Prologue

Anything you see titled chapter is a chapter of the story.

PROLOGUE:

~Seeing is not believing, feeling is.~

And time wears on….

A strange black fog, thundering yet silent bears down upon Azurat, the great city built within the red-rock wastelands of its namesake’s plane. The great mountains of blood red rock rise high into the grey clouds that crawl across their peaks, casting odd shadows over the dry, hot city that sleeps but for a second. Even now flickering torches illuminate the perplexing maze of streets and alleys of the great city. And none see the shadow that roars so softly, for it is a thousand miles from the city, yet it’s destination still remains clear.

And time wears on….

As often happens, for God likes to leave a little hint now and then of his existence, the beginning of many great things would occur within the great city of Azurat. As oddly as it seems, many great things begin in certain places within the universe, though many places live their entire existence without ever seeing a single thing begin, without a single great event. For God likes to make a miracle that only those searching for one will see.

And time wears on…..

Tonight, for not the first nor the last time, something will begin. An epic, not the greatest nor the least, but an epic nonetheless will begin. But the night must wear on, time must wear on.

And time wears on….

I have traversed across the galaxies, the universes, the planes and worlds that span entirety, that span the past, present, and future. I have seen tomorrow, I have seen yesterday, I have seen a million things that no words have ever been created to describe. No name do I have, for I exist outside existence, outside race, creed, or belief. For I cannot have beliefs, for I already KNOW. I know the truth, I know the how’s, the why’s, the when’s; I know. I am, as close a word as you would understand, a teacher, a wanderer who reveals those mysterious things that no one can explain. I am the miracle, I am the magic, I am the supernatural itself. I do not create it, but I perform it…..and now……to my task…..

And time wears on…..

But stop. Let me slow time with my hand, let me hold the hourglass sideways, so that no sand moves but a grain every so often. And let us watch…….a beginning, THE beginning….of an epic, not the greatest nor the least, but an epic nonetheless…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cigarette butt hit the floor, flickering slowly out. A boot, following closely, scattered the already dead ash into the rock floor. “Qui-ri-ta.” The speaker, a stubble-covered, yellow-toothed scum snickered, his grubby armor, rusted and worn, struggling to glint in the candlelight.

“C’mon! You tellin me you win again?” A second, pale-faced man with a cock-eyed helmet winced as the victor claimed his reward. The man resembled a weasel, a furry mustache and beady eyes not helping the matter.

“You can’t beat Starl,” remarked a third man, obviously the leader. His armor glistened as he tossed the half laughing, half croaking Starl his winnings. At Quirita, nobody is better. The leader laid his hand of cards upon the table and slid them away.

“Though you’d think five nights in a row without a loss would be suspicious,” commented a fourth man sitting at the table and reluctantly watching his fortune go. He ran his hand through his scruffy red hair and looked up to the tower’s open roof hatch. “I’ll be glad when it’s my turn to stand guard so I don’t lose anymore of my earnings.”

“You say that now,” gurgled Starl, casting his eye up to a fifth man who paced the cramped tower post, waiting for his time to finish.

“Not like they need us all anyway,” the weasel muttered, placing his day’s earnings into the pot. “Another round?”

“You’re askin’ for it,” Starl chortled.

The leader turned and reached down into his waistcoat, searching for money to buy him into the game.

“Regart*! Come look at this!” A face had appeared, staring straight down with the look of a man worrying he’s forgotten something very important. “I don’t know what to make of it sir!” The man’s eyes locked with the other guards, a blush of embarrasment running over his chubby face.

The leader sighed, “Fine. Imidir* Walcott, watch over the game, would you? Make sure Starl doesn’t cheat and play my hand for me.” The regart climbed the rungs up to the post and turned to the man standing next to him. The man’s face was knotted in fear and worry. He pointed slowly out into the long canyon that led to and from Azurat city.

“Ou….out there…..sir. It looks like a sandstorm…”

The regart snatched the scope from the quaking guard and put it to his eye. Out in the darkness, invisible to the naked eye, was a wall of spinning and spiralling sand a mile high. The regart moved the scope down, then moved it back to his eye. “It doesn’t look to be anymore than a few miles away! How could anything bear down on the city without our early warning towers spotting it?” The regart turned and peered down into the tower. “Walcott! Go fetch the messages from the warning towers, tell me what we’ve received over the last five days!”

Walcott rose from his seat and wandered over to the cabinet on the wall of the cramped tower’s inside room. He opened the door and drew out a stack of papers, thumbing through them quickly. “Barely anything sir! What were you looking for?”

“Anything on a sandstorm heading our way!” The regart’s mind was swimming with explanations, but one had already surfaced in the tower guard’s mind. As it happens with many officers hired to do dirty work not usually of prime choice for any human with a will of his own, the regart’s thought process was too deep to notice the tower guard trying to bring him up to speed.

“There’s a strange storm reported just below the horizon line about a thousand miles from here….the message was sent yesterday sir…but that can’t be relevant can it?” Walcott looked up expectantly. Even the players lost in their Quirita match looked up, knowing a foreboding question when they hear one.

*Imidir and Regart are ranks within the Azurat army.