Savage Messiah

The warrior nearest them snapped his heels together and untied the prisoner. As the two women walked to the door, Adrian asked Abbey, "You're bringing Uther with us? True, my spell still affects him, but I thought you told me that your potion wouldn't last very long."

Abbey gave her a wink. "Unless I miss my guess," she said, "it won't have to. In fact, I'm counting on it."

More confused than ever, Adrian followed Abbey down the hall.

CHAPTER LII

As Vivian approached the far end of the palace courtyard, she nodded to the warriors guarding the drawbridge. Even though she was in a hurry, she kept her pace slow and deliberate. The warriors smiled and snapped to attention as she walked by.

Pulling the hood of her red cloak up over her head, she exited the grounds and wended her way down one of Tammerland's busier streets. Only when she knew she was out of sight of the palace did she change direction and pick up her pace.

This time she would have both good and bad news for Bratach. He would be pleased to hear that Lionel the Little was dead, but Satine's identity had been revealed, and Vivian could see no end to the trouble this news might bring. Who could have imagined that one of the Valrenkians would be captured and interrogated? Silently cursing, she hurried on.

It was now late afternoon, the sun just low enough to play hide-and-seek among the higher rooftops. Shafts of fading sunlight sliced down into the alleyways, and the air felt warm and humid. Some of the food vendors were busily closing up their carts as they stopped work for the day. Little by little, enticing aromas faded from the air.

But for each cart that departed, a tavern lamplight came alive, signaling the change of venue for the pleasure-seekers who frequented this part of town. Soon the mood in the streets would turn even more drunken and dangerous, she knew.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten for hours. She stopped to buy a bag of freshly boiled peanuts from a crippled, blind vendor about to close up his cart. Two blocks later, her fingers covered with oil and her belly quieting, she found herself reminiscing about how she had met Wulfgar. Even though their meeting had been brief, she had immediately become his-heart, mind, and soul.

Like the other women of her kind, she had been silently called to the Redoubt through a process of the craft known as the River of Thought. At that time the wizards, the Jin'Sai, and the Jin'Saiou had been locked in mortal conflict with Wulfgar and his forces. Like the other women of her sisterhood she had immediately felt the River's irresistible call, telling her to end her current duties and make her way to Tammerland. The women had been ordered to gather in the Hall of Supplication. Wigg and Faegan were already there, waiting for them. After showing the wizards the tattoo of the Paragon on her shoulder, each sister was asked to perform some small act of the craft. Next, their blood signatures were compared to those in the palace records and examined for any evidence of Forestallments or other tampering. Only then did Wigg induct them all into the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt. Finally they were shown their new home-the magnificent secret hallways and chambers lying deep below the palace.

Vivian had been overjoyed. To gather with her sisters to study and practice the craft had long been her greatest dream. But then Wulfgar had come to her. He had introduced her to a totally different dream-one for which she would willingly discard her previous vows. Suddenly, the newly formed Acolytes of the Redoubt had become the object of her undying hatred, something that she would now do anything in her power to destroy.

The meeting between Vivian and Wulfgar had occurred on the night Wulfgar's demonslavers attacked the palace. The royal residence was in turmoil, and those Minion warriors remaining were clearly losing the fight. Tristan, Shailiha, Wigg, Abbey, and the bulk of the warrior forces were away, trying to hold off Wulfgar's fleet. Of those able to wield the craft, only Faegan, Celeste, and the acolytes remained behind.

Frantic to help, Vivian and the other sisters had left the Redoubt to go to the aid of the warriors. Vivian had been hurrying toward the door of her chambers when it suddenly opened of its own accord. Strangely, no one stood on the other side. Shaking her head in confusion, she started to leave. That was when Wulfgar materialized before her. The magnificent Scroll of the Vigors also appeared, hovering gently by his side.

On trembling legs she retreated into the room, almost falling as she stumbled against a nearby chair. The imposing man walked purposefully into the room, the Scroll following him. Without looking back, he caused the door to close. Then Vivian heard the lock turn over, telling her that she was his prisoner.

She had no idea whether the man before her was friend or foe. He was tall, with long, sand-colored hair and commanding hazel eyes. She tentatively decided that, since he had access to the Redoubt and was obviously in possession of the Scroll, he must be some unknown ally of the wizards. She couldn't have been more wrong.

The man smiled at her. His mesmerizing gaze seemed to look right into her soul.

"Who…who are you?" she asked.

The man clasped his hands together. "I am Wulfgar," he answered. "I am your new lord."

At the mention of his name, Vivian's blood ran cold. The enemy of the Vigors that everyone was trying to vanquish stood here, in her personal chambers! But why?

Stu

"What do you want of me?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Where are Faegan and Celeste?"

Wulfgar smiled. "I have just come from a meeting with them," he answered. "After the application of some rather inventive persuasion, the wizard finally gave up the hiding place of the scroll. Celeste tried to resist me, and for that she paid dearly."

Vivian's knees buckled and she half-sat, half-stumbled into the chair. Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Are they dead?" she asked.

"The wizard is alive, but very much the worse for wear. As for Celeste, I have no idea. Nor do I care. I do not wish to speak of them. I wish to discuss you and your future in the craft."

"What are you talking about?"

"I have sought you out for a particular purpose," he answered. "You should be honored. Tell me, what is your name? Do not lie, for I shall know."

As if it could somehow grant a modicum of safety, she retreated a bit more into the chair. "Vivian," she answered. "Vivian, of the House of Wentworth."

For a moment Wulfgar searched her face. Then he smiled again.

"As I walked in invisibility through the Redoubt, I searched for unusually gifted blood," he said. "That is what brought me to your door, Vivian. Do you know that the quality of your blood is quite high? Whosoever of the acolytes would become my servant must have the quality of blood equal to the tasks that shall be asked of her. Sister Adrian-your would-be leader-would have been my first choice. But she is already above ground, among the others of your sisterhood. And for obvious reasons, what must be done to turn you to my cause can only occur in private. You are my second choice, Vivian."

As she began to understand Wulfgar's horrible plan, her fear was slowly replaced by anger. She raised an arm and pointed at him. A narrow beam of the craft shot from her fingertips and barreled straight for his heart.

Slowly, Wulfgar smiled and raised one hand. The azure beam crashed against his palm. The beam fizzled, then dripped harmlessly to the floor. Wulfgar lowered his hand.

"Do not try that again, Vivian," he said. "I have taken pains to find you, and my time grows short. Soon I must complete my business with the Orb of the Vigors. I do not wish to kill you, but if you try my patience again, I will not hesitate to do so."