The vigil over Digtry lasted well into the evening, longer than any of his mourners had expected. The little wizard clung to life lungful by wheezing, burbling lungful. But as dusk faded into blackness, the tight rhythm of his breathing broke down. He snatched convulsively at the air, flailing for his last finger hold on life. Roland held his breath along with him during the agonizing pauses between shallower and shallower gasps, fearing each was Digtry’s last.
The air grew chill. Roland dropped his last remaining stick of driftwood on the small fire Sloat had built. As a collapsing ember kicked loose a few sparks, a powerful gust of wind kicked the fire back into flame. Sand sprayed everywhere as a lordly eagle swooped down from the skies and landed near Digtry. Off toppled Packory. He thanked the bird, who flapped off in another silent rush of wind.
“Glory, what a ride!” chuckled the frog. “I’m not one who can’t admit when he’s wrong. I’m tickled green you sent me on this errand. Am I too late?”
“No, but hurry!” screeched Roland. “Quick! Give him the power!”
To his dismay, the frog took one step and toppled like a drunk. “You owe me big, mister. See the price I had to pay for you?” snapped Packory. “You think a starfish would hand over his healing power to a stranger for just a please and a thank you? Let me tell you, son, I found only one starfish who would even consider making a deal. His price was steep. And who pays the price? Not you guys, no! Old Packory the Pushover!”
“What was the price?” asked Belfray.
“Are you blind?” said the frog, splayed in the sand. “Are any of your senses operational, you people with the `higher brains? I had to trade him my powers of locomotion. Leaping, as it were. There is, even as we speak, a starfish on Palisades Beach bouncing all over creation, giggling like a maniac, and look at me!”
“Okay, okay!” said Roland. Digtry was barely breathing. “How do we transfer the loan? Quick!”
“All I have to do is touch him and say ‘here it is; you can have it.’ If it’s not too much trouble for you to carry me a few feet. Or am I supposed to wiggle my way over there like a worm?"
Roland all but squeezed the wind out of Packory as he grabbed him. In an instant the frog lay on the sand next to the nearly pulseless form. After chanting a few words, he said, “There, it’s done.”
Roland picked him up, more gently this time. “Thank you, Packory. How can I ever repay you?”
“Getting your greasy paws off me would be a wonderful start. And don’t pretend you have any intention of repaying me. You know as well as I, none of us are going to live to see next week anyhow. Shoot, all that work and even if the guy lives, all we did was buy him a day or two. For that I cripple myself in my final hours.”
“As soon as Digtry heals, we can fly you back and swap with the starfish,” said Roland.
“I’m afraid that will have to wait,” said Packory, morosely. “The first trip was an emergency to save a master wizard. I used up every last ounce of credibility I had getting a bird to haul my butt out there. No eagle would fly me out to Palisades now just to get my bounce back. I want it on your conscience that I lived my last days on this earth as a stupid plant.”
Digtry showed no immediate improvement. Indeed, he seemed on more than one occasion to have expelled his last breath. Roland feared they were either too late or that his plan simply did not work. Or more likely, he misunderstood the intricacies of the borrowing principle.
None of them thought about supper as the death vigil continued. Digtry remained unconscious but his rasping seemed to diminish somewhat. Roland drifted into a fitful nap of his own.
He was roused by a faint whisper calling out, “Has anyone seen my body? I seem to have misplaced it.”
Roland whirled and stared at the flickering light of the dying flames that danced over Digtry’s face. He saw a blink. Then another.
“Digtry!” he shouted.
“The same,” said Digtry.
“You’re going to be all right! It worked! How are you feeling?”
Digtry shuddered as he examined the gash that tore through most of his midsection. “There seems to be some mistake. Too much of me is missing for me to still be alive.”
“That is because you have the constitution of a starfish,” said Belfray, joyfully.
“Insults on my death bed,” muttered Digtry. But a wisp of a smile tugged at his lips.
“No, it’s true,” said Roland. He explained the story of the loan from the starfish.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a dandelion?” moaned Digtry. “I think my head has gone to seed.”
Packory insisted it was a starfish.
