The Star Magicians

PROLOGUE

FOR 6,000 YEARS the great Carina Empire controlled the larger part of the Milky Way Galaxy. But slowly it yielded before the remorseless erosion of centuries. And as it weakened, the power of the wild, untamed barbarians of the Rim grew stronger. For a time, the inevitable was staved off by a brilliant stroke of political genius. The Emperor Rinald Tenth, the extraordinary mastermind of his age, commissioned the Rim Barbarians themselves to patrol the very stars they menaced. It was little more than a disguised method of buying safety with tribute, but it worked—for a time.

Over generations, the Imperial line ran out in weaklings and soft degenerates, and the Sacred Blood no longer brought forth leaders like Carmion or Rinald or Diovar. More and more the princelings of the fading Empire in eclipse came to rely on the mighty “Barbarian Legions”—now so powerful they had a major voice in the Imperial Council. At last, the Barbarian Legions dominated. At their whim they could depose or create Emperors. And finally came that dreaded day when the Imperial Treasury could no longer pay the gigantic tribute. The legions struck … and, in a single day and night, the mightiest Empire in galactic history fell in a ruin of flame and thunder.

In the ages that followed, the Empire decayed. Province by province it fell apart into Star-Kingdoms. Torn by rivalry and civil war, as competing Star-Kings and Cluster-Lords struggled for the lost Imperial diadem, the fragments of the Empire lost touch. Communications were failing. Trade declined. Technology ebbed and entire sciences were lost, obscured in the darkness that was closing over the once-great civilization like a tremendous wave of darkness.

The civilization of the Galaxy was disintegrating, while, by an ironic trick of destiny, the Barbarians themselves remained the most monolithic power among the Near Stars. In their huge nomad fleets, these Star Rovers (as they came to call themselves) wandered at will from star to star, hastening the collapse of interstellar culture. No planet could stand against them. Their fleets drifted the star-trails, looting, destroying, crushing everything that stood in their way.

One world alone stood against the dark night of savagery that was engulfing the stars. Barren and small, rocky, desolate, inhabited only by a tiny band of ascetics called The White Adepts, the mystery-world of Parlion alone held out. The Adepts preserved the lost science, working technological miracles that seemed magic to the half-civilized worlds of this latter day. Tirelessly they strove in secrecy and darkness, using their powers of scientific wizardry to reshape history and forge the Empire anew.

Yet even their strange, awesome powers dwindled to smallness before the overwhelming armed might of the Star Rovers. World after world the barbarian Rovers laid seige to, and conquered, pausing only briefly to loot the wealth of the planets they took, before moving on to another prey.

Then came the rich trader’s world of Argion.

Then came—Calistor, the White Wizard.