Aurian

19 The Cataclysm

The Leviathan’s name was Ithalasa. Sensing Aurian’s need for rest, he told her that he would take her to a sheltered sea lagoon farther south, where his people often found sanctuary. As they went on their way, the Mage saw the cliffs behind the shoreline to her right gradually coming closer to the sea until they formed the coastline itself, and Aurian’s view of the Southern Lands consisted of a high wall of sharp-edged gray crags with the odd touch of dark green where tough, scrubby bushes had found a foothold within the many crevices. Sometimes the cliffs would curve inward, forming deep, sheltered bays, but Ithalasa kept going, passing them one after another. An indecipherable murmuring on the very edge of the Mage’s thoughts told her that he was communicating with other whales as he traveled.

Aurian’s head ached from the dazzle of the sun on the sparkling blue waters. She was ravenously hungry, and very miserable. Try as she would, she could not get Anvar out of her mind. Whenever she closed her eyes to try to sleep, she saw his unhappy face, as they stood together on the beach. Then, just as she was on the point of asking Ithalasa to turn back, she’d remember what had happened between the two of them and Sara, the previous night, and her anger would come boiling up all over again. And if she was not thinking of Anvar, she was thinking of Forral, which was even worse. At last, because she had no idea what to do next, and she was desperate to distract herself from her loneliness and the guilt of having abandoned the others, she decided to confide in Ithalasa, and ask his advice. Ithalasa’s response to Aurian’s talc was startling. She was drenched all over again as his massive tail lashed the water in agitation. “The Caldron is found? It has passed into evil hands? Oh, rue this bitter day!” His distress washed over the Mage, almost swamping her consciousness with its intensity.

“You know of the Caldron?” Aurian asked, balancing with difficulty on his slippery, pitching back.

“I know,” Ithalasa replied gravely. “My people carry in their minds all the lost secrets of the Cataclysm. It is our burden and our sorrow. That part of the past is best buried and lost.”

He knew. Dear Gods, he knew! The Leviathan had the answers that Aurian sought. But she could sense, without any need for further words, his reluctance to speak of the matter. Still, she had to try. “My sorrow to distress you, Great One, but will you tell me? If I hope to fight this evil, my ignorance puts a deadly weapon into the hands of my foes. And fight I must, or die in the attempt. I have sworn to bring the Archmage’s evil to an end.”

“Child, how can I?” Ithalasa’s thoughts were tinged with deep regret. “I understand your need to oppose this evil, but all the races of the Magefolk swore never to revive this perilous knowledge, lest the Cataclysm come again. I cannot tell you. Would you have the world’s destruction on your conscience, and mine?”

Aurian sighed. “Mighty One, Wise One, 1 may be young and untutored by your terms, but I understand the fearsome responsibility that rests with me. I know what devastation a war between the Magefolk could unleash. But if I should gain the three lost Weapons, surely Miathan could be subdued without too much damage being done? 1 tell you frankly that I am trained in the arts of war. But I was taught by one who had no love for violence or destruction. He was the best and gentlest of men, and the greatest of the many great gifts he gave me was respect for my fellow beings, no matter what their race, and a hatred of senseless death and bloodshed.”

The Leviathan paused a long while in thought, but his mind was veiled from the Mage. At last he sighed, a mighty sigh that threw a sparkling, irideseeijf fountain from his blowhole. “Little One—supposing you found the Weapons, Supposing you used them to defeat the Archmage, and in doing so, gained the fourth also. What would you do then?”

“I would give the Weapons to you,” Aurian told him, without hesitation, “Your people would be far better guardians of such perilous things. I would leave it to you to judge whether they should be kept, concealed, or destroyed, I seek no power—only the fulfilment of my task,”

“Are you certain of this?” Ithalasa’s thoughts were tinged with surprise.

“I swear it. Great One, you may Read me if you wish, so that you can be sure I speak the truth.”

