Wielder of the Flame (4 page)

A black bird soared across the sky,
in search of food.

It was a hot day. The sun was bright, unhindered by clouds.

The bird had flown from its cliff-side perch down to the
basin below, a thriving center of civilization known as Concord Valley.

The races who dwelt here were many and diverse, but united
under a single ruler. When commanded, together they formed a sizable and rising
force to be reckoned with. But without direction, they struggled to maintain
alliances. Towering mountains surrounded the valley on one side, an immense
dark lake covered the other. The water of the lake was always rough and uneven,
blown by the wind sweeping through the valley. There were many towns and cities
across the way, but at the heart of the numerous territories within the valley
was a vast city, the center of which was dominated by a massive fortress.

It was an impressive structure, designed by a genius, yet
dark mind. Thousands of slaves had died in its construction, their bodies
thrown into the walls, sinking deep into the very mortar of the construct. Where
the hands of men failed to work, powerful enchantments had been used to finish
the great building. Shattering the skyline with its height, all of its
spiraling towers, winding corridors, arches, balconies, walkways and staircases
accentuated the tall, gigantic dome in its center. From its highest, dizzying,
point, the buildings surrounding it far below appeared as small pebbles along
the shore. Its surface was that of charred black rock, cold and dark. Gargoyles
and statues adorned its vast exterior. Some wore ugly faces of bloodthirsty
rage and horror, others the façades of tormented souls in anguish. It was
hideous, and yet awe-inspiring, frightening and otherworldly, a powerful and
unbreakable mighty stronghold.

The enormous dome, even with the use and aid of powerful
magic, was a feat of architectural engineering.

But the bird did not notice any of these details while it
flew in-between the many spiraling towers. It only had an eye for potential
food.

As it circled lower and lower it drew near a large open
balcony. A cornucopia of food was laid out on tables, right in the open, but
there were several large figures in the room connected to the balcony and
though they were mostly distracted, talking amongst themselves, they were a
possible threat to the bird. Two more figures were on the balcony, browsing
through the food, picking up pieces of meat and fruit here and there and eating
them. The bird’s hunger overcame its fear and it flittered down, landing on the
guardrail of the balcony furthest away from the moving figures, but still near
something edible. It was not a very intelligent bird and gave a loud squawk or
two after a few moments of its landing, ruining any sort of chance it had of
not being noticed. Perhaps it was simply voicing its hunger, or was warning the
figures nearby that it was going to eat some of the food now and would defend
itself if attacked. Regardless, the bird failed to see the third figure on the
balcony in the shadows nearby.

There was a quick flash of pink as a long extending tongue
whipped out and wrapped around the bird and retracted. There was a crunch and a
spurt of blood and the figure in the shadows stepped out.

His name was Sklan.

He was tall, easily six and a half heads high, and for the
most part looked humanoid in stature, but with the facial features of something
different entirely. He had small overlapping scales instead of skin, which
appeared oily and shiny in the hot golden light of the sun. The majority of the
scales were a murky emerald in color with a natural pattern of jagged
blade-shaped stripes, amethyst in hue. His head was almost entirely like that
of a snake, snout instead of a mouth, and red slits for eyes, but still held a
hint of human features in it. He was dressed in the robes he always wore when
on official business. He was a Luminary, one of the most elite of titles, and
he made sure his look reflected that. All the other leaders and dignitaries
present were dressed similarly, but each with wardrobes that drew from their
own race’s style of apparel. His robes were extravagantly designed, byzantium
in color, inlaid with gold patterns. Over his chest and shoulders was a set of
decorations that was made from dragon bones fused together with black metal.
And finally, his four fingered reptilian-human hands held a black staff with a
blood red ruby at its top.

The same ruby that all Luminaries and prominent leaders
possessed. A symbol of their loyalty to their Master and leader, the Great One.

Sklan finished with the bird, mostly swallowing it whole.

