Prologue - "In the High Council of the Mages"

The beginning. A young man has a vision which sends him on a long journey.

Prologue

“In the High Council of the Mages”

 

Many aeons ago a great war had ravaged the world of Peandra, no, all the worlds that were. The Black Dragons, children of the primordial Creator had rebelled against their post. They were proud of their beauty and their great power; jealous of their brothers, the White Dragons, who were the closest to their father. Beyond the spaces of this world, in some far off void, there was The Crucible �" a gigantic temple city. It harbored the Well of Ha’kodesh - the seat of power of the Creator, at its peak. There lived the Dragons and looked after their temple. Peace reigned for a time, but a division soon arose when evil stirred in some of them. Their jealousy twisted them, turning them black and engulfing them in shadow. They became darkness incarnate. The Black Dragons rebelled and almost destroyed the Well but were driven out by their White brothers. They waged war in battle after battle, soon dragging all worlds in existence into their conflict. The traitors began to consume the energies of the created worlds, killing and seeding chaos in their path. This strengthened them to the point where no one could stand in their way.

 

    Finally they laid siege to The Crucible. The White Dragons, not being able to stand, turned to their father for help. They pleaded and prayed, when the Creator’s spirit poured out from the Well of Ha’kodesh. Translucent strings of light spiraled from the Well towards the sky, where time and space themselves seemed to twist. Then, the fabric of Creation imploded and a pillar of clouds shot down towards the peak. A thundering voice resonated in the void and threatened the invaders to flee or face its wrath. But the mighty Dragons would not retreat. Forcing their father’s hand upon them, tongues of fire flew out of the site of the implosion towards the machines of war and the cloudy pillar was set aflame. The Shadow Avatar, the most powerful of them all, saw everything around him be consumed to dust. His brothers in hate died one by one. At that same moment a flaming tongue came towards him. His red eyes flashed in brilliant light and his body was transformed. His face elongated, his skin turned to onyx scales, smoking black wings grew from his back and a long heavy tail trailed out. This form was the bestial terror which they were. It’s black eyes were filled with anger. The beast flew up and stretched its mouth wide, revealing a split red tongue. A burst of fiery lightning went out with a fierce screech towards the impending projectile. However, this was in vain. The flame went through his opened maw and began to burn him from the inside out. The pain was incredible. He felt his very essence being consumed to nothing. The blackness began to shed from him. The shadows disappeared and his scales turned brilliant white. Blazing cracks appeared in his body and finally, with a scream of agony, a burst of light destroyed the Shadow Avatar. Specks of light were all that was left. The remaining forces of the Black Dragons scattered, looking for worlds to consume in order to regain their lost powers. It was over. This is where this world of Peandra comes into play.

 

     Peandra was a unique world of seething energy which came from the many gates to the Nether Roads �" a system of dimensional pathways. These linked the many worlds through the void. It is there that the Black terrors met their fate. An order of wizards grouped together and used an ancient secret to their advantage. Although there were many ways in and out of Peandra, it was itself a vestibule to a special place. This world held the entrance to somewhere where you could enter but never leave. A world which was nothing more than a jail, therefore its name was called Phylaca. In a thunderous war, the White Dragons (which chased their brothers after they fled) combined forces with this order of mighty men. Together they managed to trap their mutual enemy in that prison. By forging mighty shackles and chains imbued with the very hate which was used against them, the alliance rendered the Black Dragons defenseless and immobile. A group of the guardians of the temple in The Crucible called The Arladores volunteered to remain in Phylaca to ensure that their brothers remain chained there… forever. The entrance was sealed by the combined power of wizard and Dragon. This brought a long waited rest from war and battle.

 

     This story was passed on from father to son, mother to daughter, grandparent to grandchild, for generations. History became legend and then a myth to teach good morals. Even the names of the heroes and their very existence were forgotten. But history is doomed to repeat itself, just as the cycles of the sun and moon repeat each other. There would come a time when the destroyers would be set free and a new Shadow Avatar would arise to lead their hosts in siege of The Crucible to wipe out every trace of the White Dragons. And this time, nothing would stop them.

 

*   *    *

 

     It was 6^th Vatay 1421 by the General Observance of Peandra (GOP for short), of the 8^th SAC (Solar Age Count). Five Ages had passed since the great war. The world had changed in all that time. Kings and Queens had come and gone. Wars and rebellions resulted between various parties. A new religion had arisen from the greatest wizards that ever lived �" Valier and Noctra. While in the days of old the whole land was united and all the peoples and multitudes lived together in peace, disputes arose over different matters. These were mainly on how magic should be practiced and which god, or gods, we should worship. Many civilizations fell since those times, until only three remained �" Albinon, the nation of Valier, which occupied the bright lands of the northern peninsula; Divinia, the country of Noctra, which encompassed the southern peninsula; H’audenna, the land of the Elves, who long ago decided they had no part in the politics of others and set up their small kingdom in the link between the two landmasses. Three major cities governed the world and those were the capitals of the great nations �" Valorguard in Albinon, Noctrus in Divinia, and the city of the Elves. Each faction was governed by its own laws and traditions. The only thing they had in common was their self-interest and lust for power, be it in magic or the might of the sword.

