An old man made his way up the forsaken trail. Leaves and sticks crunched
under the passerby's boots. Rays from the sun reflected off the man's eyes.
But the eyes were not those off a kind man; no, they were the eyes of a
killer. The Khalori Mountains were suddenly silent. A glimmer caught his
eyes. He stopped, suddenly, drawing in a sharp breath. Lifting the heel of
his boot, the man bent over to examine his find-it was an onyx pendant.
Excitement flushed his cruel features.
Shifting suddenly, the man reached into his pouch, sifting through its contents. He drew out an emerald. His breath came in wheezing gasps. "Ast Koli, Sulus/Aster, Rhenn doul," he chanted. The object in his hand began to glow with a dark radiance- radiance that was nothingness. He smiled expectantly.
Raising his hands, the man clasped both pendant and emerald together. A thin, black mist seeped through his fingers. The mist fringed towards the edge of the trail, then suddenly ceased. An unseen border blocked its way. The mist seemed to shrivel away. The dark, absorbing light faded. The mist disappeared.
The old man shrieked in furry. Rage, hot and destructive, sent tremors throughout the mountains. His legs gave out, sinking to the dirt path. He clawed at the blackened dirt. Hissing in rage, the man stood shuddering. Glancing up into the night sky, the man cursed the gods. Cursed the dead. Cursed the living.
He stood, gazing at the wilted plants that had been touched by the mist. He smiled, suddenly. He spat at the soil. Drawing his cloak tightly around is frail body, the man's eyes searched for the stars that made up a constellation that he knew well-the constellation of the god represented by a rat in night's sky. Cursing the god, the man walked down the trail back to where he came.
The man knew the rat-god very well. The elves knew the god as Ratsuni, the Rat Giver, and the dwarves knew it as Xakmino, Stupid Scum. Among the Solamnics, this god was called Rast Buip. However, the man knew the god as Bupu. The man knew all of the gods. He was one-once. His name was Tsunonu-a name was not always a name. His true name was something that he refused to think of, for five years. Five years ago, he had thrown it into the deepest pit in his mind. But the name lingered, as it would forever.
His true name was Draco Palidin.
====== ======= ====== ===== =======
Tasslehoff Burrfoot was old. There was absolutely no doubt of that. A kender that could survive in a world with angry shopkeepers for fifty years is considered old. Ironic, it was, that he had now become the ruler of Abansia. A kender, of all people, had crushed and conquered all of Ansalon. A cleric of Chemosh for many years, Tas had styled himself as "Emperor Tas", ruler of the Tskull Knights.
Today, the "Emperor" was angry. A line of Solamnics and elves had planned war against Tas' many armies, some time ago. This did not upset "Emperor Tas". Tas had led his armies of Tskull Knights, dragons, dwarves, goblins, ogres, human mercenaries, and kender against the advancing army. 'Bring it on.' Tas had yawned that day. Outnumbered hundred to one, the armies of good were soon crushed.
What did upset the Emperor, though, was the rebellion that the scattered humans and elves had founded. The 'Hordes of Justice' were a pathetic lot, no doubt, but occasionally, their army could lay waste to the outposts. Nothing more. With the previous attack, many of the remaining Dark Knights had allied with the Hordes of Justice. Tas had expected nothing less. His plans for this action were already underway. Within days, the Dark Knights would all perish. Tas had only but wait.
A pair of doleful servants entered Tas's chambers in the Emperor's Castle, Tskull Keep. Shutting the elegant doors behind them, they cast uneasy glances about the luxurious room. Dark, silk curtains hung around the room in a cloud of darkness. A warm fire roared in the hearth, tossing embers onto the carpeted stone floor. On the west wall, the Emblem of the Skull grinned at its death. One servant cast a sharp glance about the room, in search of the Emperor. Occupied in his search, the servant did not notice the dark shadow that glided from the door.