“You grahks are a repulsive race!” said one of the others
there on the balcony by the tables of meat, “There is a feast aplenty before
your eyes and yet you deem it insufficient.” 

The fury within Sklan quickly rose. How dare a mere
appointee address a Luminary in such a manner.

But the other individual out on the balcony was Duwarr, the
human Luminary, so Sklan withheld his anger. Duwarr was busy separating the
bone from one of the meats before putting it on his platter and did not hear
the comment. He had long black hair, pulled back from his face, and a face with
sharp features and dark eyes. He was dressed in a new style of semi-robes of
various colors. Sklan found human fashion very distasteful the way they were
always changing, never staying with something elegant and consistent.

“You would be wise to watch your tongue,” Sklan hissed at
the young man, loud enough for Duwarr to hear.

The human Luminary looked up and quickly assessed the
situation.

“Aget,” he glared at his assistant, “Withdraw yourself, and
fetch me another goblet of wine.” Duwarr motioned for the young man to the far
end of the balcony, away from Sklan.

“I apologize for whatever may have slipped from my
appointee’s mouth. Council has proceeded for too long today.”

Sklan outwardly glared at him, but inwardly agreed with him.

Their leader had been gone for some time now. In his
absence, tension had been mounting between the various races. It was not
uncommon for Tremos to leave on occasion, to go on tasks that his servants were
not powerful enough to complete on their own. But he was never gone for too
long. His stronghold was here, and his rising army within it. It was here that
most of his attention was focused. Planning and organizing until he decided the
time was right for them to march West. His faithful Luminaries were always left
to care for things. But the Luminaries had been running things for a long time
now without a leader. Without his divine and all-powerful guidance things had
become difficult. Sub-classes like goblins and gnomes had been at each other’s
throats and much dissention in between the lower and higher races had been
growing in general. Everyone had been preparing for war for what seemed like
ages now, preparing to fight and re-conquer the lands which had been taken from
them so long ago. Never had one of Tremos’s expeditions lasted as long as this
last one had.

With agitation rising throughout the realm, the Luminaries
had decided to hold Council ahead of their usual schedule. The message had gone
out and they had gathered. But nothing was being resolved. With Tremos so long
departed, most of the Luminaries had begun to turn their attention towards
protecting their own dominions. They were quick to forget that Tremos had
gathered them all together when they were weak. Only together, under Tremos, in
all his power and glory, would they conquer Lyrridia. Not a single race was
strong enough alone to do any such thing. Without their Master to guide them,
unite them, they would all quickly fall into petty exchanges that would turn
into fights that would lead to battles that would escalate into wars. Sklan had
grown tired of the arguments and had withdrawn to the balcony to think. But
even on the balcony he faced disturbance so he decided to return to the
Council.

Sklan’s dominion was over the grahk race. Legend claimed
that their lineage could be traced back to a time when the great trug nation
was divided by war, and many of the trug tribes were forced to migrate to a
part of the land dominated by vast lakes and swamps. After hundreds of cycles
stuck in the water they changed and adapted to their surroundings, but Sklan
did not fully believe that claim. Grahks were a much more dignified race,
higher up on the chain of status. They were water-based, scaly, reptilian, some
fish-like, and dwelt in two great cities. Half the population lived just
outside the massive fortress, always working to supply any needed hard work,
strong warriors, or rare users of the arts. The rest dwelt in a vast underwater
city in the dark lake nearby. As Emperor of the grahks, all of the accompanying
problems of the race were Sklan’s responsibilities. As a grahk himself Sklan
felt a strong brotherhood bond to his race and wanted his people to succeed.
When his Master, The Great One, ruled all of Lyrridia, Sklan and his kind would
be the first to receive glory and would be the greatest over all the rest. The
only problem was that all of the other Luminaries wanted the same for
themselves and their dominions.

Sklan turned away from Duwarr and began the short walk back
into the room.

All the races were present, each with a Luminary and a host
of appointees and other ambassadors from the various regions.

