This is actually the prologue to a full-length novel I'm currently writing and hoping to get published. Hope you enjoy it. With a lot of work and a great deal of luck, you may see the entire story in a book being sold at a bookstore. I hope anyway...

Prologue

It was by treachery that they entered the Temple that night; a Seer’s treachery.

He had found the Summoning Tablet beneath the ruins of the fourth temple over a year ago, and from it, the Dark One spoke to him. At first, he had been repulsed by the pure evil that emanated from the being, and as a Seer, he was aware of the danger that such a powerful force posed to The Lands. But the Dark One’s words were full of persuasion and promises of power to those that would serve him. The Seer saw himself enthroned over all the land, and all those that were called kings and lords paid homage to him. In one such vision, he saw even Toras bowing before him, and as the least of the Seers who made up the Council of Shiloh, the lure of such absolute authority was something he could not resist.

He stood upon the watchtower that overlooked the mountain path leading up to the temple gates. In the dim moonlight, nothing moved upon the rocky, barren trail…yet. But they were coming. The Dark One had assured him of that, and he could sense them rising like a black wind toward the jagged peaks of the Rhynn Strys where the Temple of Shiloh lay hidden. He feared that his brethren might sense them as well, but he had cast a blanketing spell across the temple site. It would not last long, and if Toras had been here, it would never have deceived him. Fortunately, the High Seer had traveled north to ferret out strange rumors of dark things being seen in the northern wastelands and along the borders of the Einwe. A sneer curled the young Seer’s face. Little did that pretentious, old fool know that dark things were right on his doorstep.

Suddenly, they were there, the lowly minions of his master, filing through the narrow crack in the sheer cliffs that surrounded Shiloh. There were about fifty of them; small, scaly monsters with long snouts, which they dipped from time to time to sniff at the ground. The Seer swallowed hard, feeling the fear well up in his throat. Creatures such as this had not been seen in Old Earth for thousands of years. They were an abomination, creations of evil, and they were merely the weakest and lowliest of the Dark One’s servants. The Seer shuddered to think what the great ones of this vast darkness were like.

He cast a glance behind him at the huge, ancient buildings clustered together amid gardens, fountains, and myriads of statues. All was quiet and peaceful. The Seers slept, unaware of the danger standing at their gates. Quickly, he descended the watchtower and strode out to meet the monsters, trying to look the part of a dignified and powerful Seer, with his robes flowing around him and his plain, carved staff held in one hand. If only he had Toras’ staff, the emerald-eyed hawk bestowed upon those that held the position of High Seer, then the picture would be complete. But, perhaps, his possession of it was only a matter of time. After all, when he became lord of the land, there would be nothing he couldn’t take.

The demons had gathered a few feet from the open gates, watching his approach with eyes that gleamed in the darkness. He suddenly found himself wondering if they could speak. This was going to be very difficult if they could not. Even as he was thinking this, one of the creatures stepped forward. “You, traitor?” It asked in a snake-like hiss.

It took him a moment to realize what it was saying, and when he finally did, he was incensed. “I am the only one who can give you access to the item you have come for.” He tried to sound intimidating, though none of his audience seemed that intimidated. “I serve the same purpose as you.”

They simply stared at him with hard, cold eyes and blank looks on their dog-like faces, obviously not intelligent enough to understand all that he was saying. “Come with me,” he continued. “I will lead you to the place.”

Their feet made an odd, padding sound on the stony ground as they walked, but other than that, they were silent as they followed him toward the ruins of the fifth temple. He led them along the base of the sheer, mountain walls, deep within the concealment of their inky shadows, knowing that this was the most dangerous part of their whole operation. His blanketing spell might have masked the monsters’ approach, but he had serious doubts that it would hide their presence within the Temple gates. All he could hope was that it would confuse his fellow Seers enough that they wouldn’t respond quickly to the threat.

The remains of the fifth temple sat to the north of the Council Chambers. A fragment of one wall was still standing, but the rest of it had long ago collapsed into a huge pile of stones. None of the Seers living now had seen it when it had stood with the rest of the temples in all its splendor and glory, and there were only vague stories of what it had been used for. To most of them, it was just a jumble of ancient ruins. But to him, it was a place of dark secrets and hidden mysteries. He had often come here to study the carvings on the wall, or sift through the stones, not knowing what he was looking for, but always feeling that there was something here worth finding. It was not until a year ago that he had found a dark opening buried beneath a pile of loose rocks, and when he had shone a light into it, he saw a broken stairway leading down into the depths of the earth. He discovered that there were rooms intact beneath the surface. Most of them, while interesting in their décor, held nothing of value. But it was in one that he had found the Summoning Tablet; and just recently, in a hidden place, he had come across a great treasure. It was the reason he was here tonight.

