by JD Hart
One of the white-robed oracles to Giles’s left elbowed him in the ribs. “Get along with it, man!”
Giles stared intensely at the oracle. Clearing his throat, he continued. “But that is another story. Three months ago, we observed a rather interesting arrangement of the planets in our celestial model. If you will step closer, I will show you what I mean. Yes, please mind not to bump anything.” He waved vigorously for everyone to come closer, but did not wait before pointing at a small, bluish ball. “This represents our planet, Gaia, our astrological reference point. Now, if you will notice, if we draw a straight line from Hemera to Gaia, then extend the line straight on, we see that the line intersects with Pontos on the other side. We know this, of course, because for the last several nights, we have been witnessing the shadow of Gaia tracking its path across Pontos’s surface.” Giles pointed to where Gaia’s shadow had been seen on Pontos. “If we draw another line perpendicular through Gaia, running right to left”—he ran his finger from the pale blue ball to the large brownish-red ball—“we see Aether and Ourea are similarly aligned to create a perfect cross.”
It struck Jonath where this discussion was likely going. He let out a sharp, short laugh.
Giles looked questioningly at the king.
Jonath balked. “Sir Giles, you cannot be suggesting what I think. It is pure coincidence these three planets and Hemera, which by chance happen to be named after the four elemental Beings, are aligned to form the points of the Cosmic Star around our Gaia.”
Giles bowed humbly to Jonath, yet he countered with a touch of irritation in his voice. “I must apologize, Majesty, but we, the Oracles of the Mystics, are not in the business of making suggestions. ‘The mere Mystic seeks to know what is; it takes an Oracle to find what is yet to come,’” he recited the age-old proverb with fervor. “My experience says there are no coincidences. The heavenly bodies are named as they are for a reason—Hemera for the Fire Djinn, Aether for Air, Pontos for Water, and Ourea for Earth. These, along with the other bodies”—Giles waved his arm to include all the colored balls—“are here to offer us insights into the greater Cosmic drama, if we understand how to interpret them.”
He paused only long enough to take a breath. “The oracles have spent a millennium studying and relating the motion of these bodies to events on Gaia with great accuracy. I can say with certainty that never in New Cronoa’s history has this alignment—this Cosmic balance—been near as precise as at this very hour. And that does not even consider that, at this very moment, on the other side of Gaia, our moon Erebus, the shadow, the keeper of the Anarchic”—Giles pointed to the small gray ball near Gaia—“is in full eclipse. Nor does it consider that the heavenly body Eros, the Harmonic lover, is precisely eclipsed by the only body that could dwarf it—Hemera herself. No, all of this is anything but coincidental. Sometime in the next thirty minutes or so, the celestial alignment will be complete. In that moment, for that one Cosmic heartbeat, the Cosmos will be suspended in precise balance.”
Before Giles could continue with his monologue, Lady Noray interrupted, “What does this mean exactly? What will happen? Will the skies light on fire, the ground shake until the mountains crumble, or the lakes turn to dust?”
Giles bowed deeply again before continuing. “We can only ordain the significance of the moment, my Lady, not divine its meaning.”
Tension flared among the doyens. Several animated discussions broke out until a middle-aged woman oracle near Giles stepped forward and shouted over the chatter. “Lady Noray, if I may? I believe I can illuminate Sir Giles’s comment in a way that will explain our limitations in exacting the effects of this Cosmic balance.”
Lady Noray replied impatiently, “Madam Gildamare, yes, if you please.”
Offering a deep bow, Gildamare continued. “Thank you, my Lady. We humans, and our animal colleagues who share Gaia, go through our lives day by day believing we are in complete control of the choices we make. On the individual scale, this is generally the case. So if this is true, how does the Cosmos enact its great plan to which we the oracles subscribe? The answer to this question can be found in three Cosmic laws. First, we know our decisions, and thereby our actions, are influenced by the heavenly bodies that create forces upon our psyches, often in very subtle ways. During Erebus’s full face, crowds exhibit more Anarchic behavior and become mobs, while wars are most likely when Pontos appears on the horizon. Second, we are influenced by the bonds we share with the animals. These two are generally accepted as fact. But there is a third component the Cosmos employs to guarantee success of its plan.
