Naaros Rising
by Ian Johnson
Copyright © 1999. All Rights Reserved.

Prologue

From the crenellated walls of the Kai Monastery, Storm Raven surveyed the Fryelund Forest as the wind off the Kaltersee drove against the evergreen-deciduous mass. His mind lingered upon the memory of a place, or a dream of a place, somewhere away from here. . . .

In the Vault of the Sun, the Supreme Grand Master sat bathed in the golden radiance of seven hovering jewels, his eyes closed, his face a mask of peace. Then the Lorestones flared of a sudden, and went out. . . .

On an area of reclaimed wasteland in the midst of the Darklands, Banedon paced about in a blue pavilion empty of any save himself. From one end to the other, alongside a lengthy wooden table, his brow creased. Upon the table rested a plain diadem of immaculate steel. It was whispering to the mage's mind. . . .

At the apex of the Vishnar Bridge in Shadaki fronting the Imperial Palace, Wizard Regent Grey Star stroked his steely beard. His hair had gone entirely grey now, and the streak of silver that had once marked him out so clearly had become almost completely obsolete. For a moment, he saw the face of beloved Tanith in the waters beneath him, as she was in the days of her youth. He thought that he heard a voice--or was it laughter? It seemed familiar, somehow. . . .

The ash fields of Naaros rumbled beneath a heavy mass of black clouds, empty and master-less, former seat of the time-lost Agarashi Empire. All that had been the great fastness of the Doomlands was long gone now, and even the fires that had risen in wrath against its walls had cooled to an immobile layer of hard rock, fronting a gaping chasm. Naaros awaited remembrance. . . .

Chapter One -->