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Sometimes his unique blood made him feel very isolated. Every time he was wounded, no matter how slight the insult to his body, if his blood was drawn, his enemies would be able to recognize him immediately. They wouldn't even need to examine his blood signature to know who he was, for the color of his blood would tell it all. Then he remembered Faegan's warning, spoken that night in his mansion in Shadowood, not so long ago.
"Although it does not say how, the second volume of the Tome affirms that he may be forever, inalterably changed. You must be on the lookout for this change, whatever it is to be."
And his own silent vow: "I will not rest until I have discovered who has poured such endowed blood into my veins, and why. I shall know why I have become the vessel that contains the blood of the fates…"
He stared out over the sea, yearning for home, for the company of his sister and his friends-and especially for Celeste. He had fallen deeply in love with the beautiful, red-haired daughter of the lead wizard, and he knew it. But he also knew her psyche wasn't ready to accept his affection on that level, and he had no choice other than to accept it. He could only wait, hoping that one day they could be truly together.
Engrossed as he was in his thoughts, he didn't hear Tyra
"Tell me about her," she said simply.
"Tell you about who?" he asked.
Tyra
Smiling and shaking his head, Tristan looked back out to sea. "It's a long story," he answered honestly. "Three hundred years in the making, in fact. Which also happens to be how old she is."
Turning back, he looked into Tyra
"My, but you do like them mature, don't you?" she teased. Then her expression softened a bit. "Still, it's nice to have someone who wants to share the same rainbow's end, isn't it?"
Before Tristan could frame an answer, they heard the unmistakable peal of the warning bell high in the crow's nest.
Drawing her sword, Tyra
"Screechlings!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Three separate maelstroms of them, about to rise no more than half a league off the bow!"
Confused, Tristan followed Tyra
"What is it?" he asked.
"A nightmare," she responded tensely, not taking the lens from her eye. "Creatures of the sea, said to be of the craft. No one knows for sure, for they have only recently begun to appear. What we do know is that they hunt in packs." Then she lowered her spyglass, and Tristan clearly saw the worry on her face. "I know of no vessel that has ever survived an onslaught of three maelstroms, but I refuse to go down without a fight!"
"Maelstroms?" Tristan repeated. "What are they? What can I do?"
"You will understand all too soon," she answered, her right eye squarely against the spyglass again. "Try to stay near me or Scars! It seems that you are finally going to get your chance to show us how well you use those unusual weapons you carry across your back!"
"Can't we outrun them?"
"No," she said adamantly. "No ship ever built could outrun them at this range-not even The People's Revenge. The only course now is to stand and fight, and hope we can survive them." Then she barked out some orders to her crew, and everything began to change.
Turning to look behind him, Tristan saw that the ship had become even more alive with furious activity. Shouting crewmen were forcing the confused slaves belowdecks, while others frantically tried to close and lock all of the remaining deck hatches and stairwell doors. The rigging was covered in seamen frantically reefing the sails. One man was hurriedly tying off the ship's wheel. Tristan was only a novice sailor, but he knew enough to realize that with all of her sails reefed and her wheel tied off, The People's Revenge would be dead in the water, rocking back and forth at the mercy of the waves. After having been told repeatedly that speed was often the only thing that kept them alive, he was completely stymied.
He turned to look out over the bow again. Stu
A vast area of the ocean lying before them had come alive. Three whirling spouts of swirling, foaming seawater had risen from the ocean, dark and foreboding. On and on the huge waterspouts rose, spi
Then they began to glow strangely from within, circling colors that spun in a continuous riot of alternating hues. Had he not been told the maelstroms were deadly, he would have considered them one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.
Suddenly the glowing maelstroms flattened out at their tops, gained some distance between themselves, and then careened with impossible speed in a straight line toward the three unmoving ships. Tristan heard Tyra
"Come on then, you bastards!" she screamed, holding her sword high above her head. "You filthy scavengers! Come to me! Let's see how many of you I can kill on the first pass!" When they finally reached her she began swinging her sword with abandon, and thin, watery, bright red blood began raining down.
When the first of them buzzed by his head, Tristan thought he must be seeing things. As it passed, he heard the unmistakable sound of teeth snapping together and realized that his hesitation had nearly cost him his life. Making insane screeching noises as they came, another flew by him, then more still, until their numbers finally became so great that they blotted out the sun and covered the deck of the frigate with their shadows. Viciously they attacked both the crewmembers and the rigging, tearing away those sails that had not already been reefed.
Swinging his dreggan, Tristan missed the first one, then finally managed to take one down. It was a glancing, not a killing blow, but as the dazed thing lay bleeding at his feet, he finally got a look at it up close.
He was amazed to see what appeared to be some kind of very large, very strange, fishlike creature. It was almost two meters long, half a meter deep, and very brightly colored with what seemed to be luminescent stripes ru