“Good. You say you have books. Are there any books that can tell me where I am?”
“Certainly.”
“How about a book that will help me get back to my world?”
The loremaster gave Jason a suspicious glare and lowered his voice. “You should not request imprudent information. Whether you are a prankster or a lunatic, we both know that the emperor forbids open discussion of such topics.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jason said, backing toward the exit. “I don’t know the rules around here. I’m not trying to offend anyone, but I seem to keep stepping on toes. I don’t know about an emperor. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll take off, no big deal. Sorry I bothered you.”
“Wait.” The loremaster studied Jason shrewdly. “As I mentioned, visitors have become scarce. Are you really so eager to turn your back on the greatest store of learning in all the land? Suppose I humor your delusion. You claim to know nothing about this world. I know just the volume to provide some background.”
“Could it help me get home?”
The loremaster stroked his chin with a liver-spotted hand. “I’m not sure that information could be located in any book. But if you truly are a stranger to Lyrian, this will supply some context. Perhaps the Hand of Providence guided you here. Come.”
Jason followed the loremaster out of the entry foyer, past fluted pillars and bearded busts housed in oval niches. They strolled down long passages walled with tall bookshelves. Some held rolled scrolls, others engraved tablets. Jason noticed one shelf laden with books bound in iron. Another shelf showcased miniature books the size of thimbles.
After winding about in the book-lined labyrinth, the loremaster gestured for Jason to take a seat at a wide table of dark cedar. Grunting, the loremaster selected a heavy blue volume almost as tall as his waist, with silver letters embossed across the front in fancy script. He heaved the book onto the table. Not only abnormally tall and wide, the book was several inches thick. Jason read the title.
An Abridged History of Lyrian. The writer was identified as “Author Unknown.”
“You’re kidding,” Jason said, fingering the huge tome.
“This book can provide background regarding our world,” the loremaster explained.
“It’s enormous. Abridged history? Is that a joke?”
The loremaster shook his head. “Lyrian is an ancient land with a long and complex past. Much of the oldest lore is irrelevant today, but I can guide you to a couple of pertinent passages.” He opened the volume and turned past the majority of the pages. The book was in excellent condition—either new or very well preserved.
After leafing through several pages one at a time, the loremaster indicated a florid heading. “You can start here. Each section of the history features a summary at the outset.”
“‘Decline of the Age of Wizards,’” Jason read. The words were written in large black calligraphy. “You guys have wizards here?”
“Once there were many. Only one remains.”
“Wizards who cast spells?” Jason verified incredulously. “Who use magic?”
“Most call it magic. Wizards speak Edomic, the language of creation. Words comprehended by all matter and intellect. You’ll see it mentioned in the history. Read the summary.”
Jason sighed softly. The handwritten text was fancy but legible.
The three major figures at the end of the Age of Wizards are universally regarded as the only true masters of the high Edomic tongue. While Eldrin and Zokar pursued their ambition to engineer the perfect race, Certius withdrew from the civilized world, content to populate the southern jungles with his creations. Eldrin famously labored in solitude, refusing to share his discoveries. Zokar allied himself with the other notable wizards of the era, taking on Arastus, Orruck, and Maldor as apprentices.
“These guys have weird names,” Jason complained.
“Read on,” the loremaster prompted. “You needn’t absorb every detail.”
There can be little doubt that over time Eldrin’s mastery of the nuances of Edomic surpassed the abilities of Zokar. Not long after Eldrin created the Amar Kabal, Zokar declared war.
Zokar had spent long years amassing the most fearsome army in the land, and he had forged alliances with the most powerful kingdoms of the age. The races he had engendered served him faithfully in the campaign against Eldrin, as did the torivors. (Despite claims by Zokar to the contrary, there remains much doubt as to whether he actually engendered the torivors. See subsection F, paragraphs 7–33.)
Fearing an alliance between his greatest rivals, Zokar first sent his forces south to eliminate Certius, the lesser threat, and succeeded in the endeavor. The maneuver became known as Zokar’s Folly, because an alliance between Certius and Eldrin was highly unlikely, and the operation gave Eldrin time to prepare. In anticipation of the impending battle he created the drinlings.
Prior to the climactic battle, Orruck and Maldor fell out of favor with Zokar, an ironic turn of events considering that it was Arastus who eventually betrayed Zokar in exchange for the right to become Eldrin’s first and only apprentice. In the end Zokar was forced to face Eldrin in single combat, and the legendary duel is widely considered the end of the Age of Wizards.
After the victory, with the aid of Arastus, an embittered Eldrin chose to rid the land of all upstart wizards and looted the great stores of learning, effectively ending the study of Edomic. The two wizards passed out of knowledge without ever siring a new race.
“The summary ends here,” Jason said, looking up.
“What follows is a much more thorough account of the condensed events,” the loremaster explained. “The serious student can delve into extensive references and commentaries.”
“I didn’t understand all the words,” Jason admitted. “Especially the races. What’s a drinling? Or a torivor? What was the Amar Kabal?”
“Unessential details for now,” the loremaster assured him. “What did you gather from the account?”
“Sounds like there should be no more wizards. Eldrin and Arastus wiped them out and then took off.”
“You understood enough.” The loremaster paged farther through the book until he had almost reached the end. “Here is the section describing the current age.”
“‘Dawn of the Rule of Maldor,’” Jason read aloud.
Lips pursed, the loremaster nodded. “After Eldrin departed from this land, a couple of the races he had engineered established their own kingdoms. Some races mingled with mankind; others remained aloof; others dwindled to extinction. Centuries passed. Nobody expected to see a wizard again. And then Maldor returned.”