

Of Men Made Gods

a tale of the lost arts

Osman Welela

Published by Osman Welela at Smashwords

Copyright 2014 Osman Welela

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Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for reading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, and copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author.

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Content

Title

Dedication

Author's Note

Prologue: A Sacrifice

. A Gathering

. A Welcome

. A God

. A Freedom

. A Duel

Epilogue: A Beginning

Glossary

About the author

Also by Osman Welela

Connect with the author

A Preview of "KINGDOM"

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For those who wish to believe

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Author's Note

Of Men Made Gods is the first of a series that I'm still working on called, A Tale of the Lost Arts. Characters in it will get a bare mention in the next books, if at all. Rather than being the start which sparks the happenings that take place in the next book, Kingdom, I see it as only the earliest part of a much older story my imagination is able to remember now. It is not a beginning.

But then again what is a beginning really. Historians neatly put dates on major events and tell us that right there is where the problem, the genius, the legend, and so on, began. The way I see it, we tell ourselves this because no one could really know when anything starts. I believe we can always take one more step back if we try to see the circumstances that led to some event.

Great minds tell us the Universe began with a bang. Looking at the events that had come after, they speak of a thing we have now come to think of as truth. Yet ask any of them of what had happened a second before that magnificent phenomena, and they would literally be at their wits' end.

Still, just imagine if historians tell you all the circumstances that had led to Napoleon becoming an emperor and you ask what spawned each and every one of those circumstances. Imagine that someone was able to explain what had happened in that second before creation and the question is asked again with an added second. Impossibly long, that line snakes on. Of all the words, I can only think of one that could truly describe this unending past. Timeless.

So, what I'm trying to say is that I don't know the point at which this story begins. All I know is what the demon I call imagination has chosen to impart from its flowing wisdom, knowledge I have colored these pages with. I leave you now with a few words from a Japanese man that you can blame for these ramblings:

The wind blows hard among the pines

Toward the beginning

Of an endless past.

Listen: you have heard everything.

SHINKICHI TAKAHASHI

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Prologue

A Sacrifice

137 P.A

WIND WHIPPING HIS cloak around him, Lucifio Lamourn stood on a hill looking at the swirling mists in the distance. Behind him, the sky bled in magnificent colors as the sun slowly rose while above the brightest stars still lingered in the fading darkness at the edge of night. Time moved on in its usual pace and the day dawned with it as the twilight grayness faded from the world around him.

Gradually, with the warm touch of the golden rays making the mists reluctantly disappear, the vast army camped in the distant planes came into view. Seeing how much closer they had come since he last saw them, Lucifio realized that they had marched almost ceaselessly through every last scrap of daylight they could get.

Silently looking at the dark mass that was starting to show signs of movement, he felt a deep hatred well up inside him. He had heard many of his people say that they felt respect for this foe that had destroyed their first home, but he had never shared their sentiment. He had never understood the madness that drove these barbarians, the bloodthirsty urge that made them want to make an adversary of anyone in their path.

Fighting for a thing that had never been clear for Lucifio, the murderous hordes had hurled themselves at the impregnable walls of his ancestors' once magnificent cities until they had ceased being impregnable. One by one, through the ages, they had destroyed all of their lands. And with each generation, his people had been pushed back, one step at a time, up to the age of his grandfather when all in their dwindled numbers had agreed to move on. Since then, it had taken them fifty years, a generation's lifetime, to find a suitable home. Stragglers were still pouring into their new land where they would start to build their city when his father had died.

It was almost a year ago that the first of the wandering merchants had reported the sudden advance of their ancient enemy. Many had not believed they would come this far just to hunt the ragged remnant of their once mighty civilization, but he had seen the truth from the start. When most were reluctant to even acknowledge the danger, he had been amongst the first few to find out for himself. In the following months, all had seen the realities more clearly and everyone was making an effort to help in the war against the army that was trying to reach their new home.

With the invaders finally stopped at the hills that were the last guard of their new land, it was just three months ago that they had been able to make one of their captives from a battle talk. It was almost by sheer luck that they were able to learn the truth that had made most of Lucifio's colleagues fall into spiraling despair. For a few weeks, they had been able to keep secret the fact that all this time they had been fighting only a fraction of their enemy's forces.

Scouts and spies had been sent to verify the terrifying information once the public found out about it all. And, when some of those who were sent finally returned to acknowledge the validity of the claim that had been dragged out of the long dead soldier, many people had decided to start again their search for a new home. Some, though, had gone mad, deciding to kill themselves and their loved ones before the barbarians reached them, while still others had taken a different track into insanity by spending what they thought of as the last of their days in the depravities of life that would have resulted in them being banished from society in any other time.

Lucifio, though, had persevered with his thoughts intact through all the chaos of a civilization that had suddenly been stripped of its hope. While people around him lost all their inhibitions, he had realized running away would do no good in the end while fighting was clearly out of the question with the kind of numbers the enemy was said to hold in its swiftly approaching ranks. So, in the end, he had gone to the one resource his people had always had more than any others they had ever met before, magic.

The seed of his plan having been born in one particularly dreary morning when his mind had still been tangled halfway in the world of dreams, it had taken him days to perfect it by pouring over numerous maps and scrolls. When it was finally done, he had gathered the more powerful and level minded of his colleagues who had been able to hold onto their sanity like him. As he told them of his ambitious idea, he had known that most of them were thinking that he had lost his mind like many other people in the city. But overtime, they all had agreed that his plan might actually work, though none of them were willing enough to say that they would volunteer to find out. So, thinking of the future, he had told them that while the other participants of the plan should be decided when all the parts were finished, he must be at the head of the whole thing if it was to work at all.

In the few number of weeks since he had proposed his plan, Lucifio had seen the remarkable change in the people who at first had accepted it grudgingly. Not only them, but also almost every other person that had decided to stay behind had left their despair to start helping him in any way they can. With zeal to match their previous madness, they had clung to the glimmer of hope he had given them with his idea. And when he had asked for people to drive off the small advance army, four hundred magicians had come to do the deed themselves. Most of them, having caught a slight glimpse of the cold shores of death, had returned to their home supported by their servants as they had fallen unconscious after giving all they had while the invaders that they had fought against for months lay behind them, annihilated to the very last man.

In the sudden respite, they had worked night and day drawing the power line and the proper runes. Seven days ago, when the first sign of the enemy was sighted at the edge of the horizon of the vast open space before him, they were still working. It was at this time that the news of other armies approaching the other posts came, bringing with it sinking hearts to all. The barbarians had divided into three armies as it marched for them, though the largest horde was still coming towards his hill that was the easiest of the routes into the lands behind and to the east of him.

Once they were finished with their preparations, he had ordered all the other participants to rest after setting their wards; there was no practice to check if what they planned would work. Now, having woken from almost three days of magic induced sleep, he looked down at the multitude, feeling the clash of emotions coursing through him. Anger, fear, nervousness and a small amount of excitement vied to dominate his thoughts.

His shadow shortening before him, Lucifio stood alone on the hill contemplating the few hours he had left to live. In the time since he had begun working on his plan, he had come to think of his life more and more. Little details of everyday existence had started to hold a new weight in his thoughts as his mind suddenly realized the limited moments he had to experience them. Because he had known from the start the fatal end that awaited him if he participated in his dangerous plan to the end, he had had a lot of time to accept his faith. But however much he thought about it, deep down he knew even eternity wouldn't be enough for him to be at ease with his own demise.

A sudden sound of loose earth being disturbed bringing him out of his lost thoughts, he turned away from the view of the army which was still waking up. Even knowing what he would find behind him, he still felt excited as he gazed upon the thing that had started to rise up from the ground where it had rested since its last use. The golden edge, where the markings of power had been etched into the metal, shone in the morning light as it settled in the air, its sunken part facing him while the water it held lay flush with the metal as if the whole thing was still resting on the ground and not hanging a couple of feet above it in defiance of all the world's rules.

A scrying pan. It was a new invention one of the last messengers had brought a few weeks ago. When it first arrived, he had been pleasantly distracted from his work for a few days, his mind straying to thoughts of how the thing worked whenever he had a spare moment of his own. Unable to wander about it silently anymore, he had finally asked on one of the talks he had with his colleagues who were at the settlements a thousand leagues away from his lonely hill. But even after finding out about its mysteries, he still marveled at the thing whenever he used it.

Stepping closer to the liquid surface which hung at the level of his head, he watched as the water stopped moving and his sunlit face reflected back at him. He wasn't sure but it seemed to him that he had lost weight and added more years since the last time he saw himself some days ago. The man with the receding hairline, the lined forehead with the permanent frown that rested between his eyebrows, one of which was cut in half by a scar that continued back over his forehead to disappear under his hair, and the thin mouth that was bracketed with the edges of the grooves that lined both sides of his nose looked more like a stranger than himself.

As Lucifio tried to arrange his features into a more composed expression, the glassy surface in front of him suddenly changed. Looked as a whole, it seemed like the surface writhed. But he had once looked closer and seen the change more clearly. It was like the moment where a drop meets a watery surface and then rebounds, that moment where the liquid droplet stretches and floats above the surface without breaking contact. Surrounded by the golden edge, thousands of little watery globes stretched. When most of them finally settled back on the surface, all around the once again smooth middle the water still had that odd stretched look to it. Now though, in that glassy surface of the center, it wasn't his own reflection that was facing him.

Feeling like he was looking through an impossible window, he watched the men who stood at the land he had left behind months ago. Talking to those around him, Oyiras Eaelom stood with only his back visible to Lucifio. He thought he could sense the exhaustion the tired bones tried to hold back as he watched the old man's back, which looked more bowed than ever.

Months ago, when Lucifio had chosen him as the man to coordinate everything, no one had objected to his decision. Even though Oyiras looked closer to death than most, everyone knew of his sharp mind and the raging power his deceptively weak looking flesh held. And in all the days since they had begun transforming his idea into action, his old friend had time and again proven how wise a choice he had made in him.

"Ah, Lucifio," said the old man finally turning around as one of the men beside him notified him of the new addition to his audience. "Everything is ready here, shall we start?"

"We have time," said the man on the hill, "tell me of the others first."

Nodding his assent, Oyiras turned to the map that hung on a frame behind him to first speak of the magicians that were the most important parts of the plan. Across the map, seven green points marked the places where the seven high mages, including Lucifio, stood to work their immense powers. Behind each green point, three names written with white ink showed who the linked backups were for each magician. While, a little distance before where the high mages' positions were depicted, a red line bisected the whole map. And even as the old man began spouting the reports that had accumulated in the three days since he had last contacted them, a woman approached to put a black dot beyond the red line, right in front of one of the green points above the one that marked Lucifio's place. The armies were starting to move.

The old man paused in his speech for a moment, as if he was trying to give all of them time to digest the news. The dreaded war had at last began.

Finally, after he had heard all the reports he wanted, Lucifio took a moment to talk with each of the other six magicians who waited to give their lives for their people. He spent a moment with every one of them; exchanging less of words and more of gazes filled with pure emotion as the scrying pan that Oyiras had looked into was turned to face each of the six other glassy surfaces that hung in the air a thousand miles away.

Most, he knew, had joined him because of his self-sacrifice that he had promised at the beginning of the whole thing. All of them had come to him in their own way, volunteering their considerable services surrounded by a crowd, and with all their well-deserved pomp and splendor, or in private, hiding their bravery in a cloak made of cloth, night, shadows, or all. The form they offered their sacrifice did not matter, now they were living legends.

By the time he had finished with the last of the high mages, one more of the green marks had a dark spot in front of it. He looked away from the scrying pan, to see the bright sky for a moment. While he met with the other six participants of his grand plan, the morning had already aged a bit. Chastising himself for wasting the day, he turned back to his old friend.

"It's time," he said, stopping all action at the old man's side.

Without a word, and leaving his momentary dazed expression behind him, Oyiras started ordering the people around him. In moments, all the six high mages received the command almost simultaneously.

"They have all begun," said Oyiras finally, unable to suppress the awe he felt from staining his voice.

Only responding with a nod, the man on the hill started to turn around only to be interrupted by his friend's voice.

"Lucifio...," started the old man, looking at him through the scrying pan.

"Yes?" he said, turning back to see the wrinkled face he knew so well.

For a time, Oyiras simply stared at the man he had raised; looking him directly in the eye as he searched for the words to show what he was thinking about. "Nothing," he finally said, breaking his intense gaze as he was unable to put into words the thoughts that seemed to haunt him. Trying to make his shaking old lips curve in a smile, he added, "May the stars ever shine on your path," speaking the words of a saying that had been created when their people were still seekers of a home.

"And the darkness never leave your side," whispered Lucifio, a sad smile tugging at his lips as he finished the farewell. With his mother having died before he ever knew her and his father being killed in the hunting accident that the scar on his face never failed to remind him of, it had been the old man that had thought him the secret of the words he had never thought of before but had occasionally heard passing adult lips.

Oyiras had said, "The stars represent knowledge and learning," speaking enthusiastically to the six-year-old boy that he had suddenly been made guardian of, "while the darkness is meant to signify ignorance."

"But," he had said then, forgetting his tragic loss for the first time in days as he looked up at the huge man with the trailing beard, "why would you never want it to leave your side?"

"Well, it's just a way of wishing that one never has to suffer the loss of seeking knowledge," the looming man had said to him, giving him a smile that held no pity unlike anyone's had done at the time.

Now, looking at the man who still somehow looked like the same larger-than-life figure he remembered from his childhood, Lucifio simply said, "Thank you for everything, old friend."

After nodding a farewell to Oyiras one last time, Lucifio turned away from the enchanted window that showed him his home. As he walked towards the circular stone that rested in the middle of the hilltop surrounded by the dark, barren soil making up the ground around it, he felt the scrying pan move away, heading to a safer place so that the people he was trying to save could watch the historic moment unfold.

Despite his best efforts, the last of his thoughts before he walked on to the disk of magical ground were a riot of longings. Longing for his children who were fleeing as he trod on to his doom, longing to catch a glimpse of his old friend and adopted father for one last time and say the thing that needed no saying, longing for the peaceful life which he could barely remember in the chaos of the recent past, even longing just for the distant sea that shall always be in the blood of his people. But once he stepped off the loose soil and onto the hard surface, his mind was flooded by the magic that was coming from the six high mages who had started on their spells miles away from him.

As soon as his foot touched the rock, the markings all around the stone, which hadn't seemed much to his eyes before he entered the circle, suddenly glowed with a dark-bluish light. Ignoring everything that clawed at his senses only as a strong magician could, he sat cross-legged in the middle of the stone circle before beginning to clear his mind. His mind empty of almost all thoughts, he started moving his hands in the traditional first steps of summoning one's powers.

Within moments, the air started to vibrate in a haze around his straining fingers. And, right as these disturbances of the air began, he felt the spark of his power like he always did. Once he felt that well of force that had been slowly growing in his three-day rest, he put his palms together while directing his power as he said the words of a simple spell.

Nothing seemed to change at first, except for the markings on the stone which seemed to shine with a bit lighter color, but when he pulled his hands apart a small ball of flame was revealed hanging in the air between his unharmed flesh. He watched the fire for a moment, passing his hand around it in an increasingly speeding movement while it grew in size. Then suddenly he brought his hands away from each other, and as he did so the globe of flame parted into two smaller balls, each following one palm as it moved away from the other. And, in that same motion of parting, he brought both palms, fire and all, down onto the stone as if he was trying to put out the flames.

As soon as he did this, the markings on the stone started to brighten as their color became lighter. It was at this moment that he closed his eyes. Picturing himself floating between a gray, shadowy clouded sky above and a black sea littered with thousands of glinting lights below, he searched for the small glint inside himself first, that point where his force had filled up again in all the three-day time he had rested. Easily finding that center of power, which had become the largest he had ever sensed it, he strengthened the flow of energy to his hands as he started reciting the second of his spells.

The words of magic that left his lips made the stone beneath his palms start to melt, while the markings around him became indistinguishable beneath the white light which began to pour out of them. Vaguely feeling the ground begin to shake beneath his body, Lucifio let his power leak out of him, stopping only when there was just enough for him to continue accessing the hidden world he saw in his mind.

Oblivious to the changes in the physical world around him, he pulled out his mind's eye from inside the floating figure he thought of as himself. Above him, nothing had changed in the vast gray sky, but below, the line of power they had spent weeks drawing were starting to flow with the magic that came from him and the other magicians that stood a thousand miles away on either side of him. As he watched, the first flooding of energy came from his left as one of the magicians in that direction started accessing the forbidden power below all of them.

After pausing only for a second in a minuscule moment of hesitation, he approached one of the lights under him. Noticing the difference of shape between each point as he got closer to the bright spots, he moved towards a power that he knew of as being the most dangerous of all to any magician. Little by little, his mind starting to feel the strains of the terrifying pull the small points of light were exerting on it, he let himself fly to his certain death.

While moving in an ever increasing speed with each breath his almost forgotten physical body took, Lucifio remembered all he had ever known about the awesome power he was approaching. The Farzur. Many scrolls had been filled with countless words of it, every generation was told of it from the first moment they start learning the secret arts. But no one had ever really understood it. Not one person that had dared to reach for it had ever returned to speak of its hidden mysteries. Horrifying ancient stories of entire lands being destroyed always accompanied the tales of the fools that had tried to touch its dazzling lights. The one rule forbidding its access told to every student of magic being enforced only by the nightmarish legends surrounding it, the fantastic force had always stayed beyond the straining fingertips of those that hunger for nothing more than power.

Steadying himself above the bright white light, with his imagined body lying parallel to the surface under him, he extended one hand towards it. At first, there was only the usual pulling force he had been feeling ever since he began approaching one of the points of the Farzur, but as soon as he passed some invisible threshold his arm was suddenly yanked into the mesmerizing glare.

Pulling his hand, which had been swallowed into the light up to his elbow, slowly out of the thing that seemed to want to swallow him whole, he tried to close off all his senses from the titanic force that had started battering his mind.

When he finally had most of his hand out of the white point, Lucifio took a moment to steady his nerve and take in some of what his senses were screaming at him. It almost felt exactly as he had expected it would. Almost.

The force that tried to tear him out of existence, that was even now starting to swallow him a strip of imagined flesh at a time despite his straining mind, was more immense than he had expected it to be. The rush of unlimited power he felt coursing through him was greater than he had ever imagined in his wildest dreams. But more than any of these, the one thing that strained the most against his mind's control was the hunger.

It was just like the greed to use up all the power that one felt inside oneself that every student of magic was first taught to control, only blown into gigantic proportions that almost drowned all other thoughts from Lucifio's mind. He had never in his whole life felt a need like this. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into the force before him even though his mind clearly knew that that would kill him more swiftly than he was already dying. He had a deep, wearying urge to let go, not caring what he was leaving behind if he did so.

