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Description
Drake placed the small crystal vial, filled with a bright orange substance, back on the shelf along with an assortment of other strange multicolored potion ingredients.  Running his hands across the smooth brown wood of the lab table, stained and burned in spots, he studied things carefully to ensure everything was well organized, the way his master liked it.  Despite being young, Drake was an unusually skilled dark mage.  It was his natural talent and devotion to magic that earned him an apprenticeship with the most intelligent and powerful mage in the dark order.  In the two short years since he had earned the position, Drake had learned an unbelievable amount, but looking around his master’s study still gave him chills.

The study, located on one of the many floors of the black tower, Miodog, was where he happened to be at the moment.  Turning around, he stepped onto the large red rug which covered most of the spacious room’s black stone floor.  He cast an anxious glance at the door to his right, located in the far corner.  His master was due back from the council meeting at any moment, overdue in fact.  Drake’s eyes drifted a little farther right to the fire place, where only embers burned.  With a flick of his wrist a blazing fire leapt up sending a wave of heat into the study and slightly brightening the gloom.

Snatching up a large, leather bound book from an end table, Drake swept over to the far wall where a massive bookshelf, filled with tomes of varying sizes and colors, resided.  He delicately placed it alongside other, similar looking volumes.  His eyes stole over to the back wall.  Another bookshelf stood there, like the first in every way, except that the books were all the same color, black.  These books were special, and Drake, not being a member of the council, was forbidden from reading them.  Aside from being prohibited, most people weren’t even able to read them, due to the fact that they were written in the ancient language of the Fuilrith, which hardly anyone could speak.  Drake and his master were two of the few who could.

Shaking off his desire to taste the forbidden fruit, he moved back to the middle of the room and seated himself in a lavish, red cushioned chair.  Softly brushing his fingertips over the chair’s glossy black wooden arms, he waited watching the flames serenely.  Drake reflected on recent lessons, reciting spells in his head and making occasional gestures with his hands.  As he passed the time, he withdrew his hands back into the sleeves of his favorite black robes and toyed with the velvety cloth.

Eventually, the handle turned and the door swung open.  Revlin entered his study, his head bowed slightly in thought and a small brown book clutched in his left hand.  With a casual flick he closed the door behind him.  Without looking at his apprentice, he paced over to the lab table and slammed the book down on it.  Spinning back to face the center of the room, Revlin’s scarlet robes rippled around him, flowing out ward like the waves of his rage.

Drake stood and turned towards his master.  Fury simmered in Revlin’s eyes but Drake remained unafraid.  His master’s anger wasn’t directed at him and he knew Revlin wouldn’t allow such a lapse in self restraint as to strike out against someone undeserving.  Sure enough, within seconds, Revlin regained composure and all traces of emotion faded from his features, as if they had been washed away.

“I gather things didn’t go so well at the meeting,” Drake said dryly.  A line near Revlin’s mouth twitched at this statement, but otherwise his face remained impassive.  “While you were gone, I finished the poisons you asked me to make.  Should I get them?  Will we be using them on Semias?” he asked with a slight smile.

“It’s certainly tempting, but he’d be expecting that,” replied Revlin.  “Besides, it’s a cowardly way to do it.  I want to be face to face when I kill him…but unfortunately, that’s going to have to wait.  I have other worries right now.”

He paused for a moment in silent reflection as Drake patiently waited, unwilling to disrupt Revlin’s musings.  “I spent the last few hours searching the library, trying to find this book,” he said, drumming his fingers on its faded brown cover.

“Most of my life I’ve sought power and knowledge…as my father did.  Books so often serve as gateways to truth, and truth is the ultimate strength,” Revlin spoke with a distant, dreamy look in his eyes, a slight glaze.  “All of my father’s books are now part of my collection, but I’ve still hunted for more and more, venturing into deepest, ancient places of the world to find volumes written by the very first members of the dark order.  Such journeys have only lead to more questions.  Yet, I firmly believe that these questions are necessary in the pursuit of truth.

“I’ve developed some suspicions which, until recently, I believed would be pointless to further investigate.  However, today has changed things.”  Revlin came back into the moment with startling abruptness.  “Tell me, my young apprentice, what you know about Soran.”