Turning around, the other servant caught sight of the shadow. He cried out in warning. Whirling around, the first servant glanced about in fear. He screamed suddenly in death. Blood poured from his mouth as he stumbled backwards. The servant collapsed in a heap at the other servant's feet. A black knife protruded from the first's stomach. The living servant retched in horror.
The servant spun around. The shadow was gone. Sighing in relief, the servant wiped perspiration off his brow. A sudden movement caught him off- guard. Catching the servant by his collar, the shadow hoisted him up and tossed him onto the carpet. Whimpering, the servant quivered in un-hidden fear.
The shadow drew back his hood, to reveal a face that was that of a cruel child. His pointed ears marked the figure's race as not human, but kender. "What are you doing here, Galivan?" the kender asked emotionless. "I told you to stay at Sancrist to spy on the Hordes."
The servant named Galivan shuddered. "I-I d-did, e-emperor," he stammerd. Gasping for breath, a sudden coughing spasm racked his body. "B-But, L-Lady K-Kathryn t-told me t-to c-come b-back t-to report t-the f-fall o-of S- Sanction--"
The Emperor was not angry. In fact, he was amused. The Hordes had taken his least-manned city-or at least, so the Hordes thought. "That's it?" still calm, Tas asked.
"W-ell no," Galivan choked. "L-Lady K-Kathryn wishes t-to be p-posted elsewhere, E-Emperor. 'F-For c-conveniences', s-she says."
"Bah!" Tas snorted. "Tell her if she wants convenience, to die quickly. Now," Tas said icily. "Leave me alone. Or else," he said gesturing to the carcass. "Or else, you shall suffer his fate."
"Y-yes, E-Emperor," Galivan said bowing. "What s-should I do w-wit M-Morgan- -" His voice trailed off. He glanced about quickly. Emperor Tas was gone. His eyes strayed to the body of his dear friend, Morgan. Sudden tears welled up in his eyes. Hoisting up Morgan's body over his shoulder, Galivan walked out of the room sobbing in dismay. Choking on his tears, Galivan suddenly tripped. Morgan's warm blood splattered over him.
"It's no use!" he sobbed. "I've sacrifice so much! My family is dead; my friends are all dead!" Tears streaked down his red face. He glanced at Morgan's limp body. "No," he coughed. "I must go on. It's what you would have wanted. Don't worry," he bent down to kiss Morgan's face. "I'll find a way. The Hordes of Justice will know! I shall seek Caramon Majere!"
The servant chanted in the language of magic. The image of the ragged human servant flickered; then died. Glassy, almond-shaped eyes gazed at Morgan's body. Pointed ears stuck up from his silky hair. Bending down one last time, Galivan took Morgan's body into his arms and walked out of Tskull Keep, never to return.
But what the elf did not notice was the dark figure that subsided in the dark shadows. Gliding out from his hiding, Emperor Tas watched the elven spy leave. Tas smiled. He had known, or at least suspected, the identity of this servant. Moving his fingers in complicated patterns, Tas spoke a single command. An undead spector materialized before Tas. "Kill him." Tas said sharply. The spector nodded its fleshless head and vanished. Tas sighed. This was getting interesting.
====== ===== ===== ===== ========
Galivan darted through the underbrush surrounding Tskull Keep. Morgan in his arms, the elf dodged low-hanging limbs and animals. Dry leave crunched under his feet as the sunset appeared before Galivan through the trees. Dry tears stained his chiseled face. It was too much! Morgan, his friend was dead. He still remembered the day meeting Morgan. Both had been training in the Hordes of Justice three years ago. Both had survived many battles against the Emperor. They were the best of friends.
But now was a battle that Galivan must fight alone. Morgan was no longer there too soothe and comfort. No more nights of planning. No more nights of freedom. Galivan ceased his running. Placing Morgan's bloodstained body onto the bed of leaves, Galivan bent down to kiss hi friend's face. "I am sorry," he choked. Tears dripped onto Morgan's horrified face. "I must leave now. I'll remember you always."
