by Ravek Hunter
Qel fingered the Crystal amulet under his clothing; he could feel it hum in close proximity to the much larger stone. “Have the masters ever told you how much of the Source Crystal they house in structures around the world? I mean, do you think it is as much as a cartload in there or maybe just a single large shard?”
Havacian considered a moment. “We have both seen the Source Crystal Cavern under the Wizards Enclave, with the hundreds of man-sized Source Crystals stored there. As I recall, they were all generally the same size and shape, and none appeared broken. I would guess one or more of those are relocated to the towers and pyramids around the world, but I have no idea how many.”
“So the pure crystal at the top of the palace amplifies and radiates the Source Crystal’s power for a considerable distance from where it sits now?”
Havacian nodded while he chewed the pulpy kernels of salted mahiz from the bowl of vegetable stew he had ordered. “That’s just a finely cut and polished quartz fashioned into whatever form is most appropriate for its location. Usually, it’s fashioned into the shape of a pyramid since that is a most efficient purveyor of power over long distances. I don’t know why. The Source Crystals are far below, in direct line with the quartz, in a protected area that few have access to.
Qel had also ordered the vegetable stew, and aside from the mahiz, he did not recognize any of the other vegetables that crowded the thick broth. In any case, it was delicious, and he considered ordering a second bowl. elf portions were somewhat smaller than what he was used to in Atlantis. “How far does the power of the Crystals extend? I mean, should we be worried about dead zones where we will not have access to our magic abilities?”
“From what Master Curatei explained to me, the masters and high priests have created an overlapping power grid of sorts all across the world by placing the Source Crystals at certain points along predictable lines of longitude and latitude.” Havacian always became excited when he was explaining something new. Qel wanted to laugh, but he didn’t want his friend to take it the wrong way. Havacian was a natural when it came to teaching and soaking up knowledge, and if Qel had to bet on which one of them would be a master first, he would have to bet on his friend. “At those points, they constructed towers, pyramids, or temples of various designs unless they were granted access to one suitable to their needs. Most importantly, the buildings had to blend in with the local culture using architectural fashion common to where they were built. With the exception of the quartz, they typically look like every other structure around them.”
Qel was intrigued. He had not learned much about the Orichalcum Source Crystals from his own master. “So why are some of the Source Crystal locations tended by priests of Pontus and others tended by wizards of the Imperial Order?”
“It all depends on where they are located,” Havacian explained. “Some cultures are theocracies ruled by representatives or avatars of their gods. Many of those cultures believe the arrival of the Atlanteans was prophesized, and they see our people as children of their gods or even the gods themselves. With cultures that are very sensitive to their people’s unwavering belief system, then our priests are more appropriate to work side by side with their own. Obviously, the natives rarely know the true purpose of why we are there. An example of this type of interaction is with the people of Kur-gal, far to the east beyond the Great Sea.” Havacian took a sip of wine before he continued. “The more advanced or enlightened cultures that accept wizards as part of their social norm are more likely to want to keep their religious matters separate, and in that case, wizards of the Imperial Order are a better choice. Ys, Eriu, and Lyonesse are perfect examples of that.”
“I envy that your master was the Keeper of Records and took the time to teach you about these things,” Qel said.
Chuckling, Havacian replied, “I envy that you can light a campfire with your finger. And I doubt that it was an accident that our masters allowed us to be friends from an early age. Somehow I suspect the masters go to great lengths pairing their apprentices with others who they can learn from.”
Qel laughed as well. “How clever of them!”
Chapter 15
Ἀτλαντίς
Visions
Four men and a woman sat in comfortable chairs evenly spaced around the circumference of a dimly lit circular room. Three more chairs were conspicuously empty, but no one paid any attention to those except for one man. Two paces behind each chair, almost as if set into the wall like a picture frame, was a florescent oval portal tall enough and wide enough for any one of them to walk through. The surface of each gateway concealed its destination with a swirling white fog that never dissipated or left the confines of its border.
Wodanaz, where are you?
The room itself was dimly lit by magical light globes floating just above them in the open air, and there was no ceiling, at least not in any ordinary sense—instead, it was open to the starry night above with an invisible bubble of energy protecting those inside from the elements without. Solid black obsidian with lightning-like trails of glowing red Orichalcum formed the entirety of the circular floor from edge to edge, easily twenty paces in diameter.
Busy. Leave me alone, brother.
Known as the Chamber of Portals to those who knew of it, was the meeting place for those few powerful individuals who influenced events throughout the rest of the world. They called themselves the Assembly of Nine. In this room all persons were equal and decisions had to be unanimous among those present to put them into motion. Located in the highest tower of the Wizards Enclave in the City of Atlantis, no more than a dozen people alive were aware that it even existed.
I know you heard the Calling. This is important, you should be here.
The group met regularly every ten years on the eve of the seventh full moon and in rare events of crisis with regional or global reach. The last crisis resolved in this room was the Oak War, a conflict between the Druids of Eriu and the Druids of Lyonesse, over six centuries prior. It was determined in this room that the Druids of Eriu represented the faithful reflection of the Goddess Eriu’s harmony with nature, and thus they prevailed in the conflict.
