The sun had not yet risen above the horizon, but the cock crowed as a harbinger of its coming. It was joined by a second, and then a third. Efraim cursed the birds in his first moments of consciousness. There was always work to be done on the farm, and he had gotten up just as early - if not earlier - every other morning, but today was different. Last night he had been up late, speaking with, or, more precisely, being spoken to, by Zazdor. His master, no doubt, was a madman; but, somehow, he remained sane enough to carry on his life. Or at least sane enough to make it harder for others to do so.

Efraim pushed away his covers and slipped into a robe hanging next to his bed. Quietly, he slipped past Izmiele's bed next to his, and exited his room. He slowly made his way down the stairs, and took a cup of hot tea from one of the servants already awake and at work in the kitchen. The servant, however, was also a wizard, and Efraim knew that his tea had not been brewed over a fire in the fireplace, but in the hands of the servant. Zazdor had made sure that each person who lived on the farm could cast spells, and the farm's productivity reflected it.

Zazdor had decided to leave an hour after sunrise. Efraim knew that his master still slept, and that it would be up to him to get things ready for the day's journey to Kelsan. The news of Kelsan's destruction had reached them weeks ago, but Zazdor was in no shape to travel then. In fact, the thought had not occurred to him until recently. After the army of La'adians left his farm, Zazdor apparently followed them and had been refused to join their assault. Or he had refused. It changed each time Zazdor had told it. He had teleported to Aidom and back, and, not fully recovered from his teleportation to the farm to begin with, had collapsed from fatigue.

He slept for five straight days, and when he awoke, he surprisingly said very little, and remained calm and humane. He had demanded food, and Efraim had given him all he could eat. It was the following week when he became hysterical. He ranted on about a girl called Shift Five and the "crusaders' folly." He mumbled to himself, but at times would talk to no one. After demanding that lunch be brought to him one day, he flung the maid out of the window with his magic when she brought it to him.

Efraim could not talk sense into Zazdor, and it took another week for him to become like himself again. It was during this time that he came up with the idea to go to Kelsan and take anything valuable or magical. He also had the hope that Shift Five would be waiting for him. Apparently, the girl had promised to come back with Zazdor, and then backed out on her word. Efraim did not bother to go deeper into the matter. No good could come of it.

Finding a few other wizards awake and at work, Efraim began to hitch the horses and wagon. Two guards, Kael and Cerik, were to join them. Both guards could cast simple spells of red and green mana. They would make sure that the horses were strong enough for continuous travel, and Efraim would use his healing magic to revitalize the animals. Two more wizards, a black mage and a blue mage, would also accompany them. The travel would be long, especially with Zazdor as a traveling companion. Topar used his black magic to ward their crops from insects and disease, while Barlo the blue mage helped with bringing in the rain. Each of the farm's wizards had tailored their abilities to farm life. The mages of Gowwil and Kila did not both to mingle with such common tasks.

Efraim returned to his two-floored farmhouse, and found Izmiele cooking in the kitchen. She wished him a good morning and he returned her greeting. She informed him that Master Zazdor was still in bed, and Efraim decided to wait a bit before waking him. Taking a breakfast of eggs and toast, Efraim sat down.

"Are you ready for your little excursion today?" Izmiele asked.

"As ready as I ever will be. I don't know what he thinks he'll find. The place, to my understanding, is burnt and crumbled. It's been a decent amount of time since it's fall, too, and I'm sure the place has been picked over by thieves by now."

"Or by the other empires," Izmiele added with a smile.

Efraim nodded in his agreement. "There is no point in telling that to Zazdor. Perhaps there will be something of interest left."

"You'll just have to wait and see."

Efraim continued eating without conversation, and Izmiele walked about the kitchen, humming as she went about her morning activties. The peacefulness of the morning was shattered by a bellow from upstairs.

"Izmiele! Breakfast! Efraim! Get the wagon ready!"

