Chapter 3

Evil takes many forms and feeds on many weaknesses. Rewards are given, and the first true journey begins, unwanted as it may be.

Chapter 3

            Night had reached its deepest silence and blackest darkness by the time Guyanno reached his chamber door. The cavernous hallway was warm and stagnant. Torches flanked every door along the way. Otherwise he never would have found his quarters, for windows were a rarity in the bowels of Leonia. He grabbed the iron ring and pulled on it gently, being careful not to make too much noise. Coolness flew out to greet him. He entered and closed the door, quietly again, and moved towards his bedchamber. A silhouetted figure stood in the doorway. The darkness made it nearly impossible to make out the figure, but Alheena’s curves gave her away as they always did. Guyanno stepped towards her, and he saw candlelight in the room beyond. She became clearer as he approached. There was no smile on her face, but she was still beaming with delight. It came from her eyes. Guyanno could always read them. Sometimes he wished he couldn’t. She was nude, save the thin and sheer gold half-robe that hung loosely over her upper half and struggled to cover her lower.

            “You’ve succeeded?”

            “Yes,” Guyanno nodded. “Though I wasn’t proud of it.”

            “But you are now?” she prodded. Her eyes were golden honey specked with black gnats.

            He paused and studied her face. “For the most part.”

            “Which part aren’t you proud of?”

            “I was thinking of Gus and Sam as I walked here. There are fathers just like me who lost their sons today, and sons who lost their fathers, only they don’t know it yet. It hurts my heart.”

            “Don’t let it,” she grinned, bringing a finger to his chest and pushing it up slowly until reaching his stubbly chin. “Our world is better for it.”

“Why are you here?” he asked in a whisper. He had moved within inches of her without even noticing.

            “I put them to bed,” she said, motioning her chin to the door across the room. Her lips curved down. Guyanno must have asked the wrong first question.

            “And resolved to stay in my chambers ‘til daybreak?”                

            “Your boys are still children. They need to be taken care of. And you’ve been gone so long. They missed you.”

            “And I missed them. But I’ve returned, and I’m weary and"”

            “I missed you,” Alheena said, her hand brushing up his arm and resting on his shoulder. “Did things go smoothly, at least?”

            “We came back unscathed, and we succeeded.”

            “Father will be pleased,” she said, a smirk emerging.

            “Your brother had mentioned that,” Guyanno said. “And I am to see the Greatmage in the morning.” He tried to sidestep her, but she mirrored him and blocked his path. “You should go, Alheena.”

            “But my chambers are so far. It is so dark and warm outside these quarters,” she said, sounding wounded. She put both her hands on his chest then. “But if that’s what you wish…”

            “It is,” he said. He was stern, but tried to feign regret.

            “Just let me dress,” she said, turning into his room.

Guyanno followed. He began disrobing to get into his sleepwear, looking forward into the darkness. Ancient diggers of Leonia cut his room out of the chasm, which let in the chilled draft that almost always lingered. Half walls that rose to his waist were all that separated him from the life he knew and certain death at whatever bottom the black abyss held. In the day it was a sight to look across the gap, or to look to either side and see the unending canyon continue to stretch. Guyanno took a deep breath and let the coolness run over his exposed upper body. He let out a great yawn and realized just how exhausted he was.

He was down to his skivvies when Alheena came from behind and slid her arms under his, wrapping around his midsection and pressing into his back. Her small n*****s were hard, and he felt them press against his back. “You’ve lost your robe,” Guyanno said.

“What a tragedy,” she whispered into his ear from below. Her teeth found his lobe and nibbled at it, from gentle to painful to gentle again. A hand began running across his smooth and defined chest until it found a n****e. She pinched it.

“Alheena…” he said, letting out a sigh.

“You’ve forgotten,” she whispered again.

“Your brother… your father.”

“They are great and powerful mages.”

“And I do not wish to cross them.”

“You’ve taken the risk before. Take it again. It is said the first Antrum, Greatmage Leone, was born of fire under the Bloodmoon and sent to this realm as its protector,” she said, her mouth moving from his ear to the crook of his neck. She spoke in broken words, kissing and sucking at his skin in between. “Fire runs through my father’s veins, and my brother’s, and together they are the strongest mages in generations.”

“We can’t.”

“Like I said, Greatwind…” she said, sliding a hand down his stomach and under the waistband of his thin shorts. “You’ve forgotten.” Her mouth found his ear again. Her hand found his manhood. “You’ve forgotten that while I am no mage, the fire runs through me as well.”