“You would submit to that?” The Leviathan sounded astonished. Reading was hardly ever done. Far deeper and more intense than the Test of Truth, it was said to reveal the depths of a person’s very soul—and in the hands of a skilled practitioner, it was open to dangerous meddling and abuse. In even suggesting such a thing, Aurian had declared her absolute trust in Ithalasa. “I would—and I will,” the Mage said firmly. “Very well, Little One. I accept—and 1 am honored.” Steeling herself, Aurian opened her mind to Ithalasa’s probing thoughts. It was worse than her worst imaginings—a wrenching intrusion far deeper, far more intimate than any physical rape could ever be. The Leviathan sifted through her mind, turning over the very silt and dregs of her soul—all that was unworthy or petty, all the faults of pride and temper and stubbornness that were so much a part of Aurian’s makeup. All the things that she had denied, or kept safely hidden from herself, were churned up like clouding mud disturbed from the bottom of a clear stream. When it was over, she found herself huddled in a tight ball on the behemoth’s knobbly back, sickened and shaking.

“Little One, be easy.” The Leviathan’s words spread like a soothing balm through Aurian’s ravaged and abraded consciousness. “Even the Gods themselves, they say, never attained perfection. It is not pleasant to confront one’s faults, but therein lies the path to true wisdom—and that is why so few ever attain it. There is great good in you—great honesty and honor and courage, coupled with a loving heart—that far outweighs the bad. Keep a balance between both aspects of yourself, Daughter, and all will be well.”

Daughter—he had called her Daughter! Aurian’s wretchedness was lightened by a fierce surge of love and pride. She tried to gain control of herself, at least enough to ask for his answer, but he spared her the effort.

“For my part, you have my trust,” he told her, “and I owe you a great debt, for saving my child. But I may not make this decision alone. See, we are near the lagoon—there, beyond that tall point thai juts into the ocean. It is safe there—and you must eat and rest. WhiL you sleep, I will consult with my people, and plead your case, for thi\ decision must be made by all our race, not one alone.”

The Mage’s heart sank. After all she’d gone through , . But she knew that Ithalasa had done all he could, and it would be wrong to press him further. With a tremendous effort Aurian summoned the grace to thank him as she ought. There was a smile behind the Leviathan’s reply, and she knew that he approved of her efforts. “SeeP” he told her. “Already your wisdom grows.”

The lagoon was almost a complete circle, hemmed in by reefs on the ocean side and tall cliffs on its landward edge. It was as safe as it could possibly be—nothing could come to this place unless it swam or flew. Aurian swam to the strip of stony beach that curved round the farthest edge, and Ithalasa herded fish into the shallows for her to catch. She was grateful for his help, knowing that she would never have managed otherwise. As she was starting her fire to cook them, the Leviathan took his leave, promising to return as soon as possible.

The Mage was bone-weary. She ate her fish half asleep, and after drinking from a spring that trickled down the cliff, she lay down to rest, trusting the powerful sun to dry her clothes on her body. This time, Aurian fell asleep at once, and while she slept, she dreamed. A wondrous dream of the past, set in the dawning ages of her own world.

The Magefolk were numerous and powerful and ruled the world. They controlled the weather and the elements, the seas and the crops in the fields, the birds and beasts and Mortal men without magic, who, little more than animals themselves, were their servants and slaves. All across the lands and seas dwelt the four great races of the Magefolk=—ojae race to control each of the four Elemental Magics.

The Human Magefolk, or Wizards, as they then called themselves, ruled the element of Earth. They had speech with all creatures of the earth, and the trees and all things that grew. The most skilled among them could even speak with the very rocks of the mountains. Their task was to keep all things fruitful, all in balance that lived or grew upon the earth, so that each might prosper and thrive, and fill its rightful place in the interlinking web of life.

Their brethren, the Winged Magefolk, or Skyfolk as they chose to be known, controlled the element of Air. They dwelt in lofty aerie-cities in the tallest mountains, and were responsible for the birds, and^alj other creatures that flew. Their powers harnessed the mighty winds, which bore the rain clouds to make the world fruitful.

