by Tony Donadio
She took a deep breath, and he could see her biting back her anger. Finally, reluctantly, she lowered her eyes.
“Just as you did,” she said softly. “The day of the attack. You hid — and prepared the only possible counter-strike that could save the world.”
He nodded sadly. The hard look in his eyes slowly faded, until all that was left was a haunted stare.
“And the price of that choice was the life of nearly everyone I loved.”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were brimming with tears.
“Grandfather,” she sobbed. “How can you bear it?”
Then she was buried in the old wizard’s arms, hugging him tightly. He closed his eyes as he held her.
“I can’t,” he whispered.
She slowly released him and stepped back.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“As am I, Granddaughter.”
She turned and walked away from him. She stood alone looking at the walls of the valley for a long time.
“I can’t just live here,” she said at last, “while you study our enemies for weakness. I need a focus, a purpose.”
He smiled. “You sound like you have something in mind.”
She nodded.
“You were right when you said I’ve done all I can — for now. Song and theater won’t defeat Zomoran and his horde, and Carlissa doesn’t need a ‘princess bard.’ It needs a warrior princess.”
She turned to face him. Her eyes were alight with determination.
“Teach me, Grandfather,” she said. “To fight, with steel and magic. You’re the world’s greatest living adventurer. Take me as your student. Help me to become the weapon I will need to be to defeat our enemies.”
“Ah, Randia,” he said. He looked at her sadly, and his eyes were filled with bitter regret.
“I would have given my life to spare you this fate. Do you truly want to set out on this path?”
She nodded eagerly. “You know I do.”
He bowed in acquiescence.
“Then let the Silver Star live on, here in the sanctuary of Blackwing Lodge.” He smiled. “The headmaster will don his robes for a last, long semester — and a class of one.”
She returned his smile. “Thank you.”
She walked over to her blanket and sat down. She picked up and unstoppered her water skin, and took a long drink.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “I’ve been mulling over this whole idea of letting the world think we’re dead. If we’re going to do that properly, we’ll need new identities.”
Lenard sighed. “You and your passion for playing parts. I think you’re going to have more trouble giving up the ‘princess bard’ than you realize.”
She shook her head. “Then I’ll use it. Leverage it, make it a part of what I become. And you’re changing the subject.”
“I suppose you’re right. Do you have a suggestion?”
“Well, we should start with names. A new surname will be easy enough. ‘Blackwing Lodge’ should belong to the Blackwing family, after all.” She looked up at him. “And old man and his granddaughter, living a quiet and peaceful life in the mountains of southern Carlissa.”
“All right. I hope we won’t have much need to use the story, though. Neighbors coming by for tea every Thursday will defeat the purpose of living in a ‘hidden’ valley.”
“True. Now we need a name for you. How about ‘Reynard?’ Or ‘Frederick?’ No, those sound too pompous. How about —”
“Allen,” he interrupted.
“Allen Blackwing,” she mused. “Yes, I think that works.”
“And you?”
She was silent for a long time.
He smiled. “Difficult decision?” he asked.
She looked at him pointedly. Her lips quirked into a wry grin.
“Don’t rush me,” she said.
She was still thinking when she heard a rustle of wings in the tree above her. She glanced up to see a robin light on one of its branches. It cocked its head and began to sing cheerily.
“Robin Blackwing,” she said slowly.
And then she smiled.
The Fate of the Sanctum
Robin Blackwing stepped into her grandfather’s laboratory. He sat at his desk, working intently on a collection of scattered papers. Magical formulas littered the pages, many of them crossed out and corrected.
“Working on a new spell?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said absently.
“Well, it’s time to take a break. Dinner’s ready.”
He looked up at her. “Have you finished your exercises?”
She nodded. “And the written assignments. You can grade them after we eat.”
He sat back in his chair. “You’re doing well in your studies,” he said.
She shook her head. “I’m just getting started. And flattery won’t get you out of coming to the table on time.”
He smiled. “No, of course not.”
He stood slowly. He leaned on the desk a little as he got to his feet.
“Grandfather,” she asked suddenly. “What happened to your staff?”
“Gone,” he said. “It was destroyed in the battle.”
“You never told me how that ended.”
“There’s little to tell. Your simulacrum collapsed. Mine stood over her body and fought until the enemy was about to overwhelm him. I made sure the image of that last stand appeared in the Blood Moon for everyone to see.”
She grinned. “Nicely staged. You could make a dramatist yet.”
“I hope not,” he said fervently.
“And the end?”
“When they were closing in for the kill I finally abandoned possession of my duplicate. He used his last reserves of power to create an explosion. The blast vaporized what was left of our simulacra, the sanctum, and its artifacts. And a good bit of the southern cliff in the process too, I think.”
“The ring as well?”
“I’m afraid so. Now you go on. I need to wash up, and then I’ll meet you at the table.”
She nodded and walked toward the door. She paused on the stairs and turned.
