and foul and ugly in most every way in spite of symmetry and impeccable craftsmanship. Fewer dragons clung to it now, revealing more ancient stonework. Nothing to rival it had been built since.
They called her the Seventh Magic.
Beneath the light of comets shining brightly in the midday sun, the Noonspire rotated. Every dragon within took flight, scattering across the winds. A cloud of dust and spray followed. Terrific noise projected from the viewing well, which swelled the sorcerer with pride. Then the architecture began to shift; what had looked like mere building blocks showed their true nature: cogs within a massive machine. Water and vegetation spewed from the chasm, which pulsed and glowed, still preventing the land from collapsing inward.
Colossal weights on massive cables dropped into the abyss. The land bucked twice before the Noonspire began to rise. Like a harbinger of the end of days, the monolithic crystal thrust into the full light. Stone frameworks continued to churn and settle into place, just as the ancients had set them three thousand years before. No one then would believe the audacity of sacrificing the world's most powerful artifact to imprison the mighty.
It had fooled them all back then but would not do so now. Mael knew exactly what he faced, and seeing the Noonspire rise from the depths, exposed to the full light, he'd been right to prepare for war. It was a matter of time. Still, it would keep Catrin occupied. That alone made all he'd done worthwhile. The dryad trembled but could not look away. The world was changing, and she was witness. Mael cast her a sideways glance before shifting the view. The cloud forests burned, immersing the Heights in cinders and soot, while armies camped where food was plentiful, especially since the fires forced game downward.
In the Midlands towering war machines rolled toward cliffs previously thought impossible to scale. No one from this age would have dared imagine siege engines large enough to take the Midlands cliffs, but Mael had seen it all before. He knew this strategy as well as they did. The world relied on alliances. Attack any one nation, and allies rush in. This approach required a great deal of setup and timing. One had to build up massive forces and materials without tipping off enemies then attack all one's enemies at once. Concentrate your might on the weakest enemy, and your empire will soon grow.
Aggrezjhon and Murden had been busy, but so had Mael. When he shifted his view to include the Firstland, he laughed out loud. Larissarelatarenfall huddled behind her tree, praying he would go away.
* * *
"Thief," they called him. Sinjin hated the name but accepted the insult. Now was not the time. Better he prepare to fight for his life. Following the Arghast riders, they flew.
"There must be another way," Osbourne said from behind.
"No. I have to do this."
"What would you have me do?"
"Stay with Valterius and Gerhonda," Sinjin said. "I don't know where we're going, but we may need to make a quick escape." Leaving the dragons seemed like foolishness, but he'd given his word, and he knew what that meant--especially to the Arghast.
"And you think leaving me with them will make some sort of difference?"
"Well," Sinjin said. "At least you can warn anyone foolish enough to try and take them. I'm sure having Strom there will also be a deterrent."
"So you're just going to let that guy beat the tar out of you in front of your wife?" Osbourne asked.
Caught off guard, Sinjin almost laughed. What else was he supposed to do?
The trail of horses stopped near a dark patch in the sand. Valterius landed fast and hard, as if to show the Arghast just how tough he really was. Gerhonda followed suit. It made for a bone-jarring landing, but Sinjin couldn't blame them. A great many Arghast spears pointed in their direction.
A single escort waited. Sinjin had rights as the challenger, and the Arghast were a strict people, even when it worked to their
They called her the Seventh Magic.
Beneath the light of comets shining brightly in the midday sun, the Noonspire rotated. Every dragon within took flight, scattering across the winds. A cloud of dust and spray followed. Terrific noise projected from the viewing well, which swelled the sorcerer with pride. Then the architecture began to shift; what had looked like mere building blocks showed their true nature: cogs within a massive machine. Water and vegetation spewed from the chasm, which pulsed and glowed, still preventing the land from collapsing inward.
Colossal weights on massive cables dropped into the abyss. The land bucked twice before the Noonspire began to rise. Like a harbinger of the end of days, the monolithic crystal thrust into the full light. Stone frameworks continued to churn and settle into place, just as the ancients had set them three thousand years before. No one then would believe the audacity of sacrificing the world's most powerful artifact to imprison the mighty.
It had fooled them all back then but would not do so now. Mael knew exactly what he faced, and seeing the Noonspire rise from the depths, exposed to the full light, he'd been right to prepare for war. It was a matter of time. Still, it would keep Catrin occupied. That alone made all he'd done worthwhile. The dryad trembled but could not look away. The world was changing, and she was witness. Mael cast her a sideways glance before shifting the view. The cloud forests burned, immersing the Heights in cinders and soot, while armies camped where food was plentiful, especially since the fires forced game downward.
In the Midlands towering war machines rolled toward cliffs previously thought impossible to scale. No one from this age would have dared imagine siege engines large enough to take the Midlands cliffs, but Mael had seen it all before. He knew this strategy as well as they did. The world relied on alliances. Attack any one nation, and allies rush in. This approach required a great deal of setup and timing. One had to build up massive forces and materials without tipping off enemies then attack all one's enemies at once. Concentrate your might on the weakest enemy, and your empire will soon grow.
Aggrezjhon and Murden had been busy, but so had Mael. When he shifted his view to include the Firstland, he laughed out loud. Larissarelatarenfall huddled behind her tree, praying he would go away.
* * *
"Thief," they called him. Sinjin hated the name but accepted the insult. Now was not the time. Better he prepare to fight for his life. Following the Arghast riders, they flew.
"There must be another way," Osbourne said from behind.
"No. I have to do this."
"What would you have me do?"
"Stay with Valterius and Gerhonda," Sinjin said. "I don't know where we're going, but we may need to make a quick escape." Leaving the dragons seemed like foolishness, but he'd given his word, and he knew what that meant--especially to the Arghast.
"And you think leaving me with them will make some sort of difference?"
"Well," Sinjin said. "At least you can warn anyone foolish enough to try and take them. I'm sure having Strom there will also be a deterrent."
"So you're just going to let that guy beat the tar out of you in front of your wife?" Osbourne asked.
Caught off guard, Sinjin almost laughed. What else was he supposed to do?
The trail of horses stopped near a dark patch in the sand. Valterius landed fast and hard, as if to show the Arghast just how tough he really was. Gerhonda followed suit. It made for a bone-jarring landing, but Sinjin couldn't blame them. A great many Arghast spears pointed in their direction.
A single escort waited. Sinjin had rights as the challenger, and the Arghast were a strict people, even when it worked to their
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