Yet, despite the terrifying pulling force, despite the consuming hunger, despite the ecstasy of the power itself, he did not give up. Instead, as he whispered in his mind, 'There is no going back now,' a kind of peace finally settled on his tortured soul.

Steadying his mind in a strength of will that would have strained even a high magician's resolve, he pulled away from the light below him, his hand trailing a line of white light that left him connected to the lumbering force that was the Farzur. Slowly, his mind none clearer for the imagined separation he was making, he headed for the line of power that had brightened since he last saw it. He drifted toward the glowing thing that snaked through the dark spaces that separated the randomly placed points of light.

Lucifio didn't pause when he reached the line of force that connected him to the other willing members of his suicidal plan. Instead, he plunged his mind into the stream, letting himself flow in both directions as he spread his consciousness. With the new power coursing through him, it was easy enough for him to find the six high mages, their bodies guiding him as they shone with differing amounts of brightness. Some of them were just beginning to approach the Farzur while a few were in various stages of controlling the massive force that threatened to engulf them.

With his and a few others', those who had quickly learned to think through the battering storm of the forbidden power like him, help the rest of the magicians were supported through the grueling experience of accessing the Farzur in just a few moments. Once this was done, he directed all of the magicians to their appropriate spaces on the power line. With everyone finally in their rightful place, he took a moment to collect enough of his thoughts to ready himself for what he must do next. Then, he spoke the words of the spell that would kill them all.

The line around him flaring with light as mortally incomprehensible amount of power started to flow through it, Lucifio didn't react much as he heard the first of the screams coming from his colleagues. His mind starting to dull with all the force that was straining on it, he unthinkingly followed the plan he had created one foolish morning in a time that felt like another world to him now. One by one, he went to the six other magicians that were on the power line with him. And with each one he reached, a soul was untethered from a body, leaking a surge of energy into the growing power line for a mere second.

By the time he finished with the last high magician, Lucifio barely knew his own self. But the plan persisted, drawing his mind to perform the last parts of the magic that would forever let his people be safe. Letting his consciousness flow down the power line, he located each of the points where only a moment ago a living human had held. Finally in place to finish the whole thing, he didn't even pause to consider what he was doing as he said a single word of power that would change the face of the world.

Magic bloomed in seven place thousands of miles apart while the earth groaned as it strained with breathtaking forces. And, even as he barely finished saying the magical word in his mind, Lucifio was suddenly yanked back to the body he had completely forgotten, just in time to experience the same pain his brethren had felt just moments ago.

For a small time, he screamed in agony, his tortured voice lost in the much grander cries of the world around him. With cold white light spilling out from every opening in his face as well as starting to split his skin as it forced its way out of his flesh, his mind roamed the halls of torture for just a moment before he died. A moment long enough for Lucifio Lamourn to curse himself for ever having thought of the plan which he had just completed to perfection as he experienced pain that would have made even a god shiver in terror.

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Chapter One

A Gathering

SOARING PILLARS SUPPORTED the flat roof of the meeting hall, dwarfing the milling crowd that moved under their looming presence. High up, almost at the edge of the ceiling where exquisitely placed jewels glinted mirroring the stars of a faraway night, rectangular windows, wider than they were tall, pierced the old thick walls, letting in air that cleared the room of thousands of breaths and light that banished the shadows from all corners. Every surface of it covered with huge slabs of polished white marble that had delicate golden lines running through it, the building echoed the chatter of the people inside it, shaping the collective sounds into a dull, incomprehensible roar; the whispers of a giant.

Seven hundred seats marched up to the walls at the edges of the room, growing in height as they receded from the large empty space in the middle. Three hundred pairs were always reserved for the male and female heads of a family while a hundred sat those who were granted a place because of their various positions as administrators and officials.

Gradually, the sound in the place lowered in volume as almost everyone in the hall found their rightful seat and settled down. It was into this subdued murmuring noise that a man suddenly stepped into. He passed the silver plated doors, which were the main gates into the building, without slowing down as he urgently talked with a man at his side who hurried away after listening to his words.

He was of medium height with long dark hair that receded from his forehead and a clean-shaven jaw which showed itself as being a recent effort by its paleness compared to the skin around it.

He strode towards one of the seats that awaited him, the traditional white robe with the golden trim which all attending the gathering always wore straining over his ample girth. His mind on other matters, he walked with his head bowed and his eyes absently staring at the floor until the sound of his name being called brought him back to his surroundings.

"Avon!" said his wife, Caenphis, almost hissing the word as she stretched an arm to him from amidst a circle of people as if she was drowning in a sea of bodies. Quickly muttering apologies to those around her, she fell in beside him as they walked towards their seats. "Where in the darkness have you been?"

"Just making sure everything's ready," he answered, as they finally reached their place which was only a few rows from the open floor in the middle of the hall; a privileged position even among the privileged. Settling down, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You know I can't stand a moment of this alone," she replied, taking her place beside him and not bothering to explain what she meant by 'this'.

"How have you been able to survive without me then?" said Avon, a small smile pushing back his cheeks.

She didn't pause even for a breath as she answered him. "By not coming, of course!"

He turned around to face her, and looking at her expression that was only starting to lighten up, he said, "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, you think so?"she asked, her tone falsely cheery. "I'm sure you're right. You would have probably been unfazed while weathering through a detailed explanation of why eastern horses are second to none in the whole wide world for a considerable part of your day."

"Ah," said Avon, his face contorting in sympathy for a moment, "Faeynar, was it?"

"Who else?"

"So, still at pains to let everyone understand how much he knows of everything, is he?" he asked absently as he started to scan the crowd while a little nervousness settled over his bones.

"Hideously," answered Caenphis, her tone changing in a shocking way as she mimicked another's voice.

Avon couldn't stop himself as he burst out laughing, the sounds of his sudden mirth hushing most of the hall for a second. Quickly controlling himself, he turned around to his wife again, ignoring the hundreds of curious eyes around him and forgetting his nervousness for a moment. "I can't believe he still uses that word," he said to her, his lips peeling off his teeth almost by their own will.

"A...," began his wife, but whatever she was going to say was interrupted by the sound of the silver doors closing.

Silence prevailed in the hall for a time before it was disturbed by another set of doors opening. This time it was the golden ones that moved from where they seamlessly fitted in the walls that faced the now closed way to the outside. Standing opposite their counterparts, they smoothly opened to reveal a way which led deeper into the building. As soon as they saw the widening of the golden maw, every person in the hall left their seat in an all-encompassing show of respect.

Achingly slow, the Master of the Hall passed the open doors heading for the single chair facing the people that waited for him alone. Three men trailed behind him, moving patiently as they followed his every step. Under the magnificent black robe with a silver trim, his frame had the painful thinness of a truly old person. An unblemished white beard trailed down to his waist, a stark contrast to the current fashion of a clean-shaven face that most of the men he now faced sported. Lines and spots marred his features where time had played its slow game with his flesh.

Once he reached his seat, the ancient looking man didn't hide his grateful sigh as he lowered himself onto the soft cushions. Following his example, the standing men and women before him lowered themselves to their seats too, momentarily filling the hall with the noise of hundreds of rustling fabrics.

When all had settled into silence again, one of the three men that had come with the old man stepped up to the middle of the hall. Lifting the ceremonial staff he held with both hands, he brought it down hard on the smooth marble floor at his feet. He repeated this two more times, the harsh sounds that he created echoing off the walls as they blended together. After waiting for the noise to disappear, he breathed in deeply before bellowing, in a mighty voice, words that had passed thousands of lips like his in the past. "SO BEGINS A GATHERING!"

Following this, another one of the three who had trailed the old man stepped up to take the place of the man with the staff who moved to stand behind the single chair on the huge hall floor. This time, the new man turned back to the ancient one behind him and bowed first before doing anything else. Standing straight again, he waited silently until the tired eyes focused on him and the old head moved in a small nod.

Having received permission, the man turned around to the people in their seats and unrolled the scroll he had been holding in one hand. Reading from the parchment he held, he spoke the ritual words and called out a name before taking his place beside the other two he had walked in with.

The man whose name had just been called stood up from his seat to take the now empty floor. As he began reporting some problems in the south, Avon quickly lost his interest. Amidst his own swirling thoughts, his mind wondered at all the changes he had seen in his brief glimpse of the city last night and this morning. It was a month ago that he had started heading for this place after hearing of the war, and he had only arrived at his home late last night.

Having traveled hard to get to the city he had left three years ago, he had barely glanced at the buildings he had passed in the dark hours of his arrival yesterday. Only meeting his wife had enticed his sluggish mind for a moment. Though they had talked every single day in his years of absence, they both knew it was never the same as meeting in the flesh. So they had spent more of the night than they both intended together. Then, after arranging some small things for the next day, he had finally reluctantly succumbed to his exhaustion by sinking deeply into the land of slumber.

When he woke up next, the morning had almost ended. Quickly getting together everything he would need later, he had wasted no time in rushing to the gathering where his wife waited for him. And it was in the middle of this mad dash that he really noticed some of the changes in the city he had grown up in. Instead of worrying about what he might have forgotten while making his way through the place, he took a moment to look at the new buildings that lined the streets while his memory whispered of a small forest in the same space. He watched as the cobbled road led down to a square where a large fountain made a play of water between its enormous statues, remembering the small dirt road that used to be there once. It had all looked beautiful, magnificent even, but also a bit mad.

To Avon, who had been traveling through distant lands where a few stone buildings were a rare sight, the excess of his native city slightly disturbed him. First he had thought it was because of his absence that he felt uncomfortable, but when at every turn of the street more structures were revealed, each more breathtaking than the last, he had suddenly realized what his mind had found so odd. It was the timing. He suddenly knew that it wouldn't have made him think twice if what he saw had been built at least in ten years' time, but he couldn't understand what could possibly have changed in only the three years he had been gone to make his people fall into such a gluttonous frenzy for opulence.

He looked at the people around him now while the first speaker was replaced by another and the day slowly wore on, he eyed them all trying to see past their normal looking facade and find the secrets that they might not even know they were hiding. Little by little, the longer he looked, he started to notice the rare stones that glinted from around the occasional neck or upon fingers on a shifting hand. A sight that would have been surprising in the subdued gatherings of old. But, still odder were the bodies which the jewels adorned. The longer he looked, he began to see hair that was blacker, skin that was clearer and backs that were straighter than he remembered. Men and women which were distinctly older than him in his memory seemed half his age now.

Magic. He couldn't believe his eyes at first, he couldn't understand how anyone would use the precious gift for such a ridiculous thing as youth. He would never have taken it seriously if someone had told him a few days ago that these fools were wasting power in such an idiotic act as clutching at lost years, even with all the danger that was threatening to drown everything around them. Though, looking around himself now, he quickly realized that most were doing exactly that.

Even this gathering seemed like an unusual thing to him. He knew the traditional meeting that took place once a month was changed into a weekly thing because of the distant wars that had started some time ago. But now he wondered how much of it was actually necessary and how much an excuse for wasting time.

"Avon," whispered Caenphis, touching his arm as she brought him back to the moment.

"Hmm...?" he replied in a distracted tone.

"It's time."

"Oh," he said, a return of nervousness jolting him out of his thoughts.

Smiling sheepishly, he stood up while his heart began to flutter. As he started passing his wife, she took one of his hands and gave it a warm squeeze, filling him with a support he fiercely needed. His heart full of love for the woman he felt was watching his back, he went down to the open floor in the middle of the hall. By the time he reached it, some men had already brought in two separate things; each of them under a layer of cloth that completely hid its contents. One was rectangular in shape while the other looked more like a sphere. Both were large, though the angular one was by far the largest; the men had strained heroically to even move it while its cloth covering fluttered at one edge as if air was being blown from under it.

After first bowing to the Master of the Hall in his lone chair, Avon turned around to face the crowd while all his nervousness swiftly left him like a forgotten thought. He stared openly at them for a moment, his face impassive as he collected his wits about him. "What I am now going to show you might seem horrific though it's nothing you haven't heard about already," he began, sweeping his audience with his intense gaze, "so, I ask you all to try and look beyond the gruesome parts to see some of the things I believe I have found."

Once he had finished speaking, he turned around and, while muttering a simple spell under his breath, gestured with one hand at one of the cloth covered things that had stood waiting behind him. With his action, the large object lifted off the ground a few feet and began to float to the middle of the hall, following his outstretched arm.

As soon as the thing touched the marble floor again, he moved one hand alone snappily. And with that movement, the huge cloth was thrown off to one side of the room where waiting men quickly collected it. What lay beneath glinted in the light coming from the open windows, its glassy surface looking glorious by itself without a touch of magic. A seerstone, grown into an enormous size so that even its stand alone almost reached a grown man's height.

Stepping up to the globe, Avon extended a finger to touch it. After a second of contact, the crystalline surface gave way beneath his flesh to swallow almost half of his pointing finger. Standing still for a moment, he closed his eyes and spoke the appropriate spell carefully before taking his hand away from the globe.

When he opened his eyes again, what met his gaze was a dark spot in the middle of the white thing. Silently turning around from the imposing object, he walked away to stand where he wouldn't be in the way of anyone's sight.

Looking back, he stared at the globe which had become almost completely black as the dark spot he had seen earlier grew to fill its every surface. He waited a little before he spoke, watching the dark thing that seemed to eat the light around it as he tried to give the people a moment to get themselves ready. A small time later, he cleared his throat and whispered a word of magic, bringing the sound of screaming to the room.

The dark globe was instantly filled with a sight from a nightmare. The images, seeming to come from a person's eye viewpoint, showed a city under attack. Men and women, old and young, all ran blindly trying to get away from the soldiers in green armor who massacred anyone in their path without discrimination. Glimpses of fires raining down from the sky took up most of the view for brief moments whenever the person who had actually seen it all looked up in fright when hearing the booming noise of buildings collapsing in the distance.

Some people stood their ground and fought, uselessly trying to hold off some soldiers from passing through a small street while they failed to see the others that were coming from behind them. The noises of horror seemed to come from everywhere while blood vied with char and debris to color the grey stones all around.

Having nothing at hand, terrorized men brought up their arms to block swiftly descending swords that left them gushing stumps for their troubles. Unable to run, old people fell on their knees begging even as they watched the tired bones of others like them being crushed beside their bowing heads; never stopping their useless obeisance until the hard heals of the soldiers were mercilessly brought down on their own weak skulls. Mothers cowered over their small children, defenseless as their backs blossomed with red lines or swords were sunk into their flesh to reach the young ones they hid.

The view almost never blurred as the owner of the eyes blindly dashed from street to street, as if the person had not known where to go in the whole madness. It was in the midst of bypassing one street by a small alley that the individual was forced to stop as the globe was filled by the image of two soldiers that were just entering the tight space ahead. The view changed swiftly as the person seemed to try and head back to the other end of the alley which was also being blocked by another set of soldiers entering it. Eyes frozen on these soldiers, the image stayed still for a moment. Almost tangible fear seemed to flood out of the very images as all in the hall watched silently.

After a second, though, the view started to quickly shift as the person who had actually viewed these events turned from one end of the alley to the other in sheer panic. But in between this terror filled shifts the image suddenly paused on a grey wall. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the view changed from stone to wood as the person's eyes were brought around to look at what lay straight ahead. The wood grew larger in the globe as the person seemed to step up to it, the random marks of age on it clearly visible by the dirt that had settled into them until they became truly black in the surrounding dark brownness.

Slender shaking hands filled the image for the first time as they were brought up to tentatively touch the metal handle. They flexed as they pulled down and pushed into the rusting thing with the same motion, freezing as the action seemed to actually work and the door was opened.

Finally noticing what was going on ahead of them, it was at this moment that the shouts of the soldiers were heard above the cacophony of the chaos all around. The view was changed for a second to the men that were rushing from either side, before turning back to the darkness that was revealed behind the door where it plunged without the slightest of hesitations.

Inside the building, the image adjusted to the darkness, revealing a simple kitchen. Food, in various stages of preparation, still waited where it had been left by curious hands. A couple of onions lay half-chopped on the cutting board where the one that had left them would never return to finish the deed, a chicken rested on a wooden table midway into being fully plucked, its cut neck still leaking blood that spread over the wood until it met the edge and spilled onto the stone floor where it congealed in a small dark puddle, while the sound of something boiling on the stove filled the room where the noisy horrors outside were muffled slightly.

The person whose view the white clad audience were now sharing didn't seem to notice any of these things, the hectic gaze only fell on them for a brief time as it searched for something. The images, which were changing in an increasingly frantic pace, suddenly paused as they settled on another door nestled at one corner of the room.

The small door growing larger as it was approached, the view inside the globe continued. Upon reaching the wooden structure, the person didn't pause even for a second unlike the last time. When the door was unhesitatingly wrenched open, the bright room beyond was revealed dazzlingly. The curtains greedily covering all the windows, it was through the huge door ahead that the light was flooding into the place. And with the light came the blessed view of a miraculously empty plaza just outside the building.

The feeling of relief still almost palpable even to Avon who had spent many sleepless nights watching it all over and over, far past the point where he could fool himself by thinking he was looking for something he might have missed, the view shifted as, first with a frightened step and then with a full on run, the person started to head for that rectangle of light almost reaching the threshold in a second with the increased pace. It was at this moment that a thunderous sound was heard from the crystal orb just before all noise suddenly disappeared and the world in it looked like it was breaking as the ground heaved.

At last, when everything had stopped moving, a small red stain started to grow at one end of the image in the globe while the rest was filled by an impenetrable curtain of dust. Silence filled the hall, as men and women held their breaths while they sat still all around, waiting to see what the glassy surface would reveal when the dust had finally cleared. Slowly, the air becoming free of particles as they were swept away by a dead wind, a heart-clenching thing came into view. In the distance, the previously empty plaza could be seen littered with ruble that increased in number closer to the still seeing eyes. But that was not the reason that made many an Adam's apple bob inside suddenly constricted necks all over the hall; instead, it was the fragile looking hand that stood out in one corner of the image that made everyone's heart suddenly miss a beat. It lay there, bruised in a couple of places; disturbingly unmoving.

For a while, nothing happened inside the crystal globe, the world it showed seemingly frozen in the haunting silence. But none of the crowd lost interest. They watched with rapt attentions as they sensed, almost instinctively, that there was still more to see.

And, after only a small amount of time, the silent audience's diligence was rewarded when the dust on the grounds of the distant plaza started to be disturbed. As they watched, the slight flurry quickly grew into a full blown gust that cleared a large circular space. This continued for a second or two before something that made every single person in the hall move to the edge of their seats suddenly landed on the middle of the plaza. It was a dragon.