Drake gathered his thoughts about history quickly and answered.  “In the time shortly after the creation, when the Arsa governed the order of the world, Soran served Allfather by entering the dreams of the nonbelievers and forcing them back to the path of conformity.  Soon, Soran began to doubt the mandate of the book of Visions and persuaded many of his Arsa brethren to follow his new philosophy.  He felt, rather than putting faith in a creator who abandoned us, we should obtain pleasure by whatever means we see fit, unshackled by foolish religious rules.  Thus laying the foundation of the beliefs of the dark order, he began the first war in efforts to restructure the harmony of the world, so the strong and intelligent would rule over the weak and ignorant masses.  Before he saw his new vision fulfilled, he died destroying the great tree, Mimir.”

Revlin looked at Drake with slight disappointment.  “Exactly like you’ve been taught to say.  When I was a young mage like you, I was forced to recite the tale as well.  What your teachers have failed to tell you is that Soran thought we mortals were the weak masses who must be dominated.  Just as the others controlled the populous through faith, Soran controlled his followers through the illusion of freedom and power.  While the tenets he laid out were truthful, he was using them to meet his own ends.  Unfortunately, we all fell for it, and remain deceived.  The hypocrisy knows no bounds, but I for one don’t intend to be led like a sheep.  Do you?”

“No master,” Drake replied, his head bowed slightly.

A grim smile filled Revlin’s face.  “And yet, you still follow me unquestioningly.  What you must realize is that I can be wrong.  I can fail.  And I’m looking out for myself above all others.  You have talent…but do you have the thirst?”  Drake’s eyes shot up filled with fire.  “If there was something you wanted more than anything, and I stood in your way, would you, given the opportunity…kill me to get it?” Revlin asked.

Drake hesitated for only a moment before looking Revlin right in the eye.  “Yes…if it served my goals.”

They stared at each other for a moment.  “Good,” said Revlin.  “Then we have much to discuss.”  He held the skinny book up, displaying the worn cover.  Drake’s eyebrows rose quizzically as he read the title, printed in elegant black lettering.

“That book can’t possibly be important.  It’s…” Drake stood open mouthed, at a loss for words.

“Why not?” Revlin asked humorously.  Drake shut his jaw tightly and looked doubtfully at his master.  “If you have some reason why it’s unimportant, then speak up,” Revlin said, his good nature quickly evaporating.  “If you can’t stand up to authority, then I’m wasting my time with you.”

Drake ground his teeth together, looking at Revlin maliciously.  “It’s an Azurein book.”  When Revlin made no response, he continued.  “A recent one at that.  I’ll guess it’s no older than two hundred.  How can it possibly have accurate historical information about the First War, especially on the opposing side?”

“It doesn’t,” Revlin said cheerfully.  “This book is devoted to prayers, rituals, and customs of Azurein knights.  It teaches the behavioral codes to youths training to be members of the knighthood.  With each tradition is included a passage explaining its historical evolution.  Seeing that the Azurein weren’t formed until the start of the Shadow War, this book has no information pertaining to the First War.”

“I thought we were discussing Soran,” Drake interrupted.

“We are.  Most of this book is utterly useless to me.  There is one part however, that is extremely interesting.”  Revlin began flipping through pages.  Finding the page he was seeking, he looked back at Drake.  “This section concerns the most important Azurein prayer, the Brother’s Pardon.  It’s spoken after every battle.

“What I feel makes it relevant is where it came from.  According to the book, Alvarai spoke the exact words following the final battle of the Shadow War.  Immediately after destroying Malice’s physical body and sealing off the Shadowlands, he said…” Revlin look down at the book.  “Forgive me my brother for what I’ve had to do, for the blood that I’ve spilled once belonged to you.  My might against yours, thus it must be, my blade against you and yours against me.  May faith persevere. May time heal today.  May wisdom prevail.  May light lead the way.  An enemy’s strength in a brother’s eyes.  A warrior’s born.  A warrior dies.  My brother’s pardon I beg.”

A ringing silence followed Revlin’s words, as he snapped the book shut once again.  “What does that have to do with Soran?” asked Drake.

“Exactly what I want to find out,” replied Revlin.  “Malice is the incarnation of absolute evil.  Yet, when Alvarai defeated him, he makes a sorrowful statement like that.  He calls a being born of pure darkness his brother.  Does that make any sense to you?”

Drake’s brow contracted in incomprehension.  “No…it doesn’t, but how does that lead you to Soran?”

