Robert Newcomb - Savage Messiah

Tristan's jaw hardened. "Why?" he asked. "The Forestallments you granted me come from the Ones, do they not?"

"Yes," the boy answered, "just as Wulfgar's come from the Heretics. He has had ample time to become proficient with them, and you have not. Be exceedingly careful, Jin'Sai. He means to kill you, and his gifts are strong."

So are mine, Tristan thought. Then he remembered Celeste. "How much time has gone by?" he demanded.

"Three of your hours have passed," the Scroll Master said sadly. "I'm afraid it is too late."

Tristan felt as though a dagger had been plunged into his heart. "What do you mean!" he shouted.

"Come with me," the boy answered quietly.

The Scroll Master glided over to one of the shelves and pointed. The breath rushed from Tristan's lungs, and he fell to his knees.

Behind another pane of glass, encapsulated in azure light, was Celeste's death mask.

Tristan wept, shaking uncontrollably. When he was finally able, he lifted his head again and looked into the face that he so loved.

It was Celeste as he would always remember her-young, lovely, and vibrant. Her eyes were closed, the generous bell of hair falling down over part of her forehead and cheek. The Forestallments she had possessed when she died twinkled in the case just below.

"I am sorry, Jin'Sai," the boy said quietly. "Had you found me sooner, she might have lived. Even so, I told you she was not your destiny, no matter how much you loved her. I know how much it hurts you to hear this, but the fact that the two of you found each other and married is of minor importance in the forthcoming scheme of your life. In fact, had she lived, you would have gone on to hurt her far more than she might have been able to bear, for you would have been forced to leave her. You are meant for another-another whom you will love with an ardor even greater than you felt for Celeste. It is she who will become your queen and be the mother of your children."

The boy held out his hand. "Come with me, Jin'Sai," he said. "We must return to your First Wizard. There is little time to lose."

Tristan looked at the floor. "So she has turned to ash?" he asked, barely able to get the words out.

"No," the boy answered. "I have granted her body the ability to hold its earthly form until you can hold her in your arms one more time. But even I cannot do so for much longer. Hold my hand, and I'll take you to her. Your mind needn't be stilled as we travel this time, for your blood is strong enough now."

Tristan took the boy's hand. The young Scroll Master felt cold and lifeless, like a statue that had been left outside all winter.

"Behold," the boy said.

The glow of the craft surrounded them. Tristan felt his body lighten, then cease to exist altogether. As the thousands of shelves and the endless hallways flashed before him, all he could think of was Celeste.

"Wigg…" Tristan said softly.

The wizard sat cross-legged on the marble floor. Celeste's head lay in his lap. He did not turn around. As he held his daughter's lifeless form, his body shook and he sobbed quietly.

Finally he looked up. Tears ran down his face, and for several moments his mouth moved but no sound came from it.

"She's dead, Tristan," he finally uttered. "Despite all my powers, I couldn't save her."

Tristan walked up to the wizard and placed one hand on his shoulder.

"I know," he answered. "In the end, I couldn't save her either. I'm sorry."

As Wigg pulled Celeste closer, confusion crossed over his face. "I don't understand why she has not turned to ash."

"The Scroll Master is preserving her form," Tristan told him. "But it will not last much longer."

Wigg looked up at Tristan again. At first he thought that his grief was causing his mind to play tricks on him. But the longer he regarded the prince, the surer he became.

Tristan had changed. The changes were subtle but definite. He seemed slightly older, more mature, and his demeanor was somehow more commanding. There was a slight graying of his hair around the temples, and his dark, penetrating eyes looked even more lustrous than before. Concerned, Wigg tried to put his grief aside for the moment.

"What have you done to him?" he demanded of the Scroll Master.

"Nothing the Jin'Sai did not agree to, and only what the Ones dictated that I do," the boy said. "All is as it should be."

Wigg finally eased Celeste's head and shoulders gently to the floor. As he stood, his knees shook. When he regained his footing, he looked carefully into the prince's face.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

"Yes," Tristan answered. "But there is much to tell you."

Wigg reached into his robe. With a shaking hand he produced an envelope sealed with red wax. As he handed it to Tristan, the prince detected the scent of myrrh.

"This is for you," Wigg said. "She gave it to me just before she died. In the event that you did not see each other again, she wanted you to have it. She said that you would understand."

Tristan took the envelope from Wigg. He broke the seal and removed the letter. It read: My darling,

If you are reading this, my love, then I am dead. As I put quill to paper, it is nighttime at the palace. It is the night we lit Geldon and Lionel's funeral pyres, and I have come to my chambers to collect my things so that we might be together. There is so much that I want to say to you-and so much that will, of necessity, remain unsaid-but I will try.

You must not feel guilt over my passing. If the Afterlife has claimed me, then it was meant to be and you must accept that. But also know that all that I suffered I would have gladly endured again, if it meant reclaiming even the brief months that we were able to share. They say that lovers can live a lifetime in a matter of days, and you and I proved them right. Please look after Father for me, as I know you will. The two of you will need each other more than ever now.

And, lastly, know that from wherever my spirit shall come to rest, I shall continue to love you. You were the light of my life, and the spark that you lit within my heart shall never die. Goodbye, my love, Celeste

As the tears streamed down his face, Tristan handed the letter to Wigg. The First Wizard read it slowly, then placed it back into his robe. Trembling, Tristan looked down at Celeste. The Scroll Master came to stand by him.

"It is almost time," the boy said. "You must say goodbye to her before it is too late."

Tristan nodded.

Kneeling, he took her into his arms. She looked even older, her face more wrinkled, her hair whiter than when he last saw her. But to his eyes she seemed as beautiful as ever. He pulled her to him and kissed her cold cheek for the last time.

"Goodbye, my love," he whispered.

With that her body turned to ash and slipped between his fingers, falling lightly to the floor. He covered his face with his hands, and sobs wracked his body.

After a time he looked down again. Something caught his eye, twinkling in the gray ash. Reaching down, he plucked her wedding ring from the ashes and placed it into his worn leather vest.

"You and your wizard must leave now, Jin'Sai," the Scroll Master said. "Your destiny awaits you."

"Her ashes go with me," Tristan said. As he turned to look at the boy, there was no compromise in his eyes. "I know it is in your power to make it so," he added.

"As you wish," the Scroll Master answered.

The boy waved one hand and a golden vase appeared. It settled gently to the floor. Celeste's ashes collected, whirled into the air, and flew into the vase. The vessel's top sealed itself. Tristan picked up the vase and cradled it in his arms.

"Thank you," he said softly.

The boy nodded. "Farewell, Jin'Sai," he said.

Tristan and Wigg heard the door in the wall of the pyramid slide open. Night had fallen. Several surprised warriors-Ox among them-stood there, gaping.