Red Wizard of Atlantis

by Ravek Hunter

  Almost.

  In the flickering dim light of the lantern, he beheld the impossible. His new block anvil, so recently sanctified by the Fire-Bringer, was cracked through from top to bottom.

  ~~~

  The Hierophant was sitting at his desk in his office within the Naos of Kronos. There were many scrolls before him that demanded his attention, but his gaze was introspective and unseeing of the world around him. There was only one window in his office, and he vaguely registered the pitter-patter of rain that struck the hard marble of the temple’s construction. It fit his mood.

  The Ta Hiera Akakios was dead. The Fire-Bringer was dead.

  Just that morning, from a village overlooking the Sea of Waves far to the east, a messenger arrived with the news that the Ta Hiera’s body had been found under very mysterious circumstances. He related that a shepherd had been moving his goats to a more remote area of the Othrys to find fresh grass and scrub when he stumbled across the mangled remains of a man at the edge of a slope of ophiolite near the bank of a shallow river. What added to an already disturbing story were the equally disfigured bodies of two incredible creatures found nearby.

  The hieros, the priest, from the village, came to the site to witness the unbelievable claims of the shepherd only to find they were true. Further, he was able to identify the Ta Hiera by his symbol of rank—a silver headband with the flaming sickle-scythe, the sign of Kronos, which was bent and disfigured around his neck. The rest of the priest’s body was broken and partially dismembered, as if he had fallen from a terrible height. He also noted that the remains bore a single disfigured foot, and that was the final confirmation.

  The claims of the two creatures were accurate as well. They were mythical beasts from legend, created by the gods in ancient times. He knew them from their descriptions to be a Chimera and a Pegasos. Their bodies were broken and torn as well and, like the Ta Hiera, appeared to have fallen from the sky. Most interesting was the hieros’s observation that the Chimera’s claws were buried deep in the Pegasos’s flanks and both creatures had injuries that suggested they had been in a fantastic struggle before they crashed to the earth.

  The hieros ordered the creatures burned, their bodies sent to Elysium so as not to displease the gods, and the Ta Hiera would be sent back to the Naos in Sesklo.

  Miltiades was filled with sadness at the loss of his friend and wondered if he ever found his vision of Anesidora.

  ~~~

  In the Enlightened Times, she was known as Anesidora, daughter of Metis, and she was beloved by the gods. Her perfection was beauty, grace, and poise, and her elegance outshone all above and below, yet none were jealous of so many flawless attributes. It was because her every perfection was a gift from one god or another and they all claimed a part in her form and making. What none of them knew was the depth of her cruelty, as none of them thought to bestow compassion in her creation. And this pitiless vice she turned upon those weakest to defend themselves—humanity. By many names has she been known throughout the ages, once as Anesidora of Hellas and most recently as Pandora, yet her story is the same, and her fateful actions that altered the destiny of civilizations two thousand years before the Cataclysm of the Younger Dryas resonate still to this day.

  Wodanaz the Wanderer

  Chapter 14

  Ἀτλαντίς

  Avalon City

  I have a natural affinity for the natural naturalness of the completely natural biological structures of Avalon City. Bah, enough of that! I would say such a city was beautiful if it weren’t so unusual in its perpetual design and the centuries required to construct it. The astonishing abilities of the Traetling are evident in every aspect and form that no other magic or power could hope to duplicate. Avalon City is unique in so many ways that the only thing that could possibly make it better is if there weren’t so damn many trees! Naturally!