Revlin regained his far away look for a moment as he whispered “…purple eyes….”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Revlin sighed.  “Semias announced to the council today that Soran had visited him in his dreams last night, and discussed a great many things with him.”

“That lying rat!” Drake sneered.  “He’s trying to get the support of the council back.  He knows how precarious his hold on his title has been since you gained your seat.”

“I don’t doubt his attempts to get rid of me, but I think that this time he’s telling the truth.  I believe Soran has in fact returned, and Semias spoke with him.”

“That’s impossible,” scoffed Drake.

“Of course it’s impossible…within the current framework.  If we’re to buy everything we’ve been told about him, he couldn’t have possibly made a sudden reappearance…but if we’re to believe otherwise, the realm of possibility widens.  Taking in the subtle coincidence of Malice’s simultaneous return, I’ve become more convinced than ever that my theory is the only logical explanation.”

“Malice is back too?”  With growing comprehension, Drake said “You think they’re connected somehow don’t you?”

Revlin ignored the question.  Changing the subject, he said “Everyone on the council is scrambling to fulfill important missions right now.  Tara, Boden, and Dane have become potential assassins, Vigo an emissary, and Fisk a diversion.  Semias has taken his crew to reopen the gateway and contact the Dread clan.  I…have been delegated the duty of being a message-boy.”  Revlin produced the scroll entrusted with him, and gave it a look of distaste.

“I can’t simply waltz in and hand this to King Brian.  It’s supposed to be from Ridian.  I have to have it delivered in a believable way, which means sending it with a hawk, something Semias could have done before coming to the meeting without any stress at all.  Giving me this task is his way of publicly insulting me.  He’s going to exclude me from all of Malice’s plans.  If he thinks I’m going to sit back and let him brush me aside, he will discover how foolish he truly is.”  Revlin’s eyes were blazing.

“Your half his age, but twice as powerful,” said Drake loyally.  “Every day of your existence is proof he’s unworthy of his position.  He can try all he likes to disgrace you, but everyone in the dark order knows he’s terrified of you.  The only reason Semias is the leader of the council is that damn ring.”

“I know all that,” Revlin said, exasperated.  “My father would roll over in his grave if he knew Baskon’s Ring, the purest symbol of the order’s power, was on the finger of that old fool.  It’s the fear and awe inspired by that single artifact that gives that worm all of his authority.  I can’t wait until the day I joyously pry that ring from his corpse’s finger.”
“Do you think the legends about Nerez are true?” Drake asked.  “Did Malice really give Baskon a ring that could summon the death incarnate?”

Revlin nodded.  “All of the evidence I’ve found suggests that he did, as a sign of goodwill.  Baskon was the first dark mage, and founder of the order.  The fear of Nerez kept his followers in line.  People think that the death demon wreaked havoc during the Shadow War, but in truth, Baskon only called upon it once, near the end.  No one really knows why.  It could have been a potent weapon.  Likewise, I wonder why Semias hasn’t used it to dispose of me.”

“Maybe he knows the council would turn against him,” suggested Drake.

“Then he could use Nerez on anyone who spoke out against him.  No, there’s a different reason.  Either he’s even less cunning than I thought…or much, much more.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Drake promptly.  “Either the ring’s not genuine, or he doesn’t know how to use it.”

“By the time my father was my age, he had become the youngest council leader the dark order has ever seen, and he devoted much of his resources trying to find that ring.  That’s why he began amassing his library.  All those historical books brought him a little closer to his goal.  From reading through my father’s books, I’ve learned a lot about the ring, and I’m almost certain Semias has the real thing.  As far as not knowing how to use it, he was the one person who my father allowed to work with him.  I don’t know why my father thought he could trust Semias, and I don’t believe for a second that my father’s death was an accident, but it’s unavoidable that he learned a lot about the ring.  Despite my resentment for Semias, he was strong enough to earn his place on the council to begin with, which can’t be ignored.  He must have worked out by now how to use it.”

“What are you going to do?” Drake asked.  His voice was cold and determined, like steel.

“I don’t know,” Revlin said quietly through his teeth.  “We are standing at the beginning of war, a war the world hasn’t seen in ages.  Malice intends on spreading chaos through our enemies, while restoring order among his servants.  He won’t tolerate instability in the dark order, so now isn’t the appropriate time to make a move.”  Revlin balled up his fists, and they began to glow purple with anger induced magic.  Sweeping past Drake, he made his way over to the corner between the two giant bookshelves.  There, a spiral staircase led up to a platform which overlooked the large study.  A brass railing encircled the platform, who’s only other exit was the large door to Revlin’s bedchambers, which is where Drake thought his master was going.