“That explains my sudden craving for salt water,” said Digtry. “I seem to be running up a tab. Yesterday, Mageroy sent a bird to transfer a loan to me from her daughter, Katra. She knows much about the Fifth Realm. If I had died, her knowledge would have died with me. Hate to think of all that study going to waste.”
“You know Mageroy then?” asked Roland.
“Professional colleague,” answered Digtry. “How long have I been lying here leaking blood and sloughing off body parts?”
“Since this morning.”
“That leaves little time to deal with Ishyrus. Where are Hatanwa and Redmerit? We must talk.” Digtry tried to rise, but his wounds were gruesome, his blood loss alarming, and the pain excruciating.
“They are in some sort of meeting now,” said Belfray. “Sloat went along at the animals’ request to keep the peace.”
Digtry grimaced.
“Are you comfortable where you lie?” asked Roland.
“No. But see if the council will move their meeting. Here.”
The request was relayed to the council.
Before long, Hatanwa glowered down at them from atop the dune. One of the wolverine’s eyes was nearly clawed shut and he walked with a slight limp, but his good eye burned with deadly intent. A grisly assortment of beasts in dangerous temper followed him, including Chama the bison and Ubor the wolf. A very uncomfortable Sloat trailed after them.
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“We are glad you are feeling better, Digtry,” said Hatanwa, who sounded anything but joyful. “I confess, we have accomplished nothing on our own tonight. Indeed, I see nothing more that we can accomplish. The bonds are broken. The enemy’s forces were far stronger than we expected. And that was even before we received the latest news. Now we hear that it was Ishyrus who created the feud between the bison and wolves. Ishyrus who created the feud so that the Droom could wipe out both armies. And the Droom let the Raxxars, and probably the Brookings and others pass through their land on their way to Point Harrow. Obviously, they have some sort of understanding with Ishyrus.”
"But how could Ishyrus communicate with the Droom?' Roland interrupted. "I was told that was not possible because Fifth Realmers communicate in the lower realms only through dreams, and the Droom never sleep."
"They daydream, just like anyone else," explained Digtry. "And they meditate. Ishyus could contact them through either means."
"Any way," saif Hatanwa, impatient at the interruption, "All the forces in the world combined could not hope to stop Ishyrus with the Droom added to the host it has gathered here. Especially now that the realm bonds are breeched."
Digtry nodded. “Where are Redmerit and Greenrafter? We cannot have a council without the Gnomes.”
Hatanwa’s lip curled over his gums. A growl sprang from deep in his throat, bearing such malice that Roland jumped back. “The animals of the Fourth Realm no longer defile their speech with the name of those incompetent and faithless fools. The worthless slackguards have sent many of our best fighters to their deaths by their cowardly display this morning. We are lucky that any of us survived.”
“Let’s talk about that,” said Digtry, evenly.
“No Gnomes!” hissed Hatanwa, arching his back. “The beasts will have nothing more to do with them. Better to have no allies than faithless ones.”
Digtry winced as he labored to shift his weight to his other elbow. Staring straight at the wolverine, he said firmly, “Send for Redmerit and Greenrafter."
Such rage burned in Hatanwa’s eyes at this command that Roland instinctively stepped back. Careful, Digtry. You don’t want to play around with that character.
Their face-off, however, lasted only seconds. Although the idea of treating with the Gnomes filled him with such bile that he could barely spit out the order, Hatanwa dispatched a buck messenger to the Gnome camp. Roland knew that animals could sense fear in humans. It seemed that they could sense other traits as well. Despite his wounds, Digtry commanded some level of obedience, or at least cooperation, from even the most powerful and fiercely independent predators. Roland wondered if maybe that came from being a wizard. He was having a difficult time figuring out exactly what did come with that job.
The rest of the animals settled in around the dune, squinting and shying away from the low fire. Out of consideration, Sloat tossed sand on the burning wood, dimming it to a few glowing embers--just enough so that those who lacked acute night vision could see.
Before long, two defiant Gnomes marched onto the dune, thick arms crossed over their chests. They scowled down their oversized noses at the growling throng, some of whom openly bared their teeth. Between the Gnomes and the animals lay Digtry, with Sloat at his side. Hatanwa paced next to them, exhausted yet unable to keep still. Roland, Berch, and Belfry retreated from the center of the circle to a less conspicuous vantage upon the upper lip of the dune.