  Wodanaz the Wanderer

  ~~~

  There was a particular feeling that Qel had begun to experience when traveling for long hours and days in a place where he never tread before. It was a sort of quiet wonder at the unfamiliarity and newness of everything around him that gave him a sense of freedom and excitement. Maybe it was the prospect of adventure and danger that could seize his circumstance at any moment or the natural perfection of the beautiful environment that whispered seductively and soothingly and calmed him to his soul. Avalon was everything that he had hoped for and nothing that he expected, and it was thrilling.

  Traveling the broad road north, Aelrindel, the consummate teacher, pointed out various points of interest in the forest. There were wild apple trees that became more and more abundant as they advanced closer to Avalon City, the tracks of different forest animals in the soft soil on the side of the hard-packed road they followed, and the singing of Fairies that occasionally echoed through the forest, though none were seen. Each night they elected to camp in an open glade with a pond or small stream rather than the frequent way stations that dotted their way. It was a chance to practice their camping skills and woodland survival techniques they had learned from the Elves, and Qel had grown surprisingly comfortable with their self-supplied accommodations.

  “Aelrindel, is Vnae your only sibling, or do you have others?” Qel was sitting at the campfire next to Havacian on their first evening out of Braetling.

  “She is, in fact. Elves are fortunate to have a single child in their lifetime, let alone two.” The expression on his face was almost serene as he spoke. “I guess by Elven standards we have a large family. I wouldn’t be the man I am today without Vnae.”

  “Why is that?” Havacian asked, and then quickly added, “If it is not too personal to ask.”

  “You two are friends now, and that means you may ask me anything without fear of reprimand. Regarding Vnae . . .” He put his hand on his chest in a motion that Qel thought must be symbolic of something. Love, perhaps? “It is her strength that taught me courage when I was a child, and she cared for me while my mother was away.”

  “Vnae cared for you as a child?” Qel was taken aback. “Surely she is only a few years older than you.”

  “You are right,” Aelrindel agreed. “She is my elder by only twenty-three years.”

  Qel was astonished until he remembered how long Elves lived. To them, twenty-three years must be hardly a blink of an eye. “When did she know that she was Traetling?”

  “She has known her entire life. Everyone knew.” His features reflected a smug smile. “Our mother is also Traetling. You see, when Niamh chose her Traetling, she chose them only once, at the beginning of our people’s birth, nearly five thousand five hundred years ago. From that time on, the Gift of Traetling has passed down through the generations, but only on the mother’s side to daughters.” Aelrindel sighed deeply. “Because of the Sylvans’ low birth rate, there are far fewer Traetling today than there were in the beginning. We believe that when the last Traetling is born, that event will signal the last generation of Elves upon this earth.”

  Qel was moved by the significance of what the elf was telling them. The Elves prophesized the end of days that could come with the birth of a descendant in his own family line. Then it hit him. “That means that little Tolia is also a Traetling.”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “Do the Elders among the Sylvan have any idea when the last Traetling will be born?” Havacian was staring into the fire, the skin on his face a darker shade of blue from the heat.

  “They project at least a few thousand years, but who knows? It all depends on the rate of girls born within the Traetling line, disease, wars, or natural disasters.” Aelrindel lay down on his blanket and looked up at the stars. “Maybe longer if there is a boom in the birth rate. Who knows? We don’t worry about it. We live our lives happy and content if we can.”

  It saddened Qel to know that the Sylvan believed in such a tragic end for their people. As far as he knew, Atlanteans had no end-time prophesy, and Pontus would rule over them for eternity. If that were the case, he
wondered what would happen to the Elves. His sister was a high priestess to Pontus in the City of Atlantis; Qel would have to ask her more about that the next time he saw her, whenever that would be. He would sleep comfortably knowing that, whatever happened, it would be long after he had left this world. And long after Tolia.

  The following day they found the road to Avalon busy with merchants, tradesmen, and travelers going to or from the ancient city. Most of the travelers were Elves or Atlanteans, either mounted on horses or in floating carriages, and those that were transporting goods slowly trekked along the road in a caravan of wagons. There were also frequent mounted elf patrols that moved deliberately one way or the other, although Aelrindel commented that the warriors rarely had anything more severe than a drunken Dwarf or lost foreigner to deal with.

