Prologue

         Mantrus Versalas, in all his years as a prophet of the High God, never once questioned a commandment given to him. Yet at the gates to the Academy of Wonders, his hesitation was not based on the weariness of his journey. Could these wielders of magic be trusted with so sacred a responsibility? Memories of their abuse of magic, which led to its loss, crept back into mind. Though they had been deemed worthy to receive that gift of magic again, Mantrus was hesitant to trust the magicians entirely. Power often corrupts the user if it is not used in accordance with the good of all. If they were to become corrupt after receiving what he was about to place in their care...
         Mantrus shook his head, attempting to clear it of such thoughts. He had received a commandment from his God. To doubt His wisdom, especially in light of the times that would soon befall the faithful, would be the same as turning his back on all he believed in and knew. With renewed resolve, Mantrus passed through the gates of the Academy and strode up the steps. There wasn't a force on earth that could prevent him from fulfilling the very purpose that he had come so far for.

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         Garmalus Theron rarely tolerated an interruption in his instructional sessions, but the arrival of a prophet at the Academy was rare enough that he quickly dismissed his charge and hastened to the library to greet his guest.
         "Versalas!" Garmalus voice boomed through the air as he entered the room.          Mantrus started from his inspection of the contents of the shelves at the sound of his own name and spun around as if he were preparing to ward off some unforeseen attack. Garmalus stopped in his pace upon catching full sight of his old friend, and the neophyte who had followed him with refreshments narrowly avoided colliding with him from behind. "Prophet Versalas, are you not well?" Garmalus asked with deep concern. He had always known Mantrus to be a vibrant and energetic man with youthful enthusiasm. The man who stood before him now was but a shadow of the prophet he had known.
         Mantrus wore a common traveler's garb, rather than the robes of his calling. His medallion denoting his faith still hung around his neck, but Garmalus doubted it had hung so visibly on his journey. It had been five years since they last saw each other, but to look at the prophet's face, one would guess it had been four times that. His hair was thinning, but even more noticeable was the worn expression and eyes so sad that Garmalus could not look long into their depths for fear of drowning in his own tears. In spite of the prophet's physical decline, there was no mistaking the fact that he still served the God on High faithfully. Serene power flowed from his grasp as he clasped Garmalus' hand in his own and said, "High Master Theron, thank you for seeing me. I will not long occupy your time as I know you must be busy."
         Garmalus gripped the prophet's hand tightly and responded, "Nonsense! It is an honor to have the Prophet of God in these halls. Take all the time you need. Please, sit, rest, and replenish yourself with refreshments."
         "I humbly thank you. I cannot stay too long, however. Wolves are on the prowl when the shepherd is not tending his flock, High Master."
         "Please, Mantrus, we have known each other long enough that we can dispense with such formalities. Call me Garmalus. Now tell me, what is it that could have changed you so in such a short amount of time? I mean no disrespect, but I would think that the foundation of the world has fallen upon your shoulders since we last saw each other."
         "Not the foundation of it, but perhaps the salvation of it. I have something of importance to..." Mantrus stopped as he remembered they were not alone. The neophyte standing behind him was trying to appear disinterested in their conversation as he waited to be ordered to refill a goblet or run some errand. "Could we speak in private, Garmalus? What I have to say is for your ears, and your ears only."
         "Filgus!" Garmalus barked at the neophyte, startling him such that he sloshed a few drops of erdberry juice on his robes. "Your assistance is no longer required at this time. See that we are not to be disturbed."
         "Yes, High Master," the neophyte responded giving a slight bow to each of them before exiting the room, closing the door behind him.
         Garmalus muttered a short incantation, gesturing briefly in the air between them. "Speak freely, Mantrus, for not even a Master can mystically eavesdrop on us now. What is this secret that has brought you halfway across Pendaria at a time when you are obviously concerned about the well-being of your followers?"
         The prophet took a deep breath before beginning his tale. "Garmalus Theron, I have known you for many years, and, although we have not always seen eye to eye, I count you as a friend. You have always been supportive of the faith, and I know you to be a faithful man yourself, even though you do not preach your faith to your followers. Perhaps if you had done so, your power would not have been taken from you as it once was."
         "Perhaps you are right," Garmalus admitted, "but, then again, perhaps not. We were like children with a new toy, trying to figure out every which way magic could work and where our limits lay, not knowing that there truly are none. Even I became caught up in the creation of new races, such as the centaurs and the griffins, as well as the many other wonders we encountered. Secretly, however, I am grateful the gift was taken for a time. I realized then how dangerous it could become if not strictly monitored and controlled. I decided then to rely on the God of Magic for assistance in determining what magic should and should not be used for. After all, His wisdom supercedes all other."
         "And yet you do not instill this same guidance in your apprentices or even your colleagues. If you believe that so fervently, why not train the others to follow the same guidance, Garmalus?"
         "I could not force those beliefs on the other wizards any more than you could force your beliefs on the unrighteous. They must choose how they will wield their magic, making their own decisions and learning from their own mistakes. I will only interfere when they become a danger to themselves or those around them. I will keep my promise to the God of the Gift and deal severely with any misuses, but free-agency will prevail, Versalas. It must if they are ever to learn to control themselves."
         "I hadn't quite thought of it that way. You have restored my faith in you, which brings me to the purpose of my visit. I have received a vision of perilous times ahead. Faith is dwindling and wickedness abounding. I fear my time in the land of the living will soon be cut short..."
         "No! Mantrus, tell me what you know and I will dispense wizards for your protection. You must live to lead the faithful."
         "I fear that in the near future there may not be any faithful left to lead, my friend." Garmalus fell back in his seat as if he had been physically struck. His shock registered plainly on his face and he regarded the prophet's somber expression as he continued, "Do not fear for my well-being, Garmalus. I do not fear death or what it brings. What I fear is the fate in store for those who must survive the perilous times ahead. I have prayed faithfully for a way to help mankind avoid this complete loss of faith, but it cannot be avoided. As they choose evil over good, they will soon learn what it is to govern themselves without guidance from on high."
         "May the High God have mercy on us all if that day comes," Garmalus breathed in amazement.
         "Not if, Garmalus, when. It will happen, and it is God's mercy that brings me to your door. He will forsake this people as they forsake Him, but there will come a day when he will save them from themselves." Mantrus withdrew a scroll from his pack and handed it to Garmalus as he continued, "This scroll contains a prophecy regarding mankind's salvation. It has been revealed to me that you and those that follow in your office as High Master are to be the protectors of the prophecy, and one shall play a role in its fulfillment. Guard this as you would your most secret spells. Reveal its existence only to the next High Master, giving him or her the same charge as I have given you. The future of all mankind is now in your hands."
         Garmalus studied the seal on the scroll thoughtfully before his gaze locked with that of the prophet's. In reverence he replied, "I accept this charge most humbly, Prophet Versalas. The prophecy shall be safe with me and my successors, I promise you."
         "Thank you, Garmalus. May the God of All watch over you always. Now, I must leave." They both arose from their places clasping hands that turned into an embrace. As they withdrew, Mantrus said, "Goodbye, old friend. I fear we shall not meet again in this life."
         A gentle smile crept into Garmalus' grave expression as he said, "In that case, dear Mantrus, save me a seat next to you in the next." They embraced once more before Garmalus summoned a neophyte to accompany Mantrus to the front gate.
         After Mantrus had left, Garmalus sealed the chamber once more and sat studying the scroll as it lay before him. He then picked it gingerly up off the table beside his chair and carefully broke the seal. He almost forgot to breathe as he read the words written there:

