He felt a sadness for their passing, but had no time to focus on it. All those events had happened a thousand years ago. He couldn’t change that. Besides, he had a job to do and his own task to accomplish.
His focus restored, he chanted the words to the spell on the back of the book and waited to be sucked into its pages once more.
* * * * * * * * * *
Gallian watched as Muertaa and Shade-Spinner tried desperately to cover their eyes and block out the blinding light to no avail. It was simply too intense. The light moved outward in a wide arc, starting from Gallian’s location and moving through the room, sweeping up everything in its path. It first hit the advancing Death Beasts, consuming them in its holy flame.
Then it picked up the bodies of the dead Sages that were strewn about the floor, since they were Sages no longer. Finally, it was the Wyvern-Masters’ turn. They started to run, then cowered in a corner where the light finally overtook them and they died wailing like madmen and flailing their limbs. It was almost sad to see it end so dismally for them, which only made Gallian smile all the more.
Take that, you freaks!
When all was said and done, Sage Gallian took a moment to rest, leaning against the walls of Sanctuary. He couldn’t help but to cry a tear for all the Sages who had died on this day – some of them at his own hand. He hung his head in shame. No matter how long he lived, he would never forgive himself for such an act.
His mind lost in despair and self-loathing, he thought about the prophecy he’d heard so many times in his younger days. He repeated the words of it out loud:
“And lo, before the last days, in the time of the Sages, shall an event take place that will allow Armageddon to come to pass. A Sage not unlike all the others will speak the forbidden language, and use the powers of darkness. He shall wield this power to unrighteous ends, and shall bring death to many, weakening the bonds that hold Great Evil at bay. Alas, the gods shall be powerless to stop him.”
Sage Gallian sighed and slumped against the wall. Not even in his wildest imagination did he think that prophecy was referring to him. But in his haste and hubris, he had caused the deaths of many, along with heaps of untold destruction yet to come.
He had little time to wallow in self-pity, though. He had another job to finish: secure the remaining relics that had long stood under guard in the halls of Sanctuary. While they would remain safe here for as long as he lived, he couldn’t be certain how much longer that would be.
True, some Sages lived into their thousands, but others died after only a few hundred years. No one knew what the difference was between the two groups, or who belonged to which, until they died.
With renewed focused, he turned around, wiped the tears from his eyes, and surveyed the room. At first glance, it was fairly intact.
Shaking his head, he said aloud, “Well, looks like I was able to save most of the artifacts, at least. If not the Sages.”
He shook his head again. He had no time to think like that. Though the tales he’d heard of said the seal he’d placed on Sanctuary would last forever, he couldn’t be sure of that. Tytin magic was powerful but strange, and no one alive – save himself – had ever used it.
He walked around the room, looking at all the different artifacts and magical trinkets to see what was missing.
I can only hope that the other half of the prophecies hold true, and that the Jheriem, our Savior, comes to fight this Great Evil when it arrives. He shrugged. Well, no use thinking about it. I’ve got a lot of inventorying to do.
Trying desperately to further the thoughts of Armageddon from his mind, he focused even harder on the room and its contents. He thought he would first go and check the Altar of Valor, where the Swords of Valor lay. They were weapons of great power that, when combined, could spell certain doom and destruction to the enemy of the wielder.
The three blades together were the key to unlocking the most powerful Tytin magicks of all. Spells like the Fhyrrstorm, the ultimate destructive spell. Surely, the Wyvern-Masters could not be so stupid as to leave objects of such power behind. He walked over to the altar and got a big surprise. All three Swords of Valor remained, untouched.
He was taken aback. That’s strange. He rubbed the stubble on his chin, felt the spikiness prick against his smooth flesh. I would have thought those Wyvern-Masters would have leapt at the opportunity to wield such power.
The young Sage thought on the subject a moment longer until he came up with an explanation that would suffice. Well, they would not have known the activation words. Without them, those blades will only curse the wielder. Just thinking about those horrid curses, having infinite knowledge and no one believe you, or having infinite power only to have every act reciprocated upon the caster, or being forced to commit terrible atrocities while knowing it’s wrong. It’s enough to make me think twice about even touching their sheaths!
Satisfied with the Wyvern-Masters’ reason for leaving the swords alone, the young Sage continued his remedial task. He went next to the hidden compartments all along the walls of Sanctuary, which had not been made easily, seeing as the walls were Sigmonium. He walked right