Violet scales covered its every inch, from its large head where its dark eyes sparkled above its big jaws, which fleetingly parted for a second to reveal dangerously sharp and large teeth, down its back, where three men sat on some form of saddle, and on to its tail which ended in an unusual stump where it seemed to have been cruelly cut. Even the great wings seemed to hold a bit of scale at their edges as it stood supported by its two slightly smaller front legs and the larger two back legs. All of its limbs had frightening claws that seemed to fiercely grip the ground under them.

Darker in some places than others, the lizard-like skin was breathtakingly beautiful; its glory only slightly shadowed by the numerous wounds that pierced its surface. Some of them looked recently made, a dark liquid that looked like the thing's blood marking their edges where it had dried, while the others were old enough to have turned into grayish scars.

But for all its awesome demeanor, the great thing looked to heave its back in relief as the three men dismounted from it. With the humans finally off it, it seemed bigger than it really was. Its smaller legs were only slightly taller than a big horse's while its long neck, without its vicious head, looked more fragile than threatening as it was seen beside the men below it. Only its wings were actually as huge as they seemed, though they were resting neatly folded on its back and a bit around its lithe frame.

Without wasting any time, two of the men started to walk away together, heading to the right, while the third waited beside the dragon. All of them were wearing green armor edged with a deep red color and black hooded cloaks that trailed a little on the ground behind them. On their dark, almost nightly surface, each of the cloaks had a red mark that was round below like a drop before flaring above like a flame.

The two men were almost out of sight when the one left behind absently stepped in front of the dragon. With his back to the thing, he bowed down slightly like he was looking at something on the ground that had caught his attention. For a moment, the huge animal regarded him without any movement at all. It simply looked at him. And then, slowly, as if it was afraid, it lowered its gigantic head slightly to the human before it. Then, just as slowly, it pulled back again.

Seemingly oblivious to the animal behind him, the man lowered himself to one knee to pick up the thing he had been looking at all this while. The beast's reaction to this was only a reptilian slithering of its forked tongue, the long thing sticking out for a second as if to taste the air before disappearing again between the gigantic jaws. Still looking at the thing in his hand, the man stood up from where he had knelt and began to turn around only to be stopped on his tracks as the beast behind him struck.

It happened too quickly for most of the gathered to see clearly, making them break the silence for the first time since the whole thing began to be shown as they spoke out in a confused murmur. Avon too had needed to watch it numerous times to see what had actually happened. At first he had only seen what all were now seeing. He had been stupefied when he watched the thing that time. One moment a man was turning and the next blood was spewing all over the plaza ground while the two men that had almost left came back running.

He had had to slow the whole thing down to see the creature's neck pulling back for a second before coming down on the man in a blinding speed. He had watched, stunned, as the enormous jaws had engulfed the man, armor and all, without meeting the slightest resistance. The horrifying mouth had smoothly swallowed the small human head, the whole left shoulder and arm, and some of the hip before snapping closed with a terrifying ease. He had watched as the body was slightly lifted with the thing's head which had started to move back, the flesh and bones resisting before they finally gave up so that almost half the body was left inside the dragon. He had watched the remaining part of what had been a full man only a second ago fall to the ground where it obscenely still stood for a small time; one arm waving around as it balanced madly, scattering blood and gruesome solid chunks of human matter all over the place.

Knowing what was going to happen next, Avon silently watched from the side as the murmur in the hall grew. Inside the globe the image of the men running towards the dragon still showed. They seemed to approach the animal without a hint of fear, waving their arms in front of them as they closed on the monstrous thing.

It was an old woman, sitting in one of the first row of seats, who seemed to notice first the odd thing about the two men. She gasped in surprise as she understood what she was actually looking at. By the time others around her started to turn to the crystal orb, there was no mistaking the fact that the men were practicing some sort of magic.

Horrified silence enveloped the hall, as all watched fire leap from the outstretched arms of the black cloaked men. The one to the right reached the dragon first, making the beast snarl and stumblingly back as he blasted it with balls of blue flame.

Only a step behind the other, the second man also approached the murderous animal, coming from its left as one of his hands, which was sweeping the air above his head, was suddenly engulfed in green flames that trailed around him in a fantastic whip. He brought this whip about in a smooth practiced sweep and landed a blow on the thing's beautiful skin. Step by step, and working together, the men were able to subdue the animal, making it cower before them as it lowered its sinuous neck and laid its head on the ground in a clear show of submission.

At last, Avon spoke a word, bringing the glassy globe to its earlier darker form again, and stepped forward. "What you have just seen was found from a girl in Rumnick, the city of trade in the west," he began, his voice booming in the glaring silence around him. "Though she had died in the city's fall," he continued, "she was one of the hundreds from whom my men were able to extract the memory of this terrible experience.

"But what makes this special is not the close sight of the dragon alone, as I'm sure you have realized by now. Yes, what you saw was magic being used by people whom we had thought as being barbarians up to now. And no, I don't know what form of spell that was though I'm sure we can all agree that it was definitely not one of ours. The use of fire magic even for a brief time is a trying experience even for some of our high mages, and what you just saw now was nothing but brief.

"So, this brings me to the two things I've come here to tell you. One is good while the other might just spell our doom if we are not careful in the next steps we take. I shall start with the darker of the two," he paused to turn around to the globe once again as he spoke a word of magic. The blackness was immediately replaced by an unmoving scene of the two men trying to control the dragon with their fires. Speaking another word of power, Avon watched as the same image was leached of color until all of it had become gray.

"As you can see I've just used the Numir spell to see the life force of these men. Now, watch closely," he said, before stepping back as he waved a hand in front of him. Horror stricken gasps filled the hall as the scene inside the orb was gifted with motion. Looking at the image as he started walking around the glassy surface, he pointed to the violet colored lines that connected the dragon to the two men attacking it. "These men are using the dragon's power as a source of their magic," he said in a loud whisper, feeling a shiver go down his spine as he did so.

"What our civilization had been trying to do since its inception has now been achieved by those who were known to have never even used magic in our great-grandfathers' time. Channeling another's power has always been a mythical quest for all of us. I must admit, it has been a goal that had been driving my work for the past few years. Which brings me to the good part of the thing I've come to tell you today."

Turning back to the glassy orb, Avon spoke a word, turning its insides into black again. After speaking one more word, he gestured at the globe without looking at it as he said, "Watch this more carefully."

The view inside the globe was back to where the moment just before the dragon attacked the man that had ridden it, only now it was all without any color. Just a few people showed any surprise this time while most looked on the grayish scene almost without any reaction.

"Some of you might have noticed what the beast was doing at that moment," began Avon, turning away from the globe after changing it back to its former white form. "It doesn't matter if you haven't. I had to see the scene almost a hundred times before I could believe it myself. The dragon was testing the lines that bound him to the men. What is surprising here is not that the animal knew of the thing's existence, though that is still a remarkable thing in itself, but rather that the men did not."

Men and women around him murmured in surprise as realization dawned on them. "They do not yet know that they are using the animal's power," he paused for a time to let it all sink in before he continued. "I've checked this as much as I can on the rare few memories my men had found in a couple of the other attacked cities. Though it is not as clear as it is on this one, I believe I have found signs that strongly support this new revelation."

Leaving the men and women sitting around the hall to digest the new knowledge, Avon floated the giant crystal orb away from the center of the floor and towards the men who waited at one edge of the hall before bringing the other covered object to take its place. Once he did this, he returned to his audience, waiting for them to quiet down before he began speaking again.

When the noise around him had finally died down, he said, "What we must do now is try to make sure they never know the thing they have. I do not need to tell you that they are heading for this land, the reports from the scouts this city has sent all show that these invaders are the same as the ones our forefathers had barely stopped. The pattern of the attacks and the reports that are flooding in all make no secret that they are only gathering enough forces to attack us and us alone. Even with just their men, all of you know we will barely be able to defeat them. If they understand the power they hold, no one that I know of is ever going to win a war with them.

"So, we must stop their source of power before they know what it truly means and, if we can, we must find a way to learn what they have done. Now, I have been working to find a way to channel another's life force for the past three years but I am sad to say my work has not hinted at any signs of progress in that regard," he stopped for a second, looking as if he had just spoken about something he was grateful for. "As for the problem of blocking their source of magic from these strange people, my solution is this," he said, turning around and, with just a gesture of his hand, throwing back the cloth covering the object in the middle of the floor.

Indignant cries, and some frightened screams, filled the hall as the thing amidst them all was suddenly revealed. It was a cage. Its sides and ceiling were made of huge bars of some dark metal while its floor was one solid piece of the same odd metal. Inside it, head resting at one corner, laid a dragon. It was completely white with only a hint of gold where the scales hardened to form ridges on the back of its head, on its shoulders, at the joints of its legs and the top parts of its tail. When it lazily lifted its head to look at the people, its eyes were revealed to be large black orbs surrounded by a sliver of a shining silver circle at the edges.

Lifting a hand, Avon tried to silence the terrified crowd so that he might continue. But no one seemed to notice him at all.

'Silence!'

The word, unmistakably a command, came as a whisper into every single person's mind inside the hall. In the sudden quiet, all eyes turned to the old Master of the Hall.

Grateful for the timely intervention, Avon bowed to the man who had sat alone behind him all this time before turning to head for the cage as he spoke. "I know you are confused," he began, stopping right before the enormous white head which had turned to him as he approached it. "You are asking yourselves why a beast that looks so much like the one you just saw mauling a human being is here in the heart of our city. But I assure you this animal is nothing like the one you saw in the seerstone," he paused for a second, looking at the enormous black eyes with undisguised adoration written all over his face.

"This," he began again, his voice almost a whisper as he stared at eyes which stared back at him, "is a marvel the likes of which the world has never seen before." Then, with the last of his words barely out of his mouth, and accompanied by some escaped gasps from the people around him, he fearlessly plunged one of his hands between the metal bars to rest it on the dragon's head.

Instead of tearing off his arm, as Avon knew most of his audience were expecting it to, the animal's only reaction was to lean into his touch as it stepped closer to him. "In the past few years, I've learned, and then perfected, the techniques of breeding practiced by the numerous people of the foreign lands I've visited," he said, patting the scaly skin, "But the level of control I have over the infants by my new techniques goes beyond what one might call breeding. The animal you saw inside that girl's memory did not show a unique behavior from its kind. By all accounts dragons are notoriously vicious. No known attempt to truly tame them has ever worked. Even our black cloaked enemies who call themselves Vardrakus, which in their tongue means dragon lord, have to continually control the frightening animals they ride as you have just witnessed.

"Yet," he paused to turn around, not lifting his hand from the beautiful creature behind him, "as you can clearly see, this dragon is not as blood thirsty as the rest of his cousins that roam the mountainous wilds of the western lands. Another thing that makes this one different from most of its kind is its size. You may have noticed that it's somewhat smaller than the violet colored one you just saw eat a man with just one bite. What you do not understand is that this beast is only a couple of weeks old. By the time it finishes growing it will at least be twice the size of the largest of the wild breeds. And all of it has been possible because of a number of spells that I've invented.

"Now I can control these mighty beasts' dangerous temperament, their age, their size, and even the shades of their scales. But, the most important thing, the thing that I think makes this animal the most effective of our weapons in the coming war is that I've been able to control what this creature's brood are going to be like." He fell silent for a moment, his face flooding with amazement at the thing he had just said.

Seeing only confusion on most of the faces around him, he brought up his hands as he cried, "Don't you understand what this means?" He whirled around to face the dragon again. "By giving them the greater size and more colorful hide that these creature's wild mates prefer, we can now provide our creations the upper hand at being the parents of the next generation of these animals. And even if we do not make these new clutch barren, which we are able to do, just by controlling the gender of their offspring we will be able to control the continuance of the whole species. And because of the small lifespan of the animals in captivity we will be able to decimate the ranks of the Vardrakus at most in the next two years."

Turning to the crowd once again, Avon continued, "We can't face our enemy with our limited slave soldiers and expect to win the war. Our magic will not be enough to defeat the sky roaming Vardrakus." He moved trying to catch as many eyes as he could before he spoke again. "This is the only solution we have."

The hall fell into an uncomfortable silence as every single person took a moment to face the fact that, for the first time in its remembered history, an enemy with greater magical power than their civilization was moving to destroy them. Weakly hid dread shone from each person's face as they digested the words they had just heard or silently recalled the fire wielding magicians they had seen in a dead girl's memory.

Trying to control his own fears, Avon opened his mouth to fill the silence. But before he had uttered a single word, another person spoke.

"No," said a voice, coming from Avon's right and shattering the silence around him. When he turned to the sound he was met with the sight of a man getting up from one of the seats near him.

"No, it is not," the man spoke again, his soft voice filling the hall and coming to each ear almost like an intimate whisper. He was almost the same height as Avon, with features that looked a bit younger and handsomer than his while his body was of almost the same considerable size. "There is another solution," he continued, turning his gaze towards the people around him as a smile crept up his face, "my plan."

"Oh, come now, Elizo," said one of the men who had spoken before Avon, seating half turned in his place as he stared at the interrupting man with a disdainful look, "you're not speaking of the thing you've been working on for the past year, are you?"

With an unwavering smile plastered over his features, Elizo answered with a single word. "Yes." While people began chattering all around him, their voices slightly louder than necessary as they were tinged with a bit of fear that still clung to their owners, he stood silently before he continued. "The gateway is finished," he said finally, his words somehow breaking through the noise and reaching every ear in the hall which made every face turn towards him as a hush fell over the place again.

"It shall be opened the day after tomorrow," he continued in the sudden silence. "And I would like to invite three people to accompany me and my men on that day as we step into the land of gods. Master of the Hall, Druid Eaelom," he turned to the ancient man in his lone seat and bowed grandly, "Druid Faeynar Salvio," here he sought an old man seating way behind him and gave him a slight nod, "and Druid Avon Lamourn," he finally finished, turning to Avon with a grinning face that showed no hint of what the mind behind it was thinking.

'What in Heaven's name is going on?' thought Avon, nodding to the smiling man looking at him. With his acceptance marking the end of the presentation of his solution to stop the swiftly approaching war, the hall was filled with voices of hundreds of people again. 'Maybe I should have brought the green one,' he whispered to himself in his mind as he turned to look towards the white dragon.

Wondering what he had gotten himself into, Avon headed back to his sit and the woman who might be able to explain where this 'land of gods' place was that he had just agreed to step into.

*

Chapter Two

A Welcome

WATER GURGLED ABUNDANTLY in fountains cleverly hidden around the lush garden. Insects paid court at each of the lanterns that hung swaying in the warm night breeze, trying vainly to get closer to the enchanting brightness denied them by oiled paper sheets. The air was filled with the sharp, lulling sound of crickets' singing while leaves spoke in a thousand whispers as they moved in a flutter, almost shadows in the starlit darkness.

Avon stood in a brightly lit doorway, trying to take it all in. The murmur of people came as a low drone from behind him while he tried to lose his thoughts and relax. All day he had been thinking of what the Hall members were going to decide about his proposal, but the thing that occupied his thoughts even more than that was what his wife had told him yesterday on their way back from the gathering. Now, standing with his back lit and his face in shadows, her words came swooping down into his mind again.

"Do you remember that Elizo left on some adventure to the east a while back, even before your own journey abroad began?" Caenphis had said, sitting beside him as they went to their home. "Well, he got back about a year ago and has been claiming to have spoken with beings of unimaginably immense powers ever since. He calls them gods, though I don't know if he's being serious or not.

"He said that his travels had led him south, beyond the waters at the shores of our old homelands and beyond the mighty forests after those waters, where he found an empire of black-skinned men. His descriptions of the animals from that place at the time were quite dramatic and almost unbelievable though he did bring some crafts, skins, feathers and bones that were exotic," she had paused here for a time, as if she was seeing those bizarre parts of the fantastic creatures before her again. "Everybody was excited to learn more at first, and there was great support for the gateway through which he had met the gods that he wished to create here. But months had passed and the rumors of wars and sightings of the Vardrakus were finally seeping into the city so he and his gateway had sort of faded into the background of that growing certainty. And when even more time passed, his project had become a kind of shared joke among everyone else. You know how people are here. It was at this time that he even closed his doors on the few supporters he had left, politely saying that the works on the gateway had reached a critical stage which needed the utmost secrecy from then on. But, all of us knew that he did it because he had finally somehow heard of the snide remarks uttered behind his back by those he had taken into confidence.

"I don't even think he had come to the gatherings after that because people were whispering in surprise when he stepped into Hall this morning before your arrival," she had said, turning to him as she spoke, "You know, now that I think about it, he had disappeared after that incident of barring his home and work place to most people."

"But where does this gateway lead to?" he had asked, still slightly irked that the presentation of his plan had been interrupted by the man he had last seen years ago.

"He was a bit exaggerating when he said 'the land of gods'," his wife had replied, a small smile playing at one corner of her lips before a slight frown appeared on her brow and she continued, "at least that's what I think. If what I've heard is true, then the gateway only leads to a meeting place between our world and the world of those other beings."

All the way to their home, she had gone on speaking about that place between two worlds, telling him of the various imaginative descriptions people had made up about it when the truth wasn't forthcoming from the one person who had ever been there. Yet, with most of his mind filled with an elusive unease, he had listened to her words after that with only half an ear.

"Why don't you give some rest to your thoughts?" the words came from right behind him, piercing through the night to reach his almost absent mind.

Sighing loudly, Avon turned towards the person who had spoken the question. His eyes still adjusting to the shift from darkness to light, he looked at his wife. For a moment shorter than a breath, he looked and actually saw the little changes time had wrought on the woman he loved. He saw the slight creases around the eyes, the little stretched skin that hung beneath her jaw, and, almost but not fully hidden under her clothes, the curves of her body which suddenly seemed more softer than they should. It was in a split second, when the lights and shadows were just right and his mind was still a bit hazy, that he noticed these things and more. And, with this new view came a sadness that numbed his heart for a time. Without saying a word, he simply watched her while his heart filled with a fiercely protective love, silently thinking how life was surprisingly long as well as being maddeningly short.

"What?" said Caenphis, a confused smile blooming over her features and showing how most of the lines on her face had formed.

"Nothing," he answered, moving closer and giving her a kiss that said his thoughts were anything but nothing. "Is my absence starting a murmur?" he asked leading the way back into the house.

"Well, the person they came to see was hiding in the garden," she replied, following him as she spoke.

"I wasn't hiding," said Avon, halting his walk for a second to turn to his wife with a half-serious indignant expression on his face.

