Robert Newcomb: The Gates of Dawn

Layers of thought and deed, Tristan thought, as the often-repeated phrase jumped into his mind. It was said that the thoughts and actions of wizards were piled one atop another, like the layers of an onion. One layer was removed, only to reveal another beneath it. He thought for a moment about what his sister had said to him, about how these two wizards could forever argue with each other like a pair of old scullery maids. They were probably trying to outthink each other right now, he realized. But it was also apparent that whatever bitterness might have remained as a result of the war some three centuries ago had been forgiven.

“How did this consul get here?” Tristan asked. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“Geldon found him as he started out through one of the tunnels, to go to buy food in the city,” Faegan mused, half to himself. “When he found Joshua unconscious and bleeding, he immediately brought him here. We examined him and found him to be basically sound, despite the malnutrition and a dislocated right shoulder. Wigg used the craft to reset the joint, and I invoked an incantation of accelerated healing over it. I then induced a deep sleep within him. We were only waiting for you to come before we woke him up, so that you too might hear whatever he has to say.”

“Then I suggest you revive him,” the prince said simply.

Wigg looked to Faegan, and the elder wizard nodded. Narrowing his eyes, Wigg stared intently at the consul, and an azure glow began to surround the stricken man. It was the glow that always accompanied any significant use of the craft, and it was proof that the wizard was working his magic on the consul.

As the clear blue glow intensified, the consul began to stir. Tristan walked over to the couch and looked down.

The glow faded away. The consul opened his eyes and slowly looked around the room. When he saw Wigg, tears filled his eyes. “Wigg,” he whispered breathlessly, “is it really you?”

Wigg quickly stood, picking up his chair to go sit at the side of the couch. “Yes,” he said compassionately, “it’s me. You’re safe now, and in the Redoubt. You’re all right, but you had a dislocated shoulder, and you’re starving. You need food and rest. But first we must know what happened to you.”

As if Wigg’s question had suddenly triggered a flood of horrific memories, the consul cried out, trying to get up off the couch. Wigg gave him a narrow-eyed stare, and Joshua settled down. But it was plain to see that he was still in shock.

“It was horrible!” he said, his hazel eyes wide with the terror of his memories. “The things, they came from the eggs . . . the eggs in the trees . . . endowed . . . dripping azure . . . unbelievable . . . Then the awful birds came out of them . . .” His forehead bathed in sweat, Joshua collapsed farther down onto the couch and began to sob again.

Faegan wheeled his chair closer and looked down at the consul. It was clear that both he and Wigg were very concerned.

“Try to calm yourself,” Wigg said softly, “and tell us what happened. Start at the beginning.”

“I lost my entire squad to a harpy, and I was traveling alone,” Joshua began. “I did not find another squad for a long time—much longer than I thought it would have normally taken. My food was running out . . .” He paused, trying to control his emotions. “I finally found another squad of four and joined them. They were led by Argus.”

A hint of recognition came into Wigg’s aquamarine eyes. “Argus,” he said. “He was one of the best of the consuls.”

“Yes,” Joshua said. “With us were three others: Jonathan, Galeb, and Odom. Did you know them?”

“I knew all of the ones that I sent out,” Wigg replied.

“We had only been together for three days when we started to feel it.”

“When you started to feel what?” Wigg asked.

“The sensation of being near such unusual, highly powered, endowed blood,” Joshua continued. “I had never felt anything like it, nor had any of the others. We were only one day away from the Redoubt when they struck us . . . Only one day . . .”

His voice began to trail off, and the tears came again. “We had decided to stop looking for stalkers and harpies and come straight here, to see if there was still anyone of endowed blood to report this to,” he added weakly. “Both Argus and I thought it that important.”

“And then?”

Joshua swallowed hard, as if still fearful that whatever had attacked the squad was somehow now here, in this very chamber. “The trees above us began to glow, and very large eggs started to take shape in the branches,” he said softly. “After a little bit we could see that they were actually transparent, with birds of prey curled up inside each of them, waiting to hatch. And then they broke free of their eggs, and came for us.”

Joshua began to cough, and Tristan reached to the table for some water. He walked over to the couch and held out the glass to the stricken consul. Seeing him, Joshua’s eyes went wide. “Your Majesty!” he exclaimed. “Forgive me; I did not recognize you.”

“That is unimportant,” Tristan said kindly. “Please continue as best you can.”

But now Joshua, curious about his audience, was looking around again. His eyes fell on the strange man in the chair with the blue cat in his lap. “And you sir, do I know you?” he asked.

“No, you do not,” Faegan replied. “I am Faegan, and I am a wizard. But please continue.”

After another swallow of water, Joshua began again. “The first of them that broke free of its egg made an awful noise, and Argus and Galeb sent bolts against it. But the thing just shook them off, as though their gifts did not exist.” He glanced at Wigg. “It was unbelievable. And then it flew in a direct line toward Argus, knocking him to the ground. The other creatures went after the rest of us in the same way. I was somehow sent flying down over an embankment, where I hurt my arm. I crawled back up as best I could to take a look, and what I saw . . .” He shook his head.

“And that was?” Wigg prompted.

“The birds’ eyes . . .” Joshua said, seemingly lost in the moment. “It’s their eyes, Lead Wizard. I shall never forget them.”

“What about their eyes?”

“They were bright red, and glowed with an intensity that was almost blinding.” He closed his own eyes for a moment. “It was hideous. They did this for some time, apparently surveying the campsite. Then they carried off the consuls in their claws. The entire squad, except myself . . . My friends . . . now all gone . . .”

Faegan wheeled his chair even closer and looked hard at the consul with his intense, gray-green eyes.

“About the eyes,” he said. “Tell me, did they glow constantly?”

Wigg frowned, not pleased that Faegan was pushing the consul so hard.

“Yes,” Joshua answered, “but sometimes more than others.”

Faegan let loose a small cackle and sat back in his chair. Tristan shot a quick glance at Wigg. Faegan has some knowledge of this, Tristan speculated. He made a mental note to speak to Faegan of it later. But right now he had some questions of his own.

“And our nation?” Tristan asked anxiously. “How fares Eutracia? None of us except one has been outside of these walls for weeks, and even on our way here it seemed that Eutracia was in the grip of something we did not fully understand. Can you tell us more?”

“It is indeed as bad as you fear,” Joshua said, his heart obviously heavy. “The entire nation is in chaos. There is simply no authority to enforce the laws and restore order. Crime, murder, and looting are everywhere, and food is growing scarce. More people are moving into the cities every day, mistakenly believing places like Tammerland to be their best chance for survival. Many of these cities, especially Tammerland, are now straining with the flood of refugees. I fear that very soon famine may take hold in the cities, since few farmers dare to bring their crops or livestock to the market, for fear of being assaulted and robbed on the way.” He paused for a moment.