The Gates of Dawn

by Robert Newcomb

  The Minions landed close to the lake and roughly dropped the hundreds of litters they were carrying—Geldon’s and Joshua’s included. And then the warriors did something very strange.

  From pouches located in each of the litters they began producing what appeared to be fishing nets of unusually strong, thick rope. Each of the warriors seemed to have one. The warriors quickly tied the nets together, ending up with one of very great size. Completely ignoring the consul and the dwarf, they all flew above the lake—the huge, circular net before them—and hovered only meters above the calm waters.

  After regaining their composure, Geldon and Joshua ran closer to the lake, straining to see what invited such urgency. When they reached the shore, Geldon felt sure he was going to be ill.

  Human skeletons—small and large, child and adult—lay scattered all around. The skeleton’s bizarre postures were completely random, as if some powerful force had dumped them there from a great height, yet not a one was broken.

  Surrounding everything was an acrid, almost toxic stench, unlike anything he had ever smelled. As his eyes began to water, he placed his hand over his mouth. And then he realized the source of the sickening, overpowering odor.

  An oozing, slimy substance covered some of the bones. In places, it actually seemed to hiss, a small amount of steam coming off hauntingly to waft back and forth upon the breeze. Gray-green and quite thick in places, it was eating into and actually melting whatever flesh was left clinging to the bones.

  He looked quickly to Joshua, but the consul seemed to be as confused as he. The Minions seemed to know, though. They hovered over the dark blue waters, holding the massive net, their eyes trained upon the surface of the lake, as if waiting for something.

  An insidious sense of dread began to coil up inside Geldon like an angry, frightened snake.

  Suddenly, one of the Minion warriors swooped down toward the surface of the lake, coming to hover barely a single meter from the surface. Slowly, silently, he drew his dreggan. All the warriors not holding the net drew their dreggans at once and extended the hidden tips of their swords with a great clanging sound that bounced off the surface of the dark blue water and back into the air. Then everything went silent again.

  The water beneath the lone Minion warrior began to role and swirl. Geldon and Joshua stood transfixed, holding their breath in anticipation.

  With an unimaginable burst of energy, something huge and black vaulted from the depths. It leapt straight upward, its speed amazing. Teeth flashed as it tried to reach the lone warrior hovering above it.

  The warrior reacted, trying to gain altitude. But the thing was too fast for him. It took the Minion’s foot off at the ankle and plunged back into the lake. The warrior flew to the lakeshore as fast as he could, his face a picture of agony, his blood pouring from his torn stump.

  Geldon and Joshua ran to the spot where the wounded Minion came to land.

  “Can you help him with the craft?” Geldon asked Joshua breathlessly.

  The consul closed his eyes, and the familiar, azure aura of the craft began to surround the mangled end of the warrior’s leg. Blessedly, the Minion fainted. Joshua took a deep, sad breath and let it out slowly.

  Geldon studied the warrior. Even for a Minion he was large, and he had long, dark hair and a black beard.

  “I have sanitized the wound and accelerated the healing process,” Joshua said. “In addition I have used an incantation that will render him unconscious. He will live, but he will never be the same again.”

  And then the dwarf realized at least part of what was happening. This lone warrior had been bait! his mind exclaimed. Living bait, intended to lure out whatever was down there in the lake! Geldon turned his eyes back to the Minions, expecting to find them still hovering over the surface of the lake with their swords and their nets. But they were gone.

  The dwarf raised his eyes to the sky. At first he saw nothing. But then, very high up, he saw what at first appeared to be a giant flock of geese hovering so high that they were no more than specks in the sky. He had never before seen the Minions fly so high.

  Then the pinpricks in the sky began to grow larger, at an alarming rate. On and on they came, approaching the lake. Within only moments Geldon and Joshua could see that the Minions were soaring downward in a giant circle, wings closed behind their backs, their formation perfect, clearly in free fall. The huge, circular net was stretched in front of them. A few held their dreggans pointed before them.