An indulgent grin leaking from her lips, his wife said, "You were, dear," bringing up her left hand to pat his cheek as she continued, "only you didn't know it." She let her hand linger on his cheek while she hesitated for a moment.

"You know," she began, her voice carrying a levity they both knew was false, "worries are made to be shared, don't you?"

He was silent for a time, struggling to find a lie that would satisfy his wife. He didn't know why he was trying to lie. He told himself he was trying to shield her from his own worries, but he knew that was just another of his self-deceptions. The truth was that he had grown comfortable as he fell back to his old habits. Over the past three lonely years, he had begun again to trust only himself as he always had before meeting the woman standing right before him now.

So, it was a lie that he begun to tell as he said, "I...," before being interrupted by Caenphis.

"No," she said, her voice filled with sadness rather than anger as she read from his face what he was about to do. "If you'll not tell me the truth, at least don't lie." With that said, she passed him and entered the room where the last of their guests waited, leaving her husband feeling worse than when she had come to pull him out of his gloomy thoughts.

Throughout the day, people had been pouring into their house to welcome Avon back. He had greeted them all as warmly as he could, spending a time with each new arrival as he glided from group to group. Usually he would have loved mingling with his old friends or even complete strangers in a festive atmosphere, easily finding the oddest of topics to talk about. But, with all his worries weighing upon his heart he had enjoyed none of it this time.

He would smoothly start a conversation and begin to relax but next thing he knew he had completely lost track of what the person in front of him was saying while all his attention wandered off into his worries again. Whenever he paused even for a moment, his mind would quickly become distracted. He would suddenly drift off to become lost with his thoughts.

Willing himself to do better in the few hours left of the night, Avon followed his wife's example and moved to join the last of his guests. He had known most of them since childhood. But the one he was closest to sat with some people around a table talking about something that seemed to captivate all of them.

"I'm telling you he's got the best collection in the whole city...," was all that Avon heard before the man who had been speaking paused as he noticed his approach. "Avon!" he called out unnecessarily, pushing back his long dark hair out of his face as he turned his brown eyes to him.

"Braetieus!" he called back, in mock imitation of the man's voice. "What ridiculous nonsense are you spouting now?"

"Just the usual," replied his oldest friend, a smile flavoring his words as he picked up a goblet of drink from a passing tray for the man taking a seat beside him. "I was telling them about the one with the largest number of exotic slaves in our blessed land."

After taking a large gulp of the drink that had just been given to him, Avon nodded at the people around the table before turning back to the man he had known for most of his life. "And who might that be?"

Swallowing the food in his mouth first, the man besides him said, "Elizo of course, " before picking up another leaf wrapped spiced meat from the platter in the middle of the table and dipping it in the creamy sauce that sat in front of him as it did in front of every other seat around the table. "Ever since his return from that adventure of his in the Stars know where, he had been buying all the new arrivals in the slave markets."

"Why?" he asked, throwing a wrapped meat dripping with sauce into his own mouth himself. The first thing his tongue noticed was the dull, sour taste of the creamy sauce, but as soon as his teeth broke through the green covering and sank into the meat within, his mouth was flooded with a rush of flavors. While mixing with the deliciously rich salty oil formed when the tender flesh was roasted, the spices burned his tongue with pleasure as the herbs filled his mouth with cool freshness.

"Nobody really knows," Braetieus answered, wiping his fingers on a cloth beside the creamy sauce before picking up his drink. "They just go to his house and are never seen again. But, what about you?"

"What about me?" asked Avon a bit confused.

"Come now," said his friend, waving towards one part of the room as if the thing he was implying was so obvious that it didn't even need stating.

"What?" he said, seriously confused as he tried to figure out what the man was talking about.

"Oh, for the love of the Stars," said Braetieus, frustration dominating his tone for a time. "The woman, man! Your new slave!"

Not trying to hide the smile that came from seeing his friend's sudden burst of emotion, Avon simply said, "Ah..." Following the gaze of everyone around the table, he looked at the woman. Having traveled with her for months, he now realized that the novelty of her appearance had dulled in his eyes.

Willing himself to look at her as those around him might view her, he noticed the things that made her standout in the roomful of his people; the things that had caught his eye in the first place in a snow filled land that suddenly seemed like another world to him now. With her pale skin sprinkled with freckles making her fiery hair stand out more than it already did, she seemed so odd among the darker skinned and black haired guests she was serving. Even to his eyes she looked like another creature.

"She is amazing, isn't she?" said Avon, pride clear in his voice. And, before anybody could interrupt him, he nodded towards a man just stepping into the room as he continued, "Have you also noticed him?"

As all eyes around the table turned to the man he had pointed out, Avon watched with satisfaction as amazement invaded the faces of their owners. The man's skin was a slight shade darker than the woman though all his hair was an unusual golden color, and while she was small of figure he was almost like a giant compared to her. He had spent a considerable amount on the man even if it wasn't anything close to what he had spent on the woman. He had bought her first thinking of giving her to his wife as a present but learning a bit later that he was her lover while she cried her goodbyes on the man's arms, he had made the rash decision of buying him too. It wasn't the first time he had proven what most said about him being too soft hearted with his slaves, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last time either.

It was Braetieus who broke the awed silence that had fallen around the table by asking the question that must have been running through most minds around him. "Where in the darkness did you get them?"

"Would you believe me if I said Manotius?"

"Wha...?" said his friend, the shock on his face having no time to completely settle on his face before it was quickly replaced by pure disbelief. "Now you're just making things up."

"No," said Avon, readying to tell his remarkable encounter with the legendary slave trading company that had become almost a myth in recent years. But before he said one more word, his wife's voice interrupted him as it filled the room.

"I have just received a terrible news," said Caenphis, standing up from her seat as the man who seemed to have delivered the news retreated behind her. "The Master of the Hall has fallen unconscious."

The stunned silence that had suffocated the room for a time after the last words left Caenphis's lips quickly dispersed as disturbed murmurs suddenly filled its place.

Made speechless by what his wife had just said, and his little story completely forgotten by the happenings of the present, Avon sat in his seat silently cursing the world that seemed to be bent on making the coming days darker than they already were. He sat feeling an overwhelming sadness while at the same time his mind wondered if the night was going to be the last for the man he had known and respected for most of his life.

*

Chapter Three

A God

BY THE TIME Avon reached Elizo's home, it was already late in the morning. Surprised that they were still meeting after yesterday's news when the summons reached him, he had had to hurry to even get to the place late. Though the news of the older man's still beating heart had reached him like it did most of the city, he was slightly disturbed that the man he was meeting today had not found it necessary to change his plans.

The house was enormous and, like most of the city around it, it had been built in his absence. But, unlike the others, it was made of a more subdued gray stone, making the whole thing stand out rather than blend in with its imposing look. One-piece huge wooden pillars lined the front, their surface painted the red of their people's traditional homes. The whole place was slightly accented by marvelous carvings and statues that seemed to be placed so they would be hidden in plain sight. He absently admired the place and noted that even had the decorations that graced the stone and wood had not been so artfully crafted into things of breathtaking beauty, they would have drawn a viewer's eyes just by their scarcity.

Amid his distracted marveling at the exterior of the building, Avon was interrupted as the front doors were opened by an old man. Passing by the bowing man with his unmistakably dim aura that defined him as a dru, a non-magician, and therefore a slave, he wondered why the man was still working at his age.

Unexpectedly, he was suddenly reminded of one of his grandfather's old sayings as he followed the old one leading him into the house. He could almost see the now dead man leaning back on his chair, which Avon had known was extremely uncomfortable from secretly sitting on it once, as he had said, 'If they start making sounds when they move it means it's time for them to be replaced.'

While his thoughts were partly lost in remembering the old man from his childhood, the one in front of him lead the way through room after room of the house. To his distracted mind the inside of the place was at least as impressive as the outside, if not more. The walls were covered with dazzlingly lifelike and yet incredibly whimsical murals while the marble floors shone in the light coming from the traditional overhead windows that kept out the heat of the sun. Odd looking objects and bizarre contraptions made of rare metals and jewels held the place between the exquisite furniture that hinted at a humbling wealth. Overindulged amazement occasionally interrupting his memories, he followed the slave.

It was before a wooden door that the old man finally stopped. Visibly straining with the effort, the elderly servant opened the large thing and bowed in the guest he had led from outside before closing it on himself without following.

Once the door was shut behind him, Avon was plunged into darkness and a sudden drop of temperature. But after a time, his eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he noticed that he wasn't truly in complete darkness. There was one side of the room that seemed to be a bit lighter. Walking to that lit shade of blackness, he quickly found out that he was in a corridor that turned sharply to block the light coming from deeper in. When he turned that sharp corner he suddenly found himself at the entrance to a huge hall.

The distant ceiling was built in an unusual way so that it rested on the four walls of the room, instead of on the usual columns, which gave the floor a vast look. No windows blemished the somber dark walls here. Instead, the hall's minimal sources of light were the tall braziers that burned at the edges of the floor in the unusually cold room. Their flames writhed silently, spitting out light that outlined the shadows that danced on the walls.

Looking like wavering shadows themselves, a group of people occupied the space near the middle of the hall. All but three of them wore dark red cowled robes that hid everything about them. One of the three was another slave who looked even older than the earlier one while the other was Faeynar who fidgeted nervously as he stood a little way away from everyone else about him.

The air in the hall had more of the coldness that a part of Avon finally associated with the workings of high magic. There was also a vague stench that colored the powers at play in the room, though he couldn't exactly place it even as a corner of his mind kept reminding him that he knew it from another time.

Disoriented from the sudden shift of daylight into darkness, Avon had at first failed to notice what stood in the middle of the hall. But once his eyes fell on it, all thoughts left his mind as it was numbed in wonder. It was some sort of structure carved from a gray rock. It had three columns connected overhead, one some ways behind the two equally positioned ones in the front. Their placing formed a kind of cleft of open space in their midst which shimmered in the darkness as the light passing through it was distorted oddly.

Every inch of the structure's stone was etched in runes and words that pulsed with immense power to Avon's heightened senses. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. It dragged his eyes to it, urging him to come closer and learn its close guarded secrets.

"Avon!" called Faeynar, wincing as his loud voice echoed in the hall even as his lined face flooded with relief at the sight of him.

The sudden sound bringing him out of his daze, Avon realized he had unknowingly taken a few steps towards the stone structure. Cursing himself silently while he nodded to Faeynar, he brought up the barriers in his mind that he had perfected in his countless experiments over the past three years. Immediately he felt the change, instead of the burning need to get close to the thing that he had sensed at first, he now felt only a more natural distant curiosity. Taking more conscious steps this time, he moved towards his caller.

At the same moment, the last of the three with the uncovered heads finally stood up from where he had been kneeling. "At last," he said, his voice touched with amusement as he spoke without turning, "you have arrived."

Even before he spoke, Avon had known who the man was. Though many years had passed since he last saw him, he could still recognize his childhood friend with just a glance. "Elizo," he said, speaking the name as a greeting. "I had thought we would not continue as planned after yesterday's news reached me."

"Well," began Elizo, turning with a swirl of his magnificent robes to face the last of his guests, "it appears you had thought wrong." In a seemingly calculated move, he whipped one of his arms away from himself, drawing all the eyes on him to the knife he held in his hand and from which he was flicking blood off of with his sudden action. Handing the jeweled blade to the slave who cleaned and sheathed it with a deft hand, he spoke again, "Progress, as you should know more than anyone, waits for nothing."

Looking at the floor where the man had just been kneeling, Avon found the source of that precious red fluid. The dead calf's skin was still twitching as its blood flowed down the grooves on the floor before the stone structure and unnaturally up its surface to fill the markings on it.

Watching the pool of blood that surrounded the three pillars without entering the space between them, he was almost certain that that amount of blood could not possibly have come from one calf alone. And sure enough, he found a stack of the dead animals leaning on one of the walls to the side, with the little life fluid left in their drained bodies making a congealed red circle around them. 'Blood magic,' he thought silently, remembering the not-quite-tabooed type of magic he had once been fascinated with in his younger years, before he had learned more about it and quickly decided to shy away from the subject like most others who had come before him.

'At least one of the mysteries is uncovered.'

But even as the thought passed through his mind, he knew he was just telling himself a soothing half-truth, he knew there was more to the stench in the power he sensed than a simple animal sacrifice cold explain away with.

Another calf lay beside the dead one, with its eyes closed but apparently unhurt as its sides moved with its slow breathing. And looking at this animal which seemed to slumber in peace as the life blood of its own kind pooled around it, his wits returned to him and he remembered the unusual words of the man with the bloody knife. 'I can't believe he's still not forgotten that,' a part of him whispered in his mind, while another part clearly recalled the day he had chosen to leave his friend as his powers developed more quickly than him. 'Apparently you haven't either,' the thought came to him unbidden, his conscious reprimanding him with its usual swiftness.

They had been just boys then, but his friend's hatred of his choice could have matched any grown man's. At first he had been so sure of his decision, but over time uncertainty had crept up on him on some unusual days. Now, watching the man whom he could barely remember as the boy he had once been friends with, his mind tried to cope with the fact that it was one of those days where he knew he had made the wrong decision.

Ignoring the temptation to reply to the man's words, Avon took his place beside Faeynar and started to study the runes and other parts of the powerful magic set to be performed. Within minutes, he had located the escape spells that any magic works of this size always held so that the practitioners could easily get out if something went wrong. The next thing he noticed were a couple of runes that he was sure signified some sort of summoning and form-binding spells, though he had no specific idea what their purposes were in the whole magical structure.

He was seeing what he was sure was the portal's main spell when his mind suddenly paused to think of what he was actually doing. If not for the times of the last few years, he was sure he would never have seen so clearly the spells in front of him now. Before he could fully indulge himself in self-congratulation though, the architect of the day's endeavor spoke.

"It's open," said Elizo in a loud whisper, a hint of awe staining his voice.

A slight pull of air that accompanied the magician's words was the only change Avon first noticed. But once he started to search for it, he clearly saw the man spoke truth. What had seemed unchanged to his normal eyes at first was completely different once he spoke a simple spell that let him see magic in non-living forms and his eyes began to see the aura of the power between the stone pillars.

The pillars themselves showed little difference except where the markings on them shone for a time before returning to their normal dark states, but the small open space between the three stone structures shined in a brilliant light that would have blinded his unaided eyes had it been a normal light.

The first to step into that light were the hooded figures who were completely silent but for the sounds their robes made as they walked. One by one, they moved in single line and seemed to disappear from view as they entered the gateway. To Avon's enchanted eyes, it looked like the light in the middle of the pillars seemed to depress slightly, as if it had some substantial weight itself, before engulfing each figure and losing its brightness with each passage; the sudden dimness being so imperceptible that he only noticed it after a couple of the people had moved on and disappeared.

The next to go was the old slave who picked up and carried the still unconscious calf with him as he disappeared between the pillars, uncaring as the blood of the animal ruined his clothes and marked his passage with constant red drops. Even though his arms looked as frail as sticks and his back was awkwardly bowed, he performed the task with what Avon found to be unusual ease. Once he had passed through, Elizo gestured to his two guests and said, "Since the power ahead is beyond what our mortal minds can handle, I suggest you move with your normal eyes alone from here onwards."

Feeling a little annoyed that the man had so easily known that he was using magic, Avon swiftly dismissed his simple spell. Without the magic to aid him, the gateway was back to looking like a beautifully carved stone structure alone. Trying to act like he wasn't nervous, he moved forward and stepped through the empty looking cleft.

Though he was sure it was just his imagination playing tricks on him, he did feel a slight shiver crawl down his back as he passed into the gateway. The air seemed different to his nose though he could not say what the change was at first. But after a second he realized it was the absence of smell that seemed so alien to his senses. Relaxing his eyes which he had unknowingly half-closed when taking that crucial step, he looked at the sight before him while moving on to join those who had gone before him.

All around them was darkness, a solid looking darkness that stretched from above down to where it met the brown stone where the floor suddenly ended. They were standing between two exact replicas of the gateway he had seen at the hall he had just come from. There were torches at the edges of the floor, though Avon somehow felt the light would not be absent even if they were suddenly extinguished. Looking at the light that reached the stone edges before simply disappearing, it took him a moment before he realized where that knowing came from.

'It's all an illusion,' the words rang true in his mind as he consciously felt the shielding spell all around that he could not see with his normal sight. Although a small part of him wanted to see what the magic was protecting him from, another, larger, part looked at the ingenious spell in wonder. The shield's power thrummed under his skin, making him realize the strength of the thing. But, what amazed him even more than that was the delicateness of the spell. Mesmerized while watching what any magician would find a masterpiece, he knew he wouldn't even have noticed the faint magic had it not been in such an otherworldly place.

Still fascinated by his surroundings, he turned at the sound of a loud sigh to find Faeynar moving away from the gateway he had just stepped through. A second later, Avon was delighted as he got to witness a person making the remarkable journey from the other side. Cast by nothing he could see, an almost insubstantial shadow seemed to stand on its own between the pillars before it suddenly became Elizo. The transformation took so little time that he would have questioned his own eyes if he hadn't been expecting something out of the ordinary to happen.

Not pausing once he was through, Elizo strode away from the gateway he had come from and headed for the other one in front of which all the others were waiting. He stopped before the sleeping calf which the old slave had placed before the grooves on the floor that led towards the pillars. Taking the unsheathed knife from the old man, he kneeled before the animal and spoke a single word of power.

Even without trying, Avon could feel the force of the magic spoken though he knew it to be an almost insignificant spell calling for awakening. A part of him noted that the unusual place they were in seemed to make it somehow easier to sense and practice magic.

After making sure the animal had woken up, the kneeling man expertly slit its throat open; moving the head towards the drainage grooves as he did so. The calf's blood flowed quickly out of its body which strained in its death throes against unseen restraints, the red liquid gushing out in a higher speed than its dying heart could have possibly provided. In moments, all the markings on the gateway were flooded with blood while the air in the empty space between the pillars began to shiver slightly.

"Huh," gasped Faeynar, sounding out what Avon was also feeling as they all watched the shadow that had materialized inside the gateway.

The thing was unnaturally tall, its nine foot shape close to the arches of the gateway above it. Other than its immense height, Avon couldn't tell anything about it. 'If I let my imagination ran amok just a little bit,' he thought to himself, unconsciously gathering his power in case something went wrong, 'I can almost believe that I can see its head and shoulders.'

As soon as the thought passed through Avon's mind, the shadow shrank. It seemed to collapse into itself, stopping only when it reached a less impressive human size. Once it had completed its change, the thing passed through the gateway and came into their view.