Gingerly, he picked his way over the jagged stones and broken boulders, hearing the soft pad-pad of the demons’ feet as they trailed after him. They watched in silence as he lifted off the large rock he had put on top of the entrance to hide it. The black hole yawned before him, and as always, he thought he heard the sound of distant mutterings and whisperings of strange voices coming from the empty darkness. It was a sound that accompanied him wherever he walked in the fallen temple, though it had no origin and seemed to be part of the stones themselves. He had almost convinced himself it was just a figment of his imagination. But as he watched the faces of the monsters gathered around him, he realized that they could hear it too. A few of them cocked their heads, as if listening intently, and for the first time, he saw something flicker in their cold eyes; a flame of madness that danced like the spark of a forest fire just waiting to break free. It chilled him to the bone, and he sought quickly to break the spell of whatever was holding them in thrall.

“This is it,” he said unnecessarily.

“Our Master’s domain,” whispered one of the demons. The Seer glanced at it, recognizing it as the one who had addressed him at the gates, and saw a look of reverential awe on its hideous face. It seemed to be the leader, for it was the only one who had spoken a single word, and the rest of the creatures deferred to it in ways that were not readily discernible. There was an air of authority and demand for respect about it that the others did not possess. It was even slightly larger than its comrades. To the Seer, it seemed more intimidating as well, though he couldn’t figure out why.

Pushing the matter aside, he lowered himself into the hole and lit the lantern he had been holding. The wan light flickered across the strange markings and pictures carved on the stone walls of the tunnel-like stairway as the Seer followed it down. Finally, he emerged into a cavernous chamber at the bottom of the stairs. In a whole year of exploration, he had never found out what this room really looked like, for it was so vast in its breadth and height that the light from his lantern was like a tiny firefly, bobbing around in a deep, black well. He knew there was some kind of design on the floor in what he thought was the very center of the room, and the whole chamber seemed to pulse and hum, as if the very air was charged with some strange kind of power. It left him feeling very uncomfortable.

This room, however, was not their destination. He made his way over to the hallway that branched out of the left side of the entrance chamber. The entire subterranean structure was actually a maze of interconnected hallways, stairs, and rooms. There were some sections that the Seer had not been in yet, levels down below that he had lacked the time to investigate. But the places he had explored he knew well and headed unerringly toward the small room where the treasure lay. They passed the Summoning Chamber where the Tablet sat upon its stone table, ebony surface silent and dead when not being used. The strange mutterings were all around him now, like a roaring sea heard from a hundred miles away. At times, they sounded like nothing more than a stiff wind. But, at other times, he could almost make out words, spoken in a language he could not understand. However it sounded, it was a persistent humming noise that tickled at his ears and consciousness. Sometimes, deep within his mind, it would invoke images, wherein he saw glimpses of a world as black as pitch, where no starlight or moonlight had ever shone, where the sun had never been seen; a blackscape, in which powerful creatures were held in thrall, seeking to break the chains that bound them. It was a terrifying vision, and he tried as best he could to block out those dim voices, or whatever they were, knowing instinctively that if he opened himself to them he would fall into a pit of insanity so deep he would never be able to return.

The room was a mere niche in the wall, a small, enclosed space that contained nothing more than a bare, wooden table. He didn’t know how many times he had passed by it, not seeing anything of value hidden within the recessed shadows. Turning, he saw that the only creature still accompanying him was the leader. Frowning in confusion, he asked, “What happened to the others?”

“They wait at foot of stairs,” the monster answered. “Presence not needed.”

It worried him to think of a pack of demons roaming around in that large room, unobserved and alone, but what could he do about it? He could only hope that they didn’t get into any mischief or cause trouble until he retrieved what they had come for. Reluctantly, he nodded his head. “The item is here in the corner.”