“No.”

“And you...” she whispered, groping him, her tongue dwelling in his ear and sending shivers down his spine. “Have never…” her hand worked him to firmness. “Been able…” she tiptoed around his body, keeping her hand down below. “To resist…” she pressed into him from the front now, and he pressed into her belly. “The fire…” she dropped to her knees, pulling his skivvies down while she fell and enveloping him with the hotness of her mouth.

Guyanno threw his head back and let out an unintelligible string of noises. She worked hard, and the heat began coursing through him. The room was still cool, but he suddenly felt ablaze from the inside out. He looked down and admired Alheena, her wavy, almost frazzled, red hair moving back and forth with great enthusiasm, hiding most of her face as it dove into his bush. Resistance was no longer an option. It never had been, in all these years.

He leaned down and grabbed her, lifting her from under the arms and turning. It was about ten steps to the large bed, but he only took about five before tossing her. Alheena let out a shriek of exhilaration as she bounced a couple of times before settling, her breasts hanging a bit before Guyanno leapt on top of her and pushed them together, taking the tip of one into his mouth. He growled, and she ran her slender fingers through his wavy, dirty blonde hair.

He took her, again and again, however he wanted, and she took him. Alheena was on all fours, her head down, her mouth muffling nonsense into the blankets. Behind her, Guyanno thrust forward again and again, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. His gaze remained forward, stalwart. Rays from the rising sun started cutting down into the Great Chasm. Guyanno watched the light crawl down the opposite wall as sweat crawled down his body. The room began coming into focus, and he reached his climax one last time. He fell backwards in a heap.

Alheena found him and crawled onto him, her head finding his chest. “You’re as relentless as the wind.”

“I must rise soon and prepare to meet with the Greatmage. Our rewards will be announced at high sun. You must go before the boys wake.”

“Yes, Greatwind,” Alheena said. She obeyed easily this time, satisfied with all she came for, no reason to stay and bother him. She started to dress and made her way to the door, carrying the rest of her garments. “I hope to be blown away again soon.”

Antaleone always remembered to walk as quietly as possible when he approached Undershadow. His father didn’t much care for noise. Only one thing should be loud, he told Antaleone as a boy, and that is war. And so Antaleone had it cemented in his head that Undershadow was a sanctum. It fit the part, to be certain, and so that’s what it became in his eyes. You were never loud or disrespectful in a sanctum. If you were, you would burn.

The marble steps continued down and down. Their width was unnecessary but magnificent. Antaleone’s legs were burning when he reached the bottom, a wonderful feeling. He was well underground by this point. The last few steps before Undershadow lay before the stairs. He walked through the tunnel, walls of fire separating it into sectors. It smoldered like an inner cavern of a volcano. The walls became wreathes when he approached them, rings of flame that had enough of an identity to recognize the passing of the future Greatmage.

The tunnel was nearing its end. Darkness still surrounded Antaleone when he stepped into the large chamber of his Greatmage and father. The open wall ahead of him looked into the Great Chasm. It was the lowest, the chamber dug deepest into the earth. It was also the grandest. The marble flooring covered the entirety of the room, and it climbed up the eight columns, thick as the largest oaks. Ornamenting each column was glass formed into flames of various heights and colors. Only a few reached towards the tops of the columns. They reached so high and were so hard to see that you always wondered what may be hiding in the sanctum shadows.

 Antaleone passed the columns swiftly. They were marvels to look upon in his youth. Now they were only architectural necessities. Beyond each column stood doors leading to various parts of his father’s dwelling. But he continued forward, knowing where to find the man he sought. What little natural light reached this deep into the chasm was enough for his father’s throne and main quarters. Antaleone passed the last columns and approached the Greatmage, who sat waiting for him on his throne. It was wreathed in fire itself, and the two cloaked mages who flanked either side of it were arguably closer to the Greatmage, proximally and emotionally, than his own children.

Antaleone Antrum XLIX was small of stature. His throne swallowed him. No one would ever call him intimidating until they looked into his eyes or heard him speak. For that’s when he was most lethal. It was said he could make a man blind with a long stare. It was said he could burn a man’s mind with an intricate incantation, or influence that same mind through fire, even if it laid a land away. But no one knew for sure. In truth, the 49^th Greatmage hadn’t seen the sun in years. Some light reached Undershadow, but never could one look up from the sanctum and see a glowing orb in the sky. He only left his chambers at night to worship the Bloodmoon, and he was always under close guard, never subject to interaction with lower mages or the common folk of the Blazelands. He was a hermit for the most part. But his powers were unquestioned, and they were rumored to grow even greater in his seclusion. He was feared and respected and his ruling was final, never challenged or doubted.