In the essential business of weather, they worked with the masters of the element of Water—the Magefolk of the Race of Leviathan, in whose charge were the waters of the world and the creatures that dwelt therein. They controlled the seas, the rivers and lakes, and using the Cold Magic in the days before it was turned to evil, the great ice caps in the far north and south of the world. Theirs was the gift of rain, which was borne where it was needed by the winds of the Skyfolk. The Leviathans, because of their aquatic home, were not human in shape. Since the water bore their weight, some developed to immense sizes. They were streamlined and sleek, with great curved flukes to steer and flat horizontal tails to propel them at great speed. But they were warm-blooded and air-breathing, and bore their young alive. It was said that they were the oldest race of Magefolk, from which the others had sprung. They certainly possessed the deepest wisdom of all, and the most profound joy in life.

The element of Fire was the province of the Dragonfolk, who dwelt in the broad desert lands. In appearance, they were most dramatic of all. Long-necked, long-tailed, sinuous creatures, they were winged, and their scales glowed with a metallic sheen. Their bulbous, glowing, gemlike eyes allowed them to see all around without turning their heads. They were born pure silver, and chose their preferred color in infancy, retaining that hue ever after. Though some chose blues, greens, and blacks, most preferred the colors of their element of Fire— shades of red or gold.

The Dragonfolk could produce two kinds of fire. They could turn the energy stored within them into a long jet of flame which they exhaled—but their other fire was more lethal. They could focus energy through the crystalline structure of their eyes to form a slender, concentrated beam with appalling destructive capacity. Thus were born the legends that a dragon’s stare was deadly. Their teeth and claws were deadly too, but these were for defense only, for the Dragonfolk ate no flesh. Instead they spread out their massive translucent wings, ribbed like those of a bat, to absorb pure energy directly from the sun itself, as a plant does with its leaves. The wings were ill-adapted for flight, but an adult dragon could glide for short distances. The young, being lighter and smaller, could fly farther.

Within the province of the Dragonfolk’s Fire-magic lay the art of storing power within gems and crystals that had been formed by heat and pressure within the earth, and the skill of working and smelting metals. All forms of fiery energy lay within their art, and they were capable of producing the most deadly and terrifying weapons. But being a peaceful folk, they kept these a closely guarded secret.

Because of the very nature of the Universe, the four Elemental Magics had four Negative Magics to balance them, and it was the responsibility of the Magefolk to keep these under control, and if possible, turned upon themselves to positive ends. None of these powers were the specific domain of any one race of Magefolk, but each was the responsibility of all, since all the Negative Magics were wild, unpredictable, and potentially very destructive.

The first, and most primeval of the Negative powers, was the Old Magic. This called upon ancient, elemental forces as old as time that had stalked the chaos of the newborn Universe before the Guardians brought the Magefolk into the balance to provide order. The Old Magic was the power of these ancient spirits—the Rock Spirits or Moldan, who once walked in giant, troll-like form; the Tree Spirits or Veridai; and the Naiads, the Spirits of the Waters. These ancient spirits had long been brought under control by the Fathers of the Magefolk, and were now trapped and powerless, unless deliberately called into the world.

More lately born were other races who called upon the Old Magic: the Mer-folk and the Phaerie and Dwelven races, who lived in peace with the ancient spirits in the deep waters, in the heart of primeval forests, and beneath the hollow hills. These could, as they wished, dwell either in the mundane world, or in the Elsewhere inhabited by the elemental spirits. It was rumored that they were the offspring of matings between early Magefolk and the ancient spirits, but whether or no, the An-cient Magefolk had seen fit to imprison them in the mysterious Isewhere of the Old Magic, to protect the peoples who later came to inhabit the world, for they were said to be tricky, false, and dangerous.