The object lay on the floor, near the wall. In appearance, it looked like a mere piece of junk cast aside and forgotten in the destruction of the temple. The Seer had walked by it three or four times without even seeing it, and when he finally had, he almost ignored it as being some unimportant artifact or tool that no one really cared about. After all, it was lying on the ground in a shadowed corner, not carefully placed on a table or stored in a box as he thought an item of significance would be; and it was covered with so much dust that he couldn’t even make out what it was. It could have been an old kitchen utensil, for all he knew. But something, perhaps just plain curiosity and a need to leave no stone unturned; or perhaps something more than that, had drawn him to it. Carefully, he had wiped the dirt off it and knew immediately that it was a great talisman of some kind. Made of a strange, black metal, it was a large key with odd-looking runes written along the breadth of it. It could have been a key to just about anything, from a kitchen storage room to some undiscovered dungeon. But two things told the Seer it was not anything that ordinary. First was the metal itself, which was not iron or anything he had ever seen before in The Lands. Secondly, he was a Seer, and as such, he could sense the presence of magic. He sensed it very strongly in this key. After dusting it off, he had not touched it again, not even to pick it up and place it on the table. While he was sure that it being on the floor was an accident, he also knew that items of magic often affected their surroundings in ways that were not readily discernible. If he were to pick it up, any number of things could happen. The whole temple might collapse on his head, or the key could dissolve into dust as a protection against it falling into the wrong hands.

The demon, however, had no qualms about touching the object. Before the Seer could say anything, it stooped down with clawed fingers and scooped the key up into its palm. For a few anxious heartbeats, the Seer waited for something to happen. Nothing did.

“This is it.” The demon caressed the metal reverentially. “The key to the Synian Tome. We have long searched for this treasure.”

The Seer noticed that its speech had improved greatly. He also noticed something else that was somewhat alarming. It had sprouted wings on its back. “What manner of a creature are you?” He asked, his voice trembling slightly.

“Anything I want to be.” The demon grinned at him, and suddenly its face bore little resemblance to the dog-like faces of its comrades who waited for them at the foot of the stairs. Its features were flat and blunt-nosed with two round eyes, glowing bright yellow in the darkness. “I came in the form of a Magwa, as the creatures I brought with me are called. They are the lowliest of my master’s slaves, and the least intimidating. How unsuspecting you were!”

It laughed horribly. The Seer backed away, fear leaping into his eyes and his hand clutching his staff so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He knew what this creature was. It was a Changeling, a demon capable of changing forms. In the ancient legends, they were powerful beings that had caused much havoc in the land with their abilities. This one was obviously very strong, for even as the Seer watched, the hideous, bat-like shape it had taken on wavered, and then changed into that of a tall, old man with a long snow-white beard and crimson robes. In one hand, he held a staff of ebony, the emerald eyes of the hawk’s head gleaming in the darkness. It was the High Seer, Toras.

In the corridors beyond, where the demons waited, he suddenly heard a crash followed by the shouts of his fellow Seers. “What did you do?” He screamed at the demon masquerading as Toras, knowing somehow that he had been betrayed. “Why are the other Seers here?”

“I negated the magic you placed on your fellows. As soon as that happened, the Seers could sense that their stronghold had been invaded, and that is why they are here,” the creature stated calmly, as if discussing the weather. It was an exact replica of Toras, but there was a madness and evil shining in the deep, brown eyes that had never existed in the man himself, and the wise, timeless face was twisted with darkness. The young Seer suddenly wished Toras were here, even if his presence meant a punishment too unbearable to handle, consignment to whatever fate awaited Seers who had betrayed their Order. He remembered how much he had loved the old man at one time, before he had found the entrance to the fallen temple, and he would have wept if the Changeling had given him a chance to. However, the creature grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him toward the sounds of destruction that suddenly were echoing throughout the temple.

“Do not worry about your fellow Seers,” the demon continued in a velvety voice that stank of treachery. “They will be taken care of, and as a reward for all your help, you will watch.”

He didn’t want this. Deep in his heart, he had known it would come to this. The Dark One would never have let the Seers remain to spoil his plans, and the young man had told himself that he didn’t care. He would be lord of The Lands. He would have the power to right all wrongs, and if such a thing meant the sacrifice of his fellows, then so be it. But, now that the moment was upon him, he didn’t want it to happen.

Strange lights flickered on the walls as they drew near the entrance room. The Magwa were leaping about like mutated frogs, and the band of Seers had gathered in the center of the room, back to back, as they smote the demons with their magic. For a moment, the young Seer was greatly heartened, for it seemed his fellow council members were winning. Explosions of light issued from their staffs, and the monsters they hit crumpled to the ground, bleeding from numerous wounds. The Changeling watched the battle for a moment with a faint smile on its face, obviously caring little that its comrades were falling like flies. Without breaking its grip on the Seer’s arm, it stepped forward, and the green light in the hawk’s eyes suddenly flared to brilliant life.