  Geldon’s mouth fell open with wonder.

  With a great noise and a massive, explosive splash, the perfect circle of several hundred hurtling Minion warriors plunged headfirst into the body of water. A giant gush of water leapt upward in the form of a perfect sphere from the lake, like several hundred connected geysers bursting into the air at once. Then the Minions were gone into the depths, and the water fell back noisily. The surface of the lake became still again, as if nothing had happened.

  The moments came and went agonizingly. Geldon wondered how long the warriors could hold their breath under water. He was holding his own breath, as if that would somehow help those below. Both the dwarf and the consul began to wonder whether all of the warriors had by now met their end.

  At last the water near the center of the lake began to churn and swirl, this time more violently. Several Minions broke the surface, gasping for breath. Finally the entire circle of warriors that had plunged into the water was again visible, and the net was rising in their midst, a great, dark, humped shape trapped within it.

  The hump began to writhe and scream.

  Shouting to their fellows in unison, the Minion warriors began to fight the thing in the net. Their screams combined hauntingly with the urgent, insane shrieking and struggling of the creature they had captured as it desperately tried to free itself and return to the depths. But slowly and surely the Minions managed to bring it closer to shore, finally dragging the convulsing, snarling beast to the water’s edge.

  The thing was covered with smooth, black, velvety hair, much like a Eutracian otter and stood on four legs. Its back was at least as high as any of the Minion warriors were tall. Its body was easily five meters long, and quite large around. Its four feet were scaly and reptilian, quite unlike the torso, and each ended in five sharp, webbed claws that looked especially suited for tearing.

  It seemed to be a strange and grotesque amalgam of creatures. The head ended in a pointed nose, much like a rat. Its large but still somehow beady black eyes looked out from within the net with intense, almost intelligent hatred. An unusually wide, thin mouth sat just below the nose, and large, ratlike ears sat on either side of its head. Its tail—reptilian, like the feet—was barbed all along its length and ended in a point much like the head of an arrow. It switched back and forth violently, occasionally slicing through the net. The creature’s amazing strength was more than obvious.

  Then Geldon took a quick breath of surprise as he noticed the beast’s most unusual characteristic: It had both gills and lungs. The double, vertical, pink-colored slits in the skin and hair behind its jaw were clearly gills, but they were not moving, as would those of a fish out of water. Yet the creature’s chest heaved with its labors. Geldon was amazed. Possessing both lungs and gills, the beast could live both beneath the water and upon the land.

  The beast was truly remarkable. But where had it come from?

  In defiance of its captors, the awful thing opened its mouth farther. Geldon took a step backward, as its jaw hinged open as far as a Parthalonian serpent’s. Two great incisors stood out in each corner of the upper row of teeth, glistening wickedly in the afternoon sun. It hissed in anger at the warriors as they struggled to contain it, snapping its jaw shut with a force that could easily bite a man in half.

  The Minion leader was a man of rather short stature for his kind, and looked familiar to Geldon. The dwarf thought for a moment and dredged up the Minion’s name: Baktar. From what Geldon has seen he was particularly capable.

  Bakt
ar walked up to the dwarf and the consul. “Ugly bastard, is it not?” He laughed, obviously proud of its capture.

  “What in the name of the Afterlife is that thing?” Geldon whispered incredulously.

  “It is called a swamp shrew,” Baktar answered. “At least that is the name we have given it. Appropriate, don’t you think?”

  Baktar motioned for several of his troops to come to his side. They drew their dreggans and stabbed the swamp shrew, their swords plunging deep into its chest. When its struggles and burbling screams ceased, they slashed through the net. Quickly lifting it from the dead body, they beheaded the creature and scrambled to begin another, even more grisly task.

