thunderous crash, narrowly missing the four women standing near the door.
Artwork tumbled haphazardly from the walls. All the standing candelabras fell over, and two wildly swinging crystal chandeliers let loose to come crashing down. Wigg saw several worried Minion guards come charging to the doorway, but there were no orders he could give them that would help. The structure’s trembling had become so great that it was nearly impossible to remain standing. As various furnishings caught fire, dense smoke started filling the room.
Wigg looked frantically to the women near the doorway. “Get out!” he screamed. “Climb the stairs to the palace!”
The women ran from the room, and the Minion guards followed behind them. Only Jessamay and Faegan remained with Wigg.
Faegan laughed again, then turned his wild eyes toward the door. As he saw the women escaping, he pointed one hand in their direction. Almost immediately several more stones loosened from the hallway ceiling to come crashing down. Wigg heard a scream, but he couldn’t tell from whom it had come. Dust and debris filled the hall.
As yet more wall and ceiling stones continued to fall, a terrible thought seized Wigg. Could Faegan’s relentless destruction of the Redoubt be what Xanthus had wanted all along? Was Faegan conscious and doing this awful thing intentionally?
Wigg’s mind reeled before the terrible possibilities. The Tome, the Scroll of the Vigors, and the Well of the Redoubt were all here, to say nothing of the Archives, the Flier Aviary, the Hall of Blood Records, and the Redoubt Nursery. The destruction of the Redoubt and its many treasures would be a disaster that the Vigors could never survive, and would produce an unprecedented victory for the Vagaries. If Faegan was doing this purposefully, he was committing suicide, and taking Wigg and Jessamay with him.
Wigg looked frantically over at Jessamay. He could tell that she was using the craft to her utmost, in a try to keep Faegan from destroying everything. But she couldn’t start to match his power. Wigg tried adding his gifts to hers, but even then it was no use.
As the Redoubt continued to come apart, Wigg suddenly found himself faced with an unspeakable dilemma. He knew he either had to wait and see whether Faegan stopped, or kill him and save the Redoubt. Amid the noise and smoke, Wigg’s mind was torn by the awful choices.
Wigg decided that the destruction had to be stopped, no matter the price. With tears in his eyes he raised one hand and pointed it at Faegan. Realizing what was about to happen, Jessamay looked at Wigg in astonishment. For the craft’s sake, Wigg hardened his heart.
Just then Faegan’s eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, falling heavily back onto the bed. The Redoubt’s rumbling quieted, and the shaking stopped. Mortar dust continued to drift down gently. Everything in the room seemed covered with the lung-choking stuff.
Coughing deeply, Wigg again placed one hand atop Faegan’s head. The crippled wizard’s heartbeat was strengthening, and his breathing was more regular. Color was returning to his face.
Coughing, Jessamay tried to wave away the falling dust. “Did it…work?” she asked hoarsely.
“Perhaps,” Wigg answered. “It might be too soon to tell.”
Calling the craft, Wigg and Jessamay extinguished the fires and caused the smoke to vanish. Faegan’s quarters were a shambles. Brushing off his robe and hair, Wigg walked to the door and ventured into the demolished hallway.
Wigg’s most immediate concern was finding a safe way out. His heart fell when he saw the debris-laden hallway. Each direction was sealed off by tumbled stones. A few enchanted wall torches still blazed in between the two obstructions.
Walking down the hall, he was relieved to find a light shaft coming from an opening between two massive blocks. At least there was fresh air to breathe. Satisfied, he returned to Faegan’s chambers.
Jessamay gave him a worried look. “Can we get out?” she asked.
“Eventually,” Wigg answered. “We could use the craft to move some of the stones. But frankly, I’m too tired. I say we wait and let the Minions dig us out! If I know Ox, they’ve already started!”
Wigg looked over at Faegan. “How is our patient?” he asked.
“His bodily functions continue to strengthen, but he remains unconscious,” Jessamay answered.
Sighing tiredly, Wigg nodded. “Come have some wine,” he suggested. “We’ve earned it.”
As Jessamay walked over, Wigg rummaged around in Faegan’s cabinets. He finally found a bottle that hadn’t been smashed. Jessamay took two intact glasses down from the same shelf. Calling the craft, she freed them from their dust.
Wigg opened the bottle, then poured two glassfuls. He held his up in a toast.
“To Faegan,” he said.
“To Faegan,” Jessamay answered. “And here’s hoping that the Redoubt hasn’t been too badly damaged.”
They sat in silence for a time, drinking their wine and simply feeling glad to be alive. A curious look crossed Jessamay’s face. It did not escape the First Wizard. He smiled tiredly.
“I’d know that look anywhere,” Wigg said. “It hasn’t changed in three centuries. Go ahead-ask me.”
Like she didn’t know where to start, Jessamay took a deep breath. “Would you have killed him?” she asked simply.
Taking another sip of wine, Wigg looked over to Faegan, then back at her again. “I don’t know,” he answered earnestly. “Nor do I know whether he would have killed me, had our situations been reversed. I suppose we never will. Just the same I-”
“What in the name of the Afterlife have you done to my quarters!”a deep voice suddenly bellowed from across the room.
Wigg and Jessamay looked up to see Faegan. Wide-eyed and alert, he was sitting up in bed. Mortar dust rained from his beard and hair. They hurried over to him.
“I demand an explanation!” Faegan thundered. “What’s going on here?”
Wigg gave Jessamay a wry look. “I believe it’s safe to say that he’s back,” he said.
“How do you feel?” Jessamay asked Faegan.
Gathering himself up, Faegan looked like he couldn’t possibly imagine why they would be asking such a foolish question. He quickly took stock of himself.
“I feel fine!” he said. “As a matter of fact, I’ve never felt better! I could eat nails!”
“That’s the potion talking,” Jessamay said with a smile.
“What potion?” Faegan demanded. “What in blazes are you saying?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Wigg asked.
Faegan searched his mind. “Xanthus,” he breathed. “The Great Hall…The Darkling killed a flier…” A worried look suddenly commanded his face. “Tristan?” he asked.
Wigg shook his head. “He’s with Xanthus. We don’t know where they’ve gone. But I’m willing to hazard a guess.”
“So am I!” Faegan said. “We have to stop them! Wigg, no matter what happens to us, we simply must-”
Faegan suddenly froze in midsentence. His abrupt silence worried Wigg. Concerned that his friend might be relapsing, he edged closer. There was a strange, searching look in Faegan’s eyes. Reaching out, he grasped Wigg’s arm.
“What is it?” the First Wizard asked.
“Such a wonder…,” Faegan breathed. A smile overcame his face. “It’s absolutely miraculous! The calculations are exquisite…”
“Tell us,” Wigg said.
His eyes full of wonder, Faegan looked into Wigg’s eyes. “It seems I have somehow acquired a new gift,” he whispered. He gripped Wigg’s arm tighter. “This will change so much! But how…why…”
Wigg shot a knowing glance at Jessamay, then looked back at Faegan. “It seems we have much to tell one another,” Wigg said. “Why don’t you go first?”
Faegan nodded. As he started explaining, the distant sounds of Minion hammers drifted to their ears.
