All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of "Alex Checnkov."

New Horizons: Prologue
Alex Checnkov

Boulder, Colorado, July 2008:

Jacob handed over the dollar bill to the attendant and watched eagerly as he proceeded to wrap the thin paper funnel around the wisps of colored sugar to produce a large helping of cotton candy.

"There you go, son," the man said when the task was over and he had handed the treat to him. "Don't eat it too fast."

"Thank you," Jacob's father said on his son's behalf as Jacob immediately ignored the attendant's advice and dove into the candy.

Jacob was with his father and his paternal aunt at the biannual county fair, a welcome change of scenery and pace from the family farm in Nebraska. The rides weren't as impressive as at some of the amusement parks he had been to in his life, but he was just happy to get away from chores for a while.

While Jacob walked with his father and aunt to another attraction, his ears picked up on a sharp laugh from a few booths away. He looked over and, with great surprise, saw four winged creatures, the group divided evenly between male and female, which gave him pause.

The two males were at the booth's counter and, if the females' grins were enough of an indicator, they were not having much success at whatever game it was they were playing. The males, one red and the other tan, were massive creatures, easily taller and more muscular than his father, with long tails, and, though caped, he could only guess that their wings were an impressive span as well.

The females, blue and yellow, holding prizes of stuffed animals and candy, though more slender and shorter than the males, were similar examples of strength and exotic beauty.

What amazed Jacob the most, however, was that as he looked at the surrounding humans, not one seemed to give the creatures more than a passing glance; even one of the security guards passed them with only a courteous nod in their direction.

Jacob tugged on his father's shirt with his available hand, abruptly interrupting the side conversation he was having with his sister, and asked, "Dad, what are those?" pointing in the creatures' direction.

His father followed Jacob's finger and said, "They're just gargoyles, Jacob. C'mon, you know it's rude to point and stare."

Jacob dutifully dropped his arm and followed up, "What's a gargoyle?"

"It's complicated, Son. Just don't worry about it." Jacob's father looked to his sister, "How many clans are around here, Linda?"

"There's two in the city," she replied, "and I think five or six in the county. Something like that."

Jacob continued staring at the gargoyles until his father patted him on the back and said, "C'mon, let's find you something else to do."

As they walked on, Jacob looked back to give a parting glance at the gargoyles and by chance his eyes met those of the yellow female. She smiled at him and casually waved. Embarrassed at being caught staring, he quickly looked away.

Ten years later

Since sundown he had been in his office. Now, with the second cigar of the night lit and hanging from the corner of his mouth, he closed his lighter and leaned back in his chair, exhaling the first of the cigar smoke through his nostrils. It was a filthy habit, he knew that, but the old gargoyle was too stubborn to fight the addiction, and so he allowed himself to be taken in by the tobacco's flavor as he shuffled through the files on his desk.

Under his faded-brown talons was the compiled information of twenty-five of humanity's finest examples, the finalists of a two-year-long selection process. Tonight they would find out if they would be among the ten who would make up the first human class to be admitted into Avignon's once-exclusive university for gargoyles. The final decisions were up to him.

As the leader of the Avignon clan and, by that position, the high chancellor of Avignon University, it had been his decision to admit humans into the school; and it had been a controversial decision to say the least.

A great many gargoyle clans barred their adolescents from applying, while almost every clan and federation which continued their participation sent fewer applicants; some in his own clan called for the decision to be reversed. And on his counter-species' part, human purist societies saw instant and dramatic increases in membership.

Despite the opposition which had sprung up, he remained determined. With each day humans and gargoyles became more intertwined, the races having already lived side-by-side for centuries, and to him this was the logical next step to coexistence; although he was more concerned with preserving his legacy.

He heard his clanmates whisper in the corridors about his unremarkable tenure, and the younger gargoyles openly spoke of how their reigns would be effective, a reign they figured would be soon in coming due to his age. Although he was of Constantine the Great's blood, the leader of centuries past who led the way in bringing gargoyles out of the shadows of persecution, until now he had done little that could have been considered worthy of his heritage. This, he thought, he hoped, would secure for him a high place in the history of the clan.

The gargoyle selected a file from the stack of finalists still waiting notification and flipped through the many papers within. The school had put its applicants through near-torturous examinations, mental and physical, separating and identifying the truly capable and determined applicants. The files in his possession contained as much if not more information on the applicants than they consciously knew about themselves. The gargoyle flipped through the essays, exam scores, letters of recommendation, and personal reports from observers and examiners and considered his decision.

Two things interrupted his concentration. The first was the realization that his cigar, though only recently lit, was almost spent, and the second resulted from the gentle knock on his door as he sought a replacement cigar.

"Entrez!" he called out.

His assistant entered the office, "Pardon monsieur," she said, "it is almost time to call the next finalist." Adhering to tradition, each finalist was being notified of their acceptance or rejection by a phone call at sundown. The gargoyle finalists had been notified over the course of the last week, this last night was reserved for the humans.

He nodded in acknowledgement to the young gargoyle and she went back to the front office, gently closing the door behind her. He searched for the necessary file of the applicant up for decision - after lighting his next cigar.

