Sobbing, Faegan looked over at Celeste. Then he looked at the empty vault in the wall, its door still open and yawning at him. Tears ran down his cheeks, and he lowered his face in shame.

CHAPTER

Seventy-two

B y the time Tristan's litter and its accompanying Minion forces reached Tammerland, night was falling. Little had been said during the trip, and it had seemed to the prince that for some reason Wigg and Abbey had remained especially distracted. But he had to admit that he, Shailiha, and Tyranny had all been quiet as well, their hearts heavy with concern about what might have become of Faegan and Celeste.

Tristan was about to give the order to take them down when Wigg leaned out of the litter and looked around. After a time, it seemed he had found what he was searching for. "Have the Minions land us on that rise coming up!" he said firmly. "There is something we must do before going any farther!"

Scowling, Tristan glared at the wizard. "Are you mad?" he shouted. "Celeste and Faegan might be fighting for their lives for all you know! We have to get to the palace!"

"No!" Wigg shouted back. He reached out and took Tristan by the shoulders. "You must trust me! There are things that Faegan, Abbey, and I have not told the rest of you!" For a moment Tristan actually thought that the wizard might go so far as to use his powers, if need be, to enforce whatever he had in mind.

"Now do as I say!" Wigg shouted. "And have them land the litter on that rise below us! And don't send your troops into the fight until I have done what I came here for!"

His jaw clenched in anger, Tristan looked out of the litter and shouted some orders out to Traax. Almost immediately the litter and the Minion host started toward the rise. As they reached the top, the palace grounds came into view below. Tristan looked down and took a short breath. The blood and bodies of both Minion and demonslaver alike littered the palace grounds. The survivors were still battling. The Minions, greatly outnumbered now, were clearly losing this fight. Most of them had been forced into the courtyard, their backs up against one of the inner walls as the demonslavers rushed them time and time again.

Some of the demonslavers were also dying, but it seemed that for every one of them that went down, two or more Minions died just as quickly. There were so many demonslavers upon them that the Minion warriors could not even take to the air.

His heart full of rage, Tristan spun around and glared at Wigg with angry, beseeching eyes as they landed.

"What's wrong with you?" Tristan shouted as he thrust one hand out, pointing at the ongoing massacre. "Can't you see that if I don't release my warriors, the ones down there will be cut to pieces?"

Wigg grabbed him by the shoulders again. "What I am about to do must be done!" he said harshly. "There is no time to explain! You simply must trust me! What do you want to save the most, eh? Some of the Minions who have sworn to defend you, or the very craft itself?"

Letting go of the prince's shoulders, Wigg turned to Abbey. Tristan watched as the lead wizard took a piece of parchment from his robes and handed it to her. It was covered with what looked to be Old Eutracian. Then he touched the locket she always wore around her neck and kissed her cheek. Fear on her face, she stood and exited the litter. Wigg waved his arms at the Minions. "Well don't just stand there!" he shouted. "We must go now!"

As the litter and the Minions climbed back into the sky, Abbey lifted her head and watched her lover depart. One tear of concern fell down her cheek.

B y the time the litter reached the palace, Tristan, Shailiha, Tyranny, and the Minions were spoiling for a fight. But by now Wigg had convinced them of why they must not participate, and also of their need to stay close to him.

Looking down into the courtyard from the roof on which they had landed, Tristan saw his Minions finally go flying down and begin tearing into the surprised demonslavers. Before landing he had given Traax orders to leave none of the white-skinned monstrosities alive. Grinning broadly, the Minion second-in-command had nodded in agreement.

Wigg stepped from the litter and glanced up toward the sky. He was greatly relieved to see that the twin orbs of the craft were not visible; that meant that if Wulfgar was indeed here, he had not yet conjured them. But it was imperative that they find Morganna's firstborn before he was able to enact the Forestallment that would allow him to destroy the Orb of the Vigors.

If Wulfgar was cloaking his blood from Wigg, and he had also been gifted with the powers of invisibility by Krassus, trying to find him could be a nightmare, if not a complete impossibility. Their only hope lay in the fact that Wulfgar had clearly not yet destroyed the Orb of the Vigors, for Wigg still possessed his powers. And so if they could not find Wulfgar, Wigg would force him to come to them.

There was only one way to do that.

Wigg would conjure forth the twin orbs of the craft before Wulfgar did. For wherever the orbs were, Wulfgar would also have to be in order to carry out his plan.

Wasting no time, Wigg raised his arms.

As the four of them watched, a gigantic glow coalesced in the inky night sky. The glow began to spin, quickly becoming the Orb of the Vigors, the massive, golden globe of energy that sustained the altruistic side of the craft. The pale white beams that radiated from its center lit up the night sky for what seemed to be leagues in every direction. Tristan suddenly realized he had never witnessed the orbs at night. It was an awesome sight.

Then the darker, menacing Orb of the Vagaries took shape, its blackness scratched through by bright lightning.

Tristan glanced down to see that the battle in the courtyard below was winding down at last. The surviving demonslavers were being systematically beheaded, just as he had ordered. Traax and Ox landed quietly by his side. Ox looked exhausted, and one leg was wounded. Traax gave his lord a nod, and Tristan nodded back. Satisifed, he looked up at the sky again.

Then Wigg lowered his arms, and a strange sense of quiet descended over everything. The night larks and tree frogs stopped calling out to one another, and the branches of the trees below were no longer swishing to and fro, for the wind had suddenly stopped, as well. The orbs continued to hover silently, as if waiting for something to happen.

And then they changed.

Tristan glanced over at Wigg and saw the lead wizard shake his head, telling him that it was not he who was causing this phenomenon. Wulfgar, he thought.

The orbs had moved closer to each other than he had ever seen. Shards of lightning had begun to shoot back and forth between them, and the orbs themselves were shaking. Tristan glanced at Wigg to see that the lead wizard's face had blanched as he watched, spellbound.

A band of azure light took form between the orbs. It slowly extended itself from the side of the Orb of the Vigors, growing hauntingly until it reached the Orb of the Vagaries and attached itself.

Then this new connection between the orbs transformed itself from mere light into what looked like a tangible mass. It glowed ever brighter, until it became almost impossible to look upon. Suddenly, Tristan knew what it was.

The Isthmus: the bridge between the two sides of the craft that would somehow allow the destruction of the Orb of the Vigors.

And it had been conjured by Wulfgar.

A deep, commanding laugh shattered the silence. Tristan, Shailiha, and Tyranny drew their swords, blades ringing loudly as one through the air. As they did, the laugh came again.

"Tell me, Brother," a voice said. "Do you really think you can kill me with a weapon as crude as that?"