Efraim inwardly smiled. Zazdor was up, and he would not have to have the misfortune of awakening him. He knew that the next few days would be hectic and tiring, so he finished his breakfast as quickly as possible, while still trying to savor the tastes. Zazdor glided down the stairs in his customary shimmering blue robes. His hair, beard, and mustache were disheveled, and his eyes were wide awake and radiating with madness. His robes were surreal, and added a flavor to the farmhouse that it had rarely seen. Efraim had seen Zazdor in no other garb, and he had never seen Zazdor's robe being washed, yet it remained pristine and new.

Izmiele had a breakfast of bacon, eggs, cheese, and toast for Zazdor, and Efraim scowled to himself at Zazdor's superior treatment. He had rarely gotten such a morning feast from the mistress of the farm. Zazdor ate in relative silence, except for his mutterings that Efraim could not make out. Efraim walked silently upstairs as so not to draw attention to himself.

He did not hate Zazdor. He was loyal to him, and knew that Zazdor was an intelligent and powerful man. He proved to be a bit dissonant at times, but at other times he was just like another old man. Efraim had held his master in high esteem before he arrived on his farm with the La'adian troops. Since then, the old man had given him problems, and Efraim did not like to put off work. When Zazdor summoned, the summons must be respected immediately. He had to keep an eye on Zazdor; if he would wake without someone there, there was a chance that he would get upset. Efraim now saw him as a man of multiple faults, but he still did not doubt Zazdor's power. Efraim assured himself that he could still be loyal to a man that he did not fully understand.

After gathering some coins just in case, and a few belongings, as well as a cloak, he returned to the kitchen to find Zazdor impatiently waiting. Kael, Cerik, and the two other mages were waiting outside the farmhouse on the wagon for them. Zazdor got in and took a seat. Efraim took the driver's bench and accepted the reins handed to him by Cerik. Bringing the horses to a trot, they began their journey to Kelsan.

He didn't know why he was going to the place he was going to, but knew that there would be something of interest there. The road was made of dirt, and the surrounding country was plain and boring. The Arctic Channel was much more interesting, with rolling waves and a plethora of sea-life. The sea-life ranged from hundreds of different fish, from many of the small, delicious tasting-tasting ones, to the more intelligent species, such as the merfolk, which were quite the delicacy. They were an odd, primitive race, and he preferred not to converse with them. I could go for a nice stroll on a beach. Too bad I'm stuck on this ship.

He had been on a ship enough times, until he discovered how to teleport using his incomparable powers. Sailing was always smooth, whether nature decided to be calm, or if he had to calm it himself, which he was quite capable of. Controlling weather was very simple, and he scoffed at any wizard who could not summon a wind.

Magic was easy to use, and even more interesting if you called it forth from a wide variety of places. He had glimpsed into a dream realm, and his mana from there was endless. It was as addicting as some of the plants that some people used in Gowwil were. Gowwil was of no use to him, however, and he stayed away for the most part. Or did he? He couldn't remember the last time he was there, but he did remember the crowded streets, and the wandering minstrels, and the magnificent palace. He had to be sure to move on to Gowwil after Kelsan. It was of great priority.

The ship bounced, and Zazdor yelled to the driver. "Slow those beasts down, you idiot!"

"Sorry, Master Zazdor," the man replied. Looking at the wide expanse of grasslands, Zazdor took in the fresh, clear air. He was growing impatient, and said as much to the driver.

"We will reach Aidom momentarily, Master, and, from there, we will reach Kelsan."

"You have magic, Efraim, use it! I don't want my time wasted!"

Time was precious, but not limited. Anything was possible with magic, and he just had to figure out how to do the things he required. He was by no means stupid, or ignorant, or insane. He was simply more advanced than the others of his time. I shouldn't even waste my time here. Why am I going to this place . . . Kelsan, was it? Laughing at the joke, Zazdor sank back into serious thought.

Asterion would pay for his treachery, and Zazdor would make sure he was punished. He knew that the man was close by. Someone had told him. Or did I deduce that myself? The man would be commended for his efforts, after Zazdor freed him from his imprisonment in Janenn. How long would it take this forsaken ship to get there? Again the ship shook as a wave came up from beneath it, and Zazdor yelled to the captain.

