Epilogue

It was the only man-made construction within a thousand leagues.

It was summer now, the so brief summer that was gone almost as soon as it arrived, bringing the temperatures up to an actually comfortable level during the day, but it was still quite cold at night. The tundra was in its summer glory, a vast moor of greens and grays, and the large black pyramid and the virtual city of tents and soldiers that had formed around it clashed with the beauty of the plains around them. It was a flat land covered with short-lived grass between stones covered with moss and lichen, where vast herds of caribou had migrated from their southern ranges to take advantage of the bounty the tundra provided. The local wildlife had grown accustomed to these human and Goblinoid invaders over the months, learning to stay well clear of their encampment, learned to avoid the hunting parties that fanned out each day to find food for the ten thousand or so creatures that had gathered around the old stone pyramid.

They were the ki'zadun, a dark organization with designs to conquer the entire world. For ten years they had been working laboriously towards reviving their fallen god, Val, who had been imprisoned within his godly icon nearly five thousand years ago by the Aleax, a mortal of boundless power known to most history as Spyder. Using the power of the gods, this mortal struck down their god, limited his power and imprisoned within the icon that gave him the power to affect the mortal world. For ten years they had planned, plotted, moved silently, and everything had gone according to that plan.

At least until the accursed Were-cat appeared. He was the one, the Mi'Shara, the one mortal who had the best chance of taking the Firestaff, a mystical artifact that could restore their god to his former glory. For ten years they planned to acquire that priceless relic, but the Were-cat interfered with them again and again, destroying their base of power in Suld, rooting out their spies, ruining their attempts to secure the Book of Ages, and then, in the final insult, almost single-handedly raising an army that turned back their final stroke in the plan, the attempt to take Suld and banish the Goddess of the Sorcerers from the world. All by himself, one mortal had destroyed centuries of patient waiting, ruined dozens of carefully laid out plans, and had destroyed or killed some of their best operatives. The Were-cat was responsible for the banishment of Sha'Baket the Marilith, the death of Kravon, the death of Irvon and the turning of Jula back to her old comrades.

But this, this was the final straw. Everyone in the army knew that the Master was very displeased. They all moved carefully under the eyes of the Wizards, who had been meting out very harsh punishments in the days since the sky lit up, and some of the soldiers whispered that the Age of Power had returned. The Wizards all seemed flushed with power now, and their spells were much stronger. But where that increase of power should have made them happy, they were instead all very distressed, and the soldiers could hear the raging of Val, their god, from inside the black pyramid which housed his icon.

Within that fortress of black stone, in a chamber so dark that its walls and ceilings were hidden in the gloom, that icon stood on a raised are in the very center of the pyramid. Flanking it were two braziers casting what light was within the dimensionless chamber, as well as four writing desks where six ki'zadun secretaries sat, reading reports or writing out the orders they received from the voice that emanated from within the icon. Pacing before that icon was a rather pretty woman of medium height and voluptuous dimensions, her hands behind the back of her high-necked black silk dress as she swished to and fro, to and fro, her dark brows furrowed and her pouting lips pursed into a thin line. Her name was Lyselle, and she was a woman of almost cold passion. She was much like Kravon, those around her had noted, with the same cool demeanor and cold cruelty. But she was a woman that did show some emotion, unlike the stony Kravon, and was notoriously called the Black Widow by many of the Wizards in the pyramid. She had a taste for handsome men, men who never came out the door of her chamber after they were led inside. Nobody even speculated what happened to those men, most of them handsome slaves, but they all knew that their demise had to be the ultimate conclusion of it. There was that, and there were the screams…

Lyselle paused to read a dispatch placed into her hands by a nervous servant, who bowed deeply to her and backed away. She read it again, then again, then once again, and then she smiled. It was a cold smile, malicious, and it would make any man's blood run cold.

"It is done, Master," she called.

Report.

"The Firestaff has been claimed. The Were-cat has done it."

It was expected. Are you prepared?

"Yes, my Master," she replied. "My people are already in place. The child of the short one cannot be found, Master, because not even we can get into the Frontier. But the other one, the one by the redhead, she is in the Tower. We already have men in position to take her."

Excellent. Remember that she has power as great as the Were-cat, Lyselle. Any attempt to take her will lead to failure unless care is taken.

"I have already taken steps, Master," she said confidently. "She will lose her powers for a time if she crosses over. We will wait for that to happen, and then take her while she is defenseless. Our spies report that it can't be very far off. Her power is amazing everyone in the Tower, and she can't progress much further without crossing over. And if she doesn't before we need her, well, we can provoke it by attacking her. I've set expendables in the Tower to handle that should it be necessary."

A sensible plan. When she is taken, I want her brought here.

"Master? Is that wise?"

Do not question me, Lyselle, or you will suffer Kravon's fate. I want to see the Were-cat die before me. When we take his child, he will bring the Firestaff here. I want to watch him die with my own eyes.

"As you command, my Master," Lyselle said with a bow. "I will make the arrangements."

Proceed. I am pleased with your performance thus far, Lyselle.

"Your approval is all the reward I need, my Master," she said with an eloquent nod.

As it should be.

Lyselle swished off to do her master's bidding. Soon now, very soon. The Were-cat had recovered the Firestaff for them. Now they just had to make him hand it over to them.

And there was nothing he would not do to protect his children.

The End

Thus ends The Shadow Realm,
Book four of the Firestaff series.

In the conclusion of the series
book five, Weavespinner,
Tarrin struggles to regain his memory,
and must choose between
being human or Were-cat.
He must also make the ultimate choice,
a choice concerning his daughter,
a choice that may destroy the world.

Book 5 — Weavespinner