“The legendary Sanctum of the Archmage,” she said wonderingly. “And now it’s gone. A small price to pay to save the world, I suppose. But still, what a shame.”
He heard her footsteps receding as she climbed the steps and left the room. He smiled as he watched her go.
“Ah, Granddaughter,” he said quietly. “Surely you didn’t think I had only one?”
Glossary
Archmage. The title reserved for the greatest wizard on the Eastern Continent.
Blood Moon. One of the two moons of the world of Kalara. Its name comes from the distinctively reddish hue of its light.
Blue Moon. One of the two moons of the world of Kalara. Its name comes from the distinctively bluish hue of its light.
Craftmage. A mage skilled in the art of creating magical items.
Dweomer. The pattern of magical energy, or “algorithm,” constituting a spell. Often used colloquially as an informal synonym for “spell,” it also denotes the form in which an enchantment is invested by a craftmage in a magical item.
Eastern Continent. That part of the continent of Kalara lying east of the Calihan River and the Northern Plains. It is typically considered to include the lands of Elde, Carlissa, and Rayche, and the Nurian Mountains.
Grim Times, the. A period in the ancient history of Kalara that preceded the Taming. It was marked by constant warfare between Light and Dark, resulting in a descent by both sides into a barbaric dark age. The great knowledge of the Age of Legends was completely lost during this time.
High City. The terraced westernmost part of the city of Lannamon. It lies beneath the face of Mount Cascade, between the palace and the crossroads adjacent to the great amphitheater. It is the most exclusive part of the city, and mostly home to the mansions of the greater nobility.
Lower City. The flat and non-terraced part of Lannamon lying around th
e tip of the Firth of Fajang. It is home to most of the city's people who lack great wealth or noble rank.
Magus. The highest designation of accomplishment or “rank” among wizards, save for the singular title held by the Archmage. It denotes a mage of exceptional power and skill.
Mountainset. In Lannamon, the time when the sun descends below the shoulder of Mount Cascade to the west. The time between mountainset and full sunset creates an extended dusk-like period in the city.
Scry. The use of magic to find, sense, or generate images of something distant or hidden, such as with a crystal ball.
Taking, the. A ritual practiced by the Hellmen upon conquering a land. It involves the taking of spoils, especially slaves, from among the defeated people.
Taming, the. A period in the history of Kalara that followed the Grim Times. It refers to the long, slow victory of the Children in the ancient conflict between Light and Dark. Their many separate realms grew in strength during this time, “taming” the wild lands of Kalara around them. They allied at its end for the first time since the Great War to defeat the Dark, driving its remnants into the mountains and wastes to the north and west.
Upper City. The terraced northern and southern arms of Lannamon, lying between the Lower City and the bluffs that ring the valley. The more affluent and influential of the capital's inhabitants tend to live there, including the merchant class and the lesser nobility.
About the Author
Tony Donadio is a computational scientist and fiction writer living in the Mid-Atlantic USA. He is currently developing Sanctum of the Archmage as a series of novels. Dawn of Chaos is the first full-length book in the saga.
Invested from a young age with an overactive imagination, he has had a life-long love of science fiction, fantasy, computer games, and writing. His technical career has ranged from VR-based simulation to R&D in quantum computing.
He is also an amateur computer game designer. As Andarian in the Neverwinter Nights modding community, he released two "adventure modules" based on parts of the Sanctum saga. Their success helped convince him to re-explore his youthful passion for storytelling in today's new world of self and e-publishing.
For more information about Tony’s writing projects, visit his website at sanctum.andarian.com/saga, and sign up for his mailing list at sanctum.andarian.com/subscribe.
About the Illustrator
Charles Imbro is a fine artist with specialties in mural painting, portraiture, and industrial landscapes. He is available for commissions, including book illustration and cover art. For more information about Charles and his work, please visit his website at www.imbroart.com.
Preview: Wrath of the Peregrine King
Dawn of Chaos will continue in Wrath of the Peregrine King, the next book in the Sanctum of the Archmage Saga.
In the occupied capital of Lannamon, Orion, Diana and Kay work in secret for the growing rebel movement. And the princess, now calling herself Robin Blackwing, continues her studies in the Hidden Valley with her grandfather, Lenard the Archmage.As Carlissa falls and the Warlord threatens all of the Eastern Continent, the leaders of nation after nation, fearing conquest by his infernal army, sue for treaties of peace. Only one leader stands alone to defy the Horde: Tarnas Acheron, the Peregrine King of Mount Cassandra. Consumed by wrath over the murder of his daughter and her family, the lord of the mountain elves has sworn vengeance against the Black Magus and his demons.But can he survive their attack when even his wife, Queen Talina of Elde, fears to stand at his side? And will Robin and the resistance remain in the shadows while the Peregrine King fights a lone war against the Dark in their name? Or will they risk a final defeat by coming out of hiding to join his cause?
Wrath of the Peregrine King will be the first book in Crucible of Heroes, the second volume in the Sanctum of the Archmage Saga.