Softening Morgan's face, Galivan wiped the blood from Morgan's face. Drawing Morgan's dagger from its sheath, he placed it on his friend's breast. "Goodbye, Morgan," he whispered. Then once again, he kissed Morgan's peaceful face. He stood up. A rush of cold wind knocked him sprawling over Morgan's corpse. Galivan whirled around. A specter clattered onto the bed of leaves.
Outstretching its bony hand, the undead advanced forward upon Galivan. Red fire burned in the hollows of the specter's eyes. It grinned in death. In its other hand, held a bloodstained dagger. The elf shivered at the aura of evil the specter cast. He tried to move legs. He couldn't. He stood frozen. "No!" Galivan cried. The specter continued its advance, grinning its death- grin. Anger broke the bindings that his fear had cast. Drawing his own sword, Galivan advanced upon the specter.
He swung his blade. It dug into the ribcage of the specter and stuck. Still, the specter approached. Prying the blade out of its breast, the undead cast it into oblivion. Raising its dagger, the specter charged. Rampaging and trampling the underbrush, the undead warrior thrust its dagger at Galivan.
What happened then was unexpected. The blade reflected off an unseen barrier, flinging it out of the specter's hand. The dagger flew through the air and was caught by an old, gnarled hand. The hand retreated into black robes. The figure dispatched itself from an oak. "Looking for this?" the man asked mockingly. Waving the knife around, the old man smiled. "You probably are. Oh, well," he smiled. "I'll just have to kill you too."
Raising his hands, the man chanted. "Kull ast sulerus/acht furuo shia chiol!" Darkness welled from the man's bony fingers and formed into a ball. The darkness was nothing. It was oblivion. The ball of darkness shot from the old man's hands. Engulfing the skeletal warrior, the specter let out a horrible howl of oblivion. Galivan blinked. When he looked again, the specter was gone.
Galivan felt dizzy. Staggering upwards, Galivan leaned on the oak for support. The spell that the man had used was a spell of blackest magic. The spell was known as Shadowball. Shuddering, Galivan glanced at the old man. Filed out in velvet robes, the mage's head was concealed by the shadow cast by his hood. The old man deposited the specter's knife into his one pouch. Straightening up the black-robe stared at the dark sky. He was seeking something, Galivan realized.
Shaking his head, the old man averted his gaze to Galivan. "Who are you?" he hissed. With a rustle of black-robes, the mage came to face Galivan. A gnarled hand reached out of the man;'s robes. Lifting Galivan's chin the black-robe examined Galivan. "You're a magic-user, aren't you?"
Galivan shriveled in fear. He sensed the un-hidden power of this elderly mage. This man was even more powerful than the great Head of the Conclave, Dalamar the Dark. He knew that he must proceed with caution. "Yes, Archmagus," he whispered.
The man cuffed him hard across the face. The elf tasted blood. "Archmagus?" he spat. Anger flared in his eyes. "I am no pathetic 'Archmagus', as you so put it! I surpass anyone of you stupid wizards! I am a--" The mage caught himself suddenly. The old man bit his lip. Trembling in rage, the mage turned away from Galivan.
What? Galivan silently demanded. He was about to say something, but what? One thing was sure, though. This man was a renegade. But this man was powerful. No, Galivan decided. He needed to seek the Conclave. He needed to find Dalamar. He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by the old man, who was gazing at him intently.
"Seek the Conclave?" the old man said mockingly. "Dalamar?" he broke off into raucous laughter. Galivan clutched his head. The man was reading his thoughts! "The man smiled. "Yes, Galivan," he spat the elf's name. "I can read your thoughts."
"Then, you know that I'll expose you to the Conclave." Galivan challenged. "They will stop you!"
The man guffawed. "Stop me?" he asked sardonically. "Try and do so." He whipped his hand around in circular motions. Galivan sank to his knees. He was losing consciousness. Shadows darted about him. The old man spun his hands around faster and faster. "But, I shall let you live. Tell your pathetic Conclave that they are doomed. Tell them that the Krynn shall be cast into oblivion." Galivan's eyes drooped shut. The old man ceased his spell. "Tell them," the old man whispered. "Tell them that I, Tsunonu, shall destroy all." Gilivan heard those last words, before he shrouded in deep darkness.
