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Prologue
The night Amshazar was requested to appear before the council of the gods, rumors were rife concerning the troubled times in the exotic lands. Whispers passed among those studying the sorcerous arts, suggesting one of them would soon be called upon to initiate the gods’ intervention.
The rumors proved to be correct. Amshazar, who had long since reached the first order of magi skills and knowledge, was demonstrating the art of controlling a shared power force to a novice when the messenger arrived.
"Power can be made stronger when nurtured between two,” he said, as he harnessed the glowing ball of light he had summoned, moving it slowly between the open palms of his raised hands.
The young students who had gathered around him in the Hall of Knowledge that evening jostled closer, filled with anticipation, eager to take their knowledge of sorcery to the next level. Amshazar scanned their faces and, seeing one who was more reticent than the others, made a mental note to draw him in. A more enthusiastic student stepped closer to Amshazar, pushing back the sleeves of his robes and raising eager hands as he moved into place.
"Open yourself to the power, but be prepared for the rush of heat when it moves between us."
The keen expression on the student's face altered to one of concentration, and the ball of heat shifted a little, moving infinitesimally in his direction. Amshazar felt the tug within as the young student connected, and then grounded himself to level off. Rays of light traversed the space between them, locking them into each other, connecting them at the very core of their being. The other students clustered around them, impressed murmurs passing between them as they observed the shared power, how it pulsed and grew, thriving on the two souls who had tapped into it.
In the background, Amshazar noticed the presence of the gods’ own messenger standing at the arched doorway into the hall. The messenger nodded himself into the chamber and shared his purpose with those near the door. Faces turned in Amshazar's direction.
Sensing he was needed elsewhere, Amshazar nodded at the more reticent magi student, indicating he should share in the exchange. “Join us, we'll harness it between three of us,” he encouraged.
Shortly after the nervous student keyed into the exchange, Amshazar shifted the balance between the two novices. They exchanged excited glances when they realized what they were achieving. The master stepped away and allowed them to manage between them. Their hands moved around the energy force. It hummed with vitality, thriving on their eager spirits.
"In practice, you would sense the highest reach of power and then direct it to your subject. There you might use it for healing, to turn back wrongdoing or to guard those in danger."
After another few moments, he clapped his hands gently, dispersing the ball of energy, smiling. “For now, we will put it to rest, we've had enough for one evening."
Chuckles passed amongst his students as they discussed this latest lesson with the two participants. Amshazar acknowledged the messenger and took the chance to slip away, joining him, and leaving the chamber by his side.
The messenger said little. There was no need to say much; his presence alone spoke for him. He accompanied Amshazar through the corridors of the Magi school toward the spire that reached skyward. Nodding at him, the messenger opened the door at the bottom of the staircase, and gestured him on.
Amshazar mounted the worn stone steps that led upwards from the secluded magi school embedded in the mountainside, up and into the presences of the deities. The steps were worn by those who had gone before—centuries of magi who had trained there, who had acted upon the words of the gods when called and instigated their wishes amongst their chosen people. He passed through the upper portal and emerged from the tower into the swirling mists of the deity plateau, a place where the gods met men and dispensed judgment.
Amshazar paused. The air here was colder, but invigorating, and he took a moment to become accustomed to it. Preparing himself, he peered through the mists toward the massive white stone gathering table, expecting to see a full quorum assembled. Instead, he saw only two figures seated there. The first was the goddess Sevita—she who inspired the higher emotions. The other was the thoughtful god, Credan, an eminent deity who exerted a fatherly presence upon the gods of the council.
"Amshazar, thank you for your swift response,” Sevita said as he approached, her voice reverberating softly in his every fiber. She presented in human form as a simply dressed woman in her middle years, her hair loosely plaited over one shoulder. Her immense, serene feminine power and beauty was nevertheless visible in her aura. She shimmered with it, the plain garments she chose to wear made almost translucent by her inner radiance.
"You are aware we have asked you here because of the recent unrest in the exotic lands?"
Amshazar nodded.
"Alas,” she said, and sighed, “Hurda is to blame. He became bored with the council. I'm afraid we lost him for a while.” She looked deeply regretful. Hurda was an unpredictable god, a god who often inspired warlike tendencies.
Credan gestured with his hands, shifting uneasily in his chair. He took the form of an aged and wise man, with long silvering hair and a furrowed brow. The breadth of his wisdom made itself felt in every way, far beyond his current form. “Hurda took it upon himself to inspire the need for ownership, instilling greed in many of the souls of the exotic lands, undermining the notion of fair trade and harmony that had begun to take root there."
Credan's eyebrows lowered as he contemplated the situation. “The trouble that has already begun can—and will—grow, powered by its own ire and the subsequent need for revenge. We have been contemplating how best we might intervene."
Sevita smiled gently at Amshazar.
That was why he had been called. They wanted to him to intervene on their behalf. It was a worthy challenge, something he had been preparing for these past years. He lowered his head, indicating his acknowledgement; prepared for whatever they asked him to do. He had been ready for some time, having devoted his life to this. Fully trained and adept in the sorcerous arts, his time as a tutor to the newer magi was but a passing phase. The gods had previously indicated he was meant for a hi
gher purpose, and his time had come at last.
"I am aware of the situation, and the potential for large scale war within a few years if it were to continue to develop. Whatever I can do in the matter, please say. I am your servant, and I am ready to act."
Sevita nodded, exchanging glances with Credan. “We are still debating the best way forward, but we wished to speak with you first.” Her eyes shimmered with admiration. “We appreciate your willingness in this matter, Amshazar. We consider you our finest magus. The tasks ahead demand someone with the skills and subtlety you possess."
Amshazar was somewhat embarrassed by her praise. “There are many magi eager to act upon your instruction, I am but one of many."
Credan gave a rare laugh. “Sevita has selected you, Amshazar, and I trust her judgment in this matter."
A curious smile graced Sevita's lips. “You are the right magus for this task. I'm very fond of you, and I am aware you seek a challenge."
"You are very fond of everyone,” Credan retorted at her side, somewhat sarcastically. “If I had my way Hurda would have been banished from the council for this latest selfish action."
Amshazar restrained a smile. Credan seemed rather jealous of Sevita's tolerance with her favorites. She who inspired the higher emotions—and who reminded all souls that life springs from love—magnetized both people and gods.
