The Magic Flute

He blinked his eyes and glanced quickly about the map room. The light of a magic fire burned around several white robed figures as they struggled against the darkness that surrounded them. The model of the Redstained Mountains rested on the table before him. Tahrl felt the clay of the model under his fingers as he touched the mountains with one hand. In the wind, there were traces of music echoing about the chamber. The Redstained Mountains were not far to the east of Highwall Castle, and the dragons had never mentioned a Cathedral there. It would not matter if there had been one because the troglodytes would have destroyed it. The closest Cathedral that he knew of was part of the Earlinstien Mountains far to the north.

They were running through flickering red light, and all but one of them wore white robes. He held something long and slender that glared with silver light. Tahrl stood still to catch his breath and stretched his arms out toward the sides of the hallway. He did not remember leaving the map room. He was running with the others, following the music and the silver light. The tunnel veered crazily around him, and things of blood red and black light tried to grab him as he ran past.

Someone cried out in surprise and fear. He stopped and shook his head wildly from side to side. It was someone in the hallway and not someone in the Cathedral. A woman in servant's colors stood before him with a bucket lying on its side at her feet and water slowly spreading over the floor. He was standing in the hallway with a serving woman and not in a Cathedral with people wearing white robes. The woman held her hands over her mouth and was backed against the wall of the hallway. He brought his hands to the sides of his head and thought that he should know this woman's name.

The wind roared down the hallway, filling it with harsh music. Tahrl wrapped his arms across his chest against the cold while the woman seemed not to notice it. She was in a hallway of the castle and not with the people running through the Cathedral. Tahrl looked behind them. They were being followed by bone thin figures that were too tall and had dark red skin. His heart began to beat faster even before he turned and ran with the white robes.

They ran through vaulted corridors of the Cathedral and down a flight of stairs in the castle. He stopped, feeling the air press all around him and stick to his skin, and all around him were voices, shouts and laughter, and the crash and call of arms. The large practice room was crowded with Dryn, sparing, laughing, watching, betting on who would win. He spotted Armada with a staff in her hands facing down Chrystal. Their staves cracked together. Chrystal laughed, and the others spoke too rapidly for him to follow.

The man with the rod of silver light had stopped running. He stood in a hall that was smaller than most in the Cathedral but still much larger than the practice room. Armada shouted a wordless challenge. Tahrl could see the strange figures by the silver light. They were tall and slender with unnaturally broad shoulders and elongated faces with many sharp fangs. The man who did not wear a white robe stood against these things and raised the silver rod to his lips.

Wood cracked as if it wanted to break. Chrystal's arms shook as her staff blocked the attack.