One of the Seers, distracted by the light, turned to look, and his face lit up with joy. “Toras, you have returned.”

“No!” shouted the young Seer. “It isn’t—…”

“Yes, I have returned.” Casually, the Changeling brought up his staff, and for a terrifying moment, the young Seer thought it was going to unleash its power on the unsuspecting men in the center of the room. Instead, it sent out a bolt of energy that raced around the room, killing every single Magwa that the Seers hadn’t finished off yet. “I have come to save you!”

“Don’t believe him!” The young Seer tried again. “It’s not Toras!”

“Too late,” the Changeling whispered ominously in his ear. “They come, and it is you that have let them in.”

The demon gestured with his hand. Down the steps, like fluid blackness, came the shapes of huge, ebony shadows, and the young Seer stared in horror, feeling the evil power emanating from them. They were the black wraiths of old, though they had another name that he could not remember, masters of darkness that had been responsible for the destruction of entire races. Their power made the Changeling beside him look like a weak child.

“No,” he whispered, dread curling in his stomach. “By the Three Guardians, no!”

“You have rejected the Three Guardians to serve our Master,” the Changeling replied, his eyes no longer the deep brown of the First Seer’s, but glowing crimson. “Where the Magwas are the weakest of his slaves, these are the strongest. It is a credit to our Master’s great power that he can control such one and that they do his bidding.”

The rest of the Seers, who had watched in relief as the creature they thought was Toras kill the rest of their enemies, suddenly turned, sensing like an icy touch the approach of these majestic shadows of evil. A few held their staffs up, preparing to fight, but their hands were trembling with terror, and some among them seemed to be frozen with fear. The young Seer felt like he had turned into a block of ice, unable to move, though his mind told him to run, to fight, to do anything that would break this terrible spell he was under. One of his fellows managed to send a bolt of light at the foremost of the black creatures advancing upon them, and the Seer’s heart leapt wildly in his chest as he saw the wraith come to a halt, hoping with all his might that the burst of magic had somehow affected it. But then it raised its arms, if a thing made out of darkness could be said to have arms, and seemed to gesture. Its brothers had gathered around the small band of Seers, besieging them on all sides, black pillars that stank of evil and all manner of vile things. They too raised their arms, and the floor beneath the Seers’ feet began to glow. A few of the men looked down in alarm, and would have fled if the wraiths had not had them surrounded. The young Seer watched from the side as lines of crimson began to appear along the ground, as if someone was writing with fire or blood, and suddenly, he realized what he was looking at. It was the symbol on the floor, glowing with some kind of strange light; and even before he had a chance to assimilate the feathered wings, like those of an eagle spread wide in flight, the lithe, ebony body, and the fiercely beautiful face with eyes that glowed silver; the shape rose from the floor like a spirit finally freed from its stone prison and wrapped arms of brilliant light about the hapless men who were caught in its web. They cried out in surprise and terror, but their voices were drowned out by the strange mutterings, which had suddenly increased in volume until the stones seemed to tremble and the young Seer’s ears rang with the tremendous noise. An intense flash of light caused him to throw his arm across his face, shielding his eyes.

Then it was all over. The light abruptly vanished, and the noise ceased, leaving in their wake a deathly silence. He must have fainted, for he suddenly found himself lying on the floor in a fetal position, a faint greenish light playing across the floor around him. He looked up, into the eyes of the Changeling, who had reverted to the large, bat-like shape, which was its true form. It still carried a staff like Toras’, however, and the faint emerald light from the hawk’s eyes was the only thing that illuminated the darkness.

“Welcome back,” it hissed. “You are very privileged, Seer. Not many mortals have seen such a sight and still exist in The Lands to tell about it.”

“That was the Watcher!” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. “By the Three Guardians, that was the Watcher!” He gazed helplessly at the demon. “Where are the Seers?”

“They are gone.”

“Dead?” The Seer whispered in fear.

The Changeling chuckled softly. “There are so many meanings to the word ‘dead’. The cessation of life is only one of them. But there are more important things to talk about right now. Our Master is not through with you yet. You have another assignment.”

“I will not cause any more harm.” Bitter tears came to his eyes. “I betrayed my Order. I will not take this betrayal a step further.”

“The First Seer, Toras, must be taken care of,” the creature continued, as if he had not spoken at all. “You will be the weapon our master will use against him.”

“I will not do it.” The conviction in his voice surprised even him.

The Changeling smiled indulgently at him, as if he were nothing more than an ignorant child. “We will see, Seer. We will see.”

The End

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