City of Jade

1

DARK DESIGNS

LATE AUTUMN, 5E1010

[THE FINAL YEAR OF THE FIFTH ERA]

In a tall tower hidden deep in the Grimwalls, that long and ill-omened mountain chain slashing across much of Mithgar, a being of dark Magekind sat in his dire sanctum and brooded about retribution. In the time since the end of the Dragonstone War, the Ban had been rescinded and the ways between the Planes had been restored, though most of those crossings were now warded by Elves and Humans and even Magekind to prevent the passage of Foul Folk from Neddra into the High and Middle Worlds. But none of these things were what occupied the seething thoughts of Nunde. Instead, his rage was directed at the vile Dolh-vile Elf-who had slain the Black Mage’s god, to the ruin of all Nunde’s plans.

Well he remembered that day, when Gyphon’s silent scream of the dying had sounded across the Planes; it had driven Nunde and all of Black Magekind to their knees in agony, the unbearable pain affecting all Drik and Ghok and Oghi and Vulpen, along with other fell beings, all the creations of the Dark God.

How to take vengeance, how to gain redress, occupied all of Nunde’s thoughts.Aravan must die, that is certain, but the method of it is the question; for he is surrounded by staunch and powerful allies, and slaying him will be no easy task. Oh, there are ways the Dolh can be killed outright, but that isn’t the point at issue; instead agony and grief and unbearable despair must overwhelm Aravan before he suffers a dreadful death. Hence, strippinghim of all he values comes first, and doing so in a fitting-some would say unspeakable-manner must precede the Dolh’s own demise.

How to do it, how to accomplish what most certainly had to be done, that was the question, that was the issue, and that was what the Necromancer pondered throughout the long tides of night.

Indeed, I could bring an army from Neddra to Mithgar, but where would be the pleasure in that? No subtlety, no iron taste of cold revenge? Pah! With the ways between the Planes now open, it isn’t like that time I slew ten thousand on Neddra to gain enough ‹fire› to bring a rout of Chun and others through the temple in Drearwood despite the Sundering. Ah, what surprise upon the faces of those who sought to purge the ’Wood of Gyphon’s minions. They did not know that a small measure of Mithgarian blood flows in my veins along with the blood of Neddra, as well as that of Vadaria. Nor did any know that I could capture the rout in my ‹fire›, my aura greatly expanded by those I had slain. And we fell upon those Humans and Elves in a great killing; had it not been for Aravan’s crystal-bladed spear and Riatha’s cursed Darksilver sword, we would have slaughtered all ere Silverleaf and the others arrived, and we would have butchered them as well. But with the Guk and their steeds and the Vulpen all brought down by Aravan and Riatha, the remainder of my Chun were no match for them, and I had to flee. Even so, Riatha’s blade nearly was my undoing. Nunde’s fist smashed down upon the arm of his dark chair. This is another reason to render vengeance upon Aravan and all of those he cherishes.

As dawn broke in the eastern sky, Nunde rose from his seat at the slit of a window, preparing to descend to his quarters. It was not as if he had to flee from the light of day, for, thanks to that fool of a boy Bair, the cursed Rider of the Planes, not only were the in-between ways now open, but Adon’s Ban had been lifted as well, and no longer did the Black Mage and his ilk suffer the withering death.

No, instead Nunde, by force of ingrained habit-a habit many millennia long-was a creature of darkness, as were his minions, all beings of Neddra.

Down the stone steps of the shadowy stairwell Nunde descended to his torchlit quarters below, and there he fell into a restless sleep, his mind still churning with thoughts of revenge, as it had done for weeks on end, ever since word had come that it was Aravan, wielding a Silver Sword, who had put Gyphon to death.

But as the sun came up on this day, Nunde would set aside his scheming and rest, for in the dusktime morrow night he would begin the long journey to the crossing to Neddra to meet with a small conclave of Black Magekind, where, if his immediate ruse came to fruition, the conclave would be under his heel. After all, he had plans to wrench their power from them.

Aravan could wait.