 

     Our tale began in Valorguard, the gleaming jewel of the north. It sat nestled in the snowy passes of the Adamas range. Its alabaster walls reflected the light from the snow-covered surroundings, making it a shining beacon. It was a tall city, built levels upon levels. The highest was the location of the largest cathedral in Peandra. But the real treasure and protector of this massive fortress floated high above it. Amidst the clouds was a lone tower, white and glimmering like a jewel. It was in the likeness of precious stones, with two sharp tips at each end. Six smaller gems floated, circling around it. Each was a different colour to the rest. Strings of blue-white energy kept everything together. There were terraces and windows cut into the stones and shining lights lit up the structure at night. During the day the transparent crystals let the sun come through to the inner-most parts. The gifted people of all of Peandra came here to study and practice their powers. They were under the guidance of the most powerful wizards in the land. There was a strict hierarchy in this place: At the very top was The Archon, the mightiest of people in all of Albinon. He could wield the powers of all the elements and knew the deepest and most guarded secrets. Beneath him were a council of Archmagi, who were each responsible for overseeing a large portion of the residents in the tower. Less than them were the Azari. They were the graduates, so to speak; the ones who had completed their training and were deemed competent enough to be left on their own. Some stayed in the tower, while others were sent out to distant places and towns. These were also the most commonly seen class of wizards, as they were those who kept in touch with the outside world. And then were the Initiates �" those who came to the tower for instruction. There were harsh rules regarding their conduct. Once an Initiate was accepted for training, there was no going out until it was complete… or until he died. Some had spent all their lives in the tower, wasting away until nothing was left. They were taken good care of, of course, although it was a sad life, to be cut off from the world.

 

     That night, two men were walking along a moonlit terrace. One was tall with long white hair. He had the long ears of an elf and wore an elaborate, richly decorated robe. His eyes were blue and narrow, glimmering in the moonlight. Having no more than 130 years (which is extremely young in elfish terms) his skin was very fair with a pale tinge, giving him an appearance of a marble carving. The way the man walked was slow and flowing, with a perfectly straight posture, giving away his aristocratic upbringing. His companion was of medium height. He had the resemblance of a human, although the air given off by him hinted of super-human power residing within. The age was difficult to tell. No one really knew how old he was. Silk garments arrayed in blue and purple,  and stitched with golden threads covered him. Around his waist was a chain belt from which hung golden amulets in interesting shapes. He wore a fine necklace bearing a precious stone which shone in blue, purple and silver hues. A hood hid the man’s face, leaving only his dark brown beard visible. A pair of blue eyes shined from the shadow cast by his headwear. He talked nervously, his voice echoing in the dark.

     “Not one mage has been called in that chamber for years! Hope that you have not broken one of your vows, but even then… by the Light, what are they up to?!”�" The man was frantic. One of his mages was called to the Council Chamber, something that had not happened in centuries.

     The windows of the dark corridor were small. The tiny portion of light which shown from the windows came down on a series of colored crystals which reflected it in the most brilliant of colors! This made them glow like stars, illuminating the hall. The corridor went on and on as the two mages walked down the pathway, revealed by the crystals. Long as it was, everything had a beginning and an end. As they approached a wall, a large gate appeared. It shined with godly light and awe struck the tall mage. It’s shine was so brilliant it made the artificial magical glow fade in comparison. The nervous man stopped before the gate. His eyes spoke of fear.

     “I’m afraid I am not allowed to cross this threshold with you. I will give you a few pieces of advice: Remember, the Arladores are gods trapped in the Nether realms for eons. They speak cryptic words shrouded in a veil of mystery. They are masters of speech. They do not lie but the truth they say may not be what you think it is. Pick your words carefully. There is no tolerance for rudeness or inappropriate comments. Do not start a conversation. Leave it to them. Good luck Khalazar.” �" with these words, the man departed along the dark corridor. His robes and cape were waving in the cool breeze. The golden gates shrieked and the metal masses started to move away from each other, revealing an impenetrable light. It crept softly upon the one called Khalazar like a gentle and warm touch.

     The blinding light revealed, not much to the mage’s expectations, an empty gloom-filled room. The walls were pitch-black, except for the areas which were lit by the faint glow of a strange crystal. It was big, blue (or so it seemed), and it created a rather odd shine. The centre was illuminated by it. Khalazar quickly recalled what was said by the one who left. Many thoughts rushed through his mind. Questions without end. “The Arladores called me… but where are they? Should I call out? Perhaps shout?” That selfsame moment the sound of thunder echoed in the room. The crystal in the middle brightened… it shined. A blinding flash! An unseen force thrust the mage off the ground. He blinked. The world was consumed by darkness and silence fell.

 

*   *   *

 

     Khalazar regained consciousness after what seemed a very long time. He found himself in a black void. There was nothing here. Not a sound. All around the thick darkness enveloped his body. He could almost feel it. Like the breath of a giant wyrm it was almost impossible to take in. The mage’s attires seemed almost as dark as his surroundings. All the precious gems had lost their glow. “What is this place? It feels… unreal. The Arladores… whatever they are… I must find them… speak to them.” As these things raced in his conscience a thundering shout struck him.

