The Gates of Dawn

by Robert Newcomb

  “Wigg,” he said gently, “it’s true. The two signatures are a perfect match.” Then, after a silent moment he added, “There are also Forestallments in her blood, much like those of the princess.”

  Faegan tried to smile, but his eyes filled with moisture. Memories of his own daughter flooded him—the girl who had been taken by the Coven, turned into one of them, and later used to destroy Eutracia. And all the while he had thought she was dead. He would never forgive himself for not somehow knowing, and for not being able to prevent all the evil that was done to and by his daughter. Blinking back tears, he looked down at his useless legs and turned his chair away from the table.

  Wigg was already crying. No one else knew what to say as he pulled himself together and wiped his blind eyes with the sleeve of his robe.

  He finally shook his head sadly, and helding his palms out toward Celeste. She placed her hands in his.

  “What we have just proven, beyond a shadow of a doubt,” Wigg said to her, “is that you are a product of my time with Failee. She became enamored with the darker aspects of the craft, leaving me to study them on her own. She never told me she was with child. You, Celeste, are the daughter I never knew I had. And I will protect you with my life.”

  “Welcome, Celeste,” Shailiha said softly. “Welcome to our home, the Redoubt of the Directorate. The time of your coming is long overdue.”

  “Indeed,” Faegan said, and Tristan nodded his approval at the same time.

  Celeste’s beautiful face darkened. “If you and Failee are truly my parents, then why would you abandon me, leaving me with someone like Ragnar?”

  “I have had three hundred years to consider the tangled history of those days,” Wigg said. “And now that I have discovered your existence, I believe I can answer much of what you ask. I will make it as simple as I know how. It is a story that I have only recently pieced together from both fact and long since dusty memories, so please bear with me as an old man tells his tale.” Every pair of eyes and ears in the room was intently focused on what Wigg had to say.

  “It is now clear that Failee left me immediately after discovering she was pregnant, gave birth to you during the war,” he began. “As the war worsened for them, it became obvious to her that she would need a place to hide you—to both remove you from harm’s way and to keep your existence a deep secret. Failee was fully aware that if I ever learned I had a daughter, I would move earth and sky to find her. This she could not afford, for it would have ruined her plans for the future.” He paused for a moment, hoping he was not being too blunt for her, but then continued.

  “She no doubt hoped to either return and retrieve you should they be victorious, or find an equally safe, permanent place of safety for you should they not,” Wigg continued. “After they lost the war, the sorceresses were banished to Parthalon, the nation across the sea. She could not take you with her for fear of revealing your existence. She also knew that I would surely intervene, demanding that you stay here with me. Despite the fact that she was your mother, she was nothing if not pragmatic, her cause more important to her than anything else. I do not wish to hurt you when I tell you this, but bringing you into this world had more to do with her plans of conquest than it ever had to do with any maternal instincts she might have possessed. It was only after three centuries had passed that one of her mistresses and her army finally returned.”

  “But why give Celeste to someone as hideous as Ragnar?” Tristan asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “In retrospect, Ragnar was the perfect choice,” Wigg answered. “Consider the following facts. First of all he was a powerful wizard, and could use the craft to protect her, if need be. Second, as a blood stalker, he would devoutly obey Failee. This would also have been the time when Failee laid the Incantation of Forestallments in Celeste’s blood. Tell me, Celeste, do you have any special powers? Powers that you have not been trained to use, but that have instead simply occurred naturally?”

  “No,” she said flatly. “I have no such gifts. At least none that I am aware of.”

  Wigg rubbed his brow, thinking. “It is apparent to me now that Failee first intended you, her own daughter, to become her fifth sorceress. Then, much later, she chose Shailiha instead.”

  Faegan then looked up from his cat. “And Failee gave Ragnar orders that once Celeste reached a certain age, he was to endow her with time enchantments—thereby further protecting her from disease and old age,” he mused aloud, still stroking Nicodemus.

  “But why didn’t she do that herself and make sure of it?” Shailiha asked. “Why would she entrust that task to Ragnar?”

