Drasmyr (Prequel: From the Ashes of Ruin)

by Matthew D. Ryan

  I am alone, sitting in an empty chamber in my highest tower. Clarissa still sleeps, but she will awaken soon. As for myself, I am pensive.

  Alone. I had never thought to ever characterize myself with such a term. Until recently, company was always the exception, not the rule. Now, however, things have changed. Clarissa is with me every evening, perhaps not the night through, but always is her presence noted, by my thoughts, my deeds. I spent a thousand years with only books and short-lived victims to provide me company, but now I have a woman. For the rest of eternity, there will be a voice beside me, a presence to share my path. Is that a good thing? Or a bad thing? She can be so difficult sometimes, whining or complaining, yet she is still a comfort. The aching silence of untold centuries has shed at last its quiescent veil. The madness that haunts true solitude has been thwarted by her voice.

  Peace. Silence. Company. Such is the substance of my thoughts tonight. Turning inward, delving into the fabric of my solitude ... these are the activities of a philosopher’s mind. Have I grown complacent in my years? Too much the ponderer, not enough the warrior? At times, this does seem to be the case, yet, there are others when wisdom is much needed, and my ruminations seem quite appropriate and revealing.

  A golden ray of sunlight is streaming across the room and splashing against the stones of the wall. Motes of dust rise up, glittering in its light. It has that special golden sheen, that dull fading look of the passing of the Sun. It will be dusk soon. Time to hunt, time to kill, time to leave the musings of eternity and move to my true spiritual fare. I will fly to the guild again and exact my revenge; I will kill more mages, drink of an apprentice, and perhaps even bite Jacindra when I see her.

  And, of course, I have business with my latest victim.

  The wizard Toreg is skilled in seacraft. He’ll be my slave soon, but that is not enough. His is the magic that truly unsettles me. If he were exceptionally cunning, he could destroy me. On the other hand, if he retains his powers as a vampire, although he may still be dangerous, he could become a boon like no other. Imagine! A sorcerous vampire capable of parting the flow of a running river. My own powers are sufficient to withstand the Sun; with him, I could mold a weapon against water. A weapon, though ... a weapon should have no will. Clarissa has tested my patience and willpower on more than one occasion. A mage skilled with water should never get the chance. I must break him. I must drive him mad.

  I rise from my seat. The light is fading more quickly, growing dimmer and narrower with every passing second. It’s a brilliant orange now—a certain sign that it will soon be gone. I glide forward, then duck beneath the ray. It couldn’t hurt me, of course, but it could break my contact with the storm in Drisdak. It would be a bother to reestablish that.

  Shielded by the wall near the window, I can watch the forest as twilight sets in. Orange and pink fade into purples, violets, then darkness. The trees wear the cloak of shadows once again.