Saturday, April 12, 2008

Prologue

[NOTE: I wrote this opening to a novel that I never finished. It was something I whipped out one say for fun years ago. I think this is from the early 90s. Here you go.]

They were coming up the stairs, and Androval knew the time was nigh. He quickly stepped into the pentagram and drew the blade. A bluish glow flickered along it’s silver inlay, each rune in the knife’s metal lighting up in anticipation of what was to come.

All he had to do now was say the word and do the deed.

“Ungram!”

The blade flashed red, then sparkles of slivery light began to appear along the edge.

A loud booming sound told him they were trying to break in the door. It was solid oak and reinforced by a thousand spells. But he had no doubt they’d be standing before him in a short span of time.

He put the blade, point first, over his heart, and with one quick thrust, killed himself.

The door exploded inward in a spray of metal and wood. But Androval was already gone. His blood pooled around his corpse.

Vrtex was the first to enter the room. His eyes were like coals in the furnaces of hell. They looked upon Androval’s body and rage burned in them mightily.

The others came in after him. D’Xrr, his sister. A beauty no one could have. Her eyes like bright crystals. And Abxac, his cousin…a void of darkness shaped like a man, wreathed in red lightning. Both of them snarled when they saw the mage’s dead form.

“Quick! His soul may still be in the room! Search for it!” D’Xrr howled.

The room was large and somewhat classical for a mage’s workplace. The walls were covered with runes of power, the floor painted with all manner of symbols. There were shelves and shelves of books, potions, magical artifacts, and components.

Before they could do anything a small form shot out of a wood case on the shelves, sending glass shards flying. Like a rocket it blasted through a nearby window and went into a storm laden sky, disappearing in an instant.  The only thing they were able to see was a flash of metal. It wasn’t a soul. It was some strange device.

Vrtex glared at the dead mage and the body burst into flames. It quickly turned to ashes.

“You can’t escape us, wizard. Nor can the world its fate.”

The three gods reached into other space with their minds and moved elsewhere. Androval’s tower exploded in flames, then crumbled into dust. For ten thousand years hence, no grass would grow where it once stood.

The end of all things had begun.