Saying no more, Wigg altered their path a bit, and the prince realized that the wizard intended to make a detour to the grave sites. Tristan was pleased. Wigg had never visited the place since that fateful day he and Tristan had first buried the bodies, and the prince hoped that by going there, the wizard’s heart would be comforted as his had been. Perhaps it had been this talk of the past that had prompted his decision. Or perhaps Wigg had wanted to go there since the determination had been made to visit the Caves. But as far as the prince was concerned, Wigg’s personal reasons were just that.
Tristan turned around to check on the gnome and found him falling behind. Shannon’s robe was several sizes too large and his face peeked out from its depths as though he were hiding in a cave. The gnome was clearly quite tipsy. He slid around drunkenly in his saddle, which was far too big for his little bottom, trying to maintain his balance. He waved one hand at the prince, then almost fell off, grabbing the pommel and righting himself at the last moment. He hadn’t spilled a drop of the precious ale. Beaming proudly, he raised the jug in triumph.
“That’s enough!” Tristan hissed. “I can’t have you unable to find your way back! I want you to put the jug down now!”
Glowering at the prince from the depths of the hood, the irascible little man did as Tristan asked. He rather defiantly corked the jug, then awkwardly tied it to the back of his saddle. Wigg turned to smirk at the prince in obvious agreement. Then they approached the clearing that marked the area of the graves.
Wigg’s expression took on a sad darkness as he stopped his mare and dismounted. He took a deep breath, looking out into the clearing. Finally he walked slowly to stand by the graves, the rose-colored moonlight casting his larger-than-life shadow across the deep grass.
Tristan brought Pilgrim to a quiet stop at the clearing’s edge. I have already had my own quiet reflections in this place, he thought. He touched the medallion that lay round his neck. It is now time to let the wizard have his.
Shannon finally caught up and saw the robed figure of Wigg in the clearing. The wizard’s head was bent down, and his silent presence was surrounded by the silver prisms of frost that lay upon the forest floor like scattered, rose-colored diamonds. Shannon for once remained blessedly silent.
As Wigg stood there in the moonlight, Tristan could not help but again be reminded of the woman he had met here. The memory of the myrrh in her hair came back to him.
Who in the name of the Afterlife was she? he wondered. I cannot remember ever seeing a woman as beautiful. Not even Narissa, the Gallipolai of Parthalon.
He knew in his heart that he would never see the mysterious stranger again. She would no doubt find some other way to take her life before that could ever happen. Perhaps she was dead already. She had seemed so determined to end it all, her demeanor suggesting she had experienced a great deal of pain in her life. He shook his head a bit, thinking of what a waste her death would be.
Finally walking out of the clearing, Wigg remounted his mare. Without saying anything to each other the three of them again set upon their path for the Caves.
They had not gone much farther when the lead wizard suddenly stopped his mount and held up his arm, indicating that the others should stop and remain silent. Tristan watched him bow his head and close his eyes. After a brief moment, Wigg looked seriously at the prince.
“There is endowed blood ahead,” he said quietly. “It is a type I have never before encountered. We could go around it, but I feel we should investigate. It may have a great deal to do with our problems.”
“Can you tell who it is?” Tristan whispered.
“No,” said the wizard. “But the presence is strong. Follow me closely, and do not speak.” They started to move.
They had gone perhaps another half league when Wigg stopped again and dismounted, silently motioning for the other two to do the same.
At the top of a small rise, Wigg beckoned them to lie down on their stomachs. Crawling forward on the forest floor, they slowly approached the crest. The depression in the ground that lay below them was rather large, and what they saw within its borders staggered them all. The clearing was full of Joshua’s birds of prey.
Tristan’s jaw dropped at the sight. He had never before seen anything quite like this, and doubted he ever would again.
He quickly counted the birds, finding fifteen. Each was at least the size of a man, and their bodies and long wings were covered with leathery, reptilian skin instead of feathers. They had exceptionally long, dark claws. They stood upright upon what appeared to be very strong legs.
What fascinated him the most were their eyes. Each of the birds’ bright red orbs was located far to the side of its head and could rotate in virtually any direction, even opposite directions at once, probably giving them incredible eyesight. The overall effect was horrifying. Their movements both birdlike and incredibly fast, the things often tilted their heads quickly this way and that to enhance their view. Then Tristan took in the entire scene, and his breath caught in his lungs.
The birds were standing guard over about a dozen captive consuls of the Redoubt.
The men, each still in his blue robe, were in varying states of injury. Most of them simply lay upon the ground, terrorized by the great birds glowering over them. Occasionally one of the things would find a consul trying to edge his way out of the clearing, and with a great shriek would rush to him and strike him hard with the bony protuberance that ran down the center of its long, angular head, herding the hapless consul back to the center.
The chilling scene made Tristan’s blood churn, summoning him to kill them all. He silently drew his dreggan, laying it in the grass by his side. He then looked over to Shannon, to see the gnome shaking uncontrollably with fear.
Wigg looked into Tristan’s darkened expression. “Under no circumstances do we interfere in this!” he hissed, as if reading the prince’s mind.
Tristan couldn’t believe his ears. “Are you mad?” he whispered back angrily. “In case you haven’t noticed, those are consuls down there! Do you really expect us to simply watch and do nothing?”
“That’s exactly what I expect us to do!” Wigg growled softly. He clearly meant to have the upper hand. “Don’t you think I would like to try to save them from whatever fate these creatures have in store? Of course I would! But there are fifteen of those beasts down there, and we don’t know their power. In addition, our mission to the Caves must take precedence! Nothing can jeopardize that! The very fate of both our nation and the craft hang upon us successfully retrieving the Tome. If we stop to interfere in this, all might be lost for the sake of a precious few. Besides, I believe if these creatures truly wanted our people dead, they already would be.” He paused for a moment, the pain of his difficult decision clearly registering on his craggy face. “No,” he whispered finally, his tone a bit softer. “We wait, and we watch.”
“And just what will that accomplish?” Tristan asked angrily.
“We will learn all we can, for I have no doubt we will encounter these things again. All that we can glean here will eventually prove useful, I assure you.” Wigg glanced down to Tristan’s dreggan as it glittered sharply in the light of the moons. “You will yet have your chance,” he added softly. “But not today.”
Tristan’s jaw tightened, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the hilt of his sword in frustration.
It was just then that Shannon, still shaking with fear, accidentally brought his hand down upon a dry branch. As it broke beneath his weight, the snapping sound it made reached out through the night air and into the clearing. The awful birds suddenly came to attention, their grotesque heads turning this way and that.