"I am sorry, Master Zazdor, the roads are rough and rarely used."

Beasts were useless on ships, why did Efraim bother to bring them? The sea looked calm enough to him. If he were not so busy, he'd steer it himself. The only beast that he wanted was Shift Five. That fool let it escape! And then it promised to come with me and later refused! If I had just took more information from the Library of the Ancients! He mentally cursed at himself.

He heard a bird trilling in the distance, and his thoughts were scattered. What was I thinking about? Stupid beast! Why was he even bothering to go on this hunt? How could Efraim have convinced him? Why did the dragons choose to attack before? He knew that they were intelligent, and once he had one captured, he'd be able to find out their secrets. Or maybe Shift Five will tell me. He had to remember to ask Asterion where Shift Five had gone off to.

The Shift Five had promised to join him - at the moment the exact reasons escaped him - but later it refused. It needed his guiding and teaching! It was so foolish! If he could capture the thing back, he would be able to improve its design. Too bad his men and wizards had been killed when Kelsan attacked Kledion.

Kelsan. Ah, yes, that's my goal. When will we get there? He had spoken his last thought aloud, and Efraim answered it.

"We have just arrived in the town of Aidom, Master Zazdor. It is abandoned. Kelsan is not far off."

The town was empty, but Zazdor felt the presence of a single life-force. A mortal hid somewhere. He announced to his men that he would go take a look around the town, and, with that, entered the largest building. The shelves which should have held books were vacant, and no signs of life could be seen. Zazdor walked up the wooden stairs.

My marble staircases back home are hundreds of times better than these! What type of leader could allow such garbage to inhabit his place of operations? Kledion had tall, glassy spires and sturdy, marble stairs. He opened a plain wooden door, and found that the room looked strikingly familiar.

He remembered seeing the fire sorceress, Priest of Verthandi, viashino, other humans and Shift Five in this very room. He had forced one of the humans . . . Thad, he believed, to tell his tale in return for Shift Five's partnership. It had told him that it would join him if he forced Thad to tell his story. I kept my end of the bargain, as usual, but that tricky Shift Five used me! It used me!

Moving on a hunch, Zazdor ducked his head, spun around, and caught his assailant with bonds of invisible magic. The man in dark clothing hung suspended in the air, his knife stuck to the wall near Zazdor. The master illusionist lowered his captive so he could look at him at eye level, and forced his mind into his captive's. The man screamed.

Food. Money. Rich man. Live. Foreign thoughts flooded Zazdor's mind as he filtered through the man's brain. Nothing interesting. He was a petty thief wanting to gain some new possessions and Zazdor had happened to come by. Seeing the man as useless, Zazdor killed him with magic.

He didn't pay attention to how he killed the man, he just knew he did. The screaming stopped, and Zazdor was able to think clearly. Maybe he had suffocated him with magic, maybe he crushed his body with air; he didn't know or didn't care. He let the motionless corpse fall to the ground. There was nothing interesting in this little town.

They rode on, the beasts plodding along, and Zazdor forgot to mention the attack, and the others failed to ask as to why there was a scream. Concentrating on the destination ahead, Zazdor tried to think as to what he was looking for.

Shift Five. It must be here or it is dead. Why would it be stupid enough to kill itself? He had taught it better that that. How long as passed since Kelsan was destroyed? Days? Weeks? Months? It did not matter. If Shift Five was alive, he would find it in Kelsan. Of that, he was sure. The vampire lords were sure to have magical trinkets and items, and if the destruction had not destroyed them, Zazdor would pick some of those up, too. The Kelsan force had overrun Kledion, and stolen artifacts. It was time to return the favor. Zazdor had enjoyed razing Kelsan.

They had come on ships protected by black magic, and Zazdor couldn't stop them. He and his wizards took control of as many zombies as they could, and unsummoned skeleton bonds that sent bones tumbling to the ground. His beautiful city was torn down, but that did not matter. Once they left, he had rebuilt. The vampire general had taken the Crown of Brilliance, and Zazdor wanted it back. He seemed to remember very little of the battle for some reason. The vampire must have used some spell against him.

