Prologue

The cold, morning mist settled across the forests of Kambros Isle, rolling down the foot of Mount Arcania. The first rays of the sun shone across the snowy tip of the mountain and the jagged peak shone like a diamond above a shoulder of cloud at its neck. The growing light of dawn travelled down the steep slope and revealed the hidden Arcanium from the darkness of night. The purple brick tower of the Arcanes shone out a brilliant light as sunlight hit the mighty glass orb in the upmost window. Like a beacon to those who heard its call, the great fortress came to life in a buzz of noise and activity. The hundreds of wizards, mages, warlocks, priests and the servants who attended or guarded them awoke to their morning schedules. The cooks lit the great ovens and began a day of long cooking, while the cleaners went about polishing the dormitories of the countless magical users who inhabited the fortress, who themselves awoke to a busy day of teaching, learning or studying. The large gates were thrown open and those who guarded the hidden forest road that ran between the great Arcanium and the far off port town of Darkford marched out in silence. With their tall headdress crowns shaped like the head of a winged, golden horse and long golden shields with matching, flowing chain robes, the guards of the Arcanium began patrolling their daily routes.

Then there were the “wizards” themselves. The death priest’s with their dark robes inlaid with golden skulls and long staff’s with a horned skull, who went to work learning the truth about death, life and the fragile weakness of mortality. The fire witches, whose simple flame red garments were sure to heat up any man’s desires, trained in the fiery arts of seduction and pyromania. Then there were the ice warlocks with their crystal blue, frozen robes and ability to drop temperatures to sub-arctic levels. There were the Monk’s of nature, with robes covered in bark and vines and a strong knowledge over the earth and all things that grew and the water magestri who dealt with the immortal power of the mighty oceans and the renewing power of the rain. In the churches worked the priest’s of light, who dedicated themselves to studying the lore of the world and the ancient powers, both evil and good, to better understand how to heal and help the world. And lastly the upper mage’s, who’s knowledge in their class and element made them superior to others and so they taught their lesser pupils and watched over the proceedings of all world. Then above all others there was the Grand Mage Althazaron.

He was the oldest and wisest of all mortal men. Though his body appeared frail and bent, the power of the arcanes surged through his very veins with such intensity that his skin remained smooth and unwrinkled, his bones as strong as an adolescents and his mind as sharp as it ever had been. He went to his window and peered out at the large, lush island. His dormitory was the below the beacon room, in the second tallest room of the tower of the Arcanium. The Arcanium with its purple brick walls stood as tall as the great mountain it was cut from. The tower of the Arcanium loomed out like a menacing spire, with several lesser towers and finally a grand and wide fortress at its base, surrounding a large area with a thick, impenetrable wall. That was the way the Arcanium was, impenetrable and imposing, hidden away from the world on the Kambros Isle, behind the safety of Mount Arcania and out of sight from adventurers from the sea. The few who did lay eyes upon the mighty fortress were often never seen again, giving the forest surrounding the Arcanium a bad reputation for evil beings and dangerous mysteries. Finally with its unnatural purple fog that blanketed the entire northern coast of Kambros Isle, cutting the Arcania off from view from the sea, it was completely isolated.

This was the centre most powerful place of arcane magic in the world. The foreign land’s that lay far to the north and west of Kambros Isle had been cut off from the arcane magic’s a millennia ago and now belonged to mortal man. Only the mystical lands of Estar-Mari to the east still held the aura and energy of the ancient arcane power. This was a land of mysteries and legends, of heroes and timeless stories. It was a land that had a long history of wars, violence, sacrifice and an ancient evil that cursed the land.

It was this ancient land that the wizards were now charged with looking after. Arcane born, or wizards as folk legend on the mainland of Estar-Mari called them, were those born to regular mortal parents, but under the right conditions were one way or another touched by the veins of arcane magic that ran through the land. Taken from their parents as infants, often in the dead of night, they were trained, taught and moulded to serve the land with their life. They learnt to feel compassion, mercy, anger and curiosity, but otherwise had their base emotions denied and hidden from them. They were made to know little of pain, payment or reward, instead devoting every ounce of their life to studying and protecting the arcanes. Every Arcane born was equal to the next, with the exception of the upper mages who earned their position through toil and hardship and often survival where others died or faded away (where the body loses touch with the arcane powers due to old age, and breaks down rapidly). Their laws were simple: “Other lives before mine, other magic before mine, service to the ancient and the arcanes.” It is said by legend that these laws were told to the first Arcane born, a demi-god who was the mortal emissary to the ancient beings. He carved the Arcanium from Mount Arcania with just his word of voice, because he was drawn to the summit. There he found 5 stone orbs, which held the spirit of each of the 5 elements of the world. He believed they were the life force that sustained the arcane magic. He believed them to be the last remaining essence of the “Ancient Beings”, 6 deities of unimaginable power and immortality. One was said to have made the land, another made the sky, one the seas and another all life. The greatest of them all was said to have created the power of the arcane and like a blood source, pumped it through the world using a “heart” buried within the land itself. By doing this he was able to make men greater than the wild beasts and gave them the gifts of intelligence, valour and strength. The last ancient was said to have betrayed the others and fled the ancients realm for the earth one, but unable to enter the mortal world, was locked away in a realm between, known as the nether. Of course this was simply folk legend the priest’s of light had learned from studying countless ruined temples and cities from the ancient civilizations of men that once inhabited Estar-Mari.

However it was this legend that the Arcane born had forged their doctrine and lifestyles on, and for 4000 years, since the dividing war, defended the land in secrecy, learning the secrets of the past and the Arcanes, and preventing harm to mortals from any dangers they could not protect themselves from like the invasion of the Locara Trolls from the nether over 2000 years ago.

Mostly however the Arcane born did not face a lot of action, instead were renowned as great lore keepers. In fact the library of the arcanes was famous worldwide. Folk lore spoke of a great library where the kings themselves visited for counselling and knowledge, though its location was not known. However in fact a great library of such immense knowledge had been built by the wizards of the Arcanium, and it held over 4000 years of their research, devotion and findings of all the worlds’ secrets and history. Often the kings and leaders of the fifteen kingdoms would secretly visit the library and indeed would receive counselling, no matter what allegiance that leader held either. That was part of Arcanium lore, to hold no prejudices or allegiances, to treat all the kingdoms with apathy and content. So it was that in the great library of the arcanes, where young Durano found himself once again studying as a priest of the light.