Vespasian called out for the Games Master. The nervous man was at the emperor’s side in an instant.
“As usual, your highness no doubt wishes the dead bodies to be dragged away through the Gates of Death?” he asked.
Thinking for a moment, Vespasian sat back on his ivory throne. “No,” he answered. “Let us start another new tradition this day. Bring the next one hundred skeens in, but do not arm them. Have centurions bind them to the corpses and body parts littering the sand-including whatever might be left of their beloved general. For the next fifteen days we will watch them starve to death as they are forced to lie there in the heat, bound tightly to their dead, rotting comrades. As that is taking place, send some centurions into the arena to deal with the Heart Wolf. That should provide some interim amusement for the crowd.”
“As you wish, Highness,” the Games Master answered. “And if I may say so, your idea about binding the living to the dead is an excellent one. It is a fine new tradition, indeed.” Without further ado, he hurried away to tend to his orders.
Suddenly pensive, Vespasian watched as the next one hundred skeens were shoved into the arena. The centurions roughly pushed them to the sand and carried out their orders, first binding the skeens hand and foot and then lashing them to their fallen comrades.
Sensing Vespasian’s mood, Persephone gave him a worried glance. “What is it, my love?” she asked. “All in all, the day goes well.”
Vespasian turned and looked into her eyes. “It is not this day that bothers me,” he answered cryptically, “but all the days to follow.”
He looked down at the Heart Wolf greedily feeding on what was left of the Shashidan general. Blades drawn, several centurions were cautiously approaching the beast. As Vespasian watched the wolf rip and tear at the mutilated body, admiration showed in his eyes.
“That man died well,” he mused. “Part of me wishes that he had accepted my offer of freedom. When my time comes, I hope I can meet death with the same courage that he displayed. They are a tough and determined lot, these Shashidan Vigors worshippers. Often of late, in my nightmares I see us losing this war. Then I awaken, shaking and bathed in a cold sweat.”
“I know, my love,” Persephone answered quietly. “But we will prevail, I promise you.”
The crowd cheered again as one hundred more armed skeens were prodded into the arena to face the vicious Blood Stalkers, and the carnage resumed. For a moment Persephone took her gaze from the games and again looked at her husband’s profile.
It will be a long day and an even longer night, she thought. But most interesting of all will be the meeting that follows the games. It seems that the Pon Q’tarhave some explaining to do.
CHAPTER II
AS HE WALKED THROUGH THE PALACE, PRINCE TRISTAN of the House of Galland heard his boot heels echo through the largely deserted corridor. It was well after midnight and sleep had not come. Tiring of tossing and turning, he had finally risen from his bed.
He had quickly donned his familiar black trousers, black leather vest, and knee boots. He then arranged his dreggan, baldric, and quiver of throwing knives over his right shoulder. After running his hands through his salt- and-pepper hair, he left his quarters.
Feeling his stomach growl, he entertained the notion of going to the palace kitchens to get something to eat. As was often the case, earlier tonight the Conclave had taken supper together in one of the palace’s elaborate dining rooms. The meal had been tasty enough, provided one liked lamb. But he didn’t, and he had eaten little. His twin sister Shailiha had never cared for it either.
He hoped that eating something would ease his restlessness, but he knew that it wouldn’t cure it. Although the Vagaries finally seemed to have been defeated in Eutracia and Parthalon, the events of his recent visits to the other side of the Tolenka Mountains still lay heavily on his mind. In many ways his amazing adventures seemed to be no more than a series of strange, unbelievable dreams. There had been a time when he would have thought anyone who tried to tell him such tales stark raving mad.
But these things hadn’t happened to someone else; they had happened tohim. And as theJin’Sai and leader of the Conclave of Vigors, it was his responsibility to see that the mission entrusted to him by the late Envoys of Crysenium was fulfilled.
As she died in Tristan’s arms, the Envoy named Miriam had ordered Tristan and his Conclave to do the unimaginable. She said that they must somehow find a way over the Tolenka Mountains and into Rustannica-the menacing nation that was home to thePon Q’tar Vagaries clerics. Once there, Tristan and his followers were to try to contact the mysterious League of Whispers.
The League was supposedly the secret rebel force of Vigors followers that was trying to unseat thePon Q’tar and bring down the warlike nation that the Vagaries clerics had created. Not unlike the Mistresses of the Coven, thePon Q’tar had aeons earlier started a vicious civil war, attracting to their cause many mystics who also believed that the Vagaries should rule as the sole arm of the craft.
When they had secretly gathered enough followers, thePon Q’tar had declared a huge part of Shashida to be independent, and named the new nation Rustannica. Then they trained their amazing gifts on the long Shashidan-Rustannican border. Using the craft, thePon Q’tar enchanted the border area to create a buffer against a Shashidan invasion. Normally beautiful and serene, the newly formed Borderlands could be morphed at will by thePon Q’tar into various types of desolate, unstable wasteland.
With the secession of Rustannica, the civil disturbance that had spawned her soon grew into a monstrous war between the two nations. It came to be known as the War of Attrition, and it had been going on ever since. Untold millions from each side had perished.
With her dying breaths, Miriam had told Tristan that it was his and Shailiha’s shared destiny to secure a lasting peace between Rustannica and Shashida. But Miriam had sternly warned Tristan that in doing so, he and Shailiha must take care to ensure the continued existence of both sides of the craft. For unlike thePon Q’tar, the Shashidan mystics believed that if either side of the craft should perish, so would the other. They also believed that if the world was deprived of all magic, it would plunge into an eternal darkness from which it would never emerge.
Trying to focus on the positive, Tristan took stock of his blessings. So far, he and his Conclave had been victorious, though at a great price. East of the Tolenkas, several savage challenges to the Vigors had been met and defeated. The Sorceresses of the Coven, Tristan’s son Nicholas, and Wulfgar-his and Shailiha’s half brother- had all tried in their own ways to destroy the Vigors in Eutracia and Parthalon. Most recently, the Conclave had thwarted Serena, Wulfgar’s wife, who had vowed to carry on her husband’s legacy. Tristan knew that some of those vanquished foes had been counseled and aided by thePon Q’tar clerics.
But the azure pass that had once allowed travel through the Tolenka mountain range was no more. It had been sealed forever by thePon Q’tar, after the clerics learned about the Envoys and how they were helping Tristan to understand and fulfill his destiny. How he wished that those wise mystics were still alive, so that they might somehow help him in his newly realized mission.
Instead, he had seen the results of the butchery inflicted on the well-meaning Envoys by soldiers of Rustannica’s Imperial Order. Then he had narrowly escaped the Borderlands with his life, returning to Eutracia just as the pass sealed behind him. With the Envoys gone, no one from the western side of the Tolenkas could help him and the Conclave to cross the peaks into Rustannica, or to contact the mysterious League of Whispers. Clearly, whatever actions he and his allies took must be of their own devising.
As he walked, Tristan allowed his surroundings to distract him from his worrisome thoughts. The massive palace was a wonder, literally sparkling with beauty and cleanliness. Rebuilt and redecorated by Minion and civilian workers after Wulfgar’s second failed invasion attempt, the structure had risen to an even greater splendor than before the deaths of Tristan and Shailiha’s parents.
Each hallway corner was guarded by two stern warriors of the Minions of Day and Night. They were the savage winged fighters who had originally been conjured by Failee, First Mistress of the Coven, but now swore allegiance to Tristan. The Minions represented the only standing army Eutracia and Parthalon had.