“We all have heard stories of several people simultaneously and independently creating a unique thought or important idea. We also know cases in which two or three people arrived at the same place and time, each capable of solving a perplexing and challenging problem that appeared suddenly. Each of us can give specific examples of times when we were faced with a life-changing situation or we lacked the capacity to do something important, and out of nowhere, a preceptor arrived to guide us. All this suggests that the Cosmos uses probability and redundancy. That is to say, when something important must be done, the Cosmos creates multiple opportunities and uses the other laws of the heavenly bodies and bonds to ensure that one of those possibilities becomes realized.
“This leads me to the point Sir Giles was making. We believe a significant event is about to occur, one that will, at first blush, be as subtle as a falling leaf, but will most certainly set in motion a cascading series of effects that will ripple through the Harmonic Weave for the next several hundred years ... if not longer.”
Gildamare raised her voice to be heard over the growing murmur among the doyens. “But what happens when the forces of the heavenly bodies are so perfectly set in balance that their effects are nullified? The laws normally guiding our path on the macro scale ceases to apply. We believe the Cosmos has created a singularity, a single possibility, which will take effect since its other laws will not be working. Further, we believe whomever the Cosmos selected for this singularity was most assuredly directed to the place of this event, but, once there, will act completely on their own volition. To summarize all of what we have said, when this moment arrives, the Cosmos will be at the mercy of that singularity. That is why we cannot divine what will happen.”
The doyens stood in silence. Finally, Lady Noray asked, “Is there a way to at least know when and where this event will occur?”
Giles held up his ink-smudged finger in triumph. “Ah! We can indeed! If everyone will gather back here, I will show you how.” The entire gathering encircled the tall man next to the rod protruding from the floor.
“With some rudimentary mathematics at our disposal, we narrowed the location of the event to the eastern region of Griffinrock. That is the reason for requesting King Jonath’s attendance in this matter.” He nodded courteously to the king before proceeding. “Since the event will occur precisely when Hemera is aligned with Gaia and Pontos, we know the star will be exactly at the event location’s zenith, where no shadow will be cast. At that same precise moment, here in Graystone, there will be a shadow. By scaling the distance to Hemera, we can use our inverted map of Griffinrock here”—Giles pointed at the parchment on the floor—“with the rod positioned in Graystone to find the event’s locus. Once the bodies on the model have reached their precise alignment, we will hear an audible click of the gears. The shadow of the tip of the rod will pinpoint the location.”
As if on cue, a loud mechanical clang reverberated from the metal spider. Giles bent and marked a spot on the map. “It seems the event is taking place at this very moment, approximately fifty miles north of Cravenrock, within the Dragon’s Back Mountains.”
So immersed were they in their pensive thoughts and discussions about how best to proceed that no one noticed one of the doyens, Lord Tenarian Andermann, slipping away from the group, his hand hidden beneath his robes clutching a large, flat amulet with black onyx stone.
Night of the
Necromancers
Breanen Sagamore stared out the chamber window high in the Academy of Thanatos. Her long, straight hair, silver and thin from age, hid the amulet hanging from a thick chain about her narrow neck. Absently, she rubbed the amulet’s black onyx stone with a withered hand. Tired eyes scanned the landscape below.
The view offered no solace from the hours spent staring at the four walls of the dark room. There was nothing scenic about what she beheld. The thick green forest that had once surrounded the majestic fortress and Academy of Thanatos was gone, except for the gnarled, petrified trunks and branches of trees ravaged by the Necromancers who had tried in vain to hold back the mighty army of the Seven Realms over nine hundred years ago. The grounds around the fortress walls had been so utterly seared from powerful Fire-Earth spells and summonings that flora still refused to grow. But when the Necromancers broke from the Shamans Order at the start of the Great War six hundred years ago, they rebuilt the fortress of Thanatos and its Academy exactly as their Supreme Lord Shazarack had designed it. The horrendous scene outside was a constant reminder to those calling Thanatos home of the prejudices and offenses committed by those incapable of appreciating the important work they performed.