  Qel was impressed with the elf warriors. They wore enchanted leather armor that barely made a sound when they rode by on their tall steeds, which were bred to move quickly through the forest without losing their footing. Just like the Elves that guarded the border in Aquilon, they all carried curved swords at their sides and bows at their backs. Aelrindel explained that elf warriors were required to be experts with both weapons even when mounted. Although physically less powerful than Atlanteans, humans, and especially Dwarfs, the Elves were astonishingly agile and swift in their combat abilities. Qel had seen Aelrindel and Tridi sparing in Braetling and did not refute the elf’s assertion.

  Once in a while, the patrols included a rather bored-looking sorcerer dressed in flowing robes of Elven silk, multiple necklaces, rings, and bracelets. Qel knew from his time in the Enclave that elf sorcerers were powerful, especially in magic related to nature and the foundational elements. Like the Druids, they did not rely on Orichalcum Crystals for their power; instead, they drew it from the strength of nature. Qel was sure there was much more to it, but that was the extent of what he had learned. He didn’t doubt that Havacian would know more, and he might ask him about it later when they were alone. Atlanteans and Elves who practiced the magical arts had a healthy respect for one another and were often found collaborating for the benefit of both peoples. Qel knew of many Elves who were training with the masters in the Wizards Enclave of Atlantis and others who came to the Tower libraries to do research. He was told that it was often the same for Atlanteans visiting the Elven equivalent: the Demesne of Magic in Avalon.

  Once they were within half a day of the city, they began to see more patrols along the road and the obvious presence of Tree Guardians slowly moving one way or another in the forest near the road. Even in the air, through breaks in the forest canopy, Qel could see delta formations of Elves patrolling the skies around the city mounted on great eagles the Atlanteans called Roc. The forest creatures hardly noticed their passing and apparently did not see them as a threat, although it was quite unlikely that even a wild Roc would attempt a dive into the forest after prey, considering their size.

  That morning they found themselves trailing a small group of Tree Guardians carrying massive quarried stones along the road they were on.

  “What are they going to do with those stones?” Havacian asked.

  “The Druids must be building another ceremonial site. The Tree Guardians transport the megaliths from the quarries near the mountains and place them where the Druids want them,” Aelrindel explained. “I’ve never seen the mysterious monuments of the Druids, but others have told me that the Tree Guardians help build their triliths and stone circles. Apparently, there are Tree Guardians in Eriu dedicated to protecting and building their sacred groves, monuments, and temples as well.” After an hour the Tree Guardians left the side of the road, deeper into the wilds of the forest, along no trail that he could see.

  By late afternoon they began to see scatterings of tree-formed homes very much like those in Braetling except that they were far more numerous and closer together. Some were even formed quite high in the forest canopy and connected by a series of beautiful bridges and walkways that spanned impossible distances from one side of the clearing to another with very little support. Idly, Qel traced the network of bridges and found that one could walk the entire distance that they rode high among the branches of the trees.

  “The Traetling must be akin to artists,” Qel commented. “The homes, buildings, and walkways look as if they are not simply grown for efficiency but for natural beauty as well. Just look at the bridges, Havacian, they almost appear as if they have been carved with beautiful lacework so delicate that it should be impossible to support the weight of a mouse, let alone a small elf.”

  “The bridges and walkways are deceivingly stable and capable of supporting an amazing amount of weight,” Aelrindel spoke proudly. “Remember, every structure is alive and when there is undue stress on any part of it the forest compensates to distribute the weight more evenly.”

  Havacian was hanging on every word Aelrindel spoke and had recently begun to take copious notes in a magical journal he had brought from Atlantis. Qel had one as well, and he wrote a note to himself once in a while, mainly cataloging the exercises he had learned from the Battle Wizard, Traegarlin. He would chart his progress on the pages of vellum that would never run out in a journal that would always maintain its original weight and volume, no matter how much he wrote. The journals were gifts from their masters on graduation day, and although he didn’t think much of them at the time, he appreciated their value now. Undoubtedly, Havacian more than he.