Kalkra, the Luminary of the macji, or long-tails as many
called them, sat in his chair with poise that appeared both graceful and
deadly. His triangular shaped ears kept flattening on his head and the sunlight
glinted off his yellow eyes. His body was covered with a thin, but fine, fur
that was a dark grey on his back, fading to a silver on his sides, and a white
belly. He wore little clothing due to the heat and the fact that he was already
covered with fur. His loin cloth was a dark blue, contrasting with the golden
rings on his arms and decorative gold and gem encrusted mantle about his
shoulders. He had two female appointees sitting by his sides, both were dressed
similarly to their leader, but with much less extravagance. One of the
appointees had Kalkra’s tail in her hands and was gently stroking it. Kalkra
appeared soothed by it.

The goblin Luminary, Nuib, was sitting as tall as he could
in his chair, trying to make himself seem more important than his small figure
allowed. He wore a grandiose headdress with feathers and other decorations to
further compensate for his size, a practice all of the goblin leaders engaged
in. He wore equally fancy clothes to complete his ensemble, rich in color, to
contrast his ashen complexion. Gaudy rings displaying rubies, sapphires, and
all other precious gems, adorned each of his long bony fingers. A number of
goblin appointees sat and stood nearby, in very simple brown shirts and
breeches. Nuib may have been small, but he was very perceptive and shrewd. He
was an individual with fingers in many pies and not one to be underestimated.

Guag, trug Luminary, was present with both of his
clan-brothers, Kirgor and Frilug. Sklan was pleased to see Guag take up the
mantle after his predecessor died not too long ago. The trugs had been much
more civilized since. Guag was an intelligent leader, a fact his brawny figure
belied. He had the level headedness that many of his race lacked. Guag wore his
ceremonial robes with pride. They were simple robes, but it was an improvement
over the grungy armor his kind use to wear during Council. His skin was a
darker grey-green than most of his kindred, but it suited his uniqueness. His
black beard quivered as he argued heatedly with Nuib.

Aside from Duwarr, the last Luminary was Banild, leader of
the gnomes. Sklan knew the little gnome was more brilliant than any of the
others there, but his brilliance came at a price. Banild had difficulties
communicating with anyone as his massive mind was always going back to his
machines and inventions. He always showed up to Council in the same smudged,
dusty, dirty, workshop shirt, breeches, black apron, and his strange multi-lens
spectacles wrapped around his head above his long, oversized, ears. The
inventor’s race never really gained the upper hand in negotiations, but Sklan
knew that it did not matter to Banild or his people. Sklan supposed that
whatever leverage Banild missed out for his kind during Council, he made up for
it with his work on the Summoning Stone. The contraptions the gnomes made
fascinated Sklan and he had to admit to himself that he was jealous that the
Master favored them so much because of their experiments and research on the
Crystal.

As he was making his way across the room Sklan finally
turned his attention to his chair and his only appointee there, Omech. The
grahk emperor had many apprentices with many different abilities and talents,
all only the brightest and most brilliant. But Omech had a special affinity to
the arcane arts, of which Sklan had never before seen. Omech was also the
oldest son of the Krulljo family, one of the oldest families of the grahk race
and furthermore the family from which came some of the most legendary magic
wielders such as Sklan himself. It was because of this, the young man was
chosen as appointee. Sklan watched proudly as Omech was paying very close
attention to the proceedings.

Who knows,
Sklan thought, while watching Omech,
one
day, when Lyrridia is divided up, and I have gone my way of this place, he
might just become the next Emperor.

Unless I have achieved immortality by then.

Sklan smiled at this.

He had faith that Tremos did indeed have the knowledge to
grant immortality, and that he was saving such a prize for only his most
faithful followers. Sklan considered himself among such worthy.

The room was filled with chatter, the loudest of the
conversations being more of an argument between the trug and goblin Luminary.
No one really noticed as Sklan reentered the room after his short respite on
the balcony.