But all that was about to change.
She closed her eyes and licked parched lips, her mind wandering. Hemera had crossed its zenith here in the northern Anarchic Lands, so the long-awaited moment was upon them. The countless years did little to ease her impatience. Too much time had been put into these plans to not feel anxiety boiling up through her frail mortal frame. And though she had been waiting for a message from Tenarian, she inhaled sharply as she sensed her Brother’s consciousness. Her eyes opened wide with Tenarian’s news. Turning, Breanen examined the hollow, expectant faces of the Lords and Ladies of the Night standing about like cadaverous phantoms in midday shadows.
They marveled at her clairvoyance. But why should she care if they clung to heathen hocus-pocus? Some things were not meant for mortal minds, no matter how deeply they hungered for the knowledge of the Cosmos. Feigning respect, she bowed slightly to them. “It is as I said. The balance has arrived.”
In his flowing dark purple robes, Galan Martesian, Sovereign Prince of the Necromancers, responded with a smile void of feeling. “Your services in this matter are deeply acknowledged, Breanen.” To the Lords and Ladies in the chamber, he continued. “The time is with us, my friends. The Night of the Necromancers will return when we have rebuilt Shazarack’s mighty army and reclaimed what was his. Give the command. Tonight we begin the summonings with the corpses we have at our ready.”
Breanen’s thoughts drifted, her hand vanishing beneath the silver hair draped across her chest. She found the cool touch of the blue-specked onyx comforting. Even with all the time here, it never ceased to amaze her how predictably simpleminded they were in their endless pursuit of power and wealth. She watched Galan depart for their bedchamber to get the rest he would need for the night’s arduous work. Convince a powerful mortal you held the key to rule the world and he would gratefully follow you into the torrential depths of the Anarchic planes.
It was several minutes before Breanen realized she was alone, staring at the tainted land below. She started down the dark hallway leading to the bedchamber where Galan lay sleeping. She was growing tired of this drab place. Someday she would enjoy the unending sweetness of physical pleasures. But much work remained before obtaining that reward.
Anthem
For a hundred millennia, the harsh Antaric Sea winds beat cold waves across the northern edge of the volcanic island, only to receive heated white foam churned against molten rocks for its efforts. Still, the wind whipped hissing steam, ash, and sulfur on rising jets of air a hundred paces up the formidable craggy cliffs, serving to cool the drafty caverns that honeycombed the massive island.
It is possible a human adequately schooled in volcanic structures would have noted that many of the cavern openings potting the island walls were too smooth and evenly spaced to be a natural effect of the island’s active volcano. But no human had ever reached this island. The decomposing bones of ships and their occupants served as a constant reminder to passing vessels to steer clear of the towering sea spider’s treacherous shallow reefs webbing outward. A human would surely have marveled at the intelligent makers’ cavern design. Skillfully carved conduits relieved deep volcanic pressure by venting lava to fissures lining the base of the island, leaving the upper regions untouched by liquid rock since the architects’ arrival nearly a millennium before. But no human had ever laid eyes upon this refuge.
The caverns teemed with life unsympathetic to the misfortunes of the ship-bearing creatures caught in the island’s web. Deep pockets, pooled with a mix of nutrient ash and heated rainwater, served as dens for the recently hatched, while keepers maintained diligent watch until first molting. Molted youths frolicked in endless games through deep nursery tunnels guarded closely by young adults. Along the southern rocky ledges, adolescents tested their bravery and maturing leathery wings through thick, swirling steam in a dangerous dance of tag. The more adventurous adolescents flew south, letting the strong Antaric winds carry them on to the mountainous mainland shores eighty miles away to dine on more exotic foods.