At Digtry’s request, one of the elks gave a rather lengthy summary of what had happened on the field of battle in the early morning hours. “Would our Gnome allies do us the honor of telling what caused the failure in the coordination of the battle plan to which we all subscribed?” he finished.
“Elk are far and away the most diplomatic of animals,” Packory whispered to Roland.
Redmerit stood motionless. His wrinkled hands folded over his chest, displaying granite knuckles. He leveled a defiant glare at the hostile animals. “The Color Gnomes understand your bitterness,” he said in his cracking, gravelly voice. “Yet we are sick enough in heart and in body without having to bear the accusations and abuse from those to whose aid we have come without delay and at great sacrifice. We were not faithless this morning.”
The beasts answered with a chorus of snorts and sneers.
“We were all to attack on the signal from the eagle,” said Hatanwa. “That could not have been made clearer.”
“They just stood there,” said the eagle. “I gave the signal and they all stood there milling around like sheep, gawking at the purple explosion over on the point. Just stood there.”
“How do you explain that?” demanded Hatanwa.
“Sorcery from Ishyrus,” said Redmerit. “From the Fifth Realm.”
The beasts poured out their scorn and ridicule on the Gnomes. “A nice excuse to cover your hairless hide! Admit it, you were scared witless! When the moment of truth came, your knees turned to jelly!”
“Stop your rude taunts at once and allow me to speak, or forever forfeit our friendship and alliance!” fumed Redmerit.
This provoked louder snarls and roars. Their faces bright red, Greenrafter and Redmerit turned on their heels and began to walk away.
Hatanwa snarled. Despite his contempt for the Gnomes, he refused to tolerate disorder at his war councils. “Which of you knows for a fact why the Gnomes did not appear on the field at their appointed time?” he challenged. “FOR A FACT!”
A boar began to hurl another insult at the Gnomes, but Hatanwa charged him and sent him scuttling to the edge of the dune. “This is a council of war. We meet to decide the fate of all beasts, those who live and those who are yet to come, and for many peoples of the world as well. Those who hinder its progress will be removed.” Hatanwa crouched low to the ground and bared his teeth at the offender. “I trust that won’t be necessary.”
The boar sullenly looked away but said no more.
“Continue,” said Hatanwa to the Gnomes.
Redmerit dipped his head in an awkward nod of acknowledgment. “At the moment of the eagle’s cry, we began our attack as agreed. Our knees held firm and our hearts beat as steady and purposeful as any beast’s here. But surely you saw the lightning that sundered the northern sky. A mole could not have missed it. Doubtless, you heard the thunderburst, the very one, it is certain, by which Ishyrus shattered the realm bonds. By which Ishyrus turned its powers against us. In less than a blink, we found ourselves hurled back up the coast several miles from where we started our attack.”
“That’s a lie! A filthy lie!” squawked the eagle. “They never moved; I saw them the whole time and they never moved.”
The beasts erupted in outrage. Shrieking, snarling, and hissing the vilest of insults, they closed menacingly on the two gnomes. This time Hatanwa turned his back on the Gnomes and did not intervene.
Far from displaying any hint of the cowardice of which the beasts were accusing him, Redmerit and Greenrafter stood their ground and glared at the unruly crowd, grinding teeth, grinding their teeth and gripping the hilts of their axes until Redmerit’s temper finally burst. His neck veins bulged like ropes and the knuckles of his clenched fists turned whites as he roared, “The minds of beasts are said to be of such weight that a breath of a gnat might bear them away, but I have never taken a stand on the issue until now out of respect for our alliance! Of course the story is fantastic! Does that word not define the Fifth Realm? Do you think Ishyrus performs standard, ordinary tricks for our polite applause? The Fifth Realm has powers of illusion. Of making the world seem as it is not. That was the web cast over us by Ishyrus. None of you would have done differently than we.”