  “She had to, because Celeste was still far too young,” Wigg replied. “The time enchantments work amazingly well. They literally ‘freeze’ the subject at the chronological age during which they are applied. Faegan and I, for example, received the time enchantments during our later years. Failee obviously wished Celeste to come to adulthood and be in full command of her faculties when this was performed, so that she could be more useful to her purpose.”

  There was still something about all of this that Tristan did not understand. At first he was hesitant to bring it up, knowing that it would cause both Celeste and Wigg a great deal of pain. Taking a deep breath, he finally decided.

  “Wigg, there is something that makes no sense,” he said. “Assuming Ragnar was obliged to obey Failee, then why would he have ever abused Celeste?” He regretted having to conjure up hateful memories for her, but it had to be. “Didn’t he know that once Failee discovered it, he would have incurred her wrath forever?”

  “There are several possible reasons,” Wigg said, his right eyebrow arching up over the white eye beneath it. “First and foremost, never forget that he is at least partially mad. Clearly not as insane as a full stalker, but mad nonetheless. Second, he would have known that the Coven had been banished from Eutracia, to the Sea of Whispers. He, like the Directorate, never imagined their possible return. No doubt he believed he was safe to do with Celeste as he pleased.” Pausing, he took a deep breath, as if his next words were to be the most difficult.

  “And then there is the final, and perhaps most convincing reason of all,” he said. “I am positive he was aware that Celeste was my daughter. What better way to simultaneously take pleasure for himself and revenge against me?”

  For the first time Celeste lowered her head in shame. She wished all this talk of her time with Ragnar would end. But she was slowly coming to learn that the people here were vastly different than the few she was used to. I am in a new world, she thought. And it seems I have a new father. She turned her eyes to Wigg with what seemed to be a newfound respect. Then her expression hardened again, as yet another thought came to her.

  “I will kill him one day,” she said softly, almost inaudibly, her sapphire eyes shining with hate.

  “What?” Wigg asked her.

  “I will kill him one day, for the things he has done to so many of us in this room.”

  “No,” Wigg said forcefully. He turned his white eyes in the general direction of the prince. “Nor will you, Tristan. When the time comes, Ragnar is to be mine. Mine alone. I shall be the one to destroy the monster I helped create.”

  Tristan had never heard Wigg speak this way. Frankly, it surprised him. The usually calm, discerning wizard had always been slow to anger, always presenting a demeanor of contemplated reason. But the Wigg who now sat before them was different somehow, the hate clearly radiating from his face despite the lifeless nature of his eyes. This time it was personal, and it showed. Still, there was something tugging at the back of the prince’s mind.

  “But there remains yet another puzzle,” he said thoughtfully. “We know that Failee purposely left Emily, Faegan’s daughter, behind. At that point Emily was an adult, and a sorceress in her own right. Why then didn’t Failee leave Celeste in her keeping? To me it would seem a much safer thing to do than leaving her with a partially mutated blood stalker.”

  “I can certainly
understand your thinking,” Wigg responded. “But the fact of the matter is that you never knew Failee as I did. As I have said, she was pragmatic. Her cause was everything to her, and her personal needs meant nothing. Taking care of Celeste was never to be Emily’s task. Failee needed Emily to be free to roam the nation in search of both information and the company of powerful men, in order to eventually be received at your father’s court, so she could keep Failee abreast of any news regarding you and your sister.”

  He squeezed Celeste’s hands. “What we now know is that Failee did not leave just one person behind, as we first thought. She left two.”

  “You also said that it was Failee’s original intent to make Celeste her fifth sorceress,” Shailiha said, thinking out loud. “Then why didn’t she do it? Why didn’t she have Succiu search for her daughter when the second mistress was here, with the entire army of the Minions to help? And then, above all, why would she choose me over her own daughter? It all seems pretty coldhearted.”