It was a particularly warm midday when the four remaining Ancients of the Cloudbender family were stirred by the Cosmic shift. Milky blue eyes peered hesitantly through narrow slits before horned black heads lifted from the cavern floor. In unison, the four rose on ancient legs and engaged massive muscles that should have long since atrophied. Sharp claws, long from lack of use, clicked metallically on the cavern floor as the mighty beasts lumbered to the nearest sky-bound shafts. Then, digging deep into the shaft walls, the four behemoths climbed upward into daylight they had not felt in decades. Rocks rumbled and cracked under the straining weight. Aged scales broke away from the bulky bodies, descending down the long shafts like ebony summer rain.
Driven by powerful Cosmic forces, the four iridescent forms walked the volcano’s upper crater. Assembling reverently around the sacred totem constructed long before their arrival, they began a ceremony performed only once before in their family’s history. Impulses dormant since their summoning sprang forth. Under the brilliance of a cloudless blue sky, they rocked back on bulking heels and unfurled black wings larger than the sails of the greatest frigates. Filling their lungs to the point of pain and beyond, they began to sway rhythmically and sing the epochal verses of their family’s anthem.
The caverns were carved precisely to match the resonating vibrations of the Ancients’ chords. The entire island structure responded sonically. Decomposing ships nearby trembled; some succumbed to natural forces, shuddering, cracking in agony, and disappearing below rising waves whipped up by the vibrations crossing the island.
With the first low rumbling chord, life within the island ceased its hectic bustle. Those who had lived to know the early verses closed their eyes, and with heads arching to the cavern ceilings, joined in the anthem that honored the works and deeds of those who had come before. The voices of the Ancients wove the intricate patterns of shifting harmonics, with each succeeding age joining in, guiding the anthem in the long procession through the generations. They sang in praise of the Shaman God who brought them into the world, they sang in joy for their release into the world and to the den they built to raise their family, they sang with pride for bonds they once had forged with humans, and they sang in honor of those who died keeping a promise that was never meant to be made.
And when at last the anthem reached its final verse, and all but the hatchlings joined in to achieve the full height of the crescendo, Hemera neared its zenith. In that moment, as if unwilling to relent without giving a last call of warning, the island quivered one last time, and the sea sent out one last wave, and the air blew one last gust upon the sea winds. Then there was silence.
Bonding
All Conner could think about was getting out from under the oppressive weight of the mou
ntain, feeling the fresh breeze on his face, letting the midday rays warm his skin. But his eyes kept drifting to the black rock in the middle of the cavern. Light reflecting off its surface shimmered in waves. Halfway to the entrance, his step faltered. Well, he was heading in that general direction. Surely a closer look could not hurt.
Three paces from the rock, it occurred to Conner that the black surface did not look like any type of rock he was familiar with. At two paces, he noticed the side of the rock was undulating. Conner mentally ran through the short list of large mountain creatures he knew of, but nothing fit. Fascinated by the odd shape, and with his Stealth spell invoked, he was not concerned that he might awaken the slumbering beast. One pace away, he could make out a shifting blue iridescence to the creature’s skin. He moved yet closer. No, not skin. The surface was made of ... scales.
Captivated by the iridescent blue flowing across the scales, Conner reached out slowly so as not to disturb the creature. Fingertips slid gently across the rough surface, igniting faint cobalt sparks that tingled up his arm. And in that moment, the world around him seemed to shudder.
Part V
The Cosmos knew its unfolding and was moved with great love. And through the vessel of its love, all Beings received two gifts so that each could avow its part in the great drama that unfolds. The first gift was the Cosmos’s very spirit, the essence of its energy, so all Beings could feel the persistent will to live. And the second was discernment, so all Beings would feel the illusion of their separateness, their aloneness, from their Creator. Thus it is that Beings are forever caught in the Cosmic drama of life, to wisely use their first gift to shed consciousness of their second, just as a snake sheds a skin it has outgrown. So it is that all return to the One, but only if we take care not to be the skin that sheds the snake.