To call on any of these elemental beings was a perilous business. Released from their long imprisonment back into the world, they wielded great power, but were likely to turn it upon summoner as well as foe. But some of them, to the consternation of the Magefolk, did still wander free, occasionally appearing to turn the tide of history in some new direction— and rightly so, for without Chance as well as Balance, the Universe would grind to a halt.

The second of the Negative Magics was of a much more sinister nature, its origins shrouded in mystery. It was Necromancy—the Death Magic, by which a sorcerer could sap the very life-force of another. Like the Death Wraiths, who used this magic to feed themselves, an evil Mage could use another’s life energy to fuel his power, making it temporarily stronger. This vampirelike annihilation of life was so grossly against the i very grain of the Universe that few of the Magefolk even knew of its existence, and those who did guarded the secret to their utmost capacity.

Then there was the Cold Magic. This was the Magic of Entropy, which drew its power from the chill, lifeless black depths of the Universe. In the hands of a powerful Mage, the j Cold Magic could sap the very heat of the sun itself, plunging | the world into the darkness of eternal winter. 1

The Wild Magic was the fourth of the Negative Magics. This governed the primeval forces of nature—tempests, hurri- j canes, and whirlwinds; floods and tidal waves; earthquakes, volcanoes, and lightning. It was said that by employing the Wild • Magic, a Mage could make the very soul of the world rise up as a living force. But to make it biddable—ah, that was another matter.

In her dream, Aurian saw these matters acted out in a panoply of history that spanned generations. At last she saw how, in defense against the Negative Magics, the four races of Magefolk had created the Weapons of the Elements. She saw how the Race of Leviathan crafted the Caldron of Life, which was to be a defense against the very Necromancy for which Miathan had used it. She saw the Skyfolk’s Harp of Winds, which was made to master the Wild Magic, but which, in evil hands, could be used to summon it, for the Magefolk, in their pride, had forgotten a fundamental fact—that a weapon has two edges. She saw the Wizards, her ancestors, create the Staff of Earth to control the Old Magic, and saw with horror how it turned on them to release an Elemental free upon the world—a Moldan, which had cracked open the sea-filled rift between the Northern and Southern lands. It was only then that the Magefolk realized their error.

The powerful Dragonfolk, masters of weaponry, turned aside then from their task to create a ward against the Cold Magic. Instead they created a Master Weapon—the Sword of Flame, whose powers were manifold, and transcended those of the other three Weapons. This ultimate weapon was judged to be too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. A Dragonfolk Seer foretold a time when the Sword would be needed to save the world from evil, but that was unimaginably far into the future. Under his guidance, the Sword was crafted for One alone to wield. The blade had a mysterious intelligence of its own, and was made to know the hand for which it had been created, but to reduce the risk, it was sealed in a great, imperishable crystal. To gain the Sword, the One had to discover a way to release the blade. When all was done, the Dragonfolk hid the Sword beyond all seeking, and the few who knew where it had been bestowed took their own lives. Thus did the Sword of Flame pass out of all knowledge.

Aurian blinked, and saw dawn ]>ght gilding the silver of the lagcxm. Every detail of the dream was etched clearly in her mind. She shivered in the slight dawn chill and stretched limbs that were stiff and bruised by the rocks on which she had lain. Turning her powers within herself, she made a brief contact with the tiny spark of life that was her child and Forral’s. Forral. Ah, Forral. Would she awaken every day for the rest of her life to be crushed all over again by the bleak knowledge that he was gone? But the child—their child—seemed well. It slept, safe and snug within her, and Aurian prayed that it would remain so. Then she saw the dark bulk of Ithalasa surface above the brightening waters of the lagoon, and all other thoughts fled from her mind.

“Is it well, Father” she asked him, trying to keep the urgency from her mental voice. “What did your people say? chuckled—she heard it quite clearly within her mind. “Foolish child—think! You know their answer already!” “I do?” Aurian, never at her best on first awakening, was baffled.

Ithalasa chuckled again. “Of course you do. Half of what you sought, you have already been told!”