He could barely make himself heard above the torrent of abuse the beasts rained on him, but so infuriated was he that he shouted into the din, not caring whether or not anyone listened. “Well has Ishyrus planned its assault on the realms. It knew that if any of us were fortunate enough to survive this morning’s battle, the animals would blame the Gnomes for the defeat. Ishyrus it was who devised the circumstance that would have us at each others’ throats, so that we would destroy our alliance against him.
“Hear this, beasts of the Fourth Realm. As far as the Color Gnomes are concerned, Ishyrus has succeeded on that count!” Without a backward glance stomped across the sand, his hood falling back over his head to display thinning wisps of white hair. Greenrafter followed him with clenched fists, spitting his fury. Digtry clutched Sloat by the sleeve and whispered to him. Immediately, Sloat scampered across the dune after the Gnomes, spraying pebbly sand in his haste. After a quick, animated exchange with Sloat, the Gnomes stopped at the edge of the dune. But they did not return. They kept well apart from the animals, who crowded upon Digtry in their agitation.
“Don’t tell us you believe their ridiculous excuse!” growled Hatanwa at Digtry.
“An impartial observer went with the Gnomes,” replied Digtry, wincing from the pain of his wounds. His voice rose barely above a whisper, and Hatanwa demanded quiet so that he could hear what was being said. Roland feared Digtry was attempting too much, too soon. Starfish loan or no, his wounds were horrendous. ”A man of integrity stands as an impartial witness to what happened. Let’s hear what he has to say.”
Roland blushed down to his toes as he realized that it was he of whom Digtry spoke in such glowing terms. The praise scalded him with shame as he remembered his disgrace at the Glasswater. In the heat of the day’s battle, he had forgotten the blight that remained on his record, but those words seemed to mock him. A man of integrity. Right! He stared off into the stars rather than cross glances with his travel companion.
“Roland, you were there. And you have experience with the Fifth Realm. What happened?” asked Digtry.
Roland cleared his throat. Steeling himself against the murderous glares of the animals, he told essentially the same story that Redmerit had offered. “Illusion is the best weapon they have,” he concluded. "As starved as they have been, it’s probably the only weapon a weakened spirit has. I have been to the Fifth. Believe me, they can make anything seem real. The Gnomes are telling the truth.”
After he finished his report, no one spoke. Roland was afraid he had failed to heal the rift among former allies. Could beasts sense something in him, those huge and obvious character flaws that made him an unreliable witness?
“Do you know what confirms that explanation?” said Digtry. “Mark Redmerit’s words: see how this incident destroys the trust between allies. The more we see of Ishyrus’s handiwork, the more we see that undermining trust is a trademark.”
Although he could not read the faces of the animals, Roland detected a change in posture. The horned animals and the wolves seemed restless, unsure. Finally, Hatanwa broke the gridlock of indecision.
“I accept the explanation given,” he said. “I extend my apologies to the Gnomes.”
The rest followed his lead, except for the badger and boar, who would only admit that the Gnomes’ story was theoretically possible, but still questionable.
“May I suggest a recess in the council while the explanation is spread among the animals?” said Ubor. “The sooner we stifle hostile encounters between the two camps, the better off we shall be.” Chama seconded the motion and the others quickly agreed.
Roland approached Digtry, craving a word of praise for his help in patching up the rift. His soul still ached in shame at his past deeds, and a word of gentle praise from the wizard would mean so much. But as Roland drew near, Digtry lay his head back and shut his eyes. Alarmed, Roland crept close enough to insure that Digtry was merely asleep, and then left him without speaking.
For the first time in a long while, he felt an overwhelming desire to be alone. After the exhausting events of the pasts weeks, and the lack of sleep, his few moments in front of the animal tribunal had exhausted him. He was lonely, achingly so. Yet, strangely, the only remedy for loneliness seemed to be greater solitude. He left the dune and walked into the moonlit darkness, turning his back on the lavender glow, the battlefield stench, and the fresh, bitter memories that hung over Point Harrow.
Last night he had been alive with anticipation. But despite fleeting pockets of success following the predawn attack, so much had been lost. In a single day, he had witnessed more ruin and pain and suffering than he had seen in his entire life. And this was only the warmup. The realm bonds were broken. The world’s foundations had been shaken. The Nephilim were coming and nothing could stop them.