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The warring towers of sorcery stood silent and broken. Icantoka lay in ruins. I sat upon her charred throne in a great tent in the bloody fields around her walls, and listened to her once-loyal subjects pledge their allegiance to me. The new Crimson Inquisitor. I listened to them and knew every word to be a lie. And so, in the jagged shadow of Icantoka I remained.

The sorcerer in green and black came to me in my tent like a whisper, past the guards and mages who were sworn to protect me as though they were nothing. Wards and spells that should have screamed in alarm remained in silent slumber. Only some sixth sense, some instinct to danger awoke me. He stood not six feet away, a faint rainbow sheen fading around him.

I was upon my would-be assassin at once, the long knife a lie to sleep with in my hand at once. Yet, unarmed as he was, he stepped easily aside and seized my wrist with such strength I could only drop it and grit my teeth at the pain. I threw a vicious kick straight at his face; again he side-stepped away, caught my foot with his arm; the tent flipped over my head and I crashed to the floor.

Fully awake now, I turned to face him, crouched, arms wide. "You will have to do better than that, assassin."

The sorcerer in green and black smirked. "I doubt I will have to. And I am not here to kill you. I am here to help you."

"Help me? And I should believe you?"

"You're still alive."

I watched his face, searching for his intent. I could see purpose and mischief in the glitter of his green eyes, clear enough, but no more. Not murder, unless to this man murder an mischief were the same.

"Who are you?"

He smiled, and a jewelled dagger appeared in his hand. He tossed it high, caught it, and it was gone again.

"That you will have to determine for yourself."

"Then, stranger, how is it that you come by stealth into my tent at night, if you mean me no harm."

"I did not say I meant you no harm. I said I came to help you. What you choose to do with my help is another matter, and I cannot say you will not come to harm by what you chose to do with it."

"You try my patience with your riddles."

"I will try your mind and your sword before I'm done."

Again, I looked through his eyes, searching for the threat in his words, but found only a superior amusement.

"You play with me."

"Perhaps. But my offer is a true one. I will set you on the path to a higher sorcery than any you have ever encountered, if that interests you."

Still his purpose eluded me. "Why would you give me such knowledge. I have many enemies. I was not aware I had such friends."

He shrugged. "All enemies have other enemies of their own. I amuse myself. Does the reason matter."

"Yes."

"Then you will have to determine it for yourself."

"You are a trying man, sorcerer."

"So I am often told."

He sat with me throughout the night, and showed me the beginnings of his new sorcery. A magic of pictures. He showed me how he had arrived in my tent, simply by drawing a picture of it, and walking through. He showed me a picture of the Jade Animator of Icantoka, whom I knew rallied together those who wished to see me destroyed and showed me how I might use such an image to reach out to him, wherever he was, and strike him down. Or turn his mind to my will. Yet what seemed so easy for the sorcerer in green and black, I found I could not emulate.

"Your mind is too weak," he said at last, with some disappointment. "I have come too soon."

"I have never met a sorcery such as this."

"Nor will you again. Until you master it yourself." He drew out one of his pictures, and began to focus on it.

"Wait - how do I gain the strength to perform this wizardry?"

He smiled again, his dry half-smile, half-sneer, arrogant, and yet with something a little more. Pride, perhaps?

"Avaricious little one, aren't you."

I couldn't answer. Not to such a truth.

He chuckled. "Seek the Wells of Shadow across the Silver Sea. Master the Shadow if you can."

A brilliant rainbow haze enveloped him and he was gone.

As dawn broke, I had not slept for a moment, racing thoughts of the sorcerer and what I had seen during the night filling my head. Since encamping around Icantoka, I had heard of the silver sea - an endless desert of pure silver sand, a place where no water was to be found, where no breath of wind disturbed the air. A place of death, where no man ventured except to die of heat and thirst.

Yet he had told me there was an end, a beyond to it.

And yes, I was avaricious for power. Power to defend myself and those who I chose to protect. And my potence had been questioned. And in the year since I turned from mere cursed and belittled Volutiun into Skyrie, sorcerer-king and Crimson Inquisitor of Icantoka, I had learned a great deal of pride and arrogance, and very little of caution.

The content of this page is © copyright Stephen Deas 2001 and is used here with permission.
It may not be reproduced in any form whatsoever without the permission of the author.