Shifting suddenly, the man reached into his pouch, sifting through its contents. He drew out an emerald. His breath came in wheezing gasps. "Ast Koli, Sulus/Aster, Rhenn doul," he chanted. The object in his hand began to glow with a dark radiance- radiance that was nothingness. He smiled expectantly.
Raising his hands, the man clasped both pendant and emerald together. A thin, black mist seeped through his fingers. The mist fringed towards the edge of the trail, then suddenly ceased. An unseen border blocked its way. The mist seemed to shrivel away. The dark, absorbing light faded. The mist disappeared.
The old man shrieked in furry. Rage, hot and destructive, sent tremors throughout the mountains. His legs gave out, sinking to the dirt path. He clawed at the blackened dirt. Hissing in rage, the man stood shuddering. Glancing up into the night sky, the man cursed the gods. Cursed the dead. Cursed the living.
He stood, gazing at the wilted plants that had been touched by the mist. He smiled, suddenly. He spat at the soil. Drawing his cloak tightly around is frail body, the man's eyes searched for the stars that made up a constellation that he knew well-the constellation of the god represented by a rat in night's sky. Cursing the god, the man walked down the trail back to where he came.
The man knew the rat-god very well. The elves knew the god as Ratsuni, the Rat Giver, and the dwarves knew it as Xakmino, Stupid Scum. Among the Solamnics, this god was called Rast Buip. However, the man knew the god as Bupu. The man knew all of the gods. He was one-once. His name was Tsunonu-a name was not always a name. His true name was something that he refused to think of, for five years. Five years ago, he had thrown it into the deepest pit in his mind. But the name lingered, as it would forever.
His true name was Draco Palidin.
====== ======= ====== ===== =======
Tasslehoff Burrfoot was old. There was absolutely no doubt of that. A kender that could survive in a world with angry shopkeepers for fifty years is considered old. Ironic, it was, that he had now become the ruler of Abansia. A kender, of all people, had crushed and conquered all of Ansalon. A cleric of Chemosh for many years, Tas had styled himself as "Emperor Tas", ruler of the Tskull Knights.
Today, the "Emperor" was angry. A line of Solamnics and elves had planned war against Tas' many armies, some time ago. This did not upset "Emperor Tas". Tas had led his armies of Tskull Knights, dragons, dwarves, goblins, ogres, human mercenaries, and kender against the advancing army. 'Bring it on.' Tas had yawned that day. Outnumbered hundred to one, the armies of good were soon crushed.
What did upset the Emperor, though, was the rebellion that the scattered humans and elves had founded. The 'Hordes of Justice' were a pathetic lot, no doubt, but occasionally, their army could lay waste to the outposts. Nothing more. With the previous attack, many of the remaining Dark Knights had allied with the Hordes of Justice. Tas had expected nothing less. His plans for this action were already underway. Within days, the Dark Knights would all perish. Tas had only but wait.
A pair of doleful servants entered Tas's chambers in the Emperor's Castle, Tskull Keep. Shutting the elegant doors behind them, they cast uneasy glances about the luxurious room. Dark, silk curtains hung around the room in a cloud of darkness. A warm fire roared in the hearth, tossing embers onto the carpeted stone floor. On the west wall, the Emblem of the Skull grinned at its death. One servant cast a sharp glance about the room, in search of the Emperor. Occupied in his search, the servant did not notice the dark shadow that glided from the door.
Turning around, the other servant caught sight of the shadow. He cried out in warning. Whirling around, the first servant glanced about in fear. He screamed suddenly in death. Blood poured from his mouth as he stumbled backwards. The servant collapsed in a heap at the other servant's feet. A black knife protruded from the first's stomach. The living servant retched in horror.
