In a voluminous cavern deep under the Grimfang Mountains the Dark Lord sat high atop his newly constructed throne. The lofty seat was made from large pieces of black volcanic glass which lay scattered throughout the cavern floor. The glass stones were held together with a mortar made from the blood and bodies of hundreds of slaves. As it was being constructed the Dark Lord whispered a spell in the form of a chant he discovered in the ancient sheepskin scrolls of the Black Druids. The spell he read was a small one, just a few lines of tiny runes, barely noticeable in the margins on the sheepskin. Yet for being so small it was extremely powerful and allowed him to infuse Black Magick into every stone and every drop of blood that went into the thrones construction.

Through this seat of black glass and blood the Dark Lord felt immensely powerful as he explored its capabilities. To his surprise his dark powers rejuvenated as strong as any sacrifice he took from the stone slab. As he looked out into the nothingness of the vast cavern he could see far and away through the eyes of his Black Sorcerers who roamed the earth. Many of his small bands of Dark Stars now traveled through the swirl of the Fell Ice, each surrounded by a company of ensorcelled thralls. They made their way to the southern lands of man, on their hunt for more slaves. Some trudged west while others trekked east, but all had to find their way around the vast mountain range of the Grimfangs.

Once past the Grimfangs his minions who traveled east needed to make their way around the northern most part of the tall mountain range known as the Tallspines. Once past those mountains they turned southward into warmer lands and moved through a vast grassy flatland known as the Mongol Plains. Living throughout these lands his Black Sorcerers found numerous tribes of the roving Mongol people.

The Dark Lord scanned the minds of many of his Sorcerers in the Dark Stars as they moved through the flatlands. He stayed with one of the lead Sorcerers looking through his eyes as he walked with his Star and a cluster of compelled warriors. The small group was making their way in silence and under the cover of darkness as they approached a large group of tents laid out on the plain. Before entering the encampment one of the five Sorcerers drew a five pointed pentagram with his crooked staff in the dust at the camps edge. Once it was drawn all five took a position standing at each point of the star. The Dark Lord could hear the Sorcerers begin to whisper a chant as they stood looking towards the tents. The chant was a powerful incantation building in intensity until the five let it loose putting everyone within the camp under a spell of lethargy and forgetfulness. They were then able to move through the tents unchallenged and carve out a swath of people, as many as they could handle, under their spell of compulsion. When they had their groups of men, women and children assembled they shepherded them back out into the darkness. In the early morning light those left in the camp would have no memory of what happened during the night, nor would they have the energy to look for any of the missing.

The Dark Lord marveled at the power his new throne gave him. Through this seat he could get into the heads of his followers and issue commands without ever having to leave the cavern. He could even inflict pain or kill them outright if the need arose. He was able to travel farther than he ever thought possible as he jumped from one mind to the next of his Black Sorcerers as they moved in far off lands.. He looked on through their eyes from a quarter of the world away as they traveled ever farther east collecting slaves in the lands beyond the Mongol plains. He watched as they came across people known as Huns and Chinamen and many others who's names he did not care to remember.

He then turned his attention westward to the Black Sorcerers harvesting souls from the cold northern lands of the Barbarians. He much desired these people for their strength in arms and spirit, and because he hated them most for past transgressions. The Dark Lord watched, with great satisfaction, as his Sorcerers reaved through entire clan holds of the warrior Nordic and Finni, and whole villages of the meeker Svealanders.

He was pleased as his minions become more consumed by the power of the Black Magick and stronger in its use. With every grisly sacrifice they preformed on their bloody altar slabs their strength in spell casting grew. After each outing his Dark Stars returned leading ever larger throngs of men, women and children under their spells of compulsion, ever contributing more and more to his horde of slaves.

Once the the mindless rabbles were brought back to the stronghold they were placed in holding pens throughout the caverns. The Dark Lord would then walk amongst them assigning each wretched soul to their fate. As he looked into the empty heads of men, women and children he hissed his commands to a gaggle of lowly black sorcerers who followed. They would usher the newly acquired slaves away to where they would live out the rest of their lives. Most went to the labor gangs to work in digging and clearing the tunnels and caves, some went to the training caverns to be soldiers for his ever growing army, and handfuls were picked to be servants where needed. Those he found unable to do any of these things were useless to him. It was a small mercy, perhaps a good thing, these people were kept in an entranced state. They were unaware of their fate as they were marched towards the altar slabs in the darkest parts of the cavern where the sacrifices were performed.

There were always a few he spied within the throngs who had within them truly dark hearts. These men, and some women, were usually leaders of a tribe or a clan, Barbarian mystics or eastern shaman, and a scattering of murderers and thieves, to name a few. They were all filled with evil intent and some even carried a light touch of the dark arts. These were brought from their trance and forced to participate in a rite of passage into the Black Sorcerers. If they passed they moved on to perform their first sacrifice and begin the transformation. If they failed they became the sacrifice, their dark souls offering a bit more power than the usual fare to those who performed it.

As the Dark Lord sat and pondered his new throne he was approached by one of his Dread Lords. "My Lord, tis time again to think upon digging thy tunnels to the South. It wilt take many lives of thine slaves to reach the East. Thine armies may grow that much greater if thine holes to the South were't expanded," the hulking form said from the ground below.

He ignored him as he had done many times before. He would not stop the gangs of slaves digging and clearing the caves and tunnels leading east under the mountains. He was growing tired of the buzz of the dreaded Good Magick coming from the Elves living in these mountains. He knew it would take many more turns to reach their miserable Vale, but he did not care. Nothing was more important to him than the destruction of these Elves.

Besides, the plains below the Grimfangs were full of the wolves holding the spark of the Good Magick. From his throne he could see them dimly moving about, like the lice upon one of his slaves. They were not ready to go to war against these mangy wolves, they were not near strong enough.

It was mid-afternoon when the three Elves rode down into Aerith-Ellel, the city surrounding the famed Hall of Mage Lore. Katyr could not get over the size of the city, it put the small dell around the Mage House of the Western Vale to shame. Houses and buildings, archways and spires rose all around, most carved from a beautiful pink sandstone rock. The vines he had grown used to seeing were draped everywhere throughout the city, budding with flowers of every color. Katyr could see more Elves than he could count going to and fro along the cobblestone streets. They did not appear to notice the beauty around them as they walked. All seemed to be lost in thought as they moved about on some unknown business of their own.

The wolves ran on ahead of their little group and sniffed at everything along the way. Their tails gave happy wags with every little discovery they came across. The Elves of the city were too busy on their errands to take notice of the Saddlebacks in their midst. Only when Shadowback and his pack-mates stopped to bark at Solid Tundras they spied along the road did the Northern Elves take heed. Some would even stop and smile while giving a proper wolf greeting, much to the delight of the Saddlebacks.

Between the tall buildings Katyr could see over a dozen giants working off in the distance. Several worked around a small mountain of rough pale pink sandstone boulders, shaping them into rectangles with their huge hands. Others then threw the worked stones to waiting giants who stacked them as if they were bales of hay. A cloud of pink dust hung over them as they constructed buildings rising high into the sky.

"The new palace for the new High King and his family when they come to this side of the Vale to stay," Merlara said when she saw Katyr watching the giants at work. "As if they need a bigger place to live. The old palace is over there."

Katyr looked to where she pointed and he could see down into spacious grounds surrounded by tall walls. The grass of the grounds was a deep emerald green surrounding a complex of many buildings. Tall thin evergreen trees bordered the main cobblestone thoroughfares running throughout the grounds. At every intersection large beautifully carved marble fountains shot plumes of water high into the air. Behind the buildings Katyr could see a small forest of a variety of manicured trees growing. At the center of the grounds stood a tall circular building made of bright white marble stone. The building was the tallest standing six levels high with each level surrounded by intricately carved pillars. Vines loaded with colorful flowers spiraled around each of the pillars. From the walls and scattered throughout the buildings were tall golden spires pointing high into the sky. Katyr thought it was a beautiful sight to behold. He also thought it was big enough to house an army. He shook his head, unable to understand why any family would need a larger place to live.

"Some say the new High King Adorellan Nuala is going to make his eastern palace on a grand scale to match the House of Mage Lore," Merlara said. "Personally, I think his old one is grand enough."

After a ride that seemed to take forever of going up and down through twisting and turning streets the two Western Vale Elves could finally see their destination, the House of Mage Lore. It was built into the wall of the mountains surrounding the Vale and went high into the sky. The building was made of the same black stone as the mountain it rested against. The rough cut stones were dazzling as they glittered in the sunlight from the crystal veins of quartz running through them. Tall, wide tapestries hung down the sides of the huge building in the color of gray trimmed in silver. Upon them were printed large Elven runes in bright silver. They spelled out wards of protection for the land and spells that promised continued abundance.

The three Elves rode up to the steps where young Elflings awaited to take their horses to the stables. Dozens of the young boys and girls stood about all dressed in the same light gray uniforms while dozens more went running to get horses or were leading them out for someone waiting. Katyr thought is was quite a waist when they could just ride to the stables themselves.

"We go up the steps into the Grand Hall of Mages. Then we will go to the first Mage we are to see today," Merlara said as she looked them both over, straightening here and brushing there.

"Do we bring our staffs?" Glynfiel asked, not wanting to part with it.

"Of course Glyn," Merlara said. "You are a Battle Mage, no one can take your staff. Katyr's will be proof that he had knowledge of the High Mage Belador. They may not like it, but I do not think they will take it away. That will be up to the High Mage of your Vale."

The Grand Hall was spectacular as they walked in through a high peaked arch. It was vast and cavernous going far into the side of the mountain. Rows of balconies hewn from the living rock lined each side of the cavern walls. Katyr had to stop and crane his neck back to look straight up as he counted twelve levels high on both sides. Walkways ran from balcony to balcony and across the far back wall joining each side of the cavern. They could see wide stairs carved into the stone of the back wall that zigzagged up to each level of walkway.

Katyr could see tall, wide doorways all along the walkways leading into rooms chiseled from the stone. On each side of the doorways hung tapestries of every color giving a rainbow splash against the stark black stone of the Hall. Upon each tapestry were printed large golden letters in Elven script identifying the room they hung by. On every level Elves in gray gossamar robes moved about the walkways or sat at tables on the balconies. All seemed involved in conversation with each other sounding a dull rumble throughout the vast Grand Hall.

"To the left side are the Novice rooms and the Halls of Learning," Merlara explained. "On the right side are the offices of the Mages. That is where we are going, three levels up."

"Seems like so many rooms, do that many Elves really train here?" Katyr asked.

"All the Vales send their most promising Mages to train here. Except the Western Vale of course. The learned Mages here do not train in sea lore," Merlara said. "The Norvale Guard, the Royal Army as well as the House Guard are required to spend time with the Mages, especially the new recruits. Every so often we have to come back, which is good, as it keeps us on good terms with the more powerful Mages."

A troop of about twenty Elven warriors walked by. All were wearing the same light armor as Merlara, only their steel was of a golden tint. They stopped a minute to greet the Saddlebacks that ran fearlessly through their legs. Glynfiel whispered to him that these were the House Guard of the High King. All of the broad-shouldered Elves stood about a foot taller than Katyr, and he was considered tall by Elven standards. Even though they were of a different Guard they saluted Merlara with a fist to chest movement as they walked by, acknowledging her rank as First Lieutenant in the Norvale Guard.

Katyr and Glynfiel could see many Elven guards standing at various posts throughout the cavern as they climbed the stone steps. The guards wore winged great-helms and heavy armor made of strong-metal tinged in black. They held shields and long-spears of burnished silver and wore black floor length cloaks which draped from their shoulders and down their backs. Katyr could see the White Magic burning bright in each soldier, as strong as in any Mage. These were the renowned Mage Guard of the Northern Vale. Katyr could see these halls were very well protected.

The three reached a wide doorway on the third tier that was bracketed by red and white tapestries which read 'Hall of Books and Scrolls'in Elven script. The Tundras ran on ahead into the dark room without waiting. Just as quick they ran right back out and hugged up close to the sides of the three Elves. The hair along their backs stood high and their ears were pricked forward as they stared back into the room. With their tails tucked firmly between their legs the six big wolves gave soft whimpers and whines as they crowded close. Katyr was surprised by their reactions until he began seeing pairs of bright eyes reflecting the light of the Hall all throughout the room. He began counting the pairs of eyes but as more and more came into view he gave up. Suddenly Katyr smiled and held back a laugh when he realized the source of discomfort for Shadowback and his pack. The mighty Tundras, who had no problem facing down Dread Cats or taking on a pack of Grim Wolves, were stifled when confronted by a bunch of common house cats.

"Ah yes," Merlara said bit sheepishly. She looked down at the wolves with a giggle. "I have forgotten about the cats. The Mages keep them so rodents do not destroy their books and scrolls. This Mage keeps an army of them."

After giving the pack firm instructions to wait at the doorway the three Elves went into a large dark room whose walls were covered with tall wooden shelves holding thousands of books and scrolls. The room was wide and it went deep, just how deep was hard to tell as row after row of tall freestanding shelves marched back into the darkness. The front of the room was free of shelves but the floor was littered with tall stacks of books and scrolls. Merlara led them through a maze of narrow pathways that brought them to a small desk high in the air just before the rows of shelves. Bracketing the desk on one side was a messy stack of books and on the other a hap-hazard pile of scrolls. On the corner lay a fat ball of orange striped fur from which a tail hung down making 'S' shapes in the air. Two golden eyes stared down in boredom at the three. Barely seen sitting behind the desk, on a tall spindly stool, was a small Elf in stained gray robes. He was bent over a thick tome under the dim light of an oil lamp that hung above him. As they approached they could hear silent whispers coming from the Elf as his lips moved while he read.

"This is Mage Hagwin," Merlara whispered as they walked up. "He deciphers the books and scrolls that come into the Mage House. He decides their importance and which room they should go to."

"Looks like the Mage could use some help," Glynfiel whispered back as she looked around seeing no one else about.

"Master Hagwin," Merlara said as they got closer to the desk. "How nice to see you again, it has been too long!"

"Eh, whats that...?" the little Elf said looking up from his book and down at the floor in front of the desk. It took him a minute to focus and then a smile spread across his face. "Bless me, Merlara! It has been too long. You are every bit as lovely as I remember." He pushed back from his desk and hopped off the stool. He seemed to be about the same height standing as he was sitting, if that was possible. Even Glynfiel towered over the little Mage. He came around to Merlara as she bent down to give him a hug.

"How is your father? Doing well I hope," the Mage said, as he looked to Glynfiel and Katyr, not giving Merlara time to answer. "Who are these? And why do I smell wolf?"

"These are my friends from the Western Vale. This is the Battle Mage Glynfiel, friend and companion to the fallen High Mage Belador. This is Katyr, strong in the White Magic and bearer of the High Mage's staff. They are here on an important mission Master Hagwin. Could you be so kind and hear them out?" Merlara asked the tiny Mage who was looking up at them.

"I am sorry for your loss, my lady," Hagwin said. "I suppose I could take moment to listen. Let us go to the balcony, my weary eyes could use the rest."