The fifth sorceress, p.56
The Fifth Sorceress, page 56
Wigg calmly reached down to grasp the hem of Faegan’s robe and slowly lifted it up and over the old wizard’s knees. It was at that moment that the prince fully understood in his heart what he had known in his mind. And what it was that Wigg wanted to be sure of.
Faegan’s legs were a gruesome sight. The skin was gone completely, and much of the muscle mass looked as if it had been literally shredded away by someone or something, as if some awful beast had repeatedly attacked both legs with its teeth and claws. The remaining bright red muscles throbbed visibly, and Tristan could see what he took to be exposed nerves and blood vessels running up and down their lengths. In truth the legs were more than half gone, and the prince initially wondered how the wizard could possibly stand the pain, much less keep from dying of infection. And then he remembered. This was Faegan, the rogue wizard, protected by the life enchantments. ‘Master,’ his gnomes called him. Since first meeting Shannon the Small and Michael the Meager, Tristan had realized that the term ‘Master’ was given by them only out of great reverence. Tristan suddenly had a newfound and even deeper respect for the crippled old wizard in the chair, the one who loved riddles so. Wigg replaced the robe and slowly stood back a little.
‘I had to know,’ he said softly to Faegan. ‘Even now, as it is, I cannot be completely sure you are telling us the truth. But we have no choice.’ Wigg looked over at the prince. ‘We go. Now. Agreed?’
‘Yes,’ Tristan said.
‘You realize this could be nothing more than a ruse to put us into the hands of the Coven?’
‘Yes,’ Tristan said firmly. ‘But I believe him.’ He looked at Faegan. ‘I have a request before we leave.’
‘Yes?’ Faegan asked.
‘I would like to speak to Shannon the Small.’
‘Very well,’ Faegan agreed. He turned his chair to face Michael the Meager, who had been standing dutifully in the corner all of this time, hearing everything. ‘Run and fetch Shannon,’ Faegan said simply. ‘Hurry.’
‘Yes, Master,’ Michael replied. In a heartbeat, he was gone.
Almost immediately Michael returned with Shannon in tow, and the two of them entered the room. ‘The Chosen One wishes to speak to you,’ Faegan said. He turned his chair so that he could look at each of them at once, curious about Tristan’s request.
Tristan looked down at the gnome, the same one who had challenged him at the bridge, bitten into his leg, and led him into the Tunnel of Bones. He smiled at the little one. ‘Wigg and I are going away for a while,’ he said, taking a step closer to Shannon. ‘But we will be back soon. I called you here because I want to know you will take good care of Pilgrim for me while I’m gone.’
‘I already am,’ Shannon said eagerly, typically puffing out his chest with pride. ‘Pilgrim is already settled down in our stable. I brushed him real good, and gave him extra oats. I think he likes me.’ The little man beamed.
‘I know he does.’ Tristan smiled. ‘Make sure to exercise him, and treat him well. He’ll do anything for a carrot, and likes to have his ears rubbed.’
‘Yes, Prince Tristan,’ Shannon said.
The prince smile broadly and then narrowed his eyes, deciding. ‘Oh, and there’s one other thing,’ he said sternly.
‘Yes?’
‘If I should never come back, Pilgrim is yours. Yours to keep.’
Shannon looked as if a storm had just passed through his little face and body. His eyes began to tear. No one had ever given him anything as wonderful as Pilgrim. The horse of the Chosen One, he thought, amazed.
‘Thank you, Master,’ Shannon said to the prince. ‘But I truly hope I never claim that right.’
‘You called me “Master,” ’ Tristan said, smiling to him. ‘I don’t think you meant to say that. There is only one master here.’
‘Pardon me,’ the little one said, looking sheepishly at Faegan and then to the prince. ‘But I’m not sure that’s true anymore.’
Tristan smiled and walked over to his chair, gently lifting the baldric and dreggan from it and lowering the sword back into place over his right shoulder. He checked his dirks to be sure they were all there, and then slowly walked back to the window to look at the ocean. They had been talking all night, and the sun was just beginning to come up in the east. His nostrils took in the smell of salt that came in on the sea breeze.
