot return my love.”
“Then why do you stay with me?” she asked.
“Perhaps it is in the hope that your feelings will one day change,” he answered honestly. “Call me a fool if you will. But the heart wants what the heart wants.”
Failee rose from her dressing table and walked back to the bed. Sitting down beside him, she looked at him in that way only she could. No one in the world had ever made him feel so brave yet so timid, so important yet so small.
“If you really love me you will listen to what I have to say,” she said quietly. “What I tell you now is for your ears alone. Even Vona, Zabarra, and Succiu have not been informed.” Leaning closer, her hazel eyes bored their way even deeper into his. “Be sure that you wish to hear this, Khristos,” she added. “If I learn that you have betrayed my trust, I will kill you without reservation.”
Khristos took a sharp breath. She had always been stern with him and he had never objected to her dominance-on or off the battlefield. Even so, until now she had never threatened his life. After some careful consideration he finally decided.
“What is it?” he asked.
As though some sudden shame had poured over her, Failee turned her face away. Now it will come, he thought.
“We are losing this war,” she said softly.
Her words struck Khristos like a thunderbolt, the simple statement earthshaking. Had it come from anyone else he would not have believed it. Even when uttered by the First Mistress it was a difficult concept to fathom.
No one in their mighty army had the confidence of Failee. Not even the other three Coven mistresses were so sure of victory, and Khristos knew them well. Moreover, her forces had just scored a significant victory over part of the Vigors army near the plain called Heart Square, south of the capital. Soon after, her war scouts reported that the wizards had fled the battle to seek refuge in Tammerland.
Sensing that her great chance had finally come, Failee chased after them and laid siege to the capital. As her forces hammered at the outskirts of the city, Tammerland became a fortress and her people began to riot and starve. Rumors soon spread that many were demanding the wizards’ surrender. Anything, they said, was better than watching their children starve before their eyes. With the wizards cornered and losing control, it seemed that Eutracia would finally belong to the Coven.
But then something unsuspected happened. It was learned by her scouts that the wizards’ “retreat” to Tammerland had been a ruse. They and the bulk of their forces had circumvented Hartwick Wood to the west, then traveled northeast toward Tanglewood to regroup. Failee immediately understood that her army must meet the wizards’ forces soon, while they were still reeling from their defeat at Heart Square. Because the Vigors mystics were not in Tammerland, the city had no more strategic significance than did any other, and so she abandoned her siege.
Because she dared not risk an all-out assault in which her forces could be seen advancing for miles, she devised a plan to draw the Directorate’s army into the forests of Hartwick Wood. The dense forests lay not far from where the wizard army was camped, making the temptation even greater.
Khristos had never known how Failee planned to encircle and destroy the wizards’ forces once they entered the forest, but he did know that these woods were rife with magic-magic that perhaps only Failee and the other Coven members understood and could use. This was perhaps why the wily wizards had not taken the bait, or perhaps they simply did not wish to abandon a position from which they could see enemy forces advancing from leagues away. But for whatever reason, they did not come. And so Failee’s chance to trap and annihilate the Vigors worshippers, first in Tammerland and then in Hartwick Wood, never materialized. Even so, Khristos had never dreamed that those missed opportunities might somehow signal that the war was lost.
“What makes you say this?” he asked, still unable to believe. “Although the wizards refused to follow us into Hartwick Wood, we stunned them at Heart Square and inflicted many casualties on their ranks. They’re reeling, Failee, surely you see that! I say that now is the time to move our forces to Tanglewood and strike them with everything we have!”
She turned to look at him angrily. “Don’t you think I know that?” she growled. “A fool could see it! Under normal circumstances victory could still be ours. All I would need to do is to reach out and take it! But these are far from normal times, Khristos! My spies tell me that something has happened that will irrevocably alter the outcome of this war. I fear that this news will forever change the science of the craft. Unless I am wrong, victory has become impossible. But I will continue this fight nonetheless. It is what I was born to do, despite the massive