Catch me up on the details later . . .
Tonight was no regular meeting. Something momentous had occurred or would occur, and a Calling was sent out to bring the Assembly of Nine together. Well, most of them anyway.
A tall, lean Atlantean stood from his shadowed chair, silhouetted against the glowing portal behind him, and addressed the small group, “We have gathered in accordance with the Calling. Who wishes to bring an issue to the Assembly?” It was Liltanian, Emperor of Atlantis that opened the discussions. He was the sitting Supreme of the exclusive group and was responsible for conducting the meetings.
Frustrated with his brother’s indolence, Myrllin stood from his chair and walked to the center of the chamber, where the illumination from the light globes was greatest. In a robust, confident voice that rumbled with age and wisdom, he made a reply, “It is I, the Mad Bard.”
There were chuckles throughout the room. Those who had either lived long enough or heard the stories knew of Myrllin’s sense of humor, often forgetting the serious truths behind his witticisms.
A female voice rang out sweetly in the dark room, “It is good to see you well, son of Dhroghan. Will your brother be joining us?”
She was the Dagda-Dana Laghfrin, Tuatha De Wizard Queen of Falias in the North.
Myrllin pulled at the layers of his flowing gray robes with agitation. Wodanaz should be here. He raged on the inside. “It warms my heart to see you as well, Dagda-Dana,” he bowed with a flourish, “and all of you, of course. Sadly, I have not had the time to locate Wodanaz since my return; however, I will be sure to make it my priority once I am done here.”
“You have slept since the end of the Oak War. Have dark visions disturbed your slumber?” Dagda-Dana Laghfrin asked.
“I have had visions,” Myrllin confirmed, “one of which concerns all of you here.”
Silence hung in the air as they all waited for him to continue. Instead, he stood thoughtful and contemplative, considering the best way to proceed with the dire information he must impart.
“By Buri, get on with it, thaumaturge!” a deep voice roared from a stout, broad-shouldered, short man whose feet did not touch the ground from the height of the chair where he sat. He was the Mountain King, Sulyen the Breaker, Lord of the Dvergr Dwarfs in Tirnan Yog. His bulbous and bearded features were contorted in a fierce display of impatience.
“Quiet, Sulyen. Let him choose his words. You know how important his visions can be.” In contrast to the Dwarf, this man’s voice was a serene calm of almost poetic timbre. He was the High King TatharonCalithIlon of Avalon.
Hardly noticing the exchange, Myrllin stood in the center of the room a moment longer and then slowly began to speak. “What I reveal shall come to pass. There is no doubt of it, nor is there any way to change or avoid the outcome.”
He waved his arms in the air and muttered a few arcane words, conjuring before the assemblage a sizeable luminescent globe representing the world. Better to show them, he thought. The complexity of details was striking: vivid oceans with intricate land masses below clouds that circulated while the globe slowly rotated.
“I have seen death from the sky. It will come in a fiery ball larger than the Great City itself.”
Everyone knew that the Great City was Atlantis. He created an image on the globe of a colossal rock entering the atmosphere of the earth and bursting into flames as it fell.
“It will impact the Ourea with unimaginable force, causing the earth to erupt, splitting the island from end-to-end to the lowest depths of the Primal Sea, producing a rift deeper than any other to open under the sea. Walls of water leagues high will rush upon the lands from the Olmec to the Ugarit, from the ice in the north to the ice in the south. The Emerald Isle will perish and fall below the waves, never to rise again. All who stay will perish. The boiling sea and heat from the impact will cause the air above the earth to warm significantly enough to melt huge swaths of ice, raising the levels of the oceans across the world and flooding millions of leagues of land. Many civilizations will be lost, along with countless lives, and the Enlightened Times will come to an end.”
Everything Myrllin described was illustrated on the rotating globe. When he finished, the world looked much different than it had moments before.
After several minutes of silence, High King Liltanian spoke up, “You say this vision is a certainty and that nothing can be done to change the outcome?”
“That is the truth of it,” Myrllin nodded.
“Then Atlantis is doomed.” The High King’s tone was somber.
“As are many multitudes on this planet,” added the beautiful voice of Tatharon.
A new voice spoke, the Arch-Druid Caomh of Eriu, “Perhaps it is important to know when this will occur, wizard.”
“Ah, yes that is important. A little over two millennia from today,” Myrllin replied.
“Two millennia? That’s generations from now,” exclaimed the Druid.
“Not for all of us, Caomh. It is the time of my grandchildren,” countered Tatharon.
Sulyen, clearly agitated, spoke up gruffly, “Aye, not so long for my people as well. So what’s the point of telling us all this? If it is, as you say, unavoidable, what can we do about it?”
Myrllin banished his glowing globe, returning the room to its dim illumination. “To prepare for the survival of humanity. They are the future of this world, and there are dark times ahead long after Elves, Dwarfs, and even wizards have become myth and legend.”
“And why should we care if they survive?” demanded Sulyen.