Automatically reaching over his right shoulder to grasp the hilt of the dreggan, he felt for the hidden button there. The sword felt good in his hand, despite the fact that it was the same weapon that had killed his father. Will it also become the sword that kills my sister? he wondered. He pulled out the medallion that lay beneath his black leather vest and looked at the lion and broadsword engraved upon it. The last gift from his parents. He tucked it back into his vest.
He turned around to see Faegan quietly handing Wigg a pewter locket on a silver chain. It was square, small, and rather flat. Wigg put it around his neck and tucked it into his robes. Too tired to ask, Tristan once again turned his attention toward the sea.
‘Where will the portal appear?’ he asked without turning around.
‘Right in front of you,’ he heard Faegan say. And no sooner had the words come to the prince’s ears than a swirling azure vortex began to appear directly in front of him, only two steps away. It was beautiful. It revolved constantly before him, an incredible swirling amass of color and light, and he could feel it beckoning, pleading with his endowed blood to enter it.
He then felt as much as saw Wigg standing next to him, also looking into the vortex. He felt the Lead Wizard take his hand, and the two of them stepped forward into the swirling amass and were gone.
PART V
The Recluse
Chapter Twenty-one
It is not the absence of evil that perpetuates goodness. That alone is the province of the teachings of the Vigors, and is found to be most true in the hearts of kind men of endowed blood. It is, however, the absence of goodness that allows evil to survive.
—AXIOM OF THE DIRECTORATE OF WIZARDS
Failee stood in silence, slowly looking about the floor and ceiling of the great, round, subterranean room. The First Mistress was dressed in a gown of the palest green, the Pentangle of golden thread clearly visible upon her left breast as always. The Paragon hung around her neck, gently refracting the light of the room and sending out spots of blood red that danced happily about, as if looking for a place to come to rest.
Sister Shailiha stood next to her. Her maternity gown, a deep shade of blue, also displayed the beloved five-pointed star. For over 300 years this room has remained unused, Failee mused. But in just six more days its purpose will be fulfilled.
The First Mistress continued to examine the chamber – the room that had been built for one purpose only so long ago. This was the Sanctuary, and it was one of her finest achievements.
The chamber was a perfect circle, some sixty feet in diameter, and the domed marble ceiling rose at least seventy feet into the air. In the center of the dome was a small circular opening about three feet across, from which could be seen the last remaining rays of pillared sunlight as they dashed down into the room. Golden and unrestrained, they brightly illuminated a small spot in the center of the floor. Despite the fact that the Sanctuary was far below the ground level of the Recluse, the opening in the center of the ceiling ran vertically all the way up through each level of the castle and finally to the roof, where it opened to the sky.
The walls, ceiling, and floor were made of the finest white marble, and they glistened as the light from the many wall sconces flickered and began to take over from the slowly vanishing rays that came through the ceiling. Inlaid into the white marble of the floor was a very large, perfectly proportioned Pentangle in the blackest of marble. Each point of the five-pointed star touched the outer edge of the floor where it met the wall, and over each of the points sat a raised throne of solid black marble. In the very center of the Pentangle, directly below the opening in the ceiling, was a raised white altar. As the final rays of sunlight lost their battle with the coming night and slowly vanished away into the softer, more golden lamplight of the room, in the total silence of this place Failee could begin to smell the unmistakable fragrances of long-awaited hopes and dreams. Silent. Waiting. And unstoppable.
She had been coming alone to this room for each of the last three days and would continue to do so for each of the next six until the day of the Communion, and the Reckoning that would follow it. She came here to meditate silently and prepare her mind for what was to come, and to draw upon her knowledge of the craft that she had ripped away from Faegan’s consciousness those many years ago. She had begun to realize that she would also need to incorporate much of the Vigors into the incantation for it to prove effective, but was certain that she could do it.