     “Thou darest think of speaking to us, mortal?”�" The godly voices sounded like honey, warm, gentle, yet ferocious, filled with menace. Khalazar began to plan what his next action.“What now? Should I respond? No! This is a trick… to make me talk. “The truth that an Arladore tells you is not what you think.”

     “A wise choice of thoughts, mortal. It seems we have found him brothers!”- Approving voices resonated in the void. “The One!” was heard somewhere - “Mortal, thou hast been brought before the Council for a very special and perilous quest. Thou shouldst listen carefully” �" Another voice behind Khalazar began to talk. From here on they changed with almost every sentence, each coming from a different direction.

    “The first mage ever to walk the land was Lambrak the “Invincible”

     “Lambrak started to travel and teach people which were able to draw power from the Sources. Half of his life passed in traveling and gathering more apprentices. In the end he chose two to inherit his lineage: Valier and Noctra. Light and Darkness. White and Black. Together, Lambrak foresaw, they would be able to channel more power than any one mage. Naturally, they betrayed him and made him prophesize their future, for he had the gift of Sight. They did so by overpowering their old master.”- Khalazar saw a disc of smoke whirl around in front of him. As it cleared, a horrific sight was revealed before him. Three mages were flying in the air. The winds around them were blowing. A man with a glowing aura and a woman in black robes called down fire, lightning and ice from the skies. Then, their opponent brought his hands close to him and the very space around him seemed to bend. A great pressure could be felt as a result. He then released his energy in a blast which smashed his enemies against the mountain side. Loud noises filled the background. The ground was cracked and burned. There was nothing green in sight. The battle went on for a long time afterwards -“Finally, after much effort, they managed to break him. The two mages forced a prophecy from their teacher. It did not turn out as they expected though. Indeed, he told them of the future, but it was not to their liking.” �" A terrible voice began to resonate in the darkness. 

     “Beware, the hour of doom approaches! For they shall turn the heavens red and blood shall flow in their stead. On the third day of the crimson sun, blight and pestilence will creep, sparing nothing but the deep of the dark caverns. Not one will live but all will suffer as their wrath rekindles and shouts do utter. Shields will fall and magic will end as the destroyer of worlds makes everything bend. The hour of doom approaches… nothing will stand, but candles of light lead the way like a lamp! One shall fall and one shall cry, yet both will escape and neither will die.”- the thundering left lingering echoes in the void. A familiar voice returned.

     “Thou art allowed to speak, little mage.”

     “I do not understand… what does it mean? All these disasters… will they happen?”

     “They already have, mortal. Look around thee. Dost thou not know of the weakening protection thou callest ‘The Shell’? And if so, hast thou not felt its decline?”

     “Some have… including me. But many mages seem to feel nothing of the magical energies”- Khalazar’s voice trembled a bit, something that was unusual for someone as confident as he. �"“But what do you want me to do? Am I here to account for something?”

     “NO YOU INSOLENT FOOL!- the very air quaked at the might of that furious cry. It was one that could make even the most powerful warrior shiver with fear -“Thou hast been called in our presence to serve. Thy precious “Shell” is soon to crack open, letting the forces of Chaos to consume this world. Art thou prepared to serve us?”

     “When the very essence of life seems to be at stake I cannot leave this to the Fates to decide. Yes, I am your humble servant, almighty Arladores.”- said Khalazar with a fear which he tried to hide.

     “Thou art wise, mortal. We know that thou need our power. From here, in the Nether Realms, we are useless. However, if thou dost free us we shall reinforce ‘The Shell’ with magic that even the strongest Dragon canst breach.”

     “But ho…”- tried to ask Khalazar, but he was interrupted by the mighty beings who seemed to read his mind.

     “Go to the Mountains of Inferno. There, in the deepest cavern, thou wilt find a portal leading to the Nether Roads. These Roads are a link between worlds. Once thou openest the gate we shall know. Go forth, Chosen One. The fate of all the worlds lies in thy hands.”

     “Yes, my masters. I will do as you ask.”- Khalazar bowed down to the invisible beings in sincere respect.

     “We shall speak again, mortal.”- the voice resonated. Everything swirled around him in a never ending vortex. He fell into the void for what seemed an eternity. Voices of mystical beings and echoes of memories surrounded him. The darkness consumed Khalazar and then everything ceased. Silence came.

 

*   *   *

 

     Khalazar woke up breathing heavily. Drops of freezing sweat trickled down his face. “This was not an ordinary dream, or a nightmare. More of a vision. I wonder…” His room in the tower had harsh, bare stone walls. It was small with a large fireplace, which seemed to have been cold for quite some time. Everything was deadly silent. The mage looked out the window and gazed into the heavens. There was nothing strange about the stars that night. They all twinkled in white, yellow, red and blue. But something did change, and Khalazar felt it, deep inside his soul. The Arladores, if they existed, had to be unleashed.

Author's Note

All reviews are welcome. The book is nowhere near finished. The beginning is the most important part of the novel, so I wish to make it as good as possible.