Only Elizo, who still knelt on the floor, and the hooded figures did not step back from the thing that had suddenly appeared before them. It looked like a normal man, though its body was hidden behind the brilliant white robe it was wearing. Its face was beyond beautiful; it shined with a holy perfection in their gaze. Its skin, wherever it was visible, was a dark golden brown while the hair that flowed down its back was a glossy dark mass. Both characters being the prided marks of his people, a small part of Avon's mind that was not occupied with being stunned marked them for a later thought.

His mind starting to function, Avon realized another odd thing about the being before him. It had no aura. Not even a slight haze that would exist in the basest of creatures, but a complete absence. While he was still wondering about the thing's peculiar lack, all the figures wearing the dark cowled robes fell on to their knees and began to chant in a tongue that he had never heard before.

Turning his brown eyes to the sound, the being spoke for the first time since his appearance.

'Enough.'

The hooded figures obeyed instantly while Faeynar made a sound that Avon was sure he would have made if somebody had hit his gut with a sledge hammer. Turning to see the man who was shamelessly leaking fluids from every opening on his face as he struggled to keep his mind intact, he could only feel a momentary pity before his own thoughts returned to strengthening his mind barriers which had been shaken by the being's lashing sending.

Unaware, or uncaring, that the power of the thought it had sent out to all could have maimed any of the magicians before him had they not been on their guard, the being turned its gaze to Elizo and seemed to communicate something to the man alone.

After first prostrating before the thing, Elizo stood up and seemed to continue the conversation the rest were being shielded from. He spread his arms before him, the knife in his grip sparkling in the sudden movement, seeming to be indicating the corpse of the animal he had just killed.

Even before the being sent its frighteningly powerful thought to them, Avon had felt uneasy. And looking at the dead calf his old friend had killed earlier, the feeling that something was terribly wrong with all the things he had seen simply grew. A distant memory dogged his conscious mind, making his thoughts more troubled while never coming close enough to become clear.

But just as he was starting to let go of his worry, and just as the thing turned its gaze on the old slave, the elusive memory popped into his head. Suddenly, he knew what had made him uneasy. Suddenly, the odd stench in the powers he had sensed at the hall was not so odd any more.

And yet, even as the truth crept into his thoughts and tried to settle in his mind, he quickly shied away from it. 'No,' he thought, not wanting to believe what he knew was the reality as he tried to take solace from thinking the simple, strong word, 'he wouldn't do that.'

But before he could finish taking comfort from his denial, the being stepped up to the calf's corpse and exuded another powerful thought, though this time it didn't come into their minds as words but as a deep, almost animalistic, need. The beast which had been struggling weakly suddenly seized moving when the suffocating thought left Avon's head.

Acting oblivious to what had just happened, Elizo bowed again to the human looking thing before turning towards to the only man around who was actually oblivious to all the magical happenings.

When, obedient to his master, the elderly slave began to step towards his old friend, Avon finally accepted the truth. Even after all the years, he still remembered the way Elizo held himself before doing something he hated.

His reaction was almost like instinct. Trying to save everyone who had come with him into this other world, he spat out the emergency escape spells. But even as he finished saying the words, he realized another person was trying to stop him.

It was easy for him to find who was trying to impede his spells. For a time, he let himself feel relief that the one whom he had to face was Elizo and not the being that his one-time friend seemed to think of as a god. Then he began to pull all his strength, taping even into his inner source of magic, knowing he would destroy the man if he tried to stand in his way.

Preparing to battle his old friend, Avon started to force his interrupted spell into completion. And just when he was sure Elizo was going to attack, the man suddenly released his power on the spell and turned to the inhuman being as if obeying some sort of command from the thing.

Avon didn't waste any time pondering the reasons of the creature in releasing them; instead, he only felt an overwhelming relief as he sensed a part of his force leave him and he knew the spell had worked at last.

*

Chapter Four

A Freedom

"I STILL CAN'T see why you have to go this far," said Caenphis, sounding more curious than worried. They were alone in one of the upper floor rooms of their house.

Moving to join his wife who stood at the window, Avon sighed aloud before he spoke. "I may not have the time to do this later."

"That's what I don't understand," she said, turning slightly so she could look at his face. "Why do you have to do this at all?"

"I had already decided to do this before I even came here," he answered, looking at the unobstructed view before him. "This is just an early start. If we wish to survive, more of them can be created later with or without the help of the Hall members. But I need to do this now since I might be occupied with another matter in the coming days."

She knew what the other matter was. He had been agitated ever since he got back late in the morning from the meeting with his one-time friend. At the time, she, along with a few of their friends who had come to hear about Elizo's 'land of gods', had asked what he had seen. She had found it odd when his reply was half-hearted at best, unusual for anyone else let alone Avon who had always reveled in telling an entertainingly blemished story of anything that had an adventures streak to it. But somehow she hadn't pressed him for details then.

'Who would have thought there could still be a little distance even between people who practically talked every single day,' he thought silently, feeling slightly uncomfortable as the silence grew between them.

Avon knew the awkwardness was mostly his own fault. Only because of the excitement and the sheer relief in being home, did he not notice it the first night he was back. But ever since then, he would be completely at ease with his wife one moment and the next thing he knew he would be worrying about the silliest thing ever. After a time, Caenphis, who seemed to have picked up his discomfort herself, had also began acting strange around him.

'We're both adjusting,' a part of him spoke in his mind, 'it will just take a little more time.' But the reassuring words seemed useless in his sudden unsure state. Ever since he knew what Elizo had been doing in his house, his world had seemed a little bit darker. The things which had seemed beautiful in the early morning looked like perversions to him now. Even this, their beautiful relationship seemed too fragile to be true when his wife chose to not ask him what was worrying him. He did not know whom he could believe in to see the truth like he did.

"The other matter...," began Caenphis, breaking the hulking silence first as she turned her gaze back to the world outside.

Hearing her soft words, he knew she was giving him the chance to explain only if he wanted to. And suddenly, a weight seemed to lift from him as a little light shone on his heart.

'Sometimes believing is as simple as choosing to do so,' the thought settled comfortably in his mind for a moment as he felt a rush of love for the woman beside him.

He spoke, starting from the beginning and leaving not a thing behind. He told her all the things he had seen; from useless details of the house to the magic he had been a part of in the hall of Elizo's house.

The words left his lips smoothly, while a contented ease settled over him and he relaxed. The worries didn't leave him; instead, he was distant from them. Knowing he would settle each one of them in time gave him a kind of soothing peace.

After silently listening to him speak, his wife's first question was, "What are you saying?"

"It's blood magic," he began, explaining a thing he had only noticed because of the horrors he had seen in his travels, "from human sacrifice."

"But...," said Caenphis, stuttering a little as she tried to accept the sudden revelation, "but that is forbidden."

"I know what I saw."

He didn't turn to look at her face, yet he knew it would be blank as it always was when she was trying to solve a particularly stubborn puzzle. He simply stood beside her; waiting for her to speak.

"Still," she said finally, turning her eyes on him again, "you know if you reveal his actions at Hall tomorrow there will be no lesser punishment than death for this. Can't you reason with him on your own at first?"

Avon didn't speak for a time. He gazed upon the two hills which dominated the landscape before him. The two heaves of the land met at a slight gorge between them where he knew the sun would shine through as it rose each morning. Even from this distance, he could see the paved road that bisected the tame forest on the larger of the two and led up to the Temple of the Stars at the top where initiates went to become full Druids.

Cital, Mountain of the Stars. Travelers and guests from other lands always thought the people who had named it were being full of themselves when the word was translated for them, but those of the city saw the dreamers in that name and loved them as they watched the crystals on the temple light up on every sunset.

When Avon finally spoke though, he was pointing at the smaller hill named after his own father's great-grandfather; the Lamourn. "I've seen with my own eyes the reason why a mountain bears my family name," he began, his eyes shining with a clear memory. "Oh, Caenphis, if only you were there. I know you have seen images of it, but nothing really prepares you for the sheer size of the audacious thing. It is the only manmade structure I have ever seen that showed me what marvels could be created by magic."

His face shined with an inner light as he remembered standing atop the Mountain of the Seven Sacrifices, Talhuraes. A second later, though, a cloud seemed to smother his thoughts as a shadow fell across his face.

Watching as the darkness crept up the land, chasing after the last of the day's light, he said, "I've also seen what horrors can be wrought with magic. I've seen a place where the magicians have sought power that should never reach mortal hands, their overfed greed making them not stop even when they were destroying their own people. An icy place where the land had never been ruined by graves and the word magic was held in hated fear by every dru who was old enough to know it and young enough to still care."

He felt the memories of the cold northern land that birthed his words ring in his mind as he paused. It was the only place he had seen in his travels which he had never mentioned to his wife. "You ask me to speak with him first," he began again, turning to look at her, "change his mind if I can. I must admit I want to try that, be surprised in a good way for once in a situation like this. And I plan to do it your way first too, but I know my words would not hold any weight with him now. If he has done this with his own will, as I believe he has, I fear he is not the person I once thought I knew.

"Yet, I will try," he finished, saying the last words after breathing in deeply and putting on a smile that he could not keep from being unsullied with a touch of bitterness.

Caenphis leaned in and rested her head on his shoulder as her sight turned once again to the view outside where the night was quickly descending, accepting his words with just a nod.

Putting an arm around his wife, Avon watched the crystals on the temple atop Cital as they shined while shadows ruled the land below them. They stood watching as the sky turned into darker shades and the stars slowly came out, happy to linger in the comfortable silence that surrounded them both.

When one of his slaves finally came to tell him that they were ready, his first thought was disappointment that the moment had to end so quickly. But when he finally turned around, he found that the time had been anything but short. His eyes still adjusting to the sudden shift from the misleading night light outside to the darkness of the room behind him, he reluctantly said goodbye to Caenphis before he left.

The three carts were waiting in the courtyard at the back of the house. They were huge but the oxen harnessed to them looked like they would be able to handle the cloth covered large loads they held. It took Avon only a slight amount of time to work his magic and make them look like they were carrying nothing extraordinary.

The spell he used was a variation of what he had learned that very morning inside Elizo's gateway. He didn't really need to hide anything, but having had a long day he had decided he would rather not attract unwanted questions as they passed the streets in the night. Though part of him knew he crafted the spell mostly out of a boyish need to simply try it out and see if he could do it.

Mounting his horse, he turned to see the carts which now looked to hold goods that conveniently peeked out of the cloth covering to satisfy prying eyes. Pleased with his own work, he pulled on the hood of his cloak as he turned towards his house's back gates before riding out into the young night without looking to see if the carts driven by three of his slaves were following.

The ride was short, and as the city had no wall it was also uninterrupted. Cresting the smallest of the three hills that surrounded the city, Avon reined in his horse and dismounted. Looking back, he saw the three carts struggling to reach him while beyond them lay his glittering home and the only land of his people, the Danu.

In line with his people's tradition of giving anything of matter a name with meaning using their old, almost forgotten language they had called the city below him Tricuta, the Three Peaks. When they were at a loss to find a name for the barren piece of earth he now stood on, and not imagining the name would stand the test of time and their children's imagination, they had called the hill Numsaetal, the Nameless Mountain. Even their people's name, Danu, was an ancient word which meant the first people.

Now, gazing upon his homeland with the thought of war in his mind, he saw how ridiculously little defended it really was. Sure of the fear their magic would inspire in any of their enemies, they had sat without preparing for the day when one would dare to move against them. Suddenly, even the legendary Lucifio Lamourn's victory looked to him like a lulling potion that kept them in what he now saw as their suicidal dream.

'One problem at a time,' he chided himself, trying to let go of his worries as he leaned back and stared at the starry sky above. Looking at the twinkling lights, he remembered the childish stories his mother used to tell him about the sun being a star. Even though he now knew they were all lies, he still took comfort in them as he distantly heard her words again while letting memory whisk him away for a moment.

"Once the sun and the moon were stars just as small as all these you see now," she had said, as they lay on grass and looked upon the night sky. "And there was neither night nor day to mark time's unceasing surface. But when the sun met the moon while wondering the empty sky, they fell in love and gave birth to all the stars that rule the darkness now. Time passed after that ancient love began and the two grew in power. The sky was free and the stars moved around their parents, reveling in the heavens.

"Yet, as he aged, and more of their children were born, the sun missed the old times when he used to rule most of the sky alone. With his children filling the space around him, he wished to be alone once more. And so he did the unthinkable. Filled with greed, he let loose his power, which had grown with his age, and scoured his own children from parts of the sky around him.

"When she saw what he had done to their children, the moon swore never to see the sun again. Letting loose her own power, she fought the sun's light and gathered her scattered children to protect in the darkness of the night.

"And thus it was that the sky was broken into darkness and light. But, with time's passage the sun realized what precious thing he had lost. He begged the moon, who was hiding from him at the furthest corner of the night, to come back to him. Though, true to her word, the moon refused to even listen to his pleas. Frustrated into madness, that was when the sun first tried to break into the land of darkness. Yet, his attempt failed since the two giants have always been well matched. And, being the stubborn fool he is, he didn't stop when his every effort bore only failure after failure. At last, a time came when, tired of the constant barrage coming from her old love, the moon began to flee the sun and what we now call night and day were born.

"The sun still hunts his lost love to this day, and whenever they meet he still tries to break into her realm. You can see this clash of their powers in the time we now call twilight," she had said, before settling back from the sudden body movements she had made while in the midst of telling her story. Then, her voice would get deeper and the boy he had been would know the tale was about to end. "So it has been, and so it shall be until the time comes when the stars have grown old enough to avenge their own. A time when the sky shall burn in the glory of a thousand suns."

Lost in the story he loved even though he now thought of himself too old to believe in moving stars, Avon smiled sadly. More than ever now, he clearly remembered the reason which had made her stories so much better than anyone else's. She had never told them while sitting still.

Standing silently with his memories, he suddenly realized that it had been too long since he last thought of his mother or his father. And just when he was about to fall into painful thoughts of longing for his parents who had passed away years ago, one of his slaves came running to tell him the carts were too heavy for the oxen to pull up the hill.

Glad to have something to do at last, Avon dismissed the man, telling him to wait with the others at the foot of the hill. The man had barely taken a few steps before the spells his master uttered started their work. Watching his magic lift the unremarkable goods on the three carts at the same time, he felt his illusions end as his earlier spells were broken by the movement. His eyes too showed him what he knew was true when they saw the sudden appearance of the three large cages floating towards him; now visible since the clothes that had covered them had slipped off amid their unusual movement.

Having brought the metal structures to the top of the hill, he gently placed them all on the ground around him. He looked at the creatures behind the black bars with loving eyes while at the same time a part of his mind lifted the heavy bars with magic and opened the doors for them.

The first to step out was the littlest of them all, ever eager to explore as it stretched its wings away from itself. Its color, which Avon knew was the palest of blues that always reminded him of summer skies, was almost indistinguishable in the darkness.

Next came the green one, larger than the other by a good span. It showed its older age by moving first to greet Avon before following the other's example and looking around as it stretched its wings wide too.

The last one to come out of its cage was also the largest of them all. Walking unhurriedly towards him after first stretching all its legs, the white dragon lowered its head to his face while opening its magnificent wings.

Placing his hand upon the ghostly brow, Avon looked deep into the beautiful eyes of the incredible creature. Silently gazing at the animal, he was surprised that he still felt awed by the thing he now touched even after raising it from its egg himself.

'Maybe you feel that way because of what you're about to do,' remarked a voice inside his head.

While the dragon pulled back its head as it settled down beside him, he placed his hand again on the creature. This time touching the soft leathery skin of its wings, he tried to ignore the voice which seemed to cling to him, muddying his every thoughts.

'You can still go back if you change your mind,' the voice persisted, refusing to stop as it drowned him in indecision. 'You may still choose to do it later, if ever.'

The sound of the younger dragons playing reached his ears, as the misgivings he thought buried came back to show him the holes in his intentions. Deep inside him, he feared the ordeal ahead was going to be too much for all but the white dragon. But he also knew the days ahead could bring disaster to him even though he had tried to show little of his dark thoughts to Caenphis. He knew if something happened to him in the coming days, these animals would be safer in the wild than they would ever be with him.

Acting before his own convincing arguments to himself could wear off again, Avon quickly began uttering the homing spells that would let all of them know where to head to. But even after completing the spells he waited, the fear of saying goodbye to the creatures making him stretch out the farewell uselessly.

'I'll call them back if things turn for the better,' he promised himself, feeling a little better with the words as he postponed his true decision for another day.

And as he was letting go of his worries to start enjoying the last moments he might ever have with the beasts, the white dragon beside him turned its head to the road below as if it had sensed something there. Following the dragon's gaze, Avon searched for the thing which had caught the animal's attention. He didn't find anything at first, but just when he was turning away, he saw it.

Dimly visible in the light coming from the sliver of the moon that roamed the night, a lone rider came towards the small hill. An unknown worry started to poison Avon's thoughts as he watched the rider dismount and approach his slaves at the foot of the hill. It was only when he heard the distant sound of the man speaking that he realized he had already guessed who the man was at the first sight of him.

'Go!'

The sudden command made the young ones stop their mindless play and look at him one last time before unhesitatingly obeying him. Even the older white dragon only looked at him for just a moment more before spreading its wings and leaping off the ground and into the sky.

Irrationally annoyed that he was feeling slightly disappointed that the animals had followed their nature and obeyed his command to leave him so quickly, he waited for the rider to come up the hill. Since their pace was dictated by the smallest among them, the dragons were still visible as distant shadows in the darkness by the time his wait was over.

"Why are you here?" asked Avon, the loss of the three most beautiful things he had ever owned making him more brisk than usual.

The answer did not come for a time, and when it did, it was not what Avon was expecting. "Tonight I've become the last of my line like you."

The tired voice broke Avon out of his self-centered thoughts almost as much as the news it conveyed. "Oh," was his only reply at first, making the surprised sound mostly to fill the awkward silence between them until he could find his wits again and speak more appropriate words. But when he spoke again, his words showed he was still shocked as he said, "Elizo, your uncle...?" His mind still groped with a tragedy they had all known was coming, though the knowing hadn't eased the blow he now felt.

"Yes," said his one-time friend, whispering the words into the night, "the Master of the Hall is dead and I am the last of the Eaeloms."

"I...," began Avon, starting to say he was sorry, but his tongue refused to utter the overused meaningless word. So, inspired by his earlier recollection of his own family, it was a different thing he said when he spoke again. "I've always thought of him as the only grownup that used magic to make illusions when he told us stories, even now it is that image of him that comes to my mind."