  Lining up alongside the slick, black, beheaded body, with a great heave they turned the shrew over on its back. One of the Minions quickly jumped up on its underbelly, and with his dagger began to open its abdomen from head to tail. Placing his hand within the shrew’s abdominal cavity, he reached in up to his elbow and pulled out several bloody organs. He quickly and expertly cut their connecting tissue away from the creature’s body, letting them slide sloppily over the side and to the ground. Another of the warriors descended on one of the organs—a grayish sack of some size. He sliced it open quickly and cleanly, then pulled out the contents.

  The dwarf and consul stared in unbelieving horror. Geldon covered his mouth.

  Lying before them was the foot just taken from the Minion warrior. And next to the foot lay the clothed, partially digested body of a human being.

  Baktar sighed sadly, then wiped his dreggan in the grass at his feet and slid it back into its scabbard. “We were too late.”

  The body that lay before them appeared to be male. But the only way such a determination could be made was from the style of dress. In all other respects the identity was impossible to discern. The face and extremities had been eroded; the skin was sallow and gray; the facial features were virtually gone. A large quantity of the same gray-green, slimy fluid that had covered the bones lining the lake had spilled out along with the foot and the semidigested body. Its stench was overpowering.

  “Shrews feed both during the night and the day,” Baktar continued. “And only upon either humans or Minions. In the short time since they appeared, they have taken thousands of victims—civilians and Minions alike. We estimate their numbers to be in the hundreds, perhaps even the thousands. They always return to the water after they hunt, remaining out of sight to rest. They can run as fast across the land as they can swim in the water.”

  Joshua, whose eyes had remained on the foot, went over to it and picked it up. He closed his eyes, and the glow of the craft engulfed the severed appendage, remaining there. He gently placed the foot down next to the wounded warrior.

  Baktar bent to examine the strangely glowing, severed foot, then turned back to the consul. “Can you use the craft to reattach this?” he asked earnestly. “Tempting the shrew to come to the surface requires indomitable courage, and volunteering for this task has become a great honor among us. The warrior who was brave enough to tempt this shrew is a particularly excellent fighter, and I would not like to lose his services.”

  “Unfortunately, I cannot reattach the foot,” Joshua answered. “Such an incantation is beyond my ability in the craft. I have seen to it that the wound will heal quickly, with no infection and with less pain than normal. But there are some others who might be able to do as you ask. That is why I have enchanted the foot—to preserve it. Tell me, what is the wounded man’s name?”

  Baktar smiled slightly. “Ox,” he replied. “What he lacks in wit he more than makes up for in courage.” He paused for a moment, looking down at the stricken warrior.

  “Why is it that you were so eager to cut open the shrew’s stomach?” Joshua asked.

  “It is a matter of Minion honor that we cremate our dead,” Baktar replied. “When we take a shrew, the stomach is opened to see what it contains. If it is a warrior, we burn the dead body in honor. If it is a civilian, a selected group from the participating squad of shrew slayers buries the corpse.”

  “Shrew slayers?” Joshua asked.

  “Yes,” Baktar explained. “Commander Traax formed the slayers soon after the shrews first made their appearance, since our last orders from the Chosen One were to protect the populace. Hunting the shrews has partially kept us from doing all else that the Chosen One ordered. Still, we felt this work was important. There are now many groups of shrew slayers who do nothing else, day and night. They are all volunteers. In my opinion they are to be commended.”

  Geldon looked back at the dead body of the swamp shrew. Commended indeed.

  “That’s why all of the bones are here, isn’t it?” Joshua asked. “The shrew swallows its prey whole. It then slowly digests the organs and flesh, regurgitating the bones and clothing back up on the shore.”

  “Yes,” Baktar answered. “Sadly, one of the best ways to find a shrew, just as we found this one, is to look for the bone trail of its victims. But there is yet another reason for opening the stomach of a captured shrew as quickly as possible.”

  “And that is?” the consul asked.

  “Their stomachs have sometimes been known to contain victims that were still alive,” the Minion warrior said simply.