Instead, Revlin turned off to the left of the staircase, where a thick grey-stoned pillar reached from the floor to chest height.  Attached to the top of the pillar was a large silver basin with purple arcane symbols on its rim and was filled with a clear liquid, which wasn’t water, but rather a mixture of potions.  Revlin held his right hand over the basin, and began a slow chant under his breath.  The symbols began to glow, dimly at first, but then brighter.  The clear potion became murky with darkness, through which lights began to swirl.  Revlin looked deeper and deeper into the basin, until the blurry swirls formed a clear image.

Revlin looked out on the field of Sidyn as the sun set, and could almost smell the mud and decay.  The field had once been filled with luscious blades of healthy, emerald-green grass, but now was blood stained and churned by boot prints.  The grass was dead and yellowing.  The whole scene gave Revlin a dark feeling he couldn’t explain.  Something horrible happened here he thought.

Without moving his eyes, Revlin shifted his focus.  The image paned up and to the north.  Framed against the horizon was the dark jagged silhouette of the ruined city of Sidyn.  A dark shadow that even the bright multicolored sunset couldn’t dispel hung over the place, and Revlin couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down his spine.  He concentrated, moving his sight closer and closer.  He wanted to take a good look at the ruins.

Suddenly, brightly glowing violet eyes, filled with beauty, intelligence, and anger, flashed through the image for a split second, and Revlin felt a jolt pass through him.  He jerked back, startled.  The symbols had gone dark, and the basin’s contents were once again clear, but although it hadn’t been touched, small ripples disturbed the surface.

Revlin’s heart pounded in his chest.  He cast a bewildered look at Drake, before turning his gaze to the bookshelf beside him.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he took one of the large black books off the shelf and marched over to his apprentice.  Violently thrusting the book into Drake’s hands, Revlin said “Start with this one.  We’ve got a lot to do, but not much time to do it.”

Description
Drake placed the small crystal vial, filled with a bright orange substance, back on the shelf along with an assortment of other strange multicolored potion ingredients.  Running his hands across the smooth brown wood of the lab table, stained and burned in spots, he studied things carefully to ensure everything was well organized, the way his master liked it.  Despite being young, Drake was an unusually skilled dark mage.  It was his natural talent and devotion to magic that earned him an apprenticeship with the most intelligent and powerful mage in the dark order.  In the two short years since he had earned the position, Drake had learned an unbelievable amount, but looking around his master’s study still gave him chills.

The study, located on one of the many floors of the black tower, Miodog, was where he happened to be at the moment.  Turning around, he stepped onto the large red rug which covered most of the spacious room’s black stone floor.  He cast an anxious glance at the door to his right, located in the far corner.  His master was due back from the council meeting at any moment, overdue in fact.  Drake’s eyes drifted a little farther right to the fire place, where only embers burned.  With a flick of his wrist a blazing fire leapt up sending a wave of heat into the study and slightly brightening the gloom.

Snatching up a large, leather bound book from an end table, Drake swept over to the far wall where a massive bookshelf, filled with tomes of varying sizes and colors, resided.  He delicately placed it alongside other, similar looking volumes.  His eyes stole over to the back wall.  Another bookshelf stood there, like the first in every way, except that the books were all the same color, black.  These books were special, and Drake, not being a member of the council, was forbidden from reading them.  Aside from being prohibited, most people weren’t even able to read them, due to the fact that they were written in the ancient language of the Fuilrith, which hardly anyone could speak.  Drake and his master were two of the few who could.

Shaking off his desire to taste the forbidden fruit, he moved back to the middle of the room and seated himself in a lavish, red cushioned chair.  Softly brushing his fingertips over the chair’s glossy black wooden arms, he waited watching the flames serenely.  Drake reflected on recent lessons, reciting spells in his head and making occasional gestures with his hands.  As he passed the time, he withdrew his hands back into the sleeves of his favorite black robes and toyed with the velvety cloth.