Failee turned to look at Shailiha, who was obviously entranced with the room. Failee had brought her here today to acquaint her with the room and to make her feel at home in this, the most important of her new surroundings. The other three members of the Coven would join them there shortly.
It had been only a few days since Shailiha had successfully endured the last of the Chimeran Agonies, but her ardor to become one of the Coven had already surpassed even Failee’s wildest dreams. The young woman was highly intelligent, possessing an unimaginable desire to learn the craft and an equal, if not even higher, desire to see their dreams through to the conclusion – to the victory that they had waited for so long to come. She was one of them now, and it showed in her eyes, her voice, her speech, and her mannerisms. And one day, because of the supreme quality of her blood, she would become their leader. The First Mistress smiled. They were finally five, and with Shailiha’s child, they would be six.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Failee said to the younger woman at her side.
Shailiha took a few steps forward, speaking as she walked. ‘The Sanctuary is even more breathtaking than your description, Mistress,’ she said. Her hazel eyes were alight with curiosity and desire. ‘Which one is to be mine?’ she asked, as she walked to one of the heavy black marble thrones.
‘The one to your right will be yours at first,’ Failee told her. ‘But when the day comes for you to lead us, your throne will be the one that is now nearest me.’ She looked back at the black throne in which she would sit during the Communion, the one she would gladly one day give up to Shailiha.
‘May I, Mistress?’ Shailiha asked.
‘Of course, my child,’ Failee said happily.
‘It’s yours.’ The First Mistress watched hungrily as the young woman walked to the first throne Failee had indicated and carefully took the two steps up and into it, gently arranging her maternity gown about her. Where it fell over her satin slippers, the dark blue gown contrasted strikingly with the highly polished black marble.
Shailiha looked rather commandingly into Failee’s face. ‘I belong here,’ she said simply. ‘This is my destiny; I know it. My blood tells me so.’
My blood tells me so, Failee thought with an ecstatic heart. Excellent. Not only have the Chimeran Agonies commanded her, but now her own blood does so, as well. There will be no turning back for this one. She smiled to herself. The Chosen One shall come, but shall be preceded by another. The twin. And now she is mine.
‘How appropriate,’ Succiu’s voice suddenly called out from the other side of the room. ‘You look as if you were born to it, my Sister, which of course you were.’ Failee and Shailiha turned to see the other three members of the Coven standing in the doorway to the room. There was only one way in and out, and it was connected to a long series of circular steps that led down from the Recluse above. The second mistress was dressed in a black leather vest and breeches, both tight fitting and leaving little to the imagination. Black elbow-length gauntlets and high-heeled knee boots also in shiny black leather completed the picture, and she carried a long riding crop in her left hand. Beads of moisture could be seen on her brow and upper breasts, and Failee knew immediately that Succiu had just come from one of her ‘training’ sessions with some slave from the Stables. But the second mistress’s countenance looked frustrated and angry, rather than showing the usual satisfaction that typically followed such an interlude. Vona and Zabarra, each dressed more appropriately in a gown, followed dutifully along behind her as her heels clicked and clacked upon the marble floor, the crisp, staccato sounds resonating commandingly throughout the room.
Succiu walked directly to the throne in which Shailiha was sitting, smiled, and then ran the frayed end of her riding crop up and over the cool, black stone of the great chair, gently brushing first the hem and then the sleeve of the princess’s gown. Shailiha recoiled slightly, but showed no fear. The second mistress smiled. ‘You are indeed lovely,’ she said, smirking. ‘Sitting in that throne gives you a certain, how should I say, “attractiveness.” I look forward to knowing you even better after the delivery of your child.’
Succiu turned her head back toward Failee, throwing her long, dark hair over the opposite shoulder. ‘I have a surprise for you, First Mistress,’ she said. Her demeanor was beginning to return to something closer to humility. ‘Tell me, have they been fed yet?’ she asked. Failee shook her head.
‘Good.’ Succiu smiled back. ‘That was the other reason you brought Sister Shailiha here, was it not? To show her the additional use for this chamber?’
Failee looked to Shailiha and saw the expected look of puzzlement upon her face.