“My dream! Of course!” Aurian, filled with excitement, ran down the beach and dived into the now cool water to swim close to the Leviathan’s massive head.

His bright, deep little eye twinkled at her. “We thought it the best and quickest way,” he said.

“Oh, thank you, Great One!” Aurian gasped. Ithalasa sighed. “It was not an easy decision, but we pray that it was the right one. I beg you, Daughter—if you succeed in your task, do not forget the vows you made me. We have no wish to create a tyrant from our deeds this day.”

Aurian was sobered. Now that she had seen for herself the scale of the powers that she would be presuming to deal with, she understood all too well what a great trust the Leviathans had placed upon her. Treading water, she reached out to touch Ithalasa’s knobbly head. “I understand, Father. I won’t fail you, I swear it.”

Once again, Ithalasa helped her catch fish for her breakfast. Aurian had slept for half a day and a whole night and was ravenous, her body responding to the needs of the child within her. As she ate, she spoke further with the Leviathan. “Father, I’m confused,” she said. “I neither knew there were four races Magefolk. At the Academy, we were taught that we were the only ones. We call ourselves the Magefolk, rather than Wizards, as you say we used to. What happened to the other races? Why don’t we know about you? What happened to the Weapons?”

“Ah. That, as they say, is another story, within which the swers to all your questions are inextricably linked. It is the tragic history of the Cataclysm, and it is that, to my sorrow, which I migth tell you next.”

But Aurian’s conscience was troubling her. Since she seen her faults through Ithalasa’s Reading, the Mage’s a with Anvar had cooled and congealed into a choking mass guilt. She knew how her arrogance had stung him, and she had no idea of the truth behind the affair with Sara, over which they had quarreled so bitterly. They had both been at fault—but how often had Forral told her never to desert her comrades, no matter what? Aurian was ashamed, and that apart, there was a prompting voice within her, some instinct that insisted she return at once. There was nothing for it. No matter how it galled her, she would have to go back for them. The idiots would never manage on their own, and she had promised Van-nor that she would look after his wretched, faithless wife.

“Wise One, before you tell me this tale, I must find my companions whom we left yesterday. I should never have left them, and I fear they may be in trouble.”

Ithalasa sighed. “Ah, Little One, did I not say that you were learning wisdom? But now, I fear, you must learn something else— him.’ to choose between a lesser good and a greater one. I dare not delay in telling you the remainder of the tale. Though my voice was enough to sway my people, they had many doubts. They may change their minds at any time, and if even one of them should do so, I would be unable to tell you more. That is why we must act with all speed. The tale of the Cataclysm is long, and there would be little point in traveling by night. Besides, you are still weary, and the child within you requires that you rest after such intense mental communication. If you wish to hear the rest, we may not seek your friends until tomorrow.”

Aurian bit her lip, trapped between conscience and necessity. She had to know the rest. The future of the world might depend on it. Anvar and Sara would be all right, surely? had landed them in a safe plate. But that inner voice

Id not be silenced, and it told her that she was wrong, ian shook her head, wrestling with it. I’m sorry, she told it last. I must do this—it’s too important to lose. When I’ve

id out what I need to know, I’ll go back for Anvar and Sara.

Ithalasa waited, as near inshore as he could come, staying

t and detached until Aurian had resolved her dilemma.

The Mage turned to him. “Very well,” she said, “I will stay to hear what you have to tell me.”

“You are right, 1 think. This will give you the knowledge that your people lost long ago. Use it wisely, child.” And with that, Ithalasa’s thoughts overwhelmed her mind, filling it with words and visions that unreeled before her, showing her the terrors and tragedies of a time long gone.

In the days of the golden past, all was peace and harmony. The four races of the Magefolk labored together in their great task, to keep the world peaceful and prosperous and fair. But Chance ever lurks, wolflike, outside the gates of Balance, waiting to swing Fate to a new course. Evil stars heralded the births of Incondor and Chiannala.