Eventually, the handle turned and the door swung open.  Revlin entered his study, his head bowed slightly in thought and a small brown book clutched in his left hand.  With a casual flick he closed the door behind him.  Without looking at his apprentice, he paced over to the lab table and slammed the book down on it.  Spinning back to face the center of the room, Revlin’s scarlet robes rippled around him, flowing out ward like the waves of his rage.

Drake stood and turned towards his master.  Fury simmered in Revlin’s eyes but Drake remained unafraid.  His master’s anger wasn’t directed at him and he knew Revlin wouldn’t allow such a lapse in self restraint as to strike out against someone undeserving.  Sure enough, within seconds, Revlin regained composure and all traces of emotion faded from his features, as if they had been washed away.

“I gather things didn’t go so well at the meeting,” Drake said dryly.  A line near Revlin’s mouth twitched at this statement, but otherwise his face remained impassive.  “While you were gone, I finished the poisons you asked me to make.  Should I get them?  Will we be using them on Semias?” he asked with a slight smile.

“It’s certainly tempting, but he’d be expecting that,” replied Revlin.  “Besides, it’s a cowardly way to do it.  I want to be face to face when I kill him…but unfortunately, that’s going to have to wait.  I have other worries right now.”

He paused for a moment in silent reflection as Drake patiently waited, unwilling to disrupt Revlin’s musings.  “I spent the last few hours searching the library, trying to find this book,” he said, drumming his fingers on its faded brown cover.

“Most of my life I’ve sought power and knowledge…as my father did.  Books so often serve as gateways to truth, and truth is the ultimate strength,” Revlin spoke with a distant, dreamy look in his eyes, a slight glaze.  “All of my father’s books are now part of my collection, but I’ve still hunted for more and more, venturing into deepest, ancient places of the world to find volumes written by the very first members of the dark order.  Such journeys have only lead to more questions.  Yet, I firmly believe that these questions are necessary in the pursuit of truth.

“I’ve developed some suspicions which, until recently, I believed would be pointless to further investigate.  However, today has changed things.”  Revlin came back into the moment with startling abruptness.  “Tell me, my young apprentice, what you know about Soran.”

Drake gathered his thoughts about history quickly and answered.  “In the time shortly after the creation, when the Arsa governed the order of the world, Soran served Allfather by entering the dreams of the nonbelievers and forcing them back to the path of conformity.  Soon, Soran began to doubt the mandate of the book of Visions and persuaded many of his Arsa brethren to follow his new philosophy.  He felt, rather than putting faith in a creator who abandoned us, we should obtain pleasure by whatever means we see fit, unshackled by foolish religious rules.  Thus laying the foundation of the beliefs of the dark order, he began the first war in efforts to restructure the harmony of the world, so the strong and intelligent would rule over the weak and ignorant masses.  Before he saw his new vision fulfilled, he died destroying the great tree, Mimir.”

Revlin looked at Drake with slight disappointment.  “Exactly like you’ve been taught to say.  When I was a young mage like you, I was forced to recite the tale as well.  What your teachers have failed to tell you is that Soran thought we mortals were the weak masses who must be dominated.  Just as the others controlled the populous through faith, Soran controlled his followers through the illusion of freedom and power.  While the tenets he laid out were truthful, he was using them to meet his own ends.  Unfortunately, we all fell for it, and remain deceived.  The hypocrisy knows no bounds, but I for one don’t intend to be led like a sheep.  Do you?”

“No master,” Drake replied, his head bowed slightly.

A grim smile filled Revlin’s face.  “And yet, you still follow me unquestioningly.  What you must realize is that I can be wrong.  I can fail.  And I’m looking out for myself above all others.  You have talent…but do you have the thirst?”  Drake’s eyes shot up filled with fire.  “If there was something you wanted more than anything, and I stood in your way, would you, given the opportunity…kill me to get it?” Revlin asked.

Drake hesitated for only a moment before looking Revlin right in the eye.  “Yes…if it served my goals.”

They stared at each other for a moment.  “Good,” said Revlin.  “Then we have much to discuss.”  He held the skinny book up, displaying the worn cover.  Drake’s eyebrows rose quizzically as he read the title, printed in elegant black lettering.

“That book can’t possibly be important.  It’s…” Drake stood open mouthed, at a loss for words.

“Why not?” Revlin asked humorously.  Drake shut his jaw tightly and looked doubtfully at his master.  “If you have some reason why it’s unimportant, then speak up,” Revlin said, his good nature quickly evaporating.  “If you can’t stand up to authority, then I’m wasting my time with you.”

