Chapter 8: Of Lands Afar PT 1

Golden sweat traced his jawline.

Discomforted in the unrelenting heat he stripped back his shirt sleeves and with
passing humor noted the development of his sunburns. Within a month he doubted
even his closest of kin would recognize him; his moonlight pale skin tinged a
light almond color and his brownish hair streaked with golden highlights. All
things considered, he felt very differently about himself now, felt more aware
that there were bigger problems in the world than his own. Still, it was
difficult not to dwell on his sudden... disability.
	Owyn contemplated resuming the meditations that had occupied him the
length of the morning, but decided that in the space of four hours he had
learned nothing he hadn't already deduced intuitively. For some reason, his
magical abilities were useless in this alien environment and the prospect
frightened him nearly beyond reason.
	"Another week beneath this strange sun and I shall seem pale next to
you." Gorