Prologue

Age of Power – Year 523 of the First Age

The page had to be here. He had spent too much time researching it for it not to be here. He rifled through the mess as the mountain of books in the musty old room continued to pile higher. He knew he must hurry. His enemy was catching up to him.

“Come on, where are you?” King Wystan threw aside two more books, growling in frustration. Sweat was beginning to trickle down his back in his fervent haste to find what he wanted. Everything was scattered carelessly. Someone had clearly been here before, and he could only hope they weren’t after the same thing. Relief flooded him as he found what he was looking for under the next stack of books. He stood up, excitement coursing through him. The sword that was swinging from his belt collided with his lamp and extinguished it. He picked it up and dashed to the nearest lamp-lit table. King Wystan lifted the small brass latch and opened it to find that it wasn’t a book at all. Instead, he was looking into a box containing several artifacts. He sat for a moment admiring the ancient trinkets inside until his eyes fell on something familiar. It was a small piece of parchment with the words written on it,

Far Eastern Shore. Mines of Dank’hurst.

He jumped and glanced behind him as a deafening clang echoed throughout the library. He knew he must hurry. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Without looking, King Wystan tore the page from the scroll and darted down the long tunnel on the other end of the room.

The tunnel was musty and so dark, it felt heavy. It wound around and around. Old flagstones lay unevenly along the path. Wystan tripped more than once in his haste to exit the tunnel. He wondered if it would ever end, until finally he felt the fresh night air rush into his nostrils as he left the tunnel. He looked over his shoulder one last time and mounted his horse. He kicked off hard, but his enemy saw him just in time to give chase. The wind whistled in his ears as he rode into the night at top speed. His eyes were streaming from the cold air that was blasting his face. He rode for several minutes. Finally, on the horizon, he could see the entire army of Alldel, his army, standing ahead waiting on him. King Wystan drew his sword and prepared for a battle that was sure to live on throughout history. The massive Rhodhinian army behind him was gaining. He fell into ranks with his fellow four field marshals, and they with their five subordinate commanders, each.

“Steady!” He said as he took control.

“Did you find it?” Amos asked. Wystan pulled the parchment from his cloak and passed it to Amos. Amos took it with puzzled eyes. “Are you sure this…”

They could feel the ground beneath them shaking from the pounding of thousands of hooves. The Rhodhinian army spilled over the top of the hill, and the front row of Alldelan soldiers knelt down, raising their shields and thrusting out their pikes, bracing for the attack.

He didn’t know how they were going to survive. This fight was beyond them. He knew it, and his men knew it too. It was a testament to their loyalty to him and to Alldel that they had even followed him here. Like being sucked in by a strong ocean current, they found themselves engulfed by the Rhodhinian army. Rhodhinian horses tumbled and rolled as they collided with the Alldelan spears. The sound of their cries shattered the night around them. Bloodthirsty and brutal, they clashed mercilessly. They gave no concern for the fallen but trampled over them as though they weren’t there.

King Wystan raised his sword and made a wide swing. He felt the blade crash against his enemy, but they were overwhelmed. The sword had been a waste of time. He had to take more drastic measures. He sheathed his sword, reached around to his back, and pulled out a magnificent scarlet staff with a ruby set in the top. This was his weapon, Dawnwood, the Staff of Alldel.

He held Dawnwood over his head with both hands clasped firmly around its shaft and brought it down sharply. Just as he had come to expect, he felt a burning sensation in his shoulders. It traveled down to his fingertips, and as if following the strange feeling with his eyes, saw the ruby at the end of the staff light up. A faint ripple, like a heatwave across the desert, blasted from the top of the gem and shot across the battlefield. The front line of Rhodhinians fell over backward as if the wave had absorbed all the life from their bodies.

As he had expected, a crackle of thunder boomed overhead, and a mighty gust of wind caught him off balance. He looked around and saw a man standing before him. He knew the man to be King Seevus of Rhodhinia. He wore bright blue sapphire earrings that glowed brilliantly in the night sky. Wystan knew these earrings were the source of the man’s tremendous power.

Seevus floated gently to the ground. He stood just short of six feet in height, had blue eyes, his naked face was thin and severe, and his short white hair stood firm against the breeze. They stared at each other only for a split second, and then Seevus lunged forward as if to strike Wystan, but instead of hitting him, a ripple similar to Wystan’s soared toward him. Wystan was ready. He swung at the wave as if to knock it away with his staff, and it dissipated on contact, leaving his hands tingling. Wystan knew Seevus was indeed, more powerful. His ability to control immeasurable amounts of energy and his mastery of the elements were second to none. He was grossly outmatched.

Seevus flicked his wrists at the air, and a whirlwind of fire spun up around Wystan. Wystan raised his staff, and the whirlwind turned to water, drenching the soldiers beneath them. He raised Dawnwood to the sky and thrust the shaft deep into the ground. A cloud of dust appeared where he stood just moments before, and he reappeared instantly behind Seevus. He raised his sword to strike, but Seevus was again, ready. An invisible pulse of energy caught Wystan’s sword, and it flew from his hands, landing on the ground several feet below. He dropped to the ground as quickly as was safe in order to retrieve it.

Seevus vanished and reappeared right in front of Wystan. He held his hands out, almost touching Wystan’s chest. Wystan’s eyes widened, but just before Seevus released his attack, another wave of magic energy slammed into Seevus from behind. A deep roar soon followed as though the wave were traveling too fast for sound to keep up with it. Seevus flipped over and vanished.

Wystan looked around and saw his ally, Ardis, the commander of the Lorlean army standing resolute below, wielding Shadowsong, the Staff of Lorlea. Ardis turned as a Rhodhinian soldier approached him and sent another wave into the crowd. Another roar boomed across the battlefield. He turned back around, just in time to catch a glimpse of Wystan parrying Seevus. Wystan sheathed his sword and readied his staff again for Seevus’ attack.

Seevus vanished. They searched for him, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Ardis turned around to look behind him, Wystan disappeared and then reappeared somewhere in mid-air above Ardis. At that instant, Wystan spotted Seevus on the ground below.

“Behind you!” He yelled. Ardis turned around. Wystan held out his staff in front of him, concentrating with all his might on what he must do. A barrier appeared between Seevus and Ardis, protecting Ardis from the elements summoned by Seevus.

Seevus vanished again and reappeared behind Wystan. This time Wystan was ready. He had already directed his staff at the very spot that Seevus reappeared. Another wave caught him around the middle and sent him soaring through the night sky. Wystan’s hands were tingling from the power of the last attack, but there was no time to recover. He grabbed Ardis by the arm and vanished. They materialized somewhere out of sight.

“I’m going to cause a distraction, do what you can,” he said. Ardis nodded. Wystan moved back in front of Seevus, who was breathing hard from Wystan’s last attack. Wystan swung Dawnwood out in front of him. A great wind rushed toward Seevus. Seevus held his hands out in front of him, stopping the wind before him and then threw his hands to the side as though to toss it away from him.

The wind rushed at Ardis who was standing just a few feet off to the side. Too weak to guard against it, the force of the wind blew him over and tore Shadowsong from his hands sending it flipping into the air. As if in slow motion, Wystan saw Seevus’ envious eyes follow the Staff of Lorlea up into the air. Instinctively Seevus spun on the spot and vanished.

Knowing this would be his only chance, Wystan drew back his staff as quickly as he could and swung it intently toward the point he calculated Seevus would reappear, somewhere beneath the apex of Shadowsong’s flight. Right on cue, Seevus appeared. Distracted by the thought of stealing the Shadowsong, he did not see Wystan’s attack. It caught him around the neck, sending him crashing to the ground.

Momentarily astounded by their luck, a flicker of a smile threatened to spread across Wystan’s face, but then he saw something to make his heart stop. Seevus had reacted far quicker than he had anticipated. Another wave of energy was soaring directly toward him and it collided with Shadowsong. Wystan had just enough time to block the attack, but it wasn’t fast enough to save the Staff of Lorlea. On the ground below him lay the black staff in three pieces. Temporarily stunned by the blow, he hadn’t noticed Seevus’ disappearance. He materialized behind Wystan and grabbed Wystan by the head. He felt a searing pain course through his body. As if his blood had turned to ice, he felt cold coursing through him, flowing through his veins. He felt pain in his chest. It was no longer possible to breathe. He felt his muscles seize up, and then without warning, everything went black and he plummeted to the ground. Seevus raised his voice to the surrounding battle as a blue aura split the sky around him. As he shouted in villainous glory,

“Long live the King of Alldel!” Lightning split the sky behind him, and he vanished from sight.