The servant spun around. The shadow was gone. Sighing in relief, the servant wiped perspiration off his brow. A sudden movement caught him off- guard. Catching the servant by his collar, the shadow hoisted him up and tossed him onto the carpet. Whimpering, the servant quivered in un-hidden fear.
The shadow drew back his hood, to reveal a face that was that of a cruel child. His pointed ears marked the figure's race as not human, but kender. "What are you doing here, Galivan?" the kender asked emotionless. "I told you to stay at Sancrist to spy on the Hordes."
The servant named Galivan shuddered. "I-I d-did, e-emperor," he stammerd. Gasping for breath, a sudden coughing spasm racked his body. "B-But, L-Lady K-Kathryn t-told me t-to c-come b-back t-to report t-the f-fall o-of S- Sanction--"
The Emperor was not angry. In fact, he was amused. The Hordes had taken his least-manned city-or at least, so the Hordes thought. "That's it?" still calm, Tas asked.
"W-ell no," Galivan choked. "L-Lady K-Kathryn wishes t-to be p-posted elsewhere, E-Emperor. 'F-For c-conveniences', s-she says."
"Bah!" Tas snorted. "Tell her if she wants convenience, to die quickly. Now," Tas said icily. "Leave me alone. Or else," he said gesturing to the carcass. "Or else, you shall suffer his fate."
"Y-yes, E-Emperor," Galivan said bowing. "What s-should I do w-wit M-Morgan- -" His voice trailed off. He glanced about quickly. Emperor Tas was gone. His eyes strayed to the body of his dear friend, Morgan. Sudden tears welled up in his eyes. Hoisting up Morgan's body over his shoulder, Galivan walked out of the room sobbing in dismay. Choking on his tears, Galivan suddenly tripped. Morgan's warm blood splattered over him.
"It's no use!" he sobbed. "I've sacrifice so much! My family is dead; my friends are all dead!" Tears streaked down his red face. He glanced at Morgan's limp body. "No," he coughed. "I must go on. It's what you would have wanted. Don't worry," he bent down to kiss Morgan's face. "I'll find a way. The Hordes of Justice will know! I shall seek Caramon Majere!"
The servant chanted in the language of magic. The image of the ragged human servant flickered; then died. Glassy, almond-shaped eyes gazed at Morgan's body. Pointed ears stuck up from his silky hair. Bending down one last time, Galivan took Morgan's body into his arms and walked out of Tskull Keep, never to return.
But what the elf did not notice was the dark figure that subsided in the dark shadows. Gliding out from his hiding, Emperor Tas watched the elven spy leave. Tas smiled. He had known, or at least suspected, the identity of this servant. Moving his fingers in complicated patterns, Tas spoke a single command. An undead spector materialized before Tas. "Kill him." Tas said sharply. The spector nodded its fleshless head and vanished. Tas sighed. This was getting interesting.
====== ===== ===== ===== ========
Galivan darted through the underbrush surrounding Tskull Keep. Morgan in his arms, the elf dodged low-hanging limbs and animals. Dry leave crunched under his feet as the sunset appeared before Galivan through the trees. Dry tears stained his chiseled face. It was too much! Morgan, his friend was dead. He still remembered the day meeting Morgan. Both had been training in the Hordes of Justice three years ago. Both had survived many battles against the Emperor. They were the best of friends.
But now was a battle that Galivan must fight alone. Morgan was no longer there too soothe and comfort. No more nights of planning. No more nights of freedom. Galivan ceased his running. Placing Morgan's bloodstained body onto the bed of leaves, Galivan bent down to kiss hi friend's face. "I am sorry," he choked. Tears dripped onto Morgan's horrified face. "I must leave now. I'll remember you always."
Softening Morgan's face, Galivan wiped the blood from Morgan's face. Drawing Morgan's dagger from its sheath, he placed it on his friend's breast. "Goodbye, Morgan," he whispered. Then once again, he kissed Morgan's peaceful face. He stood up. A rush of cold wind knocked him sprawling over Morgan's corpse. Galivan whirled around. A specter clattered onto the bed of leaves.
