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Chapter 3
I stared into the wizards eyes. I had learned as a youth that a man's eyes
tell all about their motives, their identity, and their soul. If the old man
was lying, I would be able to see it. His eyes were deep blue, with no sign of
betrayal in them. The blueness, there was something about the blue...
Damn, how could I not see what was blatantly obvious? The man was an
illusionist, and a powerful one. Illusionists trick and deceive. Their power
is not through force and brute strength, it is that of coercion and subtlety.
Deception. Blue mages are skilled in their art, and this one was one of the
best.
I was no more this "Elrohir" than he was. The real Elrohir lived long before
either of us. His struggles were widely known as the Atog Wars. The wars three
in number, Elrohir died during the final conflict of the last Atog War. His
exploits changed the face of magery for millenia to come. Elrohir was known to
make his voice heard, and to act on a whim. He was quick to proclaim his
identity. This man was quicker.
He wanted me to believe two unbelievable things: first that he and I were the
same, and second, that "we" were both a long dead magician. After realizing his
ruse, I was still at a loss as to what his motives were. I decided to play
along.
"How can we be one and the same?" I asked.
"That lies in the casting of the world spell. You and I are both two facets of
the being once known as ‘Elrohir.'" What? "We are bound together by the forces
of magic that flow across every plane. The world spell will..." he stopped. He
looked at me, and shook his head. "I cannot tell you what the world spell will
encompass. Your role in it is too fragile to toy with. Leave my dwelling."
With the waving flourish of his hand, I found myself no longer within the
tower, but lost amid the barren wasteland that was Aeroon. My wards hadn't
defended me, I was just...gone. Swept away by his power. He only let me learn
what he wanted me to learn. Two things entered into my mind then: he was either
telling me the truth, or he was lying. Knowing that I was searching for my
friends, he would lie to me to require me to leave. Not knowing, he would have
me leave with the knowledge that he was truly clueless.
I dismissed the matter of my friends' survival, and I summoned a portal. Now
that the wizard, for good or for ill, knew of my presence, I had no need to hide
my powers. I trusted that he wouldn't interfere. I was correct. My journey to
Aeroon proved to be an utter failure. I ‘walked through the portal to my
homeplane of Deirkreth.
The journey was, as all planeswalkings normally were, boring and uneventful. I
reported my return to the local mage council (magic was abundant here, and all
people had some use of magic) and began an overland journey to my home high on
the Brokahren Plateau. I could have summoned Shackretash to return me to my
home, but I wanted to travel afoot, in anonymity, to gauge what had occurred in
my absence. Everything was, as expected, doing quite well with or without my
presence.
Gatherings had been held, crops were harvested, people died or were born. I
felt a faint disorder, however. The eyes of the villagers and townsfolk held
glimpses of horrors that had visited in my absence. Speaking with some of them,
I learned that the last of the planeswalkers had disappeared. Most believed I
had left as well, since I had been gone for quite a while. Some had seen, or
had heard from others, the grisly deaths of some of these planeswalkers. I
asked what the slayer looked like. The reply was not what I would have ever
expected.
Ferrets. Large, walking, sharp-toothed and -eyed ferrets. Sleeth! They
were from my home world, but now they were planes away from there, and on my
world! Hunting, eviscerating, deadly sleeth. They had murdered my old friend
and ally, Jaek, and had destroyed all of my friends here. The greatest hub of
planeswalkers had become the victims of "lost" sleeth.
Chapter 4
"Where is he?" Shivan asked. Shackretash lay in her lair under the Brokahren
Plateau, her mage senses keeping a vigil for her master and friend. He had
hollowed out this lair for her with his own magic. She could come and go as she
pleased, for this was not her home, but she was incapable of doing so because of
her promise to protect her master's home.
Smoke. Smoke drifted to her nostrils. It was most like smoke, but had the
unmistakable odor of flesh to it. It wasn't burning flesh, but flesh with the
smell of smoke. Curious. She turned her ponderous head to see around her, for
the smell was growing. Was the castle on fire?