Incondor was one of the Winged Folk, his face handsome, his body muscular and lithe. His great feathered wings had the iridescent darkness of the raven’s plumes. Though young, he was mighty in sorcery and showed promise of becoming even greater—until, overcome by his arrogance, he fell. For a wager—a stupid, drunken wager with his wild friends, he stole the Harp of Winds to summon the forbidden Wild Magic, creating a whirlwind to bear him to the heavens, higher than any of his folk had ever ventured before. But the whirlwind, fueled by the errant power of the Wild Magic, proved too mighty for him to control. Its forces tore and smashed his wings beyond repair, before flinging him to earth in a tangle of crushed and broken limbs. It went on to wreak great havoc, killing many, before it could be brought under control by the Wise Ones of the Winged Folk.

As for Incondor, it was deemed that he had been punished enough, for the sky would now be denied him forever, and without the freedom of the air, the lives of the Skyfolk became bleak and without meithing. Earthbound, crippled and disgraced, he was exiled from the lands of his people and sent to Nexis, the greatest city of the Wizards. It was hoped that there, along with the Healing for which the Wizards were famed, he-might also find wisdom at last. The former was accomplished, as far as it could be, although his body would be forever twisted and his wings were beyond saving. Before the latter could take place, however, he met Chiannala, and Chance brought Balance down.

Chiannala was the offspring of a Wizard and his Mortal servant. Such pairings were possible, given the physical similarities between the races, but they rarely occurred because tht brevity of Mortal lifespans could cause the Mage partner much grief. It must also be said that pride being an integral part of the Magefolk nature, the Wizards looked down on the Mortals as lowly, primitive creatures that were powerless in a world where Magic was all. However, not all Wizards thought in this way, and unions did occasionally take place. The offspring of these could favor either parent, turning out to be Mortal or Mage, as chance allowed.

Chiannala favored her father, and at an early age rejected her Mortal mother completely, throwing herself obsessively into the study of magic and the development of her powers in an attempt to eradicate the lowly Mortal stain on her ancestry. But it was not to be. Though she excelled in her studies to such an extent that she became the obvious candidate to be the next Chief Wizard, she was rejected by the Council because she was a half-breed. Bitter and thwarted, she came to meet Incondor in Nexis, and found him of a like mind—and the seeds of disaster were sown. For revenge on the Magefolk who had rejected them both, they plotted to seize power, and rule the world.

Turning the powers of Healing to destructive ends, Chiannala engineered a plague—a deadly illness that swept through the Wizards like a scythe, killing many and throwing their society into turmoil while they desperately sought a cure. In the confusion, the Staff of Earth was discovered to be missing, and none knew where it had been bestowed. Incondor, meanwhile, unleashed Wild Magic upon the mountain aeries of the Winged Folk, battering them with hurricanes and blizzards that left them besieged and helpless, unable to free themselves from his spells.

While the Mages of the two races were occupied in dealing with these menaces, the evil pair smote the Dragonfolk with the Cold Magic, almost annihilating their race, for they needed the sun’s energy to survive. At last, the few survivors, worn beyond endurance by weakness, grief, and suffering, gave up the deadly secrets of the Fire-magic, including the making of explosive weapons and the knowledge of storing power in crystals.

The world was in turmoil, all Balance irrevocably upset. In the oceans, the gentle Leviathans turned, too late, from their meditations to find themselves beset by Fire-magic. Explosions ripped through the depths, slaying without mercy. The survivors were beset by as«ies of Mer-folk, called up with the Old Magic by Chiannala. Peaceful to the core of their beings, the Race of Leviathan could not retaliate. Instead they retreated, dwindling in number all the time. And somehow, during the retreat, the Caldron of Life, which had been their creation and chiefest charge, was stolen by the Mer-folk, and found its way into the hands of Incondor and Chiannala.

