“In the never-ending war, they used up the magic items. When those were gone, they used up the wizards and true clerics. Then they used up the great heroes, the armored fighters, the shining swords. In time, all that remained were stones and sticks. And they fought with those.”
–from “The Fall of Pyann” by the Guild of Herralan
Photo © Kent Bonham
Arrael’s grandfather had told him stories, back before the never-ending war began, when wizards did more than cast spells of destruction, when they died of old age.
They created objects of wonder and beauty, dazzling the court at the fabled palace at Eyneada.
That palace was destroyed too, he’d heard.
Some wizards must have survived, surely. They would return. They would fix this.
Arrael pulled his great-grandmother’s book from its hiding place. Tenderly opening it on his lap, he marveled at the arcane diagrams.
Frail Enlea climbed up beside him. “Pretty. What are they pictures of?”
“The future, my dear.”
I haven’t been posting as many flash fiction pieces as I’d like, busy with work and with Camp NaNo. But this photo was just too perfect to pass up!
For any of you trying to keep track of the links between these stories, Eyneada is the capital of Jonnamim, and is where Linsalla lives about 300 years later — see the chapter I just posted.