  Geldon felt his stomach turn over. “You must be joking!” he exclaimed.

  “Oh, it is quite true,” Baktar said, then snorted as if he did not quite believe it himself. “There is in fact one warrior here among us today who has survived that very ordeal.”

  “Who is he?” Geldon whispered in awe.

  “He is Ox, the one who lies at your feet.”

  Now Geldon understood why the warrior would volunteer for such a thing. This had become personal for him.

  But there was something else that puzzled Geldon. “Where did all of these bodies of water come from?” he asked Baktar. “They were not here when I left Parthalon, and I have only been gone a matter of weeks.”

  “We were hoping you, the Chosen One, or his wizards could tell us that,” Baktar answered discouragingly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Several days after the death of the sorceresses, certain areas across our land began to take on the glow of the craft, both day and night. This lasted for several days. We were not at first concerned, assuming it to be the work of the Chosen One and his wizards. But when the glow finally faded, in every place where it had come and gone there was a body of water, each one somehow more beautiful than the last. This is when the shrews first appeared.”

  Geldon turned questioningly to the consul. Joshua merely shook his head.

  “Only Wigg and Faegan would possess the knowledge to unravel such a thing,” the consul said quietly.

  Geldon let out a long breath, but before he could say anything else, a young Minion officer stepped forward from the ranks. He clicked his heels together. “Forgive me, sir, but our work here is done. Is it your order that we continue north, as previously planned? Or are we to camp here for the night?”

  Baktar looked to Geldon. “What are your wishes?” he asked.

  “My business with Traax is important,” Geldon said. “Provided your troops are not too tired, I would like to carry on.”

  Baktar smiled. “Minion troops are never too tired,” he said.

  Baktar gave the order to regroup and watched his forces as they picked up the hundreds of litters. As only one of the craft could, Joshua reached through the azure glow that surrounded the severed foot and placed the appendage carefully within his robes.

  Geldon and Joshua returned to their litters. The wounded, still-unconscious warrior named Ox was carefully placed into another. Geldon looked over to see that Joshua again had one hand firmly clamped over his eyes.

  Without further fanfare they rose into the sky, their great numbers briefly darkening the land below them as they went. As the sun set gracefully into the retreating horizon of the lake, Geldon pondered that there was much more to learn about what had happened here.

&n
bsp; But first he would have to deal with Traax.

  CHAPTER

  Seventeen

  Closing his eyes, Ragnar placed his thick index finger into the gaping wound along his right temple. He found no fluid there today. But he soon would. The three rose-colored moons of the Eutracian night sky would again soon be full, and his gash would produce anew the yellow fluid. Just as it had been doing for the last three hundred years.

  He dipped his finger into the vial of brain fluid that Scrounge had drawn from him not so long ago, then inserted it into his mouth. Immediately he felt searing heat run through his tortured body.

  Wigg and the Chosen One will soon be here, he thought, again dipping his finger into the vial. And at last Wigg will stand before me and receive his just reward for the three centuries of pain and disgrace he has caused me.

  He stood from the ornate, velvet-upholstered chair and paced slowly around the room like a caged animal. Ever since the child had told him of the impending arrival of his enemies, his memories had come to haunt him even more than usual. His eagerness to face Wigg grew with each passing day.

  His personal chambers were both his prison and his home. The furniture and draperies were of the highest quality. Magenta streaks darted across the black marble walls like shooting stars in the sky. The candlelight flickered softly, barely piercing the darkness that he preferred for his personal reveries.

  Soon, Wigg, we will make a new history together. He smiled to himself. This time it shall be you, not I, who will carry the burden of suffering for all eternity.

  He reached to the marble table that stood nearby and took up a sheathed dagger that lay there. He fondled it gently, almost lovingly, then placed the coolness of its scabbard along the length of his heated, maddened brow. This dagger had once belonged to Wigg. It would serve in the plans Ragnar had for the lead wizard. The child had already granted him permission.