CHAPTER

Forty-two

Tristan sat with Faegan, Wigg, and Shailiha behind closed doors in the Archives of the Redoubt. As usual, Morganna slept in the sling across Shailiha‘s chest. It had taken the prince some time to relate his experiences in Parthalon.

The wizards‘ expressions had become far graver when they heard the macabre tale of the Necrophagians.

―We simply cannot allow the armada to cross,‖ Faegan said. ―The Necrophagians‘ bargain was with the Coven, and the sorceresses are all dead. We have no way to know whether the bargain would still be honored, and we can‘t risk losing all those warriors for nothing.‖ He thought for a moment. ―We must send Ox back to Parthalon immediately, with written orders from Tristan to belay the sailing.‖ He stroked his blue cat as it contentedly purred in his lap.

―It seems I shall just have to speed up my efforts to find a way of both widening the portal, and holding it open longer.‖ He sighed deeply. ―But it shall not be easy.‖

Tristan looked to Shailiha. She seemed more pale somehow, and weaker. ―Are you all right?‖

he asked earnestly. ―Did something happen to you while I was away?‖

Knowing how much she cared for her brother and how difficult it was for her to lie to him, the two wizards held their breath, hoping against hope she would say the right thing. Shailiha stifled the urge to bite her lower lip, a dead giveaway whenever she was unsure of herself.

―I‘m fine, little brother,‖ she said reassuringly. She reached out, gently touching the gold medallion that hung around his neck. ―No need to worry. I think I‘m just tired from all of the excitement.‖ She saw the wizards uncoil a little. Deftly changing the subject, she took up Tristan‘s right hand. ―Was it bad?‖ she asked, referring to his second convulsion.

―Yes, Shai,‖ he said quietly. ―I have never experienced such pain in my life. My right arm is now somewhat weaker, and very sore. Had Ox not been with me, I might have swallowed my tongue and suffocated. I still can‘t get used to the fact that a Minion has become one of my friends.‖ He turned to the wizards. ―I don‘t suppose there is any point in my asking whether you two are any closer to finding a cure?‖

Faegan shook his head slowly. ―But we do have something else for you,‖ Faegan added. ―A surprise! Something that I believe will cheer you up.‖

Tristan raised an eyebrow. ―What is it?‖ he asked skeptically.

―For the answer, you must follow us to the upper levels,‖ Faegan answered cryptically.

Without waiting for Tristan‘s response he began wheeling toward the door. ―Shall we go?‖

Tristan dutifully followed the two wizards and his sister out of the Redoubt and up into the broken, looted palace rooms above. He eventually found himself standing before the doors that once barred entrance to his mother‘s private chambers.

―And just what is it that you all think is so interesting here?‖ he asked. One corner of his mouth came up.

―Why don‘t you open the door and see for yourself?‖ Wigg asked him. The smile was one of the few Tristan had seen on the lead wizard‘s face in weeks, and it only added to the deepening mystery. The prince took a breath and then turned the doorknob, walking purposefully into the once-sumptuous room.

Considering the fact that the wizards were involved, he could have witnessed any number of bizarre things in these rooms, and he knew it. But what stood before him now was the last thing he had ever expected. Especially here, in his mother‘s chambers.

The hatchling he and Ox had captured stood in the center of the room on its strong rear legs.

Seeing the bird was for some reason free of its wizard‘s cage, Tristan began to reach for his dreggan. But then he saw that the bird was calm, and was regarding him with only mild interest.

Faegan cackled. ―You won‘t be needing your sword. I suggest you take another look.‖

Tristan carefully examined the beast. Something about it was clearly different. And then, recognizing why, he immediately understood what was going on.

They"ve broken it, or trained it somehow! he realized.

The bird made no move to escape out the open balcony doors behind it. Tristan‘s eyes immediately went to the odd-looking saddle and stirrup combination that had been cinched to the hatchling‘s back, and then to the bridle and reins. His eyes widened with sudden realization.

They actually expect me to ride it! Ride through the sky!

He turned back to the three of them, his jaw slack, to see that they were all smiling from ear to ear. ―Please tell me you‘re joking,‖ he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

―Not at all,‖ Wigg replied. ―But in all fairness we have some explaining to do.‖

―An understatement, I‘m sure,‖ Tristan muttered. He turned to his sister. ―I assume you knew about this,‖ he added.

As she rocked the baby slightly, Shailiha could not keep from biting her lip. ―I knew, but I really didn‘t have anything to do with it,‖ she lied convincingly. ―It was all the wizards‘

idea.‖

He regarded her narrowly for a moment, finally accepting her answer. ―Can this thing talk?‖

he asked the wizards.

―Unfortunately not,‖ Wigg lied. ―Even though it has human arms. There were apparently three generations of these birds. We believe this one to be second generation, rather than third.‖

―Did you ever learn how it came to be separated from the others?‖ Tristan asked skeptically.