When a land once one has been undone
And unity is no more
And man shall reign through death and pain
Satiating greed with war
Then come two - not knowing they do -
To fulfill all prophecy
And they shall fight for truth and right
And set all mankind free.

A thief shall grow in many a role
'Til this thief become a knight
Yet he shall hide a power inside
To champion the right
And he shall seek from valley to peak
A king worth fighting for
To swear his might to this king's fight
And put an end to war
Yet he is the key to a mystery
And with the aid of friend
All races shall come to once more be one
Putting all strife to an end.

A boy turned slave shall seek to save
Those who would be prey
And fight a cause to establish laws
To make the unrighteous pay
And for this thing shall he be king
Declared so by common voice
A burden that he shall bear nobly
Though it be not by his own choice
For a truth has he learned of the God all have spurned
As they turned to their wicked ways
And as prophet and seer he shall seek to steer
All souls to more glorious days.

Two men born low shall come to know
They have destinies like no others
And this burden they bear is a burden they share
And shall bond them together as brothers.

         Garmalus reflected for a time on the sacred words he had just read before standing and carrying the scroll to the back of the library. Pausing before an archway, he muttered the incantation that granted him access to the chamber where the Forbidden Volumes of Magic and other magical items only accessible to the masters were kept. Garmalus could feel the stark contrast between the sacred scroll he carried and the dark power that emanated from the dusty tomes that surrounded him. The scroll that contained the hope of the world seemed so out of place among the secrets that could bring so much pain to it if revealed. He was certain that this is the reason Mantrus brought the scroll to him. The wards on this chamber were such that, if the entire world were to be conquered, this room would be the last to fall.
         Stopping at a seemingly blank section of wall, Garmalus whispered a short phrase known only to himself. The stones of the wall seemed to melt before him revealing the High Master's collection of books and items he had taken personal responsibility to keep safe from the world. He placed the scroll within one of the many compartments and then sealed the wall once more. As the stonework flowed back into place, he left the inner room and reinforced the seal on the outer door. It was time to summon the Inner Conclave of Wizards. They must all be apprised of the dark times that lay ahead. Only a fool would believe that the events that the prophet spoke of would not affect the order of magic.



"Chapter 1 - Joric, the Orphan"  [13+]