  “Coldhearted,” Wigg murmured softly. “I am sorry to have to tell you this, Celeste, but that is a very good description of the woman who was your mother. The truth is that Shailiha had by now been born, her supremely endowed blood making the princess a better candidate for Failee’s plans. And do not forget that Failee could not send the Minions to Eutracia until they had evolved to her liking, and were present in sufficient numbers to overwhelm us. I do think it was originally Failee’s desire to make Celeste her fifth sorceress. But when she learned that the Chosen Ones had been born and that one of them was female, her blood of a purity never before seen, Failee’s path was clear. If she could turn Shailiha, one of the Chosen Ones, to their side, Shailiha would eventually make an even better leader than either she or her daughter. She would therefore take Shailiha first, and after her success had been assured she would return for Celeste.”

  Celeste’s face fell slightly. “Where is she now?” Celeste asked.

  “She is dead,” Wigg answered sadly. “Never to return. Tristan killed her, and the others of the Coven. Except for Succiu, the second mistress, who committed suicide, taking Tristan’s unborn child with her.”

  Tristan looked down at his hands. Nicholas, his mind said.

  From the other end of the table Faegan’s voice came strong and clear. “There are two very important things you have overlooked, Wigg,” he said, “and they should both be dealt with as soon as possible.”

  “And they are?” Wigg asked.

  “Of the greatest urgency is the matter of Celeste’s time enchantments. If the blood stalker comes to the conclusion that she is now in hiding with us rather than having simply gone missing again, he may, in a fit of rage, issue an Incantation of Discontinuance. Upon discovering your daughter after all of these years, I’m sure you do not wish to lose her again.” Raising his eyebrows, he scratched his cat once more. “Especially because of him.”

  Wigg let a sudden rush of air out of his lungs. “Of course,” he said, shaking his head. “Thank you, Faegan.”

  “What we must do, therefore, is to issue her another enchantment, one that envelops the first,” Faegan added. “Then if Ragnar’s is suddenly taken away, ours will instantaneously take effect. After we do she will feel a slight shudder if she loses the blood stalker’s protection, but she will suffer no ill effects.” He looked to the beautiful woman in the green dress. “If you feel anything abnormal after we enchant you, my child, you must tell us at once.” Celeste nodded her agreement.

  “You said there were two things that must be done,” Tristan said to Faegan. “What is the other one?”

  “Two additional things, actually, now that I think about it,” Faegan answered, smiling. “And they are related. Can you guess either of them?”

  Tristan was suddenly out of patience with talk of magic. “I do not wish to guess,” he said bluntly. “I am tired, and would like to have a simple answer for once.”

  Wigg’s infamous eyebrow rose up in surprise, and Faegan sighed, pursing his lips in contemplation.

  It will begin soon, Faegan thought sadly. I must find a cure for him as quickly as possible, if indeed one exists at all.

  “First of all, Egloff’s scroll makes reference to the fact that he believed Forestallments could be passed from one generation to another, provided the Forestallment had not already manifested itself in the parent,” Faegan said. “If such is the case, then we must immediately check Morganna’s blood signature. Her mother gave birth after her time with Failee and before the manifestation of her bond with the fliers, fitting exactly within Egloff’s requirements. A positive reading would prove Egloff’s theory of inheritance, since Morganna has been only in our care since her birth, and none of us have tampered with her blood.” He paused for a moment, narrowing his eyes in thought. Then he took a deep breath. “The proven inheritance of Forestallments could bring forth convolutions in the craft the likes of which we have never dared dream,” he said quietly. After a time, his thoughts returned to his next concern.

  “In addition,” he continued, “the prince’s blood must also be checked. There is no telling what the ramifications of a Forestallment in the male of the Chosen Ones could bring.”

  Faegan wheeled his chair a little closer to the table, placing both palms down on it. His face was grave, making it abundantly clear that he had something else very important to say.

  “I now believe that Failee was far more brilliant than any of us first thought,” he said slowly. “Her calculations resulting in the art of Forestallments bring with them an entirely unknown world of possibilities, both good and bad. In many ways I hope that her knowledge of these things died with her. And yet, in other ways there is a part of me, the ever-curious wizard, that desperately wishes to learn how she accomplished it. I fear that the appearance of the Forestallments may have much more to do with our current difficulties than we first thought.”

