Robert Newcomb - The Gates of Dawn

“But there is still something I do not understand,” he said. “Nicholas appeared to me as a grown man. That was why I could not recognize him at first. How could he return to our world in so short a time as a fully mature being?”

“An excellent question,” Faegan said from the far end of the table. “And if Wigg will allow me, I will endeavor to answer it.” Glancing over to the lead wizard, Faegan saw him nod.

“First of all,” he began, “it is entirely possible that Nicholas was returned by the Heretics while still an infant, or at least as a very small child. But if the Heretics were aware of the many Forestallments he inherited from Tristan, as we now believe they must have been, then they may also have been able to enact many or all of them before sending him here, giving him immense wisdom and powers for one so young. These abilities would have had little or nothing to do with his chronological age. And as we now know from Shailiha’s experiences with winged creatures of the craft, Forestallments can be activated even if the subject has never been trained. In fact, it is quite logical to assume that all of Nicholas’ gifts were the result of Forestallments. And if that is true, we may then postulate that as he took the power of the stone for himself, both his physical and mental growth continued to advance at a rate never before seen.”

“So he never knew of the imperfection in his signature?” Tristan asked.

“That is correct,” Wigg answered. “Neither did the Heretics, or they would not have sent him here. In this we were most fortunate.”

“But how on earth did you first come upon the imperfection in his blood, when neither Nicholas nor the Heretics ever did?” Tristan asked. “Frankly, such a thing seems quite impossible.”

“Yet another piece of the puzzle,” Faegan said, smiling. “One that we have Ragnar to thank for.”

“What are you talking about?” Celeste asked. At the mention of his name her face had gone dark, her eyes hard.

“Ragnar blinded Wigg by having the dried brain fluid placed into his eyes,” Faegan answered. “When we were examining Nicholas’ blood signature, Wigg had to pass his fingers over it in order to ‘see’ it, if you will. It was then that he first noticed the anomaly.” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

“Armed with that first bit of information, we began our research,” he continued. “As for the Heretics, they no doubt never employed this rather bizarre method of reading a blood signature. Why would they? It is highly untypical of beings, even those as gifted as the Heretics seem to be, to go looking for things they believe cannot exist.”

“And because Nicholas was unable to complete the Confluence,” Tristan mused, “the process was halted, and the Gates self-destructed. Therefore the blood of the Heretics was never fully empowered, and their spirits were forced back into the heavens.”

“Yes,” Wigg said. “And the spell Nicholas designed to destroy the scarabs was enacted, killing the vast majority of them before the Confluence was halted. We sent the Minions to search out and destroy the rest. But Tristan remains a wanted man. And the Brotherhood of Consuls has supposedly been turned by Nicholas’ use of the craft, and that body is now leaderless. Only the Afterlife knows their state of affairs. Such a group could become very dangerous indeed.”

“And we still don’t know where the endowed children are,” Celeste added sadly. “Or the trained, fully grown women of the craft.” The resulting silence lasted for a long time.

“But now I want the answer to my first question,” Shailiha finally demanded. “How is it that Tristan still lives?”

“I can remember almost dying,” the prince said quietly. “I had the sensation of floating. It was almost as if my blood was trying to take me someplace far away. But most of what I recollect is nothing more than azure, pain, and darkness. I heard voices come and go, but they meant nothing to me. And then I was suddenly awake, here in the Redoubt. What happened?”

“You were having your fourth and final convulsion just as the Gates were collapsing beneath you,” Wigg answered quietly. “You were unable to reach the antidote that Nicholas kept with him to tease you to his side. Then the Gates collapsed fully, and you started down with them.”

“But how can you possibly know all of this?” Tristan asked incredulously. “You weren’t there!”

“True,” Wigg replied, pursing his lips. “But Traax and Ox were.”

“What?” Tristan exclaimed. “What do you mean, they were there?”

“After we ordered your hatchling to fly you to the Gates, we ordered the two Minion warriors to follow you,” Wigg answered. His mouth turned up in a smile.

Tristan looked at the two Minion warriors as they sat there, beaming with pride. “Ox save Chosen One after all,” Ox said, a huge smile on his bearded face. “It his duty.”

Tristan smiled, closing his eyes in understanding. “And when Nicholas died and the Gates finally collapsed, the Minions plucked me from them, just as they went down.”

“Yes,” Faegan said. “But not just you.” He unleashed the self-satisfied grin that told the prince there were still secrets to be revealed.

“What do you mean?” Tristan asked.

Faegan leaned forward conspiratorially. “They retrieved Nicholas’ dead body, as well.”

Tristan nodded. “And they took the antidote from his robes, and forced it down my throat.”

“That’s right,” Wigg said. “And there was just enough left for me, as well. That is why my sight returned.”

Tristan looked over at Shailiha. With tearful eyes she placed one hand over his.

“We knew the odds were overwhelmingly against both Nicholas dying before you did, and the warriors being able to procure the antidote from him in time to help you,” Faegan added. “We also knew Traax and Ox would have to wait until Nicholas was dead, if indeed he was going to die at all, before they could risk exposing themselves. Had Nicholas seen them they would have died on the spot. But what other choice did we have? We asked for a miracle, and it was granted.”

“And then Traax dropped Nicholas’ body into the ruins of the collapsing Gates,” Tristan assumed, nodding slowly. “It is somehow fitting.”

Taking a deep breath and narrowing his eyes, Wigg smiled at Faegan. “Not exactly,” he said slyly.

“What do you mean?” Tristan asked.

Wigg turned to one of the three rather mysterious tables that stood on the other side of the room. With a turn of his hand, the sheet rose from one of them.

Nicholas lay on it, still dressed in his white robes. He was apparently quite dead. Dried rivulets of azure blood could still be seen on his face and robes.

Shailiha gasped, covering her mouth; Celeste, Geldon, and the gnomes all opened their eyes wide in shock. The Minions simply grinned knowingly.

“Why?” Tristan asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“We considered ordering the Minions to cremate him at the Gates,” Wigg answered. “But then we took a chance and told them to bring his body back, if at all possible, so that we might further study his blood. We felt that much might still be revealed by such an endeavor,” Wigg said. “After all, we have never been able to examine endowed blood that has traveled not only to the Afterlife, but also back again. And secondly, if it could be returned without incident, we wanted it here, in the depths of the Redoubt. We certainly did not wish to leave his remains out in the open. We felt that if the body was placed here, so far below ground, the Heretics might not be able to retrieve it again. As for why they apparently did not try to take him back at the Gates, we can only surmise that they witnessed the flaw in this blood signature and realized they had no more use for him.” Wigg’s eyebrow came up once more. “And a good thing, too, for we wouldn’t want a repetition of what happened in Parthalon, now would we? But as it happened, there turned out to be an even more important reason for the return of Nicholas’ body. One that even we were unaware of.”