―Could this be a trick of some kind? How do I know it won‘t simply fly me back to the enemy?‖

Understandable questions, especially given the fact that we are not being truthful with him, Faegan thought. ―We considered that possibility, eventually dismissing it as illogical,‖ he replied. ―You were just with Nicholas in the Caves, and he willingly set you free. Why would he send a single bird out, simply to take you back to him? If he had wished to keep you there, he could have easily done so. Besides,‖ he added, ―the bird fought with all of its strength to keep from being captured, did it not?‖

―Yes,‖ Tristan answered. He rubbed his sore arm, thinking. ―But that still doesn‘t explain how it came to be wandering around on its own.‖

―Faegan and I believe that this bird was one of those that ransacked Ilendium,‖ Wigg suggested. ―In the darkness and chaos that must have ensued, it is easy enough to imagine how one or more of them might have become lost.‖ He raised the usual eyebrow. ―I suggest you start being more positive about all this, and stop looking a gift bird in the mouth, so to speak.‖

Tristan turned back to the creature, beginning to think that this might be a blessing in disguise after all. ―Where did the strange saddle and bridle come from?‖ he asked.

―You have Geldon to thank for those,‖ Wigg answered. ―He took them from the palace stables, and modified them for use on the hatchling. As it turns out, among his many other talents he is quite a good leatherworker, as well.‖

Being careful not to make any sudden moves, Tristan walked closer to the bird. He closely examined the saddle. The pommel had been enlarged, presumably to provide a better grip.

The leather bands leading down to the stirrups had been widened. Leather belts, complete with buckles, had been stitched into them, three on either side.

―What are these extra belts for?‖ Tristan asked quizzically.

Shailiha smiled. ―To keep you from falling off, of course. They go around your legs and buckle in the front, holding you in the saddle.‖ In truth she had been particularly worried about this, despite the fact that Tristan had always been one of the finest horsemen in the kingdom. Nonetheless, he fell from the bird at any significant altitude, death would be certain—Chosen One or not. It had therefore been she who had insisted on the additional straps.

Tristan simply stood there, not sure of what to say. It seems they have thought of everything.

―But none of this explains how you were able to turn the hatchling to our side, or do it so quickly,‖ he insisted.

Faegan cleared his throat. ―It seems that the bird‘s ties to Nicholas were not so strong, after all. I reasoned that with so many hatchlings, even he surely cannot keep perfect control over them all, every second of every day. Assuming this to be true, I invoked a spell that allowed me to sense when his control was at its lowest point. That‘s when I broke the bond, turning it to our side.‖ He made a nonchalant, throwaway gesture with one hand. ―But all of that is wizards‘ business, and you needn‘t concern yourself with the whys or the hows of it all.‖

Watching the prince‘s reaction carefully, he sensed that his lies had worked.

―And you really expect me to ride it?‖ Tristan asked. ―What‘s wrong with using Pilgrim, just as I always have?‖

―You are about to lead the Minions into battle,‖ Wigg said sternly. ―Have you somehow forgotten that they fly? Or that every single lord they have ever had has always been able to join them in the air? This shall be a new kind of battle for you, Tristan. One that takes place primarily in the air, just as Faegan‘s prophecy decreed. In addition, this creature can give you greater speed, and the ability to see what is happening on the ground over great distances.

Besides, it is our belief that the hatchlings can run as fast across the ground as any horse that ever lived. So what are you going to do, eh? Ride your hatchling into the skies to command the Minions properly, or plod around on the snowy, slippery ground atop Pilgrim, wondering what in the name of the Afterlife is really going on above you?‖

Tristan glared at the wizard, finally understanding that Wigg was right. In truth the prince was thrilled at the prospect of riding a hatchling. But there were questions he wanted answered first. The wizards had been acting strangely lately, and he wanted to know why.

But it was clear by the imperious look on Wigg‘s face that no more questions were going to be answered at the moment. Tristan turned to his sister. She had a curiously mischievous look in her eyes.

Grasping his medallion, she pulled his face close to hers and raised her eyebrows at him mockingly. ―What‘s the matter, little brother?‖ she teased. ―Afraid Scrounge can do something you can‘t? I hear he doesn‘t even need a saddle.‖

That was all it took. Taking the medallion from her grasp, Tristan walked to the hatchling. As if the bird knew his wishes, it kneeled down, allowing Tristan easier access to the stirrup.

When he climbed aboard, the saddle felt good beneath him, almost as familiar as the one he always used on Pilgrim. He carefully cinched the straps around his thighs, buckling them tight, and finally took the reins. As if he had been doing it all his life, he expertly wheeled the bird around to face the others in the room.

―We‘ll see about that,‖ he said softly. Shailiha held her breath.

Tristan turned the muscular bird toward the balcony, and the hatchling launched itself into the air.

Shailiha, Wigg, and Faegan went to the railing. The princess strained her eyes for as long as she could, as the strange bird carrying her twin brother became little more than a dark speck against the sky, finally vanishing altogether.

―Do you think he believed us?‖ she asked tentatively.

―That is hard to say,‖ Wigg answered, pursing his lips. ―Tristan is both highly intelligent and very stubborn. But the important thing is that he is finally on the bird.‖ He turned his unseeing eyes toward the princess. ―Your comment about Scrounge was the turning point.

Well done. As to whether he believes us—well, who knows? But he must ride none other than that particular monstrosity of the craft into battle if we are to have any hope of succeeding in all of this.‖

The three of them finally turned away from the balcony, retreating to the depths of the Redoubt.