Outstretching its bony hand, the undead advanced forward upon Galivan. Red fire burned in the hollows of the specter's eyes. It grinned in death. In its other hand, held a bloodstained dagger. The elf shivered at the aura of evil the specter cast. He tried to move legs. He couldn't. He stood frozen. "No!" Galivan cried. The specter continued its advance, grinning its death- grin. Anger broke the bindings that his fear had cast. Drawing his own sword, Galivan advanced upon the specter.
He swung his blade. It dug into the ribcage of the specter and stuck. Still, the specter approached. Prying the blade out of its breast, the undead cast it into oblivion. Raising its dagger, the specter charged. Rampaging and trampling the underbrush, the undead warrior thrust its dagger at Galivan.
What happened then was unexpected. The blade reflected off an unseen barrier, flinging it out of the specter's hand. The dagger flew through the air and was caught by an old, gnarled hand. The hand retreated into black robes. The figure dispatched itself from an oak. "Looking for this?" the man asked mockingly. Waving the knife around, the old man smiled. "You probably are. Oh, well," he smiled. "I'll just have to kill you too."
Raising his hands, the man chanted. "Kull ast sulerus/acht furuo shia chiol!" Darkness welled from the man's bony fingers and formed into a ball. The darkness was nothing. It was oblivion. The ball of darkness shot from the old man's hands. Engulfing the skeletal warrior, the specter let out a horrible howl of oblivion. Galivan blinked. When he looked again, the specter was gone.
Galivan felt dizzy. Staggering upwards, Galivan leaned on the oak for support. The spell that the man had used was a spell of blackest magic. The spell was known as Shadowball. Shuddering, Galivan glanced at the old man. Filed out in velvet robes, the mage's head was concealed by the shadow cast by his hood. The old man deposited the specter's knife into his one pouch. Straightening up the black-robe stared at the dark sky. He was seeking something, Galivan realized.
Shaking his head, the old man averted his gaze to Galivan. "Who are you?" he hissed. With a rustle of black-robes, the mage came to face Galivan. A gnarled hand reached out of the man;'s robes. Lifting Galivan's chin the black-robe examined Galivan. "You're a magic-user, aren't you?"
Galivan shriveled in fear. He sensed the un-hidden power of this elderly mage. This man was even more powerful than the great Head of the Conclave, Dalamar the Dark. He knew that he must proceed with caution. "Yes, Archmagus," he whispered.
The man cuffed him hard across the face. The elf tasted blood. "Archmagus?" he spat. Anger flared in his eyes. "I am no pathetic 'Archmagus', as you so put it! I surpass anyone of you stupid wizards! I am a--" The mage caught himself suddenly. The old man bit his lip. Trembling in rage, the mage turned away from Galivan.
What? Galivan silently demanded. He was about to say something, but what? One thing was sure, though. This man was a renegade. But this man was powerful. No, Galivan decided. He needed to seek the Conclave. He needed to find Dalamar. He was suddenly jolted from his thoughts by the old man, who was gazing at him intently.
"Seek the Conclave?" the old man said mockingly. "Dalamar?" he broke off into raucous laughter. Galivan clutched his head. The man was reading his thoughts! "The man smiled. "Yes, Galivan," he spat the elf's name. "I can read your thoughts."
"Then, you know that I'll expose you to the Conclave." Galivan challenged. "They will stop you!"
The man guffawed. "Stop me?" he asked sardonically. "Try and do so." He whipped his hand around in circular motions. Galivan sank to his knees. He was losing consciousness. Shadows darted about him. The old man spun his hands around faster and faster. "But, I shall let you live. Tell your pathetic Conclave that they are doomed. Tell them that the Krynn shall be cast into oblivion." Galivan's eyes drooped shut. The old man ceased his spell. "Tell them," the old man whispered. "Tell them that I, Tsunonu, shall destroy all." Gilivan heard those last words, before he shrouded in deep darkness.