Robert Newcomb - The Scrolls of the Ancients

At the mention of Celeste's Forestallment, Abbey's eyes lit up. She stood and walked quickly back to the bed. Lifting Celeste's hands, she again examined her blackened fingertips and broken nails.

"You say the bolt she sent against the bear-this 'Forestallment,' as you call it-was unusually strong?" she asked. "And that it happened just after she began to convulse?"

"Yes," Wigg answered. "Her bolts were the most powerful I have ever seen; they literally ripped the creature apart. Then she collapsed. And now…" He paused, one eyebrow rising, "I think I know why."

"Explain," Abbey said, returning to the table.

"You just said it yourself," he replied. "Her first use of a Forestallment came quickly, immediately after its activation, so her blood had no time to adjust to its new state. No doubt it was Failee's intention to activate Celeste's gifts one by one, and train her in their use gradually, in a controlled environment. But given the desperate situation, Celeste acted instinctively. This proved to be too much for her untrained blood, and plunged her into this deep, twilight state." He turned sadly, looking back over at the bed. "There is another wizard with me at the palace. His name is Faegan. He would have been able to help, for he is also an herbalist. But your cottage was much closer."

"And so you brought her here," Abbey answered skeptically. "But what were the two of you doing in these woods to begin with?"

"We were coming to see you about a different matter," Wigg said rather apologetically. "I was hoping, after all of these years, to gain your help. Eutracia needs you."

Abbey shook her head slowly. "It seems you suddenly require a great deal of help, Lead Wizard," she replied stiffly. The herbmistress thought for a moment. Then she leaned closer, her face dark.

"Tell me," she said sternly, "after more than three hundred years of surviving without my services, how is it that the lofty nation of Eutracia suddenly needs one of those who was so summarily banished?"

Trying to think of a way to broach the subject, Wigg looked around the unkempt cottage. Bottles lay overturned and shelves had been torn down; much of the glassware that should have contained Abbey's hard-won treasures was conspicuously empty. His eyes went back to the herbmistress. "I don't remember you being such a poor housekeeper," he said simply.

"What does that have to do with anything?" she shot back.

"This mess is not like you, and we both know it," Wigg said gently. And then he took a breath and asked, "He was here, wasn't he? The man in the two-colored robe. And he had a woman with him-a partial adept, possibly trained both as an herbmistress and a blaze-gazer. They took much from you, didn't they? Not the least of which was a sizable portion of your rather infamous pride."

The herbmistress' hard shell seemed to crack a bit, and a tear came to one eye. Taking a chance, Wigg placed one of his hands over hers. Surprisingly, she did not pull away.

"Did they hurt you?" he asked softly.

"No," she said, looking down. "But the woman knew exactly which herbs and compounds she wanted. Many of them were among my most prized. I cannot say for sure whether she was a gazer, since she practiced no such art in my presence. But given her knowledge of my stores, she was certainly an herbmistress. The man was ill with some disease of the lungs. He put me in some kind of bizarre, glowing cage, and I couldn't stop him. All I could do was watch as they destroyed a lifetime of work." She raised her face back up. "But how did you know?"

"His name is Krassus, and he was once first alternate to the Directorate of Wizards," Wigg answered. "Ironically, I appointed him to that position myself. He is now apparently a full wizard of some power, his gifts perhaps imbued by Nicholas through Forestallments. But we do not know who the woman is. Krassus claimed she is a blaze-gazer, but we have no proof of that. He came to the palace demanding information. He searches for a man named Wulfgar. His other quest is for something called the Scrolls of the Ancients. Tell me, are you familiar with either?"

"No."

"When I could not answer his questions, he beat me and violated my mind," Wigg said angrily. "He also gloated about having been here, and leaving you in a bad way. Then, after promising to kill Faegan and me, he left. I simply had to come, to see if you were all right. But I must admit that I had other reasons for visiting you."

"I knew you lay ill," she said unexpectedly.

Wigg's eyes sharpened at Abbey's unexpected statement. "What?" he asked.

"After they left, I went to my gazing flame and searched for you," she answered. "I admit that it was not the first time I have done so. You were lying in a bed, with people standing around you whom I did not know."

"So you have a gazing flame here?" Wigg asked.

Abbey nodded.

"But what is there of mine that you could possibly have kept all of these years?" he asked, clearly puzzled. "Don't you need something personal of your subject in order to properly view the image?"

Abbey reached for the locket around her neck and opened it. Curled up inside was a short braid of dark brown hair. She placed it on the table. Wigg's eyes went wide.

"Mine?" he asked. "But how could that be?"

"I took it from you in bed one night, more than three hundred years go," she answered, placing the braid back into the pendant and locking it again. "You always slept so deeply." A slight smile finally appeared on her face: the coming of some memory, perhaps. But then it was quickly overtaken by another look of anger.

"And then you voted with your brotherhood to banish all the partial adepts," she whispered angrily. "Yet another of the Directorate's knee-jerk reactions to anyone or anything of the craft not directly controlled by them." She turned her face away. "You hurt me deeply, Wigg. You hurt all of us with partial blood. To this day I am not sure I will ever be able to forgive you. It was so unfair…"

Wigg sighed. If he could have taken back parts of those days, he would.

"I voted for my nation," he said sadly. "In hindsight, I've come to see that many of our decisions were wrong. But both Eutracia and her monarchy were new, and still in great distress. The survival of our land and the foretold coming of the Chosen Ones were far more important than the two of us, or what we may have wanted for ourselves. Surely you can see that. And like you, I have suffered much. I'm not naive, Abbey, so I won't ask you to forgive me. But the best, most personal gift I could bestow upon you before you left was the time enchantments. Had the Directorate discovered what I had done, there would surely have been a great scandal; perhaps even my own banishment from the Directorate, given the harsh, reactionary attitudes of those days. But now all of my friends of that august body are dead."

He paused, wondering how his next words would be received, then laced his long fingers together and placed his hands on the table.

"As I said, Abbey, we need you," he continued softly. "When I leave here, I want you to come back to Tammerland with me."

Stunned, she looked at him with wide eyes.

"No!" she said flatly. "I won't do it! Why should I? My life is good here, and the people here have come to rely on me for healing. Here, at least, I am allowed to practice my arts in peace."

"Until four days ago, that is," Wigg reminded her gently. "I can make you come back with me, and we both know it. I won't do that, but hear me out. If Krassus truly has a partial adept with him, and if we are ever to even the odds of defeating him, then we must have one, too. I have a feeling these scrolls he referred to are extremely important, and that if we don't find them and Wulfgar before Krassus does, our world may irrevocably change-for the worse. And what if Krassus comes back? With us you would be far safer."