Neither of them spoke for a time after that, seemingly content to let their minds get carried away on the tides of past memories.

Finally, Elizo said, "I came to ask you if tomorrow you're going to speak of what you have seen at my house."

"There will still be a gathering?" he asked, unable to keep the amazement from his voice.

"Of course," replied Elizo, sounding as if there could be no other answer he could give.

Trying to sound offhand as he remembered his old friend used to get angry if someone ever tried to help him, he said, "Nobody would object if it's postponed."

"Why would there be a need to do that?" asked Elizo, his voice deceptively soft as he asked a question with an obvious answer. Finally, after waiting for a reply that they both knew would never come, he said "So, what do you plan to do?"

"Are you going to stop?" said Avon, giving up on persuading the man to take a few days for mourning.

"No."

Sighing loudly as the curt reply strengthened his resolve, he answered the earlier question. "Then I'll speak."

After getting out of the gateway in the morning, Avon had stormed out of the house without even pausing to confront his childhood friend. He had feared to see his old friend's face and witness the truth written there. But now he turned to see him, as if the man's face would hold the answer to what had gone wrong with him.

"I've seen the spells of the gateway," he began, trying to change the man's mind for one last time, "and I'm sure you've noticed the form-binding spells were placed there for a reason." Taking the silence that enveloped them as an assent, he continued, "Then you should also know that they were no mere spells since even though their purpose was to work on anything stepping out of the gateway they were still strong enough to work slightly in controlling that being's shape in that place between worlds. That alone shows your friends from the south had enough sense to limit that creature you call a god.

"I do not know what form the spells impose on the thing but I'm guessing it is made to make the thing stand out anywhere in our world, is it not?" he paused for a moment, looking for a way to show the man beside him the darkness to which his current path led.

"You've been killing all the slaves you buy," it was not a question but a statement of a fact that both of them knew. "But that god always asks for more, does he not? You have even killed your old slaves but Its hunger never eases. Oh yes, I know of that hunger for your home is not the first place I have seen it."

Jolted out of his silence by the last words, Elizo said, "What?" as he turned to him at last.

"I lied about not finding a way to channel magic from other beings," said Avon, referring to the failure he had admitted to last time he spoke at Hall. "There was a land I visited where magicians grew their power by feeding off their own men. Have you any idea what kind of danger you've brought to our people?"

"We'll be different," said Elizo, the earlier surprise fading from his face as his voice eased back to an uncaring tone. "We are Danu."

Avon made a sound halfway between mocking and despair as he heard his people's name being uttered with such blind fate. "You mean we'll be the first to fall?" he asked, not able to keep the rising anger out of his voice. "The first people to usher darkness into the world?"

"Enough."

It was the tone it was spoken with rather than the word that made Avon fall silent immediately. It was the voice of a man who was tired beyond comprehension.

"I did not come here to be reasoned with," said Elizo, meeting his eyes as he spoke in a weary voice. "I came only for the memories we share, old friend. I think you've too much faith in your own people. The law I've broken was made in a different time which those who live now have bare knowledge of. You see the vanity and greed that have corrupted their hearts in the changes you would be blind not to notice after your journey in foreign lands, and yet you still think they would do the right thing instead of what'll give them more power?"

"There are still those who'll follow the old ways," said Avon, though uncertainty clouded his mind even as he finished speaking the words.

"Yes, a few," said his one-time friend, still looking at him, "but not most. Those you could have put your faith in are vanishingly small in number and even they are mostly made up of old men and women who are slowly dying in their dark corners even as we speak, just as my uncle had been doing until tonight." The last words were spoken in a bitter tone that reminded Avon how much the man had loved the old Druid even though he had rarely shown it.

Seeming to have damped down his sudden burst of emotion, Elizo continued, "Now, I ask you again if you'll not reconsider your statements to the Hall members tomorrow."

"I'll not change my decision," said Avon, without a hint of hesitation marring his voice.

Hearing his answer, Elizo seemed to age a couple of years right before his eyes. His shoulders suddenly stooped while his face slowly fell into resignation. He closed his eyes for a moment, as if he was willing himself to accept the answer and all the loads it entailed which he alone seemed to know fully. "So be it," he finally said in a low and hollow voice, before turning around and heading down the hill to his horse.

Slightly shaken by a thing he could not put a finger on, Avon watched the man ride back down the road. He was not quite sure why he felt the way he did, but he was quiet certain some sort of decision had just been made though he couldn't tell what it was. Sighing for what seemed to him to be the hundredth time that day, he mounted his horse.

'Whatever happens tomorrow,' started a voice inside his head, while the empty cages floated before him and he began making his way to his slaves, 'at least it's going to be an interesting day.'

*

Chapter Five

A Duel

LIGHT CAME STREAMING through the high windows of the Hall of Gathering. Its golden touch made tier upon tier of marble seats gleam in dazzling brilliance, warming the stone seats which were made by long dead people who wished to remind their descendants that a place of power should always be thought of as a burden. Yet, in brazen negligence of that reminder most of the hall members had grown the habit of making their slaves carry cushions to pad their privileged piece of marble.

Sitting on his own padded seat, Avon watched as people around him took their places. He watched with satisfaction the fruits of the efforts he had made after meeting with Elizo last night. The hall was full, and some of his friends were the ones who had made sure it was so. He was taking no chances today. He had called in all his favors, some even he barely remembered himself, to make sure almost all the usually absent Hall members came.

This morning the place was not filled with the usual murmur of light hearted conversations, instead it was the little groups of tense and hushed conversations that reverberated off the stone walls to reach distant parts of the hall as incomprehensible echoes.

He knew what they were talking about. The news of the late Eaelom's passing had reached the whole city like a water drop in a dry land, and was greedily received by its inhabitants as swiftly as that water drop would disappear into the thirsty earth.

Most people in Tricuta received the death as normal news of an old man dying, which let them forget for the time being the usual updates of the frightening war that seemed to get closer by the day. And a few despairing souls saw it as only another disaster that marked the beginning of the end, for they had thought only the legendary man could have led them down the right path to flee the darkness that would soon engulf everything they held dear. But all were in agreement that it was odd to have the gathering in a day which should have been used for mourning alone.

Snippets of conversation reached his ear, as those around him carelessly commented on the rumored appearance of his old friend today. An action they unthinkingly, and loudly, viewed as callous. Yet, instead of getting angry at their badmouthing Elizo, Avon only felt a burning guilt ride through him as he sat silently.

Although he hadn't been the one to call the meeting today, he felt like he was doing something wrong. Wanting to ease his stifling conscious, he said, "Should I've gone to his house first before coming here?"

"Yes," came the prompt reply from beside him. "No," followed a second later as his wife seemed to debate with herself, "I don't know."

"Thanks," said Avon, a smile sneaking up his face, "at least now I know I'm not alone in my confusion."

"Oh, but you are," said Caenphis, watching the people in the hall as she spoke seriously. "I don't need to know what to do since I'm not his friend."

"Hmm," he said, sounding an acknowledgment of the sad fact.

"In any case, does it really matter now?" she asked, turning to him for a moment. "I remember your father used to say 'Walking backwards does no one good'."

Hearing the saying, which his father had told him was another of the wisdoms their people had picked up while searching for a new home, made Avon's smile get softened with a hint of sadness. Trying to not to think of his long gone father and his recently deceased friend, he went over his plans for the day.

By the time he returned from his sudden plunge into his own schemes, all in the hall had quieted down as the golden doors before them opened. Leaving his seat like everyone else, he watched as an old woman stepped into the hall to take the place of the old Master of the Hall. He recognized her immediately.

Rhisy Merana, one of the most distinguished people alive in Tricuta. She had been a close friend to the late Eaelom, there were even rumors of a much closer relationship between the two. But it was not as a friend or as a lover that she now took the most prestigious seat in the land, rather it was as Mistress of the Temple, a title second only to the one she was donning now. Until a new Master or Mistress of the Hall was elected, she would hold the seat of her dead friend.

After the ritual openings of the gathering were finished, a man moved to the middle of the hall to call out the name of the first speaker.

While looking at him unroll the scroll he held, Avon felt a reassuring touch as a familiar hand was placed on his tightly gripped ones. Turning to look at his wife who knew that he had scheduled to speak first today, he tried to push back the unease he felt. Yet, it was not his usual bout of nervousness that tightened his heart now. So, he was still more than a bit nervous when the man in the middle of the hall began calling out the ritual words which he knew would end with his name.

"Let the Stars shine wisdom on your thoughts as you now open your hearts to Druid Eaelom!"

There was stunned silence as the golden doors opened again and out came Elizo. He looked unfazed in his white robes as the weight of hundreds of eyes fell on him mercilessly.

"Wha..?"

It was only after a moment that Avon realized the small sound had escaped his own lips. But before he could say anything more, the white robed man began speaking.

"I've heard rumors of my works have been circulating in the city since yesterday," said Elizo, looking at the men and women gathered in front of him. "Rumors I'm now here to tell you are completely true."

As Hall members all around started to buzz with excitement at hearing a man who had broken the law admit his actions so openly, Avon sat confused. 'What in the darkness are you doing?' he thought silently, watching his old friend closely as he waited for the trap that he was sure to come next.

After letting the murmur go on for a small time, Elizo gestured for silence. And, eager to hear more from the self-incriminating man, the people in the hall swiftly gave it to him. "I've broken the law for I see it as the only way for us to survive," he began, his softly spoken words slowly wrapping around his audience. "Power is the only thing that has kept our civilization safe throughout our history. It is the only thing that has kept our enemies from ever coming against us. Yet now we stand on the brink of destruction, and the only power that would keep us from it is forbidden us by our own laws; laws that were made by our ancestors in time of safety.

"Our legends tell us they exist to keep us from evil. They tell us of the atrocities that were the result of ancient ones who had tried to use the magic arts that are now forbidden. They tell us of the horrifying follies of the magicians who had dared to control magic that was beyond their meager powers. But I say we are stronger than our forbearers. I say we can learn from their mistakes if we have the time to study the evil our ignorant tales speak of. We only have to choose if we see this as the moment of our obliteration or as the dawn of a new age for our civilization."

He stood silently for a moment, his face showing he was not done speaking as he collected his thoughts. "I know you do not believe what I say," he said, finally continuing, "I know mere words cannot show you the possibilities I see so clearly. That is why I'm here today. I'm here to buy the time for our future with my life if necessary."

Avon sat stunned as he heard the last part of his childhood friend's speech. He knew what the man was going to say next, but he couldn't believe it. A distant part of him connected all the odd things he had noticed last night, and made sense of them now in a blinding speed as the rest of him tried to take in what he was hearing.

"If there is anyone who does not accept my actions," began Elizo, moving on with a steady voice as he said a variation of the words of an ancient rite, "speak now and accept my right to challenge you or forever hold your tongue."

As the crowd erupted in a dull roar of excited conversation, Avon felt a small fire of fury start to burn inside himself. Everyone in the hall knew this kind of challenge was only practiced nowadays by hot-blooded young initiates. 'Does he think this a joke?' he thought silently, feeling his anger grow as he whipped himself into self-righteous indignation.

The last time a challenge had been called between two Druids being almost fifty years ago, the Hall members were in equal parts puzzled and trilled that the old rite was being voiced right in front of them. In the sudden pause, the story of that last duel was recounted to those around them by some of the oldest Druids who still remembered it. But even in their vague recollections, the aged men and women spoke only of a clash of forces that had ended with a surrender and not the ancient tales' bloodletting that Elizo was boastfully claiming he was willing to go to.

When the initial fury that had engulfed his mind had subsided enough, the first thing Avon felt was a grudging admiration for his old friend who had audaciously placed the answer to the single most important issue of their whole land in a simple combat's result. 'I can't believe I'm doing this,' he thought, starting to get up from his seat while the last of his anger was replaced with a reckless excitement. But before he could fully get up from his seat, a hand halted him.

"Avon...," said Caenphis in a loud whisper while apprehension clouded her face.

"It's alright," said Avon, unable to stop it as his lips were pushed apart by an uncontrollable grin. Yet seeing the still lingering concern on his wife's face, he tried again to ease her mind as he said, "Nothing is going to happen. I'll make him yield in a breath or two, so don't worry."

Caenphis simply looked at him instead of answering.

"Anyone who remembers us as young men knows my power is greater than his by far."

With none of the apprehension that shone from her face having diminished, his wife said, "That is what worries me."

Not knowing what to say, and hating that the uneasiness was starting to infect him too, Avon simply smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile before he stood up.

Silence moved like a wave from him in a circle, as first those who were near and then those who were far turned their attention to him. Waiting only until the people had quieted down enough for his voice to be heard, he spoke the words that signified one's acceptance of the ancient rite. "I speak!"

Elizo, who had been about to turn away, only nodded in reply while his face showed nothing of what he truly felt.

Despite his best efforts, Avon was still feeling the slightest of worries as he moved toward the open floor of the hall. Thoughts like 'Why would Elizo call for a challenge if he knows I'll defeat him?' and 'Is there something I'm missing?' whizzing through his mind unexpectedly, he walked away from the woman who had sparked them in him. But as soon as he reached the floor, all he could think about was the coming duel.

Nine Druids circled the floor, laying down the spells of the shield that would protect everyone from the stray magic of the coming combat. Soon after Avon had passed between two of those Druids, Elizo joined him in the space where they would be holding their duel. It wasn't much later that the shield was completely up. The two men inside it felt the dwarfing power of the combined nine high magicians as soon as the last of their spells took shape. The thing was fully transparent, only momentarily shining in a pearly light just before it fully formed to become invisible.

A second later, the Mistress of the Temple stood up from her chair and approached the edge of the shield. "May the light of the Stars fall upon the victor and thus show the true path for us all!" she called out in a raised voice, before turning back to her seat.

Once the temporary Mistress of the Hall sat down, the man who had opened the gathering brought drown his ceremonial staff on the hard marble floor, signaling the start of the duel.

As soon as they heard the harsh sound of staff meeting stone, both Elizo and Avon spoke the traditional spell that opened a magical combat. The magic was a simple thing that insured both participants started at the same time, so all it did was make the men glow in a white light that seemed to come right out of their very own flesh.

Finished with the light spell, the first thing Avon turned his mind to was getting up his shields. In blinding speed, the words flew off of his tongue and the air around him crackled as the invisible barriers took shape. And even as most of his mind was occupied in creating the last of his shields, a part of him was feeling completely free and happy for the first time in days. The sheer power that was coursing through his veins and the knowledge of the danger he was in, however small and unlikely it was, filled him with an almost forgotten boyish giddiness.

When he was done with his barriers, most of Elizo's shields weren't all up yet so it was with only a stunning spell that Avon lashed out. But right before the spell connected, his opponent moved; dogging defeat by a hair's breadth. The sudden movement from a man of such size should have been funny to all watching if not for the deadliness of the circumstances and the amazing control of the action that hinted at ease rather than clumsiness.

His second attack was more dangerous and time consuming, but Elizo used the brief reprieve only to finish his shields. Though, when Avon loosed it in a gush of red that lit up his own features for a moment, the man escaped again.

The shield surrounding them shimmered into visibility for a moment as the stray spell hit it, making only a thrumming sound that reverberated with its spectacular strength.

'It's as if he knows what I'm going to do,' the thought wandered into his mind unexpectedly, and he quickly let it wander out, not even taking a moment to dwell in its impossibility.

But before he had formed his next offensive spell, the attack came.

At first Avon could only feel a spell had been loosed though he couldn't see what it did. Then he watched, uncomprehending, as Elizo extended his unremarkable hand in front of him before pulling it back in a clenched fist with a smooth, controlled speed.

The brutally elegant magic took his breath away for a stunned moment. He could distantly hear the crowd in the hall as they reassured each other what they had just seen had truly happened. His mind still in a dazed state, Avon let his senses confirm what he already knew. No magician had ever been able to craft a spell that had no physical connection with his own body, yet it had happened now.

The power of the spell was even laughably minuscule compared to his defensive one it had shredded through. His primary shield was completely destroyed by the magic that had come from behind it, from his own side.

Annoyance, tinted with a bit of admiration for the Druid before him as well as joy for getting the chance to learn a new thing, clouding his mind, Avon noted the unusual spell for further study later before starting to weave his next attack. Learning from his previous mistake, this time he crafted five different spells at the same time. Eyes aglow with magic, he unleashed his power and felt satisfaction ooze into his concentration as all his spells connected on his opponent's shields; a result that made him get his own gasp of surprise from the magicians around them as they saw his terrifying strength.

The shields were only capable of giving a few moments of cover in the monstrous onslaught, but, oddly enough, Elizo seemed to not be trying to strengthen them up. The man's hand moved before him frantically as he crafted a spell none in the hall had ever seen before.

Too late, the feeling that something was wrong rang in Avon's brain as his opponent's shield began to crumble one by one with more ease than even his immense power could account for. Just when the last shield fell, his suspicions were proven right as a violet light shot through all his spells and came right for him.

Blasted off his feet by the incredible force, Avon felt himself slam into the shield formed by the nine Druids. Forgetting even to panic, he numbly felt as his instinct directed his power to his own shields to launch him back from the magic consuming barrier.

'Did he just use my own power?' he thought distantly, trying to recover from the knowledge that if he had been only slightly slower his shields would have dissolved and he would have made a possibly fatal contact with the barrier behind him.

'It doesn't matter now,' a part of him whispered, asserting control before the panic he had avoided up to now engulfed him. Though, even in that whisper, he couldn't help but feel the slight inklings of fear for the first time since the duel started, as he realized the possibility of defeat was treacherously close to becoming a certainty.

'It's time to end this.'

Letting go of every one of his inhibitions, Avon pulled almost all of his mighty power and started to craft a spell he had made only once in his entire life. Absently, he watched as the man in front of him began another of his alien magic, his mind entirely lost in his own work. When he was finally done, he had to leash his spell in case he truly hurt his opponent. Still, when his attack came, it held power most of the magicians around him had never seen in their entire life.

Both his hands were lost in the white light that streamed out of them, a blinding light not unlike the glare of a noon day sun's center. The air before him became visible in the sudden haze that surrounded him. The shield around the two Druids shivered as the nine magicians strained to hold it in place. Yet when the concentrated beam leapt from his hand, Elizo hadn't even brought up a shield to meet it.

Faced with the decimating force coming for him, the man's only response was to put his right hand before him, palm out in a ridiculously ineffective looking halting gesture. But when the white beam met that open palm the unthinkable happened. It simply stopped, the power simply disappearing as it met the hand which erupted with golden runes upon contact with the monstrous light.