‘What additional use?’ Shailiha asked. ‘Why was I not told?’ Good, Failee thought. She is beginning to assert her authority even in the presence of one as strong as Succiu.
‘There is a second use for this chamber,’ Failee said. ‘Beings live here, in this area. Beings that you have not yet been shown. They are additional protection for this most important of rooms.’
The First Mistress turned her eyes to Succiu. ‘And just what is your surprise?’ she asked.
‘I brought them dinner,’ Succiu said coyly. She turned back to the empty doorway and the dark hallway that led upward from it. ‘You may bring him in now, Geldon,’ she called out. ‘And be quick about it or you will taste my lash, as he has.’
The remaining four mistresses turned to see Geldon emerge from the darkness, holding the jeweled chain that ran from his collar in one hand, and a larger, dirtier chain in the other. The larger chain led into the hallway behind him. Finally a man emerged, beaten and bloody, wearing only a loincloth. The chain was attached to manacles around the man’s wrists. Once in the Sanctuary, he collapsed to the floor and curled up into a ball, sobbing. From where she stood, Succiu could see the Pentangle that she had so carefully carved into his back two months earlier with her whip. It was covered in fresh blood.
‘He has failed in his duties to me yet again,’ she said nastily, walking over to the slave, her long legs straddling his body as he writhed about in pain on the cold marble floor. ‘I am through with him.’ She looked up at Geldon. ‘Drag him to the center of the floor.’
Geldon strained and groaned against the chain as he drew the slave to the center of the marble floor, leaving a winding path of sticky red blood behind. When he reached the center of the Pentangle, he dropped the slave’s chain and then dutifully held up the end of his own jeweled leash to his mistress, wondering if she would chain him down, as usual.
‘Not now,’ she sneered. ‘I’m having too much fun.’ She walked over to the slave called Stefan and put the shiny heel of her right boot against his throat, pinning him to the floor. Geldon’s mind painfully flew back in time to that night in the Ghetto when she had first found him – when she had also put her heel against his throat, nearly killing him. He looked away in shame. He felt guilty for having brought the slave here, but what else could he have done? He had to make everything seem normal. The Chosen One and the Lead Wizard would be here soon. Master Faegan had promised. Nothing must jeopardize that. Nothing must give any hint of what was to come. But I swear I will live to see this bitch die, he thought. Even if I must somehow kill her myself.
Succiu turned her exotic, almond-shaped eyes up toward her mistress as she increased the pressure against the slave’s neck. ‘Do you agree?’ she asked.
‘Indeed,’ Failee said, pleased. ‘I think they will be most happy with him.’
The First Mistress raised her right hand upward, and the room began to change. A vertical seam in the white marble wall directly opposite the doorway began to split open, and from ceiling to floor the wall slid apart to reveal a dark space beyond. The floor of this new room was so far below the floor of the Sanctuary that Shailiha could not see it. Nor could she see any steps leading down.
Failee looked at Geldon. ‘Bring him to the edge,’ she said.
‘Yes, Mistress,’ Geldon gurgled.
As Geldon struggled to drag Stefan toward the opening, Shailiha came down off her throne and joined the others at the edge of what she could now see was a pit. At first she could see nothing, but then her eyes began to adjust to the darkness and she was finally able to pick the pit’s inhabitants out in the gloom.
They were pairs of eyes, yellow and slanted. They seemed to glow. And there were hundreds of them. Occasionally she could hear low, reptilian hissing sounds, but she could see nothing but the yellow eyes shining menacingly out of the gloom.
‘Good evening, my pets,’ the First Mistress cooed lovingly into the darkness below her. Had she not been one of the Coven, she might just as well have been doting over a friend’s newborn child, or some beloved family pet. Shailiha turned to look at her.
‘Sister Succiu has graciously brought you a very special dinner for this evening,’ Failee continued. ‘If this one is not enough, I shall supply you with more.’ The hissing became noticeably louder, and the yellow eyes crowded together just below the spot where the sorceresses were standing. Failee turned to Succiu and nodded.