He had never dealt with vampires before, though he heard that they were hard bargainers would cheat themselves to accomplish a task. Cheat oneself? Is that possible? Kilan wizards, however, would use others if circumstances called, and that's what Zazdor liked about them. Most of his recruits came from Kila or Gowwil. I will need more wizards before I return home.

"Master," one of the wizards informed him. "We have arrived."

Zazdor turned his eyes to the fallen City of the Dead and saw how completely destroyed it had been. The outer houses were largely spared, though a great many were burned, but those closer to the center were toppled and totally destroyed. He got off of the wagon and strayed away from Efraim and his men, but not before he ordered them to pick up any magic trinkets. The streets were littered with bones and debris. He was forced to float above the mess.

"What type of ruler would allow his palace to be so ugly?" Zazdor asked aloud.

Knowing that it would take days to find anything useful, Zazdor called forth the man he had killed. He had consumed the man's thoughts, and simply manifested them in an illusion. A pale, blue, transparent man appeared out of the air, and Zazdor gave it commands. The illusion flew deeper into the city, searching.

I was a fool to be forced out of Aerelle's crusade! Aerelle? Where did that name come from? Waving his hands in the air, he forgot the question, and uselessly scanned the surface of the remains of Kelsan. It would take a very long time to search the city, he realized. He waved his hand, and called forth an illusion of the man he had killed to search the city. He did not know how long he traveled, but he suddenly felt a pressure on his head. He looked around wildly and saw no one. As he floated ahead, the pressure became voices and screams. So confused by the voices, he almost didn't see his illusion man before him.

Knowing that the illusion had done its job, Zazdor unsummoned it and absorbed its findings. Tossing aside rubble with magic, he saw three objects in the mess. They called out to him, and he giggled like a schoolchild. He called for Efraim, wherever that man had went off to, and the others. Casting a spell on the artifacts, he covered their appearance with an illusion. All three now looked like small statues of him. He smiled at his handiwork. Then he wondered why there were no statues of him in Kledion. How could I have been so careless as not to have had some made? That will have to be remedied. I must put it first on my list of priorities. But first he had to search the city. He summoned the first person that came to mind, the would-be assassin from Aidom, and sent the simulacrum off to in search of any surviving items of use.

Even with the items discovered, the pressure and screams did not subside. There was another artifact somewhere near. Calling out to him. He summoned an illusion of the man from Aidom to dig it out. After a moment, a crystal sword with an oval hole in its blade was pulled from the ground and brought to him. He sent the illusion to search Kledion, and examined the sword.

Zazdor looked at the artifact, and had a sudden longing to grasp it. He did. His scream echoed for whole minutes, and he tried with all of his might to let go. Thousands of different thoughts tried to invade his head, and the almost overpowered him. Nonsense! No one can overpower me!

With a cackle of lightning between his palm and the hilt, he let go of the levitating weapon and fell to the ground. Sudden realization hit him. Those thoughts were from thousands of souls in the sword. Souls had been captured and forced into the artifact. Souls of knights, wizards, and common-folk! Artisans! Merchants! A wealth of knowledge at my fingertips. The only problem was how to get them out. If I contracted the souls into myself, they would overpower me. Only an immortal would have the capacity to hold them. He had to know about the sword. Asterion might now about it. Zazdor created an illusion of the man that had tried to kill him to find Asterion.

Casting a spell on the sword that would allow him to touch it, Zazdor put it in the rope around his waist. He must find some way to release the souls and gain the knowledge. The same man that tried to kill him rounded the corner. Surprised, Zazdor sent a wave of magical energy. How had the man survived his assault? No matter. He could use the man's visage in the future. But, for the moment, he had to find Efraim. Looking about, he saw that the only standing structures were three pace-high statues of himself. The Kelsanites had been very glad for his liberating them from Efraim's iron-fisted rule. But he had to find some way to unleash the sword's power. Creating an illusion of that assassin to search for anything else in the area, Zazdor brooded on options.