Drake ground his teeth together, looking at Revlin maliciously.  “It’s an Azurein book.”  When Revlin made no response, he continued.  “A recent one at that.  I’ll guess it’s no older than two hundred.  How can it possibly have accurate historical information about the First War, especially on the opposing side?”

“It doesn’t,” Revlin said cheerfully.  “This book is devoted to prayers, rituals, and customs of Azurein knights.  It teaches the behavioral codes to youths training to be members of the knighthood.  With each tradition is included a passage explaining its historical evolution.  Seeing that the Azurein weren’t formed until the start of the Shadow War, this book has no information pertaining to the First War.”

“I thought we were discussing Soran,” Drake interrupted.

“We are.  Most of this book is utterly useless to me.  There is one part however, that is extremely interesting.”  Revlin began flipping through pages.  Finding the page he was seeking, he looked back at Drake.  “This section concerns the most important Azurein prayer, the Brother’s Pardon.  It’s spoken after every battle.

“What I feel makes it relevant is where it came from.  According to the book, Alvarai spoke the exact words following the final battle of the Shadow War.  Immediately after destroying Malice’s physical body and sealing off the Shadowlands, he said…” Revlin look down at the book.  “Forgive me my brother for what I’ve had to do, for the blood that I’ve spilled once belonged to you.  My might against yours, thus it must be, my blade against you and yours against me.  May faith persevere. May time heal today.  May wisdom prevail.  May light lead the way.  An enemy’s strength in a brother’s eyes.  A warrior’s born.  A warrior dies.  My brother’s pardon I beg.”

A ringing silence followed Revlin’s words, as he snapped the book shut once again.  “What does that have to do with Soran?” asked Drake.

“Exactly what I want to find out,” replied Revlin.  “Malice is the incarnation of absolute evil.  Yet, when Alvarai defeated him, he makes a sorrowful statement like that.  He calls a being born of pure darkness his brother.  Does that make any sense to you?”

Drake’s brow contracted in incomprehension.  “No…it doesn’t, but how does that lead you to Soran?”

Revlin regained his far away look for a moment as he whispered “…purple eyes….”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Revlin sighed.  “Semias announced to the council today that Soran had visited him in his dreams last night, and discussed a great many things with him.”

“That lying rat!” Drake sneered.  “He’s trying to get the support of the council back.  He knows how precarious his hold on his title has been since you gained your seat.”

“I don’t doubt his attempts to get rid of me, but I think that this time he’s telling the truth.  I believe Soran has in fact returned, and Semias spoke with him.”

“That’s impossible,” scoffed Drake.

“Of course it’s impossible…within the current framework.  If we’re to buy everything we’ve been told about him, he couldn’t have possibly made a sudden reappearance…but if we’re to believe otherwise, the realm of possibility widens.  Taking in the subtle coincidence of Malice’s simultaneous return, I’ve become more convinced than ever that my theory is the only logical explanation.”

“Malice is back too?”  With growing comprehension, Drake said “You think they’re connected somehow don’t you?”

Revlin ignored the question.  Changing the subject, he said “Everyone on the council is scrambling to fulfill important missions right now.  Tara, Boden, and Dane have become potential assassins, Vigo an emissary, and Fisk a diversion.  Semias has taken his crew to reopen the gateway and contact the Dread clan.  I…have been delegated the duty of being a message-boy.”  Revlin produced the scroll entrusted with him, and gave it a look of distaste.

“I can’t simply waltz in and hand this to King Brian.  It’s supposed to be from Ridian.  I have to have it delivered in a believable way, which means sending it with a hawk, something Semias could have done before coming to the meeting without any stress at all.  Giving me this task is his way of publicly insulting me.  He’s going to exclude me from all of Malice’s plans.  If he thinks I’m going to sit back and let him brush me aside, he will discover how foolish he truly is.”  Revlin’s eyes were blazing.

“Your half his age, but twice as powerful,” said Drake loyally.  “Every day of your existence is proof he’s unworthy of his position.  He can try all he likes to disgrace you, but everyone in the dark order knows he’s terrified of you.  The only reason Semias is the leader of the council is that damn ring.”