“My son,” the Greatmage said as he got to his feet and walked slowly from his throne. His shadows stayed close on all sides. “You look well. And accomplished. I am pleased.”

“Thank you, father,” the younger man said. He bowed to the Greatmage. “I am glad to be home. It was a tiring journey, gathering that army only to destroy it.”

“Yes, but you were punctual with it all, as usual. The end was quick, I trust?”

“Quicker than I anticipated. Guyanno grows stronger. But he’s finally understanding.”

“Finally? Was there doubt in him?”

“It was slight, but it was present. Until we sent the fire. Now he understands power, and not just strength.”

“You’re certain he is sincere in his joining in our pursuits?”

“Absolutely.”

“Your sister visited this morning with the same issue,” the Greatmage pondered. He shrugged it off and moved onto another question. “And there were survivors?”

“The stronger adepts survived, along with some they were able to protect.”

“Just enough to spread word like wildfire,” the father said with a grin that exposed his mouth full of sharp-filed teeth.

The son nodded in understanding. “Father, forgive me, but I expected there to be more of an… audience... for this ceremony. Will we be ascending to the temple?”

“‘Tis not a ceremony, per se. You will both be rewarded, yes, but it is something the entire Blazelands would be better off not knowing. The right men of power will know, and is that not what counts?”

“Yes, father,” Antaleone said as he followed the older man to a corner of the room by the open wall. They sat in two plush armchairs with ornate wood carvings of flames across the framing and armrests. “Will Guyanno be along soon?”

“Along with his father and the rest of the mages I’ve selected to play witness.”

“I haven’t seen Greywind in near a year.”

“He is a vital ally for now, and a mightily powerful mage. He will be pleased by his son’s accomplishments, and eager to tell the other wind mages of Guyanno’s reward,” the Greatmage said as the fingertips of each hand met each other on his lap. He tapped them together in a quick rhythm, pinky to thumb and then back again. “Arroyo, summon the servants to have beverages brought for the gathering. Variety for everyone’s tastes.”

The scarred guard bowed and disappeared into the darkness of the chambers, leaving Ayorro by the Greatmage’s side. Antaleone knew his young cousins, but he might have been a stranger to them. They didn’t so much as acknowledge his presence. They hadn’t in years. The Greatmage had transformed them into exactly what he needed. Their obedience was unflappable. It was even rumored that their powers would soon match that of the Greatmage, if by nothing other than being forever by his side. Antaleone pitied them.

The room soaked in silence for a matter of minutes. Antaleone entertained himself by trying to spot flying wildlife that dared to make its way this deep into the Great Chasm. Most birds were smart enough to know there was nothing for them this far down. Still, the occasional flapping of wings was enough to attract attention.

Antaleone noticed the flicker of light in the corner of his eye, and he turned to see that the final firewall of the tunnel had reduced to a ring. Aunt Skalla entered on the arm of a tall and regal looking fire mage. His name was Jannish D’Urian, perhaps the most loyal and trusted ally of the Greatmage behind his own son. Behind them came Guyanno Greatwind and his father, rather weary after his journey from Windhaven. Behind them was Antaleone’s only sibling, Alheena, her smugness as present as ever. He smiled upon her arrival. Last to pass through the ring was a line of a dozen fire mages. Antaleone recognized all of them, though some of the faces looked more entitled than they deserved. These were the Greatmage’s chosen few, however, and for that alone Antaleone respected them. All of the faces were cruel to look upon.

The Greatmage stood first and moved towards the assembly that had gathered before his throne, Ayorro by his side. Antaleone trailed behind a few feet. He embraced his sister first once the group arrived to the seating area. She could never bear a firerock and harness the power of the element, but she was as fierce as the hottest flame.

“I’m not the first you visit upon your return?” she asked, squinting at him and poking a finger into his chest. “I had to learn upon waking from a servant that my brother was home.”

“It was late, nearly dawn. I was exhausted. And I’m sure your sleep was so deep that even your brother wouldn’t pull you out.”

Alheena smiled. It was too perfect, symmetric, framing even white teeth. It was the complete opposite of the fire mages’. “It was deep indeed, Ant.”

