The Time Weaver

Chapter 1 - Once Upon a Time

 Krycin and Merek stood atop the battlements, surveying the land before them. The smell of death hung in the air. Rank upon rank of the Dark Lord's vicious army waited outside the city walls. They wore black armor, and were equipped with an array of spears, swords, and pole-arms. Each soldier carried a shield with the Dark Lord's symbol emblazoned on it in red: a lily with a snake wrapped around the stem. Shouts from soldiers stationed on the city walls rose up to their heights but became mere background noise as they mingled and lost all definition. Buildings set ablaze by the Dark Lord's wizards billowed with smoke, filling the air with ash and the acrid taste of burnt wood. Constructed of dense gray granite, the castle held firm against any magic cast at it. “So this is it then, our last stand,” Merek said, turning to Krycin. His ancient face was lined with concern.

 “It was good knowing you old friend,” Krycin said. He looked as if he faced the gallows, but Merek sensed something more in his voice. He wasn't ready to give up just yet.

 The Dark Lord Gladius paraded in front of his army on a giant black warhorse. His battle cries goaded his troops into a frenzy. Their shouts and howls reverberated off the stone walls and shook the Findoor people to the bone. Krycin took a step toward the front of the battlements and paused, as though he might jump. Merek approached him and asked, “You're not going to do anything stupid are you?”

 A glimmer danced in Krycin's eyes, a light in the darkness that surrounded them, and he smiled. “You know me...”

 “That's what I'm afraid of.” The old wizard watched Krycin take one final step to the edge of the wall and hesitate. Clothed in loose-fitting black pants and an off-white tunic, Krycin looked more like a commoner than a powerful wizard or warrior. Tilting his head to the sky, he inhaled a deep breath and held it for a long moment before letting it go.

 Merek watched his friend at the edge of the wall. “Come, Krycin, let's convene with the commanders and come up with a plan. Gladius has us outnumbered and cornered, but we aren't beaten just yet.” Merek's gray robes fluttered in a light breeze. A deep hood covered most of his silver hair, and the sleeves extended to the middle of his hands. Every edge of his robe was embroidered with a gold trim that gleamed in even the dimmest light.

 “I'm afraid that for the first time since I've known you,” Krycin said, turning to face Merek, “you might be wrong. When Gladius took our King, he took our heart and soul. The soldiers fight with little spirit, and our resources are dwindling fast. With all supply shipments cut off, we must act now, or there will be nothing left to save.”

 Krycin's words stung in the old wizard's ears. “You know you can't face Gladius alone,” Merek said. He took a step closer to Krycin, raising his voice, “He's already taken so many of your kind. What makes you think that you will fare any better? Give us just a little more time, and we will find a way to destroy him and his army.”

 “Time? What would ever make you think that we had any more time? When Gladius marched from the Badlands with his army, then we had time. When he traveled across the Losteron Plains, then we had time. We had time when he killed our King, and when he destroyed so many of my people. But now? Now we don't have time.” His voice grew in volume with each sentence, and by the time he finished all the commanders could hear the exchange between the two men.

 Merek opened his mouth to provide a rebuttal, but before he could, Krycin turned and stepped off the edge of the battlements. He drifted down like a feather, the magical power of air keeping him from falling to his death. Dust stirred into small clouds around him as he landed just outside the castle walls. With the city between himself and Gladius, he took off running. A few quick strides later he was lost among the buildings that surrounded the castle.