From the darkness, dual pinpoints of red appeared. One pair, then two. The
pairs poured into the lair. Hundreds of eyes swarmed up onto the ponderous
dragon. She let out a tremendous blast of fire, but the eyes came on
unheedingly. She clawed at the little bodies, but did more damage to herself
than to the growing swarm of sleeth. Her blood flowed freely, and she began to
panic. The sleeth began to claw her eyes, and she roared. Her strength began
to ebb.
"It always pains me to destroy such grand beasts," a voice claimed out of the
darkness. A mage light appeared, and the darkness faded. The light revealed
the dying Shivan, covered with a swarm of sleeth. The being beckoned, and the
swarm left the body. Shackretash meekly looked over at the wizard.
"Why do you do this? Have you no idea who my master is?" she asked.
"I don't care who your master is. Where is it? Where is the Ark of Fire? He
must have hidden it somewhere." The wizard began to shatter the walls with
spells.
"Stop that!" Shackretash exclaimed. "You'll bring the cavern down on our
heads. My master should be back soon, ask him about this ‘Ark of Fire' when he
returns."
"Strangely Dragon, I fear your master. He is the only one to have survived my
sleeth. He has the secret of the Ark of Fire, and I intend to take the Ark from
him before he knows about it." The wizard looked around. "He doesn't have it.
I should have sensed it by now. What?"
"Who are you?" asked the master as he gated himself into the lair.
A wizard in green robes fringed with gold stared at me. Shackretash lay dying
behind him. I could never save her in time from her wounds. "How did you get
inside my home?" I asked.
"All these questions, and you will never get them answered, mage. How do you
survive the sleeth?" The wizard had a crazy look in his eyes. He was screaming
now. "Give me the Ark of Fire now!"
Crazy old stock wizard, it seemed. Yet there was an intellect in his eyes that
left me at a loss. The man had to be faking his insanity. I had no idea what
the Ark of Fire was, so I asked him.
"What? Only the owner of the Ark of Fire can survive the wrath of the sleeth!
You are always destroying them!" he replied. It was the truth. They were a
plague and I destroyed them whenever they invaded an area to make into their own
territory.
"Listen, Sir Wizard. I will give you a few minutes, and a few minutes only, to
leave my home. You have already destroyed it, and slain my dragon. All my
friends are now gone, and I am reluctant to destroy a fellow magic user." I
offered this ultimatum, to him, hoping he would accept it. I knew he wouldn't.
He pointed his staff in my direction, and lightning flashed from it, striking
the rock behind me and splintering it to bits. I put myself on the offensive
now. I summoned my own ball lightning. It struck him from several directions
and he went down. He stood up against the assault, and gazed into my eyes.
This was no mere wizard! He was a planeswalker. He had to be. He gestured
with his hands, and the ground began to shake, then quiver. His gaze froze me
to the core.
"You will never learn the fate of your planeswalker friends. They are for the
world spell. And now, you will die in the only place that you can call home,
with the only friend you ever made." He summoned his own personal gate, and was
gone. I could not reverse the damage he did.
I ran to Shackretash. She could barely hold her eyes open.
"Go master. Your life is too important to this world now that the other
planeswalkers are gone. May another dragon find you to be as worthy a master as
I did." She laid her head down, and died. I stood trembling from the spot
where I kneeled as she died. Stalactites that I had left when I created the
lair fell from their high perches. I summoned at last my own gate, and left.
From where I gated to, two miles distant, I saw the Brokahren Plateau collapse,
burying my beloved Shackretash and my home with it.
Again, from the second wizard, I had heard of the World Spell. Planeswalkers
all, not just myself, were parts of this top secret experiment. The first
wizard was a worker of the Blue arts. This one was one of Red like myself.
What would be next, and just what was the Ark of Fire, and how did it stop the
vicious sleeth? I pondered these questions as I took final leave of my world,
to seek out information I was too young a planeswalker to know.
To Be Continued.
Elrohir, God of Wisdom
General of the 1st and 2nd Atog Wars.