Gaping at what had just happened, Avon silently watched while Elizo closed his other hand on the beam of radiance. As the golden runes bloomed on the second hand too, the man in front of him began to drag the line of power as if it was a physical thing.

A mad voice jabbering inside his mind that no one could touch magic, he tried to accept what his eyes were telling him was truly happening. A moment later, sanity returned and Avon tried to think of a way to fight off the unknown spell. His first thought was to let go of his own one, though he could not do it in all the ways he knew how to. Unable to find anything else to do, he simply let go of the leash on his own spell and began channeling almost all his power down the beam of light that still flooded out of his hands. But the immense power only made the man before him stagger a little.

In retaliation for the sudden blast, Elizo firmed his grip on the magic between his hands before giving it a sharp tug towards himself. Though the Druid hadn't seemed to put that much force in his sudden motion, Avon's response was spectacular.

Lifted off the floor as if his considerable mass was forgotten for the moment, he was swept towards his opponent swiftly before landing a few feet before him. He was still trying to stave off the panic that threatened to overwhelm him when he began to be dragged forward and he lost his footing. The urgency of the moment helping him to clear his head, he tried to study the spell that trapped his own power as he scrambled to his knees.

From an early age, Avon had always found magic to be easy to understand. He had always been able to ferret out the workings of most spells with remarkable ease. One of his instructors had even told him he had that rarest of talents which most magicians only dreamed of, the ability to feel magic itself. So, it was a bit surprising for him to find that the spell he was trying to understand was completely foreign to him.

Yet he continued his work without losing hope. As ever, the thought of defeat seemed unbearable to him more than anything else.

He was almost right before Elizo when he discovered his first breakthrough. Vaguely hearing as the man he was kneeling in front of began to speak a new spell, he worked like he had never worked in his life before. 'I'm not going to be defeated like this,' he whispered to himself in his mind, as he dissected the unknown spell.

Yet, another idea sprang up in his mind just after his self-encouraging thought had come to him. Voicing that idea, a part of him silently asked, 'Why isn't he calling for me to yield?'

But even that thought was swiftly swept aside as he finally figured out the magic that kept his power imprisoned. Not wasting any moment on satisfaction, he continued his work as he tried to find a way to defeat the spell. This time though, the problem was easy to solve and he was beginning to direct all the power he had left into his counter spell when his head was suddenly jerked upward by an invisible force.

Looking at Elizo's face now, Avon started to utter the spell he had created moments ago. But before even half of the first word had left his mouth, a blurry motion passed right before his face interrupting him.

Confused, he watched as the man before him, his one-time friend, brandished a knife made completely out of magic right before his own face which seemed to hold a sadness that Avon couldn't understand.

A breath later, his dazed mind realized there was a sharp stinging sensation coming from his neck. It was at this moment that he finally noticed the dark red liquid crawling down the impossible blade before him. Just like that, he felt his own spell crumbling as Elizo's hold on it finally disappeared and all his own strength seemed to seep out of him.

His mind absently noting that he was now lying face down on the cold marble floor, he faintly heard a woman scream. And even as he was on the brink of unconsciousness, he knew that sound of anguish came from Caenphis alone.

He felt a detached regret that he couldn't answer her cries as he knew none would. Just before falling down, he had seen some of the faces of the Hall members. He had seen anger, fear, shock, and more emotions playing on the different planes. But fighting with those expressions he had seen only one thing in each and every one of them. Written on each of those pieces of flesh, he had seen the doom of them all; greed.

Not caring much as he sensed consciousness slip away from his grip, Avon, the last descendant of Lucifio Lamourn, blessed savior of the Danu, exhaled his final breath while he watched his life fluid creep towards his one open eye and felt the stone floor warming up with the heat of his own blood.

*

Epilogue

A Beginning

1 A.A.

WHEN THE FIRST rays of the morning sun bloodied the eastern sky, the ground moved. The morning rang with thunderous cracks as the three hills and all the land between them holding a city in its center began to rise up to the swiftly vanishing stars. No movement of frightened animals disturbed the air or the ground as the huge piece of earth lifted up intact with impossible ease.

Once it reached a certain height, the whole edifice ceased moving. The world was almost devoid of sound as it witnessed the odd thing happening in its midst. It seemed to hold its breath as if it was waiting for the next strange thing to happen. In the sudden silence, the only things that could be heard were the agitated wind and the sounds made as loose red rock and soil rained down from the land in the sky.

A moment later, the hovering structure began moving again, starting to head away from the rising sun. The air screaming ceaselessly in its steady passage, as if the unnatural thing was tearing through it, the island in the air moved deeper into the darkness.

Soon, the floating land was far away from the place it had been when yesterday's night dawned. And when the sun finally rose high enough, it shone not on hills or a city but on a crater made of red earth; a crater that marked the end of a time. The white disk rose on the first day of a new eon, its golden rays caressing a red land which marked the dawn of a new era with its very creation. An era that would come to be known as the Age of Ascension.

*

Glossary

P.A. (Privo Ascencion) - literally 'before ascension'.

A.A. (Anume Ascencion) - literally 'age of ascension'.

Danu \- literally 'the first people', it's the name of an ancient race of magicians.

Dru \- ancient word of the Danu for non-magicians, it simply means people.

Druid \- literally 'the people of magic', it's the name of the magically learned Danu.

Vardrakus \- literally 'dragon lord', a word from an old language given to riders of dragons by a war loving nation.

Artifacts

Scrying Pan \- an ancient means of magical communication developed by the Danu.

Seerstone \- an old magical artifact of communication which is said to be first developed by the Druids, it has the form of a crystal orb which varies in size as continuous developments had reduced it so it could fit easily in one's hand.

The Farzur \- literally 'the hidden power', a term said to be given by the Danu to the well of power any learned magicians could feel around them. Though none have ever been known to wield it and survive, legend has it that sorcerers' blinding powers come from being able to access this unending force.

Spells

The Numir spell \- a magic used to see the life-force in living things.

The Numar spell \- a magic used to see the life-force in non-living things.

Places

Tricuta \- literally 'the three peaks', it's the city-state of the Druids.

Cital \- literally 'mountain of the stars', it's the largest of the three hills around the city-state Tricuta.

Lamourn \- the second largest of the three hills around the city-state Tricuta. It bears the name of one of the most adored hero of the Danu.

Numsaetal \- literally 'the nameless mountain', it's the smallest of the three hills around the city-state Tricuta.

Talhuraes \- a mountain like wall formed by the saviours of the Danu, the seven high mages. It is the largest man made structure in the known world and it has taken the lives of all the magicians that created it. Its name is literally 'mountain of the seven sacrifices'.

Rumnick \- the ancient city of trade in the west, a ruin having never recovered from being destroyed by the mighty armies of a dragon nation

*

About the author

Osman Welela is an Ethiopian writer in his twenties. He lives in Addis Ababa, the capital where once a supposedly God-touched Emperor lived with his pet lions. Though one would strain to even imagine him being brushed with God's lackeys let alone the great being, there is a strange rumor that says this writer used to lean on a lion of his own when he read stories as a child. He has never been known to comment on this odd legend, yet there is a tapestry hanging above his bed which shows exactly that scene. I think that alone tells you more than enough about the egotistic bastard.

*

Also by Osman Welela

Books

A Glimpse of Dreams

A Cuckoo by the Window

Reddrops

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Poetry

Rhyming with the Winds

I, a book of poems

Lights in the Rain

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Connect with Me Online

Twitter: http://twitter.com/OsmanWelela

Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8292562.Osman_Welela

Smashwords: http://smashwords.com/profile/view/osmanIV

*

***

If you enjoyed Of Men Made Gods,

look out for

Kingdom

Book One of A Tale of the Lost Arts series

Osman Welela

***

Chapter One

An Innocent Mistake

"COME," WHISPERED THE hooded woman, leading the child as she stepped out of the dark hallway and into the lighter night. Once they were outside, she turned around and closed the heavy, vine infested door that creaked with age as it settled into the massive wall.

Gripping the small boy's hand again, she started to move on; trying to shake off the fear that held reign in her heart. Her soft shoes making almost no sound at all as they kissed the new stones that made up the sidewalk, she crossed the street, heading towards a corner. But just before she turned that corner, the woman looked back one last time; her sudden whirling movement revealing a dress made of rich cloth between the nondescript dark folds of her hooded cloak.

She stared at the magnificent mansion that graced the whole block on the other side of the street, it's beauty now just dimmed with all the scaffolds that marred its face where workers sweated all day to make the old stones as new as the other, younger, mansions' all going up around it. She looked at the edifice of rock hiding the towers that stood in its center; masking a past when it was a castle in a city of just a few hundred years. She watched, searching for the door they had just gotten out of, marveling at the knowledge that she could never get back to it again even if she wanted to do so.

Finally accepting her failure in finding the door, she turned around again; sighing tiredly for a moment as her shoulders slouched with unseen burdens. She stood silently before straightening up again, her cloak wiping about in the slightly chilly wind that brings the death of summer. A cold wind which made her shadow cast by the light from a street lamp dance wildly in the half-darkness. "Come," she said again, though in a louder voice this time; her fear starting to fade as it was replaced by resolve stirred by memories that were yet not distant enough.

Holding her son in one hand, the woman speeded up her pace. She left behind a place she had called home for years, silently praying she would never come back to it alive.

They walked a while before they reached the meeting point, the boy breathing hard as he dragged his little feet with a will he had never had to use before in his short pampered life. Letting go of his hand, she draped her arm across his shoulders and pulled him close to her side, taking a moment off her worries to feel unreserved pride at his small uncomplaining frame. But, as swiftly as it came, the moment passed and her fears came back to crowd her mind again.

'What if he never shows up?' she thought for the first time that night, her mind having focused up to now only on reaching this moment.

'What if something had happened to him?' her thoughts churned ceaselessly, bringing forth new worries by the second.

'What if he changed his mind?' she shied away from this just as she thought of it. But it was no use, as soon as the idea had invaded her mind it stuck there, poisoning her other fears into extinction. Not able to help herself, she began to think of the things that could have made him do such a thing to her.

As she stood there, cursing her foolishness in trusting a man again and wondering what she was going to do next, she suddenly noticed a sound she had missed, having been distracted by her roiling thoughts. A sharp sound of metal and stone, making her hold her breath and tighten her hug on her son in a sudden flare of hope.

A moment, which felt like a life time to the woman, later, a carriage appeared from around a corner ahead of the two figures standing alone in the night. It came hurtling down the stone street before stopping sharply in front of the mother and child.

A second later, the door that faced the sidewalk was flung open; spilling forth golden light from small lightstones-enchanted crystals that pour forth light they had stored during the day--that were imbedded in the padded walls of the carriage's inside. Without their owner uttering a single word, arms were thrust out into the night where the woman quickly placed her child in them. And, not wasting time, the mother followed her son into the bright carriage hastily; a flock of white hair escaping her hood and shining in the light for a second as she stepped inside.

Inside the carriage and in the golden light, her young face was revealed as it shone with youth; and together with her unusual hair it made no secret of her status as a White priestess had anyone been around to see it in the silent night outside.

With the door closed and the carriage rushing on, the woman turned to the man holding her son; the lines of worry marring her feature changing into something else as a relieved smile crept up her face. She looked, her green eyes filled with unfeigned adoration, at the young man with deep black hair, brown eyes and the long limbs of a tall man. "I thought you would never come," she said, feeling foolish for having had such an idea as she looked at it as a past.

"So," he said, his eyes bright like always with a secret joke he seemed to know alone, "your faith in me is so easily lost." The words partly held a question, and mostly an observation; with all of it hidden in a joke meant to lighten the mood. Putting the boy on the plush seat beside him, the man leaned closer to kiss her. That kiss alone told him more than what any words could have; and as he leaned back with a sad sigh, his eyes wandering towards the small window and the world outside, he said, "I know it's hard to ask of you, Liana, but please do not always judge with the worst of what has passed. Do not forget my promise."

Silence filled the small space around them as even the loud passage of the carriage was muffled by some sort of magic she didn't know. She simply looked at him for a moment as he leaned back on his seat, struggling to find words that fitted her elusive feelings. She watched his face, noticing for the first time lines that had never been there when she first met him and dragged his life into her troubles.

When she finally replied, it was more in frustration than having found the right words. "I never forget, but...," she stopped speaking for a moment as her voice caught and tears started to fill her eyes; the sound of her broken line bringing his gaze back towards her. Looking at his suddenly concerned face with her blurry sight, she smiled in wonder and continued, saying, "it's the believing that's so hard."

The young man smiled back, looking at her with such love shining on his face that it made her heart ache with joy. "I...," he began, but was swiftly interrupted as the carriage stopped with a sudden lurch that they all felt even through the mage-craft that had made the ride so far as comfortable as if the carriage wasn't moving at all. A second later, all the lightstones dimmed slightly to signal they had truly stopped, while raised voices were heard arguing outside. "Stay here," he said, trying to hide his worries behind a straight face, before going outside through a door he swiftly closed behind him.

Her heart, which had been beating hectically for quite different reasons, starting to drum wildly with fear again, Liana opened her arms as she beckoned her child towards her. She clung to her son, getting more comfort from the contact than him, as she strained to hear what's going on outside. The voices, which had all fallen silent as soon as the carriage door was opened, started again for a moment before being interrupted by the young man who had just stepped out; his voice straining with all the haughty and authoritative upbringing the woman had always forgotten to remember about whenever she was with him.

A harsh laugh, holding no true mirth, suddenly broke out, stopping the young man between words. Silence followed the laughter, as all held their breath waiting for what would happen next. Then Liana clearly heard someone approach, their boots making a clicking sound, before a cry of pain rang clearly in the deep night.

Hearing that sound, she simply closed her eyes to keep the tears from spilling, while she breathed through lips cracked in a painful smile as she realized her mistake. At that moment, she knew she would remember that sound forever as the harsh wakeup call that finally pulled her out of her foolish dreams.

Knowing what was going to come next, she shook uncontrollably hugging her son. And when the door was yanked open, just as the sound outside was finally cut short abruptly, she only jumped a little. She didn't complain as they took her child away, she knew he would never hurt his own son, but only took a deep breath once before following with all the dignity she had once learned in distant white halls.

Out in the night again, she watched all her fears come true by the light of the street lamps as her husband, the duke of Arlaine, turned away from the prone body he stood over to take their son from the man who had carried him off the carriage. She refused to look at that body on the ground which looked so lifeless when she had touched it with her first glance; instead she stood with back straight waiting for him to address her just as she had done since the time she was first given to him nine long years ago.

When the duke finally looked at her, his eyes held cold anger that seemed to not be dulled by his triumph. Thinking things couldn't possibly be worse, she did something she had rarely ever done before; she broke the silence first by uttering a single word. "How?"

The duke simply stared at her for a time before he answered. He said, "Our son," his tone stressing on 'our' with a barely controlled rage. "He had left a goodbye note on his bed," he continued, the words clearly meant to point out the thing she had deliberately not done herself.

Liana didn't understand what she was hearing for a moment, fearing to know a truth that would make her hate, even for a moment, one of the few things she loved in the world. She fought to hide from a reality that always played unfairly with her; knowing she would lose in the end like always. She fought and lost a battle for the last shred of an innocence she had refused to let go through all the hard years as she finally whispered, "Betrayed," her cool mask cracking as her lips made an ugly smile.

She turned at last to look at the too-still body of the only man she had ever loved, and closed her eyes, too late to stop the tears that came spilling down her perfect skin as shudders raked her small frame. When the shudders finally ceased and her eyes opened again, they held death that far surpassed even her husband's cold stare. She turned her gaze for a moment at the small boy standing beside the man she had once foolishly tried to love, and, with a voice that held as much emotion as her eyes, spoke the truth into the night at last. "Betrayed by my own."

"Mother...?" the boy said, his small voice breaking in confusion. When the woman simply stared at him without an answer, he came towards her, hesitating only for a moment, to find forgiveness for a thing he knew he had done, though he did not know what that thing was.

She knew she would regret it, hate herself when enough time had passed, but she couldn't help it; when her child finally reached her side and touched her, Liana simply stood there not responding. He hesitated some more before wrapping his small arms around her and hugged her as he had done countless other times to drive away a darkness that had trapped her. But it didn't work this time. This time, as the child pressed his face into her belly, she could only think of the nightmare she had brought her love into. And thinking of that, thinking of how close they all were to escape the madness they called their lives, her heart suddenly flared up with anger and she shoved away, with unthinking force, her son who had stolen her chance of freedom from her.

Her anger disappeared immediately as remorse filled its place while she looked down at the small boy's shocked expression, that was quickly turning into incredulous hurt, as he lay dazed where he had fallen because of her shove. But before she could do anything to help her child, the approach of fast footsteps made her look up just in time to meet the open hand of her husband which snapped her head back painfully as it connected with her face in a loud slap.

The last time she was hit was when studying to be a White priestess, barely into her teens. But even the surprise of being suddenly assaulted couldn't quell her hatred. At that moment, more than anything in the world, she hated what sudden passion had made her do.

"How dare you!" the angered man screamed down at her as she looked up at him from where she had fallen down after the slap. Cowering on the ground where she had joined all the others she had ever truly loved; Liana looked up at the furious man looming over her and opened her shaking lips to answer. But the duke didn't give his wife a chance to say one word as he leaned down and held her up by her cloak to strike her again, saying, "How dare you hurt my son?"

As blow after blow landed on her unprotected body, the duchess of Arlaine could only feel relief through the pain that was quickly numbing her mind; relief to finally have something else to think of other than what was going to happen next. But the last thing that was on her mind before she plunged into the dark abyss of unconsciousness was hope. She hoped for a thing that would save them from the nightmarish future that awaited them. She hoped for a miracle not realizing her doing so was a miracle itself.

*

Chapter Two

Magic Is a Trick,...

LOOKING OUT OF the glassless window at the bustling city of Worack, the man sighed disappointedly. The sun was going to her hiding place behind the hills that were part of the border between the mountainous regions of the north and the rich plains of the horsemen in the south. The night breeze swayed the tops of the trees outside as night began to crawl out of the east.

He knew he shouldn't be frustrated, but he couldn't help himself. This was the fourth time that he had come into this land that has been all but dead to the outside world for the past six hundred years, and the prince's men always treated him the same way. Accompanied with frightened polite words, they always led him to this grand room with its cleverly made false walls and left quickly so the various scholars of the land could watch him; trying to find some secret knowledge of his being as they made him wait for his audience with their ruler.

'Be patient,' he told himself for the hundredth time, cursing his impulse to show off his magic that day he met their leader for the first time. He had still done it even as a part of him had known what it would have meant for them to see magic after they had only heard rumors of its existence in distant lands from the merchant mages that called themselves magicians as they came to trade with them.