Turning the Caldron to Negative ends, they summoned the Death Wraiths—spirit-vampires that sucked the very life-force from living souls. This power of Necromancy they turned upon the besieged Winged Folk. The desperate Skyfolk gathered all their remaining numbers down to the smallest child and joined minds in one last, desperate throw—a single, coordinated blast of power aimed at the evil pair. But Incondor and Chiannala had prepared for this. Using the Dragonfolk’s Fire-magic, they had constructed a great crystal to absorb the magic of the Winged Folk and trap it, rendering their race mortal and powerless forever.

The Magefolk were in desperate straits; their numbers had diminished to a handful, there were Weapons lost, or powerless, or in the hands of the enemy. But the last hope of the Universe-is that Evil will always turn upon itself. With their goal in reach, inevitably Incondor and Chiannala came to vie between themselves for leadership. Using the Caldron, Chiannala sapped the life-energy of vast armies of Mortal slaves to fuel her power. Using the great crystal that stored the stolen magic of the Winged Folk, Incondor increased his own power—and by now all the powers were their province. The world was blasted with fire and ice, flood and tempest, earthquake and lightning, as the two strove. Mighty armies of Elementals were unleashed to turn upon each other to their mutual destruction—and that of any living thing that chanced to be near. And finally, inevitably, Chiannala and Incondor destroyed one another, and the Universe breathed once more. The few survivors crept out into the ruins of a changed and blasted world.

The Leviathans, in desperation, had saved themselves ’ breeding a small, fierce race of warriors—the Orca—to end t threat of the Mer-folk and restore peace to the seas. But fV some though they were, the gentle Leviathan hearts of the O; abhorred the killing, and the blood upon their consciences v an intolerable burden. So, when their task was complete, their race was granted the mercy of eternal sleep and hidden away in a deep undersea cavern, ready to be called to life again should the need ever arise. This accomplished, the Race of Leviathan resolved never again to have dealings with the aggressive, destructive Land Peoples. They shut themselves away from all contact with the outside world and returned to their meditations and play. And the peoples of the ruined world soon came to forget that they were anything other than simple beasts.

In atonement for giving away the secrets of the Fire-magic that had wrought such havoc, the few remaining Dragonfolk retreated to the deserts and also cut themselves off, vowing to abandon magic forever. They wished to avoid contact with other peoples, but were frequently disturbed by warriors with more courage than sense. At this time, many of the Dragons broke their vows and used the power of the Fire-magic to take themselves to other worlds. Sometimes a curious Dragon, hungry for outside contact, would kidnap a Mortal pure in spirit and gentle in nature for a companion. Thus the legend grew that Dragons stole maidens, since the suitable candidates were almost always young girls.

The remaining Winged Folk, mortal now and bereft of their powers, turned the Harp of Winds over to a Guardian who dwelt beyond the world—the Cailleach, or Lady of the Mists, who lived outside of time on the shores of the Timeless Lake. Diminished and without their magic, their martial skills grew perforce. They kept to their own territory but defended it ceaselessly and ferociously against outsiders, for they were shamed by their fall. The world soon learned to leave them well alone.

And the Wizards? Well, theirs was a different story. When the plague struck, the Chief Wizard prepared for the worst. He called upon his son, Avithan, who was renowned for his wisdom, to choose six of his folk with special skills—three men and three women, to carry on the race if all should be lost. Avithan chose Iriana, whose specialty was the beasts of the earth; Thara, who cared for growing things; and Melisanda, whose Healing skills made her so reluctant to leave her people in this time of crisis. With them went three men—Chathak, who loved the Dragons and had knowledge of their magic; Yinze, a friend to the Skyfolk; and lonor the Wise, ambassador to the Leviathan race^i^vithan went to the Cailleach and beseeched her to take the Six out of time for a hundred years, and she agreed—on condition that he himself would leave time forever to be her soul mate, for the Timeless Lake was a lonely place, and Avithan was fair to look upon, and a good and wise soul besides. He agreed, and passed out of the world for all time, to reemerge in legend as Avithan, Father of the Gods.

