The Magic Flute

Chapter 1: A Scream in the Storm

The mountains stood over a foot tall on a table that took up most of the space in the small room. Surrounding the carefully sculptured and designed mountains was a representation of the Forest Morningsglory and within the forest to the east was the Dryn City of Greenhaven. Beyond the forest and the city where the Saffron River left the trees behind, the town of Edgewood acted as the mediator between the world of the Kianan and that of the Dryn. To the north of the forest and the mountains was the village of Windvale, and to the west of the mountains was the castle of Highwall. Far to the south and beyond the scope of the map was the Ivory Tower where the Kianan King held court.

Tahrl looked back over the model to the Redstained Mountains and the little wooden signs that recorded the paths of the troglodytes. More signs stuck into the model indicated where his soldiers had blocked the troglodytes' expansion. The small posts told of where there had been battles with the troglodytes, where there had been victories, and where there had been defeats. The forces that were represented on the signs were a mixture of Kianan Soldiers, Dryn, dragons, and even some of the Magician Balthazar's graths.

The wind roared but in defiance of what Tahrl did not know. He looked up from the table at the flickering of the lamps and about the small stone room. A storm raged outside of the walls of the castle, and Tahrl could feel the wind and the rain even from the map room deep inside of Highwall. The crack and crash of thunder seemed to shake the room, and he put his hands against the edge of the table.

He let go of the table, lifting his hands as if he could not trust them in the storm, and smiled weakly to himself as if he did not expect his fingers to understand the joke. He looked back to the table and picked up a sign, which he intended to add to the model. The light from the lamps flickered, casting strange shadows over the mountains, and a cold damp wind seemed to batter around him. Turning away from the table, he saw how the light flickered and played about the large stone cavern, yielding soft shadows and dark designs that had not been formed in less than a thousand years. He leaned against the table as the crash of thunder echoed and re-echoed about the chamber. He shook his head and then looked about the small room that was home to the map of the Redstained Mountains.

The lamp flames flickered and shook as if they were being beaten about by a strong wind. The quickly changing patterns of shadow and light had made the room look like a Cathedral. He turned back to the table and let his gaze wander over the mountains. The Cathedrals were the ancient dwellings of the DiKena. To step into the ruins of a Cathedral was to step into a hall of stone and crystal that had been shaped into spires and arches and vaulted ceilings beyond description. The one time that he had been inside a Cathedral, Tahrl had felt his skin tingle. He had stepped delicately across the floor with the echoes of his footfalls thundering all around him, and he had spoken with his Montmorin guide in only hushed whispers.

He heard a shout and saw flashes of amber light flicker through the Cathedral. The wind rushed over the walls of the castle.