  After riding a little farther, Aelrindel announced, “We have officially entered Avalon City.”

  Qel was confused as he looked around him and Havacian asked, “Where are the walls and towers? The city gates?”

  Aelrindel laughed, “There are no fortified cities in Avalon. The Sylvan Forest is our protection. How could any force on earth ever manage to move a siege engine through the tangle of woods that surround us? We had a tough enough time guiding our horses through it chasing Ogres!”

  It was impossible to judge the size of the city considering that it was formed into the forest in every direction, with the trees obscuring the distance. The most notable difference was that the road over which they traversed took on an unusual texture. Previously, it was incredibly hard-packed soil, easy on the horses, and now it had a slight silvery sheen, as if it had been coated with silver dust. The clearings they passed, surrounded by residences, were much more extensive than in Braetling, featuring open plazas with fountains, streams and ponds, and grassy parks for children’s play.

  Qel thought of Tolia again and had to smile. He learned from Vnae that it was a rare privilege to be chosen by Niamh to give birth to a child. She told him that nature, through Niamh, kept a proper balance on the Elven population so that it always stayed reasonably stable. In a year that there were many deaths, there would be many births. Nature somehow always knew and controlled the growth very carefully, considering their longevity. He thought back to the conversation with Aelrindel a few nights earlier and wondered why Niamh, or nature, didn’t also keep the Traetling in balance. Perhaps the Sylvan didn’t know either. Qel didn’t know what the birth rate was among the Atlanteans and Dwarfs, but it must have been far less than the humans that seemed to be popping children out on a regular basis. The humans. They would be a force to contend with one day. There was no joy in that thought.

  The streets and walkways were busy with the citizens of Avalon going here or there on their daily errands. Just like in Braetling, they often smiled or greeted them with a “good afternoon” when they passed and always appeared to be in the best of moods. In this alone, Avalon was very different from anywhere else he had ever been.

  The forest suddenly opened up when they entered the city center. There, spread out before them so unexpectedly, was a massive grand plaza which was currently being used as a marketplace.

  “Five days of the week, this is a bustling market, but the last two days of the week, the merchants must pack up their stalls and clear the plaza.” Aelrindel waved his arm across the air in front of him as
if willing the merchants in the plaza to disperse. “On those two days, our people gather to sing, feast, and perform ceremonial dances. This is our way of honoring nature, the spirits of our ancestors, and the nature goddess, Niamh. No business may be conducted on these days, and the palace provides a grand feast. Foreigners, even the Atlanteans, are dissuaded from joining in what we consider our sacred holy days. Sometimes the Druids join in. The ones in Avalon pay homage to Niamh as much as they do to Eriu or Sunna. In fact, there are few outside of Avalon who are aware of it, but we believe all three goddesses are related as sisters.”

  “I read that there is some controversy in the Western Kingdoms about Eriu and Sunna being sisters,” Havacian said. “Imagine the pandemonium of throwing another sister into the mix.”

  Aelrindel nodded his agreement. “That’s probably the primary reason we keep it to ourselves, and in case you didn’t notice, we generally care little for what outsiders think anyway.”

  “As much as you talk of isolation, your people intermingle well with the foreigners who are here.” Qel was looking over the crowds in the plaza and sitting at tables outside the taverns along the perimeter. Overwhelmingly, the Elves were in the majority, but where there was an Atlantean, a Dwarf, or even the rare human Druid, there were several Elves with them conversing, haggling or laughing over a bottle of apple wine.

  “We are a welcoming people to those we welcome,” Aelrindel smiled with a shrug. “There is a section of the city where all the foreigners stay in select taverns and inns. The embassies for the Atlanteans and the Dwarfs are located in this district. The few foreigners allowed in the city may go anywhere they wish as long as they respect the laws and customs of the Elves, and it is up to their Elven hosts or host country to educate them on what that means.”