“I know all that,” Revlin said, exasperated.  “My father would roll over in his grave if he knew Baskon’s Ring, the purest symbol of the order’s power, was on the finger of that old fool.  It’s the fear and awe inspired by that single artifact that gives that worm all of his authority.  I can’t wait until the day I joyously pry that ring from his corpse’s finger.”
“Do you think the legends about Nerez are true?” Drake asked.  “Did Malice really give Baskon a ring that could summon the death incarnate?”

Revlin nodded.  “All of the evidence I’ve found suggests that he did, as a sign of goodwill.  Baskon was the first dark mage, and founder of the order.  The fear of Nerez kept his followers in line.  People think that the death demon wreaked havoc during the Shadow War, but in truth, Baskon only called upon it once, near the end.  No one really knows why.  It could have been a potent weapon.  Likewise, I wonder why Semias hasn’t used it to dispose of me.”

“Maybe he knows the council would turn against him,” suggested Drake.

“Then he could use Nerez on anyone who spoke out against him.  No, there’s a different reason.  Either he’s even less cunning than I thought…or much, much more.”

“He’s bluffing,” said Drake promptly.  “Either the ring’s not genuine, or he doesn’t know how to use it.”

“By the time my father was my age, he had become the youngest council leader the dark order has ever seen, and he devoted much of his resources trying to find that ring.  That’s why he began amassing his library.  All those historical books brought him a little closer to his goal.  From reading through my father’s books, I’ve learned a lot about the ring, and I’m almost certain Semias has the real thing.  As far as not knowing how to use it, he was the one person who my father allowed to work with him.  I don’t know why my father thought he could trust Semias, and I don’t believe for a second that my father’s death was an accident, but it’s unavoidable that he learned a lot about the ring.  Despite my resentment for Semias, he was strong enough to earn his place on the council to begin with, which can’t be ignored.  He must have worked out by now how to use it.”

“What are you going to do?” Drake asked.  His voice was cold and determined, like steel.

“I don’t know,” Revlin said quietly through his teeth.  “We are standing at the beginning of war, a war the world hasn’t seen in ages.  Malice intends on spreading chaos through our enemies, while restoring order among his servants.  He won’t tolerate instability in the dark order, so now isn’t the appropriate time to make a move.”  Revlin balled up his fists, and they began to glow purple with anger induced magic.  Sweeping past Drake, he made his way over to the corner between the two giant bookshelves.  There, a spiral staircase led up to a platform which overlooked the large study.  A brass railing encircled the platform, who’s only other exit was the large door to Revlin’s bedchambers, which is where Drake thought his master was going.

Instead, Revlin turned off to the left of the staircase, where a thick grey-stoned pillar reached from the floor to chest height.  Attached to the top of the pillar was a large silver basin with purple arcane symbols on its rim and was filled with a clear liquid, which wasn’t water, but rather a mixture of potions.  Revlin held his right hand over the basin, and began a slow chant under his breath.  The symbols began to glow, dimly at first, but then brighter.  The clear potion became murky with darkness, through which lights began to swirl.  Revlin looked deeper and deeper into the basin, until the blurry swirls formed a clear image.

Revlin looked out on the field of Sidyn as the sun set, and could almost smell the mud and decay.  The field had once been filled with luscious blades of healthy, emerald-green grass, but now was blood stained and churned by boot prints.  The grass was dead and yellowing.  The whole scene gave Revlin a dark feeling he couldn’t explain.  Something horrible happened here he thought.

Without moving his eyes, Revlin shifted his focus.  The image paned up and to the north.  Framed against the horizon was the dark jagged silhouette of the ruined city of Sidyn.  A dark shadow that even the bright multicolored sunset couldn’t dispel hung over the place, and Revlin couldn’t help but feel a cold shiver run down his spine.  He concentrated, moving his sight closer and closer.  He wanted to take a good look at the ruins.

Suddenly, brightly glowing violet eyes, filled with beauty, intelligence, and anger, flashed through the image for a split second, and Revlin felt a jolt pass through him.  He jerked back, startled.  The symbols had gone dark, and the basin’s contents were once again clear, but although it hadn’t been touched, small ripples disturbed the surface.

Revlin’s heart pounded in his chest.  He cast a bewildered look at Drake, before turning his gaze to the bookshelf beside him.  Without a moment’s hesitation, he took one of the large black books off the shelf and marched over to his apprentice.  Violently thrusting the book into Drake’s hands, Revlin said “Start with this one.  We’ve got a lot to do, but not much time to do it.”