'Be patient,' he repeated in his mind, reminding himself that change was a hard thing to accept to most people let alone these men and women who still held the belief that they would soar to the great heights from whence they had fallen in a time that is distant enough to now be called legend. They didn't even call Erydon-- where the king and the kingmaker lived--their capital city though it unmistakably was in all but name; instead they had never taken that title from their lost city Idur, shaping their hopes into words as they held on to their faith that they would one day return to it.

Still holding to their hope that they would re-join the outside world when the time comes, the men and women of this land foolishly did not think of the extent to which the world had changed without them. They never saw the Outside with the fear it deserved, these people that had once been rulers of most of the world before the Veil formed to cut off their link to the Outside and the more precious link to the ability that let them practice the sacred arts of magic.

He loved them and their simple ways, knowing the love of a man like him was no small thing for any people even in the Outside. And it was because of this love that he had come to them. The world was changing. He had felt it as a small tremor in the waters of time itself where no mere mortals could trade without shredding their sanity. He already knew he could not stop that change, or, if he was being honest with himself, he feared of what would come if he did stop that change. The only thing he could think of to do was prepare, just as his ancestors had done countless times in the history of man when they had accepted the inevitable.

He heaved a loud sigh again, once more marveling at how most of the houses below were built in wood. He had idiotically expected to see breath-taking incarnations of stone when he had come for the first time to Mierthur, never imagining the legendary birthplace of the stonemen--magicians who crafted wonders with stone--would have the least stone structures in the whole world. Misconceptions plagued the history of the human race like nothing else, and he knew this more than most people. He had even proven it when he had first practiced magic in this place that was said to hold the death of that art.

But it was not only their building material that had changed in this land where it took effort even for him to feel the thrumming of life around himself. The people had changed too, growing in remarkable ways as they lived in a prison the size of a country. He had only caught this change on his second visit to this place when he felt an old woman struggling with her last breath as she died in a small village on the outskirts of this city. He had sensed her stumbling as she tried to form a spell that would give her last life force to the woman next to her; a spell that he knew was only practiced to this extent by the highest magicians of the most powerful nations outside this land, the Darhinnim spell.

As he sat on his horse on the road to Worack, and before the shock of realization had subsided, he had also felt that old woman die, but he had at least finished the work she had started by saving the other woman he had felt beside her. With his mind lost in thoughts of what it could all mean, he had ridden hard to the small village to find the home of that old woman. Though when he had found the place, it had only been disappointment that had greeted him as he learned she had no living relatives. But he really didn't lose hope until he returned that night to the prince's castle inside the city, having found only a shadow of the magic he had felt inside that old woman as he searched all the villages around the city; an amount that could never be enough for what he had hoped to do.

Tired as much as a man like him could possibly be, he had stumbled into the room they had given him to spend a night in. He never really needed to sleep, but he always tried to do things as he used to once, a long past time when his heart had died with the passage of time just like any normal man's. Yet, on the verge of a sleep he was willing himself into, he had felt a sudden whim to search the castle for what he now knew to look for. And so, with his eyes half closed, he had sent his magic, hoping to find someone with a little more potential than the ones in the villages. But what he had found had been beyond his hopes. The sudden flare of magic he had felt had made him jump up from the bed in excitement. It hadn't been only potential but the practice of magic that he had felt. He had felt magic itself being used steadily right there in the castle, though it had been small enough that it would have escaped his attention if he hadn't deliberately searched for it. He hadn't known it then, but it was to be his only find that night.

A graywalker. He couldn't believe his luck at first, couldn't believe he had found a magician that was rare even in the Outside magical lands. A magician who would have been treasured as a Wanderer or hunted down as a dangerous thing depending on which religion she was born to in the cold eastern empire of Kievan.

Still smiling as he remembered the memory, the man turned to meet the prince as he sensed the people inside the walls move as they received the news of his coming. A moment later, the door to the room was opened by a servant who stood aside as five men entered before going out again while closing the door.

The men were all bearded, and they all had the long hair that made their status as warriors unmistakable. Two of them, clearly guards from their movements and openly hidden weapons, retreated to either side of the walls between the lone man near the window and the prince who stood in the middle of the room. The last guard retreated to stand near the door.

The beardless man tried not to let his smile widen as he watched, with undimmed amusement, the fierce looks the guards gave him. He knew they didn't know how to react to him, and that their unafraid gaze was their attempt to show the nonexistence of any fear; not knowing it was exactly the opposite that those looks portrayed.

The prince was a tall man who looked out of place standing among his men as only he exuded a sense of dignity more than brute force. His hair was blond while his eyes, separated by a wide brow below which a long crooked nose pointed downwards, were a cool grey color that shined like liquid silver whenever the light touched it. "Wizard," he said, inclining his head in a rare show of respect he gave to few people alone.

"Majesty," said the man near the window, not correcting the wrong title the prince had given him as he inclined his own head exactly as the man had done.

For a moment, the prince's gaze stayed on him; and the magician didn't need his powers to know what those silvery eyes saw.

A man wearing a dark green tunic above and light purple trousers below faced the ruler and his entourage. Both the color and quality of the clothes were rare enough to make it dangerous for any normal man to be wearing them as he travelled alone in this land that had once been the center of this part of the world; a point, he knew from previous delving into the man's mind, not lost on the royal before him. He was of medium height with wide shoulders, tanned skin, blue eyes, beardless face and long black hair which he wore in the fashion of the warriors of the land; tied loosely at the nape before being braided into a long rope that almost reached his waist.

"What have you come for this time?" asked the prince, not wasting words as he stood in front of the most dangerous person he had ever met.

"I've come bearing good news," the man replied, before directing his gaze to the other men in the room. "News that is best known by the fewest number of people."

The prince stood there silently for a moment, staring at the magician with a look that would have made most people more than a bit discomfited. When he finally spoke, he only said, "Leave us," without taking his eyes off the beardless man as he addressed his own men in the room.

"Your highness...," started the big man who had been standing near his sovereign all this time, before the prince cut him off.

"Leave us," the ruler repeated, his tone brooking no argument. "Except you, Rudolf," he added a moment later, making the big man pause amid bowing himself out.

Once the guards had left the room, the man near the window moved his hands in odd gestures, the jeweled rings that circled his fingers glowing fantastically even in the fading daylight as he did so, before saying, "No one outside these walls can hear or see us anymore." He didn't need to move his hands to do the simple magic, but he knew from enough experience that one can never be too careful. He knew that the less these people knew of his true nature the better it was for everybody.

Moving to one of the seats in front of the cold fireplace, he sat down; which made the large man frown with consternation at a perceived slight to his prince. But the next words to come out of the man's lips cleared that frown as shock and disbelief fought to replace its place. "I've come with the news of the king's death in Erydon."

The prince's face showed none of his thoughts as he digested the news, his finally taking a seat being the only indication of his shaken mind. "How did it happen?" he finally said, in a tone of voice that sounded like he was asking about the weather or the thousand other mostly meaningless words people usually fill the silences with.

The man smiled inwardly, deeply satisfied with his choice, as he looked at the sovereign who now sat in front of him. "He died in his sleep last night," he replied, his normal tone of voice not showing he had omitted to say that the death wasn't caused by natural causes.

"Last night...?" said the man sitting in front of the magician, showing an emotion for the first time since stepping into the room as confusion clouded his features.

"I am a magician," said the magus, sounding like he was stating the obvious as he answered the unspoken question. "I've my own ways of traveling."

"Hmm...," the prince replied noncommittally. He sat there for a second, with the cold fireplace staring back at him, before he said anything more. When he did finally speak, it was with an emotionless tone that he asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Taking his time, the magician poured a glass of wine from the table beside him as the prince and his man waited for his answer. "Because," he finally started to reply, enjoying the surprisingly rich taste of the wine he had recently swallowed almost as much as the secret he was revealing as he continued, "I want you to be the one who next sits on the Throne of Stones."

Silence filled the room, as both the other men were stunned speechless. The Throne of Stones even after the fall of the Thurrock dynasty, and the rise of the kingmakers of House Hissmark, was still a powerful enough thing for the princes of Mierthur to fight over; it certainly wasn't a thing given simply by one person's wants.

"What makes you think I would ever wish to?" said the prince, finally breaking the silence.

"Let us not lie, your highness," said the man seated before the sovereign, his tone hardening for the first time since the meeting began. "I know all princes in this land wish to wear the silver crown as soon as they see they securely hold their princedom's ruling seat. It's just as the old masters' saying goes, 'The greatest of our virtues and the worst of our sins is wanting nothing less than more.'

"But I have not come here to make you a puppet, prince, no matter how much you are willing enough to settle for less," said the man, pausing for a moment as the sudden angry sound made by the prince's man interrupted his words. But before Rudolf could reveal his anger with any comprehensible words, the magus continued, "I have come to help you restore the position of the king in Mierthur to its former place and reunite the princedoms again into the one true kingdom of old. I have come to show you how to start the end of the War of Princes."

As yet another silence, which was as much the result of being spoken to in such a way as the words that were just said, finally started to pass, the sovereign only said, "How can you do such a thing?"

"I've found that most men wish to have peace," the man began his answer, pausing only to sip his wine before he continued, "the only difference between them being that some of them wish to be the ones that create it. But even among those few that want to be the ones to dictate the terms of peace there are those who can be dissuaded from their wish, for a good enough price, that is. And the princes can all be grouped into these three types, the problem is finding out who fits where. I believe I've solved this problem for I've found who can be persuaded to give up their dreams of wearing the king's crown and who cannot.

"So, with that knowledge, now all one has to do is find the price for those that can swear their allegiance and pay it. As for the others, if they refuse to bend their knees all one can do is find a more accommodating replacement for them and lighten the load on their necks instead."

"You make it sound so simple," said the prince, his voice not showing any fear as he heard his fellow rulers being grouped into those to be rewarded and those to be slaughtered. "Let us say we have the power to grant the wishes of some of the princes, though I think you have a rather high opinion of our coffers and our reach, where do you start? When and how do you begin to do a thing like this?"

"It has already begun," the magician replied, taking a moment to fill his cup again. "I've already sent messengers to those that could be bought and they have come back with the prices. As for the others, I've sent messengers to their heirs or, in some cases, to those who wish to be heirs, and they have sent me a positive reply. Of course fighting a few of the princes is an inevitable thing you'll have to face, but with the backing of the others the fight will always be short and the victory always yours.

"As for the matter of coins, it is an easy enough thing for a man like me to solve. Do not worry, even though I'm sure Worack is a wealthy enough city I've no false expectations as to its financial status. I know your current strength is a precarious thing you have barely finished building from the ruins the previous prince had left you. In fact, your princedom was one of the things that made me choose you of all the other princes. No, I'll not strain your purse for this endeavor; instead, when I leave today I shall make sure to expand it, with a little magic, to more than a necessary point for the current tasks."

The prince didn't even pause as he accepted such claims of power, among frank statements of his father's failings which none have ever dared to state to his face before, but rather continued to try and find fault in the plan to make him king, as he asked, "The kingmaker?"

"Has already agreed to name you king."

The prince paused here, needing a moment to take in the implications of that one statement. For the kingmaker to have agreed before the usual war for the throne had disgorged a winner who then paid dearly for the privilege of warming the throne of stones was the most incredible thing he had heard so far. Not once, in the more than four hundred years of the position's existence, has a Kingmaker ever done a thing like this. Not for any price. "And what do you wish from me in return for this privilege?" the prince finally asked, at last choosing to accept the man's words as truth.

"Your life," the magician replied, watching the dark mirror of the surface of the wine in his cup as if he was looking through a window at an impossible horizon. Silence filled the room once more, as even Rudolf stood behind his prince's chair seemingly having finally lost his ability to be surprised with any of the words that came out of the beardless man's lips, or at least getting better at hiding it. "And your daughter. A time will come when I'll ask for you to sacrifice yourself for your country and you'll do so. As for your daughter, she will be queen after you, the first real queen this land has seen since the fall of the Thurrocks, and to face that time I shall be sending an instructor to teach her the ways of magic. She will be an instrument that'll hold Mierthur together when you are gone. I won't speak of that time now or the reasons for your sacrifice. I'll only say it's still a long way away from this moment. So, what is your answer, prince? Do you accept these terms?"

The sovereign sat thinking, his face still showing no reaction as he took his time making up his mind. When he finally replied, it was in an almost-whisper that he said, "I do."

"Be sure that is what you have truly decided," said the magician quickly. "Remember that you are trading your life and your only child's destiny for a crown, for once I've invoked the spell that will seal your word you'll never be able to take it back. It alone will rule both your lives however much you try to change them. So, I ask you again, do you accept to take this path that leads to the Throne of Stones?"

"I do," answered the prince, not wasting a moment for even a thought this time.

"Good," said the magus, extending one of his arms in front of him, and, as he did so, the rings on his fingers began to glow with a brilliant blue light which soon turned into flame like tendrils that reached past his fingertips as they grew. A second later, the blue tendrils coiled to form a serpent of light that reared its magnificent head in front of the unmoving prince. And then, in a flash, it struck the soon-to-be King on the neck before dissipating; hanging for a split second between the magician's one hand and the monarch's neck before it disappeared like mist in sunlight.

It happened so quickly that the prince only had enough time to blink, while Rudolf still looked like he was trying to decide if he should do something when the whole thing was suddenly over.

"I have another question for you," said the beardless man sitting in front of the silver eyed man, his tone not showing that he knew he had done something that would seem frighteningly remarkable to the other men in the room. "Can you trust this man with your life?" he asked, pointing at the person standing behind the sovereign's chair.

"Yes, I can," answered the prince, with no hesitation marring his voice.

"Then you'll use him to help you," said the magus, before taking out a ridiculously large bundle of parchments from seemingly out of his left sleeve. He handed the bundle to Rudolf who had stepped up to accept them, while he continued, "These contain a list of the princes' names and their inclinations along with their respective demands. They also have my instructions, follow those carefully and you'll face no great problems." He then got up from his seat and started to put on the dark, red cloak he had left on a chair beside the windows when he first entered the room, saying, "Now, if you could but lead me to your vault I'll waste no time in pouring you riches."

"I've one more question," said the prince, as he also got up from his chair. "Which one am I?"

"I don't understand," lied the beardless man, as a slight frown appeared on his brow revealing confusion.

"You said you have put all the princes in three groups, those that would accept a ruler for the sake of peace alone, those who would sell their allegiance for the right price, and those whose pride, or fear, would never let them bow down to anyone," said the sovereign, standing before his seat with his back straight, his head high and his expression blank as if he was asking a question whose answer he didn't fear. "What I want to know is where you've put me? Which do you think I am?"

"Ahh...," said the magician, making a sound of understanding as a smile started to widen his already open mouth. Having stared at the regal man for a time as he seemed to consider his reply, it was after a slight pause that the man answered. "You, prince, are a survivor."

And, his grin widening as he watched the unchanged expression of the future king, the magus at last turned around to head for the door without saying another word.

***

TWILIGHT WAS HOLDING reign by the time the magician finally left the castle in the middle of the city. Winter was near enough to make the air have a little bite to it, and the city was having the final fair of the year. With this in mind, everybody that can was outside enjoying the night as the vendors behind their stalls and entertainers on their stages made the best business of their year. Now an old man wearing forgettable grey clothes, he stood among the crowds; watching as the prince's men tried to follow his apparition riding his horse out of the city. The men would return like always with the news that the 'wizard' had disappeared, along with his horse, on the road just a few hours ride outside the city.

With none shadowing his tracks now, the old man began to head for the gates of the city that would be closing soon. But after only taking a few steps, he stopped; turning his bald head as if searching for a sound he had barely missed. Amid turning his head again, he paused; freezing as he realized what he was doing. He had only had this feeling once in all his long life, and even then it was a different thing. He shook his head, making a decision as he started to move with the crowd; following the senses that had never failed him before.

It took him some time, but he finally found the right place by the time torches were being lit on the street corners. The place was the part of the fair where most children were found. Moving his hands to reach the satchel made of dirty brown cloth, he found a good enough corner as he pulled out seven different colored balls. The first child came forward as he began the first of his tricks, throwing the balls in different speeds and catching them deftly as they fell. Soon there were more of them before him, making the sounds mesmerized children make as they watched the balls grow in numbers, color, size and even shape right in front of their eyes.

He was just beginning to lose hope when out of the corner of his eye he saw him. Right at the edge of the crowd, he noticed him standing there for the first time and felt himself brimming with hope once again. Now that he knew where to look, he could feel him as clearly as the air he was breathing in. Or, to be more precise, he could sense his absence.

Once he was sure he had the boy's attention, the old man caught all the balls, bowing to his crowd as he did so. The children started to move along as they saw that the show was finally over, but a handful remained along with the child that always stood at the edge of the crowd.

Seeming to have been goaded into doing the deed, a small girl stepped up to the old man and said, "What was that?" her face turning an almost complete red color as soon as the words left her lips.

"Magic," the old man replied, smiling a smile that could be taken either as a secret or a joke depending on the person looking at it.

"There's no such thing as magic," said an older boy, his awkward frame showing he was already leaving childhood behind. "They were just tricks."

"Hmm...," the old man replied, sounding as if he was agreeing with the boy. As soon as the sound parted from his lips, the rest of the children started to move on too, the looks of disappointment clearly showing on their little faces.

When the last of the children left and the boy finally inched forward, the old man stopped pretending to be doing something with his satchel and turned to face him, saying, "And what is it you wish to know, child?"

"I..," the boy began tentatively, startled to be addressed so suddenly.

"Yes...?"

"Is....is it really true?" asked the boy nervously.

"Is what true?" the old man asked back, trying to look serious as he frowned with his bushy white brows.

"The thing you just said about magic."

"Magic is a trick," said the old man, still frowning. He watched as the boy's face fell, making up his decision to work a trick himself as he did so. 'It will even help me track him,' he thought silently, as he looked at the child that had the potential to be something like himself and tried, and failed, to control his hope from ruling his action. With a smile replacing the frown on his face, he took the hand of the boy and put his old skeletal finger in the middle of the small, smooth palm, saying, "And the trick is to believe it's real." As he said the words the magician lifted his old finger from the child's palm revealing a flowing substance, the color of which was a mad mixture of gold, silver, red and white, in-between the old and young surfaces. A flowing material that quickly formed into a circular thing that looked like a large coin.

And bowing one final time as the child dragged his wide eyes from the object in his hand to look at him for a moment, the magician took a step back and disappeared into the crowd of people in the street; unable to keep himself from silently hoping he would meet the boy in the future when he'll be ready for it too.

*