For, when a century had passed and the Six returned, they found that the world had changed beyond recognition. The other races of Magefolk had gone into their self-imposed exiles, and the race of Wizards had been wiped out by the plague and the Cataclysm that followed it. The lesser race of Mortals, breeding like rats in the ruins of the scarred planet, were kings of the world—such as it was.

The Six put aside their horror and grief, and bravely set about their task of healing. Iriana and Thara worked to reston the beasts, and make the world green and fertile once mon Melisanda Healed the disease-ridden Mortals and animals. Tb men traveled widely, garnering the surviving knowledge of the disciplines of Fire, Air, and Water, for all powers must now rest in the hands of the Wizards, who took the sole title ot Magefolk. Between them, the Six set about restoring their race —a pleasant task, but one to be undertaken with care and planning. As a ward against future misuse of their powers, thev made the Mages’ Code, and passed it on to their descendants ,> an incontrovertible law that each of the Magefolk must swta~ on their very souls, to uphold. And, accepting the inevitable that the Age of Free3om had finally arrived for the despisi Mortals—they set about teaching them all they could, tl their race might grow in wisdom and responsibility.

For a thousand years they labored; then, too weary to

more, they chose to pass from their lives together, and fell n

legend as Gods and Goddesses—Iriana of the Beasts, Thara of the Fields, and Melisanda of the Healing Hands; Chathak, God of Fire, Yinze of the Sky, and lonor the Wise, who became to

the Southern races the Reaper of Souls, because he possessed a part of the Leviathans’ lore, and they had created the Caldron, which was said to control the rebirth of souls. Avithan became known as the Father of the Gods, and the Cailleach as the Mother.

But what had become of the four great Artifacts of Power?”

The Sword was hidden, awaiting the One for whom it had been forged, and the Harp had been sent beyond time. The Staff of Earth was lost, and it was believed that the Caldron had perished in the Cataclysm. People little thought that a fragment had somehow survived, once again to cast Chance into the teeth of Balance in ages to come.

Aurian surfaced from Ithalasa’s tale, dazed by what she had seen and heard. The history of her people had been spread out before her like an open book. But for all that, her goals seemed less attainable than ever. Miathan held one Weapon, and two of the others were seemingly unreachable. Even the Staff of Earth had been lost for ages uncounted. Only the presence of the Leviathan stopped the Mage from a furious outburst of swearing. Instead, she contented herself with a disconsolate sigh. “Well, you needn’t have worried about what I’d do with the Weapons! I can’t see any hope at all of gaining them. I’ll just have to go against the Archmage without them—but goodness knows how.”

“Do not despair, Little One,” Ithalasa comforted her. “You nou’ know more than your enemy about the nature of our world, and the pou’ers and peoples within it. Maybe you will find unexpected allies. And now that you know the fate of the Weapons, it may be that they will come to you in the end.”

Some chance, Aurian thought sourly, but was careful to hide it from Ithalasa. He had done his best, and she was grateful. His next words made her more grateful still. “I can do one thing more to aid you, Daughter, though neither I nor my people can fight for you. Such a thing is beyond our natures. But I will give you a spell—the ancient spell to summon the Orca from their rest. Though 1 beg you, out of pity for their suffering, do not use it unless you are in the direst need. But I know you would not.” His thoughts washed over her, full of love and approval, and mingled with them, the spell came into her mind—the long-unused call to wake the warriors of the race of Leviathan from sleep.

“Ithalasa, how can I ever thank you?” Aurian said. Truly, she was overwhelmed with gratitude for all he had done.

“Prevent another Cataclysm, Daughter. Restore peace to the world, if you can,” Ithalasa replied.

Night was falling, and Aurian was hungry once more, and very tired. The Leviathan insisted that she eat and sleep before returning to her companions. The following morning they set out northward once more, the Mage riding on her friend’s broad back and trying to curb her anxiety and impatience. But when they reached the forest-fringed beach where they had left Anvar and Sara, there was no one there.