The Gates of Dawn

Epilogue

The tall, lean wizard floated quietly above the shattered ruins of the Gates of Dawn. Through his use of the craft, a woman hovered silently by his side. The man’s long, white hair moved casually in the swirling wind, as did the hem of his odd, two-colored robe.

Closing his eyes, he searched the rubble for the presence of other endowed blood. Sensing none, he opened his eyes and explored the scene.

Gigantic blocks of black-and-azure marble lay strewn everywhere, as if tossed there casually by giants. But nothing he saw here brought joy to his heart, because for him this was a scene of failure, rather than triumph.

Looking further, he saw both the black, broken shells of the dead carrion scarabs and the larger, partially decomposed bodies of the consuls. The remnants of their tattered, dark blue robes flapped quietly in the wind.

“Nicholas has failed,” the woman said softly. “At the hand of the Chosen Ones and their wizards.”

“But I shall not,” the man answered. “Part of Nicholas’ vision can still be completed. In fact, some of it goes forward as we speak. But to succeed completely, I must have the scrolls. And then the other.”

“The other?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “The one of endowed blood that even the Chosen Ones and the wizard of Shadowood know nothing of. Only I and Wigg understand this one’s ultimate potential. But first we must have the scrolls.” He paused for a moment, watching the smoke as it continued to rise, vanishing into the nothingness of the sky. “In the end, both the lead wizard and the cripple in the chair escaped the master’s grasp, but they will not elude mine,” he added softly.

“And where are these scrolls?” she asked.

“Entombed within one of the legs of the Gates,” he answered, his eyes still scanning the scene intently. “Yet another of the master’s reasons for ordering the scarabs to surround this place. He told me that he would mark the section with an enchantment, forestalled to enact only should the Confluence fail, or he somehow perish.” Unsatisfied with what he saw here, he turned to her. “We must search further,” he ordered.

Finally, he saw it. Incredibly, a segment of one of the Gates still stood upright, reaching twenty meters into the air, and its azure glow was unmistakable. He headed for it as if it were some kind of beacon. But as they approached, his worst possible fears were realized.

The secret door in the side wall of the massive block had already been breached.

Pointing one of his hands at the partially open entryway, he widened the gap and maneuvered himself and the woman inside. As he reached up to touch the radiance stones his master had embedded in the ceiling, the room quickly became awash in a combination of sage and azure light. Lowering himself and his companion to the floor, he quickly took in the scene.

A huge marble table, hewn from the floor of living rock, stood in the center of the room. Something lay upon it. He immediately ran to it, hoping against hope that he would find what he had been promised, should the worst have befallen them. But to his horror, only one of the two scrolls was lying there.

“How can this be!” he railed, fists in the air. His chest heaving, he again glanced frantically about the room. But there was absolutely nothing else to see.

The woman looked carefully at the ancient, rolled-up parchment. It was about one meter long, and one quarter of a meter thick. Solid-gold knobs adorned each end of the rod running through its center. A golden band, engraved with words in Old Eutracian, secured the massive roll at its middle.

Wasting no time, the wizard picked it up. He turned to her, his eyes flashing.

“Can you locate the other scroll?” he demanded harshly.

“I—I don’t know,” she said, terrified of what he might do if her answer displeased him. Since she had been forced into his service, she had all too often been the victim of his sudden fits of rage. “I have never seen either of these parchments until now. Perhaps if I had either something personal of those who took it, or a piece of the missing document itself . . .”

“I don’t want to hear ‘perhaps’!” he snarled. Reaching out with his free hand, her took her by the throat, raised her off her feet, and slammed her against the nearest marble wall. “Besides, you ignorant cow, I cannot give you a piece of a document I do not have!” His angry, dark eyes bored into hers.

“You’re an herbmistress, are you not?” he hissed. “And a blaze-gazer as well—or so you have told me. These are the only reasons I tolerate your presence, and now you tell me you don’t know!” She wheezed desperately as he tightened his grip around her throat. Her arms and legs began to twitch involuntarily. He moved his face to within inches of hers.

“Now then, can you find it, or not?” he asked, his voice no more than a whisper. Her eyes began to roll up into her head. He didn’t care; if she couldn’t help him, her life didn’t matter. There were others like her, should he need one.

“Yes,” she finally gasped. “Somehow, I will . . . find . . . a way . . . but must have . . . herbs . . . for flame . . .” What sounded like a final, rattling gasp slowly escaped her lungs.

He smiled. “That’s better.” He let her go, and she crashed unconscious to the floor.

Ignoring her, he walked to the open doorway and again gazed out over the smoking rubble. Thinking, he looked back to the woman lying on the floor.

He would need to find another herbmistress or herbmaster, so that he could steal the necessary ingredients. That much was certain. But where to look? Then something began to tug at the back of his mind.

Searching his memory, he tried to retrieve the details of the rumor that had long been whispered down the halls of the Redoubt: the hearsay describing the only transgression supposedly ever committed by the lead wizard.

At last he remembered, and his mouth turned up into a smile. If herbs were what his seer needed, then herbs were what she would receive. And then, after acquiring them, he would pay the lead wizard and the cripple in the chair a visit they would never forget.

He walked back to the woman and levitated her body into the air. Still holding the single scroll, he grasped her with his free arm and glided back out over the steaming, hissing rubble.