“The refreshments have arrived!” the Greatmage announced, and the small pockets of conversation ceased. “Please, guests, mingle. Arroyo, Ayorro…”

Antaleone knew they’d follow regardless of whether they were told or not. He watched them head into the antechamber behind the chairs in which they were previously seated. His sister was still smiling at him when he turned back around. “Has all been well in my absence?”

“Young Antaleone,” an old voice said from behind him. “My son speaks higher of you after every undertaking.”

Antaleone turned and saw Guyanno’s father. The younger wind mage was just behind him, grinning. “Greywind,” the fire mage said, offering a bow which Greywind returned. “Your name is deceiving. There is still not a gray head on your hair, even after a year.”

“Wind ages men more slowly, it seems,” he said, chuckling. “For whatever reason.”

“Perhaps I should get some more wind in me,” Alheena said, stepping next to her brother and joining in on the repartee. “If only an aging woman could be so lucky.”

“We would be most honored if you visited our capitol,” Greywind said, not noticing Alheena’s gaze had shifted towards Guyanno. He grimaced behind his father.

Antaleone spotted his dutiful aunt amongst other fire mages. She seemed unmoved at the sight of her sons following the Greatmage around so blindly, disappearing into another room without even acknowledging their mother’s presence. They couldn’t have felt much like sons anymore, not since the Greatmage had burned them and conditioned them and made them his own as royal guards.

“Greatmage,” a man said, again behind Antaleone. He turned and saw the tall mage who had escorted Skalla. “If you don’t recall me, I understand. It’s been some time, and we’ve all been diligent in fulfilling our duties. I am Jannish D’Urian. I’ve been given jurisdiction over capitol matters on the upper levels and the overseeing of the Blazelands.”

“Well deserved, Jannish. Most deserved,” Antaleone said as cordially as possible. The tall mage was looking down on him in more ways than one, living comfortably at the capitol while he laid slaughter to the sheep in the field. “I trust you’ve done well in my absence…”

“I hope!” he said, his eyes suddenly wider and his voice more animated. “Your accomplishments outside the Blazelands are well-known, and your prominence among the population, mage and sintrines alike, is vast. I only hope that you can make your journeys knowing that the Blazelands, and especially Leonia, are well-tended.”

Antaleone smirked. He knew in his mind that the Blazelands was more impenetrable than any other region, and it was impossible for one to leave the Blazelands without the proper mounts or fire skills to cross the Burning Bridges. But he played along. “Jannish,” he said, putting his hand up onto the man’s shoulder. “My father’s good judgment has never been doubted, and I am not about to start today. I trust that everything we hold dear will be under the most watchful eye of a most loyal Capitol Mage.”

That seemed to satisfy him. The tall man smiled and put his hand on Antaleone’s opposite shoulder. They kept eye contact for a few seconds, a show of respect. Antaleone heard the chamber door behind him open. His father stepped out with a tome in his hands. Ayorro carried a large sack at one side. Arroyo carried a long object, wrapped in heavy velvet, which stretched across both his extended arms. Antaleone was able to make eye contact with Guyanno, and the two men exchanged looks of satisfaction and anticipation.

“Antaleone Antrum the fiftieth, next Greatmage of the Blazelands, step forward,” the Greatmage said, still hugging the tome close to his chest. His son did as he beckoned. “Guyanno Greatwind, Wind General of the Blazelands, step forward.”

Greywind had his hand on Guyanno’s shoulder. The younger wind mage took his spot beside Antaleone, and the hand fell back to the old man’s side. Guyanno turned around to look at his father. Pride brought out an irremovable smirk. Fire mages stood on either side of him, and in their heavy cloaks of deep reds and black, looked to be swallowing the old man in his thin white and blue robes. No other face looked proud. No other face looked friendly.

“Young Antaleone,” the Greatmage started, commanding the attention of the hall. Even his servants stopped moving among the crowd with their trays of drinks. “And dear Guyanno. You have performed marvelously. In the eyes of the Bloodmoon, and the shadow of Deadflame, you are heroes. You are not heralding in a New Age, but rather preserving the tried and true structure that has kept our bloodlines and powers pure for thousands of years. We are weeding out those who seek to make us weak. Our numbers, our worthy numbers, are greater than they have been in generations. And while we have lost handfuls of mages with potent aptitude, our ranks grow stronger, not weaker. It will not be long before we are able to stretch beyond the Blazelands once more.”