Almost annoyed, Myrllin turned to the bitter Dwarf. “For the preservation of life, for one. And for another, they are all you have to carry the memory that your people ever existed.”
Not wanting to get into a debate on the merits of saving humanity, he returned to the center of the room. “I am not here to convince any of you of anything. What will be will be, and each of you must decide how your people will spend the remainder of the time you have. Perhaps some of your people will somehow survive and thrive, but that was not in my vision.”
“We have much to consider,” said Laghfrin. “Will you stay with us awhile and offer your wisdom to our deliberations?”
Myrllin laughed at the suggestion. “I am a terrible advisor, and there is much that I must do in this age. I do suggest that you keep a close eye on the stars. You will see your fate long before it arrives.”
Liltanian hastened to speak. He apparently wanted more from the sage before he departed. Myrllin couldn’t blame them; they would likely not see him again anytime soon. “You mentioned that you had other visions while you slept?”
Myrllin contemplated how much more he should tell them. “Yes, there were others. One, in particular, that may be far-reaching. Beings of ancient evil were unleashed upon the world during my slumber, and they are finding an opportunity to spread chaos where they can. My vision suggested that whatever it or they are will have a significant change to favorable fortune in the second millineum by the Atlantean calendar. You must be vigilant against abuses of power and other egregious actions within your realms. There will be chaos in many parts of the world that will require heroes equal to legend to overcome. The other visions do not concern any of you.”
With a shrug, Myrllin looked at them impatiently, tapping a foot as he leaned on his long staff. If they expected more from him, it was clear not much would be forthcoming.
Tatharon got up from his chair and stretched his slender limbs, “So what now for you, Myrllin? Will you sleep again for another millennium or stay with us for a while?”
Walking back toward his chair, Myrllin responded, “I have an important line of succession to prepare for, in addition to many other tasks. I will be around if you need me.”
Picking up his wide-brim floppy hat from his chair, Myrllin started to step through the portal behind it and then paused, “Consider carefully the future of this world and the millions of lives that weigh upon your shoulders. This is not the time to think only of yourselves.”
Then he was gone, clouds of misty smoke left swirling in his wake within the
Chapter 16
Ἀτλαντίς
The Hjaltadans
There is not much I care to say about the Hjaltadans (although there is much I could say about it) except one thing . . . What was I thinking? Everything always seems so much more clear in hindsight.
Wodanaz the Wanderer
~~~
Myrllin stood atop the tallest tower of seven that sprang from the thickly forested elevation into which his stronghold was constructed. It wasn’t a fortress as much as it was a palace fortified by the natural protection of the highest mountain on the island, a mountain that formed much of the fortress’s walls and foundation. Stronghold or palace, it was a design of artistic architecture beautiful to behold. From his vantage, Myrllin could see far into the Primal Sea, and if he could have seen beyond the horizon, he would have recognized the land of Eriu to the east, the island of Tirnan Yog to the north, and the Emerald Isle to the southwest.
This was his home—his and his brother’s, if Wodanaz ever bothered to come home, but that was a rare reunion. The home was an island he kept shrouded in mists and illusion to restrain the unwanted and the curious from trespassing. Those who did have the misfortune to find their way to its shores were in for some very nasty surprises, and they rarely survived to tell the tale. He didn’t trouble himself too much over the occasional interlopers. None had ever made it far enough into the interior to cause him any aggravation, and the wild beasts that prowled the island always enjoyed the entertainment. The people of Eriu called his home Hy-Brasil, and he accepted the name since it was as good a name as any.
Brother, I need you.
The thought appeared in his mind unexpectedly. It was his brother, Wodanaz, and the message was urgent. He di
dn’t have to wonder where he was; each of them could point in the direction of the other at any time, no matter where they were.
I’m on my way.
He projected the thought back to Wodanaz. They hadn’t spoken to each other since Myrllin roused himself from his long hibernation some weeks ago and convened the Assembly of Nine, but that was not unusual. They never needed to speak to know the condition of the other. Myrllin concentrated for a moment, took his bearings, and determined the direction in which he must travel. He sensed Wodanaz about three hundred leagues to the northeast, and depending on his mode of travel, the distance could take considerable time to cross, especially since much of it was over the vast expanse of the Primal Sea. Still, he had little choice in the matter. Wodanaz never called for him unless the situation was dire, and so he would have to fly.
Myrllin did not have the talent to fly on his own. No, he would require the help of another. Possibly a very reluctant another. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and summoned the beast to him. “Tuageo wraga mewe workommendno Dergo!” he called in a voice powerful enough to echo from the lower peaks all the way to the cliffside lair where he knew that Dergo slept.
He did not need to speak the words twice, it would come as it had always come before, and with its help, there would be a price. There was always a price. That’s how it came to be here in the first place. They had an alliance of sorts: it would defend his island from intruders in exchange for a safe place to live. Later Myrllin was forced to stock the island with magically altered man-sized rabbits in order to satisfy its hunger and dissuade it from rampaging across foreign lands in search of its meals. Fortunately, the giant rabbits bred incessantly, providing a renewable food source for all of the predators on the island.