While the rest of the Goldberg family ate casually, Jacob hadn't made much progress on his dinner, his stomach in knots. After his mother finished serving David, Jacob's younger brother, a second helping she said, "I can wrap that up for you to have later if you want."

"No, I'll eat," he replied. "I'm just off focus is all."

His mother smiled and said, "I don't blame you."

Jacob was not one to succumb to nervousness. At nineteen he was well over six feet tall, and his workout routine on top of the regular workout his farm duties provided came together to give him an imposing physique. But, however misleading his outward appearance, Jacob rarely resorted to using it beyond spars and chores - mostly because nobody let themselves get into a situation where he might have to - he was more interested in furthering himself than fighting others.

Throughout his life, Jacob had pushed himself to the limits of his potential and then sought to break through them. He was typically successful in his endeavors, and with each personal victory had built up a confidence and steadfastness about himself that was as solid as his frame.

But on this evening Jacob could jump at the drop of a needle.

"Son," his dad said, "why don't you go ahead and excuse yourself for now. It's okay. That call shouldn't be much longer off."

Jacob was about to respond when, as if on cue from his father, the phone rang. He and his family looked towards the kitchen phone and Jacob stood after taking a deep breath. After the phone rang a second time, and just before Jacob received the call, his father said, "Remember, you don't have to prove anything. We're proud of you."

He smiled and said, "Thanks," then picked up the phone. "Hello? Goldberg residence."

"Bonsoir monsieur," the soft-accented female on the other end answered. "Je voudrais parler à Jacob, s'il vous plait."

"Um," Jacob had to pause to recall his French, his accent was rough and not discernibly beyond that of his native voice, "c'est de la part de Jacob."

The female on the other end let out a short laugh and, abandoning her native tongue, said, "Please hold for one moment," and he was put on hold for the transfer. It was then that Jacob felt the eyes of his family penetrating his skin and what little comfort he had left, so he took the phone into another room.

After what felt like a minute a deep, rough male voice came on the line. "Jacob?"

"Oui monsieur."

There was an amused snort on the other end. "You do not need to speak French if you are not comfortable with it, my friend," the gargoyle said through his thick accent.

"You don't mind English?"

"I 'ave been speaking it longer than per'aps your parents 'ave been alive. We will be okay." There was a pause and Jacob could hear papers shuffling in the background. The gargoyle spoke again, "Are you nervous?"

"You could say that," he responded with a laugh. "I haven't been able to eat all day."

There wasn't an immediate response and the sound of shifting papers filled the delay in conversation. Eventually the gargoyle spoke sternly, "All of our 'uman applicants 'ave letters of recommendation from the leaders of their local clans. You do not. Why?"

"Because there isn't a clan in four hours of my home," Jacob replied.

"Really?"

"It's not good gargoyle country. The wind can be strong, but there's not any elevation to speak of. That's Nebraska for you."

"So 'ave you ever lived near a gargoyle clan? A federation? It seems, should I say, ridiculous for someone who 'as 'ad no interaction with our kind to want to spend six years in our company."

Jacob's heart sank. "I came across a few gargoyles when I was nine, but that was when I went to a county fair while visiting my aunt in Colorado. I guess that's when I decided to learn more about gargoyles even though I don't live near any."

"And that is all?"

"I'm a Katrien fan if that counts for anything."

"Well Jacob," the gargoyle said, shrugging off the pop-culture reference and after exhaling into the phone, "that brings us to the point of this call."

Jacob closed his eyes to anticipate the rejection.

"I need to ask you one more question."

He was caught off guard and his eyes opened reluctantly. "Oh, um, all right."

"I'm sure you've been asked this question many times by your friends and family, perhaps even to yourself, but never by us; and this question is per'aps more powerful given your proximity, or lack of it, to our kind. Jacob," he paused, "what makes you want to come to Avignon?"

Jacob took a moment to think about his response; however, he spouted out the first thing that came to mind. "Because I'm the best."

"Because you're the best?" the gargoyle echoed.

He didn't think he was going to have to answer for his arrogance, but Jacob tried to formulate a response, "When you announced two years ago that Avignon was going to open up to humans, I applied with seven other people from my school, twenty more from my town and hundreds more from my region. I beat them all - tests, spars, physical exams, I was always at the top. Then you had me go up against the other champions in my state and I beat them. Then you put me up against the other state champions, and now we're on the phone.

"With each test I realized that I was better than everybody else, everybody I had never met; so what's the point of competing with more humans? If I'm the best my species has to offer, then I want to go up against the best your species has to offer."

"And do you think you are better than us?"

"I won't know until I've had the chance to prove it."

"And if I don't give you that chance, what then?"

"Well," Jacob said while he thought on an answer, "I guess I'll move to Colorado and bug some clans out there. I don't think they'd appreciate it much, though."

Once more there was a pause in the conversation that was broken by a long exhale from the other end. "Jacob," the gargoyle said.

"Yes?"

"Session begins on the equinox. Welcome to Avignon."