Heritage Of The Xandim

PROLOGUE

THE CAILLEACH

The omens brought the Lady of the Mists down to the shores of the Timeless Lake. They came to the Cailleach in the midst of her waking dreams, disturbing the tranquillity of her eternal meditations. In this Place Beyond the World, there was no day or night or passing of the seasons; there was no hunger, thirst, loneliness - or change. There was only the Lady, one of the powerful, ancient Guardians who had been present at the world’s creation and who would be there at its end. Only the Lady, and her endlessly-spun web of contemplation. Until the omens came, like a stone thrown into the tranquil waters of the Timeless Lake, casting ripples of disquiet through her thoughts.

The sense of unease that awoke the Cailleach from her reverie drove her out of her resting place in the great Tree that lay at the Centre of all things, beneath the Timeless Lake. Quitting her softly glowing chamber in the Tree’s hollow heart, she passed down the steps that were natural formations in the stonelike bark, crossed the floor of the vast cavern in which the behemoth was rooted and passed into the extraordinary woodland that edged the clearing. It was a forest carved from stone: every detail was perfect, from the trees with their leaves of jade and finely wrought blossoms of translucent quartz, right down to the flowers made of coloured gems, the insects with bejewelled wings and the delicate stone birds, so realistic that they might burst into flight or song at any moment.

Beyond the forest of stone lay the spiral of basalt steps that took the Cailleach out of the cavern. Climbing up and up, driven by anxiety, driven by need, she finally emerged through a portal in the rock, high up on the pinnacle of the island at the centre of the Timeless Lake. The only light came from the stars scattered across a sky that was the clear royal blue of a sapphire. Constellations were reflected in the smooth lake waters, but, strangely, the stars that shone there came from a different sky from that above. Treading the spiral path of shining stone with care, the ancient Guardian made her way to the foot of the pinnacle and knelt down on a tongue of rock that protruded into the still, dark lake with its glittering reflections from some unknown sky. Looking into the infinite depths, she waited to see what had called her here.

A film of silvery vapour drifted across the surface of the water. It swirled, dissolved, coalesced, then parted again, revealing and obscuring a succession of vivid images. Forming and dissolving, they flickered through the depths, giving the Lady a window into the future. The world she had helped to create spun before her in all its complexity - then her eyes were drawn to one continent in particular.

In its northlands, she saw Eliorand, city of the Phaerie, shrouded by the cloak of glamourie which gave it the appearance of a forested hill. Further south, beyond the Phaerie realm ruled by Hellorin the Forest Lord, dwelt the four races of Magefolk, wielders of elemental magic. The Cailleach caught glimpses of the Winged Folk, masters of the element of Air, in their peak-top city of Aerillia; the Dragonfolk, Masters of Fire, in their jewelled realm of Dhiammara; the Leviathan and their partners in magic the Merfolk, who roamed the ocean depths to wield the power of the element of Water, returning from time to time to the coral city of Amauin, where their wise ones dwelt. Finally there were the wizards, human in form and skilled in Earth Magic, who dwelt in beautiful Tyrineld, their seat of lore and learning, on the wild, rocky coastline of the western ocean.

Also scattered throughout the continent were the lowly slave race of mortals who, with no powers of their own, existed to serve both Phaerie and Magefolk. All the races, Magical and mortal, were still dwelling side by side as they had done for many a long age, in varying degrees of harmony and discord, but without overt conflict. The Lady of the Mists, however, had an uneasy premonition that this fragile peace was about to be shattered.

Suddenly a dark, spreading stain the colour of blood obscured the visions in the water. It cleared to reveal a series of images that chilled the Cailleach’s heart. Her unease turned to dread as she watched the Magefolk fashioning four mighty magical artefacts; weapons of extraordinary power, using elemental forces that were too intense by far for the mundane world. The Cailleach gave a low cry, her horror vying with sheer anger at such folly. The Mages had taken too much upon themselves - could they not see that their actions were certain to end in catastrophe?

Images followed one upon the other in swift succession now, showing the Phaerie and the four races of Magefolk ripped apart by war. The force of their magic devastated the land with fire and ice, flood and tempest, earthquake and plague. A crazed colossus threatened to shatter the very bones of the earth in his madness. A beautiful and ancient city vanished forever. Entire races were brought to the very brink of extinction, and it seemed inevitable that some of these must perish utterly, leaving great tracts of the ruined lands devoid of life.

The visions faded into darkness, leaving only the enigmatic waters of the Timeless Lake. Slowly, the Cailleach rose to her feet, her heart dark with foreboding. Was there to be no future for the Magefolk, for the Phaerie - for the world?

She was about to turn away when a ripple passed across the surface of the lake, sending wavelets lapping at her feet. Away from the island, at the point where the lake was deepest, a patch of water began to glow with a crimson light that appeared to be rising slowly from the very depths. The Lady of the Mists froze, forgetting even to breathe. She had dwelt in this place beyond the very beginnings of the world, and she had never seen anything like this.

As it rose towards the surface the light grew brighter, changing colour as it gained in brilliance, moving up through the spectrum to a violet so intense that the Cailleach’s eyes could scarcely focus on it. The water began to bubble and boil - then suddenly the light changed to the blue-white dazzle of a lightning bolt as three stars erupted from the lake in a fountain of silver spray and hurtled towards the heavens, rising to take their place in the skies above, changing the face of the constellations forever.

And in that moment, the Lady knew. She no longer needed to look into the lake, for the visions came clearly and directly into her mind. Three women, all born when the moon was concealed by the shadow of the sun, would hold the future of the world in their hands, determining whether it would be lost or saved. Three children of a red moon, a blood moon, born when the sky was dark and full of violent portents: one a Wizard, one Phaerie-born, and the other . . .

The Cailleach paused and blinked, as if by doing so she could clear her inner vision. Try as she would to see this woman - and she knew in her heart that it was a woman - all that would come into her mind was the image of a grey horse; running, running . . .

As the vision faded, the Lady of the Mists clenched her fists in frustration. Who was that last woman? What was she? Why couldn’t the Cailleach see her? For she knew, without a doubt, that this last star, this last child, this last, enigmatic woman, would prove to be the most important of all.