The group behind Guyanno and Antaleone let out a light applause, and a few of the mages let out words of agreement and delight. Guyanno did not turn away from his leader to see if Greywind was doing the same, but he was sure that his father’s reaction was not as strong as those around him.

“In the decades before my rule, the forty-sixth Greatmage of the Blazelands erected Scorchfort, our first true stronghold beyond the Great Chasm. He expanded our possibilities with the last of the three Burning Bridges, and expanded the great capitol of Leonia to an enormity that is likely still unknown to our enemies. Our strongholds have never been stronger, and villages seem to grow out of the ground overnight. The will of fire and wind has always been resilient. Never has it been more apparent than on this day, in this sanctum, deep under this great city, nestled in this vast land.

“In the days after my brother’s untimely death I took a journey. It was one of doubt, one of exploration, both external and internal. I found this tome,” he held it out for all to see, “in the depths of Deadflame, and I lay witness to the fires that still roar within, fires long thought extinguished. It contains the secrets of our ancestors, secrets also thought extinguished. We can still utilize and bring to life so many powers of fire thought to be myth. I started immediately upon my return to finally take my brother’s throne. I’ve raised phoenixes from enchanted ashes and influenced minds hundreds of miles away. It took me years and years of many sleepless nights and discouraged days to unlock the mysteries of our forbearers. But far below in the quiet calm of Undershadow, mostly hidden from the outside world, I have penetrated some of the deepest of these mysteries.”

The Greatmage took a step forward and slightly to the side. He held the book out in front of his son, and the younger mage took it into his hands, his eyes fixed on the leather, etched with the symbols of a language long lost. He met eyes with his father.

“I give you this today, son, so that you can unlock all that is within these pages alongside me. I will guide you, and you will spread what I have learned even further, onto the men who stand behind you, who will then spread it even further still. You will transcend the status of Greatmage and become a demigod, a true servant of the Bloodmoon and bringer of fire. You will see Deadflame burst again. I bequeath unto you Leone’s Tome,” he said, and in one swift motion turned to grab the object in Arroyo’s hands, unwrapping it and proclaiming, “this sword, the ancient Blazeblade, has for decades sat in the depths of Undershadow, absorbing the powers with which we fire mages were blessed. You are the mage destined to wield this blade once more, and bloody its edges with the essence of our enemies.”

Antaleone tucked Leone’s Tome under one arm and grabbed the pommel of Blazeblade from his father’s hand. The handle was hot, and the grip seemed to mold to his hand. The blade was long and straight. But on one side, the bottom was serrated, while the top was serrated on the other side. Two blazing mandarine garnets lay embedded on both sides of the flat of the blade, centered perfectly along the length.

“Father…” the younger man said, locking eyes. “I have no words.”

“Find them, young Greatmage. For the day draws closer to our great expansion. These gifts are great, yes, but your next mission is just as important. You will go to Whisperwinds.”

“My lord,” a voice came from the group. It was Greywind. The Greatmage looked between the two men to acknowledge him. “Would it not be wiser to send my son, or perhaps myself, to Whisperwinds? We know the land very well, and can deliver whatever you seek.” The room fell silent, and all the eyes felt like they were burning holes into him.

“Revered Greywind,” the Greatmage said, taking a few steps to the side so he then stood in front of Guyanno. “I have not finished. Guyanno Greatwind, your powers cannot be denied. The combining of our elements hundreds of years ago was a spark of genius among our ancestors, perhaps the only logical way to survive against the adepts’ alliance. I commend your actions behind my son in the Hillands. And I condemn you to the Great Chasm, a soiled and weak soul, forever lost in the depths of darkness and failure.”

“Greatmage!” Greywind shouted, but the nearby mages grasped and manhandled him into stillness before he could take a second step. “Please, no!”

            Guyanno turned slightly, dumbfounded, to see his restrained grandfather. A few of the other mages, Jannish D’Urian at their head, stepped forward, fire building between their hands, ready to strike. Next to him Antaleone looked uncertain, but did nothing to change what was unfolding before him. The befuddled wind mage turned and looked at the Greatmage. His only choice was reason. “What are your grounds?”

            “The doubt you carry concerning my purpose,” he answered calculatedly. “My son explained to me your attempts at persuasion on the hilltop, and my daughter specified your second guessing.”