  He was interrupted by a sudden, urgent pounding on the massive door. Without waiting for permission, Shannon entered, his ever-present ale jug in one hand. He wobbled drunkenly back and forth, using either side of the door frame to keep from falling down. Tristan often found the gnome’s inebriation comic, but this time things were different. This time Shannon was scared to death.

  “What is it?” Faegan asked urgently.

  “Forgive me, Master, but someone not of our group has somehow entered the Redoubt!” Shannon slurred through his drunkenness, the seriousness of his words nonetheless coming through. “And she demands to see Master Wigg. There is news. And none of it is good.”

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-eight

  Ragnar was full of fury and concern as he stomped his way through the labyrinthine passageways to his young master. When Nicholas summoned him, the stalker had no choice but to stop what he was doing and obey. But the anger that flowed through his veins at having been interrupted in his quest was now far more consuming than whatever the boy could conceivably want of him. It had been only hours since he first sensed Celeste had left the Caves. She had left before. But this time it was different. This time he feared it was forever. He had even wasted precious moments before setting out to find her, luxuriating in the thoughts of the slow, delicious retribution he would administer to her body after he recaptured her.

  But upon exiting the Caves and using the craft to search for her highly endowed blood, he had been stunned. Because of its great purity, he had always been able to detect it, no matter how far she had gone. But this time he had been able to sense absolutely no trace of her. Someone of the craft was cloaking her blood, and he had his suspicions about who it was. Her father. The man he hated most in the world.

  As always, the glow of the craft seeped out beneath Nicholas’ door. Trying to remain calm, the stalker took a controlled breath, squaring his shoulders. As he opened the door he saw that Nicholas had not only enlarged the size of this particular chamber, but had also changed its appearance. The young master sat cross-legged in his simple white robe, elevated at least a m
eter above the highly polished floor. His body revolved slowly in midair, and his eyes were closed in meditation.

  The stalker could see that the undulating ribbon of energy now encircled this room, as well. Deeply embedded within the marble walls, it seemed to be a living, breathing entity. Wherever one found Nicholas, one also found the vein.

  There were hundreds of endowed children here, happily at play in the great chamber. Nicholas had transformed the walls of this chamber into oddly playful checkerboard squares of the faintest blue and pink, creating a calming, cheerful environment for them.

  Throughout the room, boys and girls of different ages practiced simple aspects of the craft. They played and talked among each other, their laughter bouncing happily off the walls, contrasting starkly with the controlled serenity of the master.

  Ragnar was stymied. He knew that Nicholas had sent Scrounge and the hatchlings off on a mission, but he had never expected this.

  “Sit down,” the young adept said in his soft, commanding voice. He had stopped revolving but continued to hover in midair. A short throne of marble appeared behind Ragnar, and the stalker obediently took a seat. Nicholas opened his dark, almond-shaped eyes, leveling them upon the stalker with a seriousness Ragnar had seldom seen.

  “Your mind tells me you are disturbed,” the young man said quietly. “Do not be. Celeste is of no consequence. True, after only myself and the Chosen Ones, her blood is of the highest quality ever seen. But that fact has no bearing on my plans.” His eyebrows rose slightly in mock appreciation of what he sensed to be Ragnar’s concern. “But it was not the quality of her blood that attracted you to her, was it? It was her great beauty, your twisted, centuries-old subjugation of her, and the fact that she is the daughter of Wigg that enticed you so. Do not be concerned for her absence. Soon you shall be able to take all of the women of Eutracia, should you wish to.”

  “Do you know where she is, my lord?” Ragnar asked anxiously.

  “She is surely in the Redoubt of the Directorate, with her father and the others,” Nicholas answered. “In truth, you brought this upon yourself. Your insistence upon displaying your trophy to Wigg and the Chosen One only resulted in her final, desperate departure. Indeed, even I did not know this would happen. However, I could sense that she was somehow familiar with the prince. I do not believe she knew who he was or was aware of his importance, but for some reason she felt she could trust him. I sensed she was leaving the Caves, and that she had found the prince and the wizard on the trail where we left them. In the end I let her go to them.”