            “I have been convinced, Greatmage. I witnessed the full extent of our powers. You’ve awakened the true"”

            “That was nowhere near the full extent!” he shouted. He stepped close enough to Guyanno that the wind mage could feel his hot breath on his face. “And the fact that you would accept it as such is exactly why I label you weak and unworthy.”

            “Perhaps I need to learn more, Greatmage, and perhaps I cannot reach the powers you and your son can reach… but I beg you… do not condemn me to the chasm. Being weaker than you is not grounds for condemnation.”

            Undershadow was silent. Lights and shadows danced all around them. The Greatmage clenched his teeth and seethed, “but forcing yourself on my daughter is.”

            “Guyanno…” Antaleone finally broke his silence next to him.

            “It is not true!” Guyanno rebuked.

            “Do not speak such untruths before my brother and father,” Alheena said as she circled around the group to face Guyanno. She stood behind her father. Arroyo and Ayorro stood behind her, the fires between their hands also ready to kill should Guyanno do anything stupid.

            “Guyanno…” Antaleone said again. The wind mage turned to him. “Speak true to me.”

            “Why should I?” he snapped. “The few fleeting words I spoke to you on the hilltop made it back to your father, and here I stand.”

Antaleone lifted one hand, the firerock set in his palm pulsing, and on it soon danced a small flame. His eyes glowed red. “The truth.”

“We have bedded before. But I never forced anything. In truth, if there was any forcing to be had, it was on her part.”

            The backhand that struck Guyanno’s face was enough to knock him off balance, nearly taking him to one knee. The Greatmage rubbed his hand. It was already red, though the red on Guyanno’s face was much brighter and prominent. He found his balance again, standing straight, facing the Greatmage, trying to feign courage. In truth, he was one wind mage surrounded by perhaps the fifteen strongest fire mages in the entire realm. His knees wanted to quiver and collapse under him, and his heart wanted to beat out of his chest. His mind begged him to fall to both knees and clutch at the Greatmage’s robes, seeking forgiveness and offering any and all services imaginable. But his pride would not allow it.

            “She is my sister, Guyanno,” Antaleone said. “And I thought of you as brother.”

            “He was one of us, indeed,” Alheena said, letting out a sigh, pretending to feel regret. “The saddest part, to be certain, is that I would have had him had he courted me. But his methods were… they…” she broke into a light sob.

            “And the Greatmage tells me,” Jannish D’Urian said behind Guyanno, “Guyanno has been guilty of this crime for years, perhaps since coming to Leonia. It took delicate Alheena time to find her strength. Bloodmoon bless you, child.”

            The Greatmage spoke loudly once more, commanding the room. “She is of the fire, just like her brother and father and all the fathers and brothers before me. Never will her fire be put out, not even by you, Guyanno Greatwind. Ayorro.”

            The fireguard passed Alheena and his master, lifting the sack in his hand to pull it over Guyanno’s head. He tightened it around the neck, but didn’t strangle the wind mage. Arroyo came from behind and bound Guyanno’s hands with scratchy rope. The wind mage could not see, and he was already losing feeling in his hands. All he had was his legs. He knew what was coming next. He briefly envisioned running as fast as his legs could take him. He would be able to outrun the fireshots until he reached the edge. And then he would leap, and he would fall, and fall, and fall, into a deeper and darker blackness than the one into which he was now forced. And then he would be free, in the afterlife at least, and that fate seemed more promising than the one he was receiving.

            “Guyanno Greatwind,” the Greatmage said. Guyanno could tell he was still in front of him. “In two week’s time, upon my son’s return from Whisperwinds with your wife and daughter in tow, you will be lowered into the Great Chasm from Leone’s Ledge. Before all the mages of the Blazelands, before the commonfolk that gather, before your entire family, those with eyes on this earth and eyes on the wind, you will be lost.”

Guyanno heard a few footsteps, and then, in a much louder voice, the Greatmage continued, now addressing everyone before him. “In the name of Leone and his offspring, in the name of generations past and present, I, Antaleone Antrum the forty-ninth, Greatmage of the Blazelands, name Guyanno Greatwind a weak and unworthy wind mage, guilty of treason and rape, and condemn thee to the Great Chasm!”

            Against the black canvas of the bag in front of his eyes, Guyanno could see the outline of his wife and daughter in Whisperwinds. He saw his boys resting in their chamber. His heart had stopped beating erratically. Now it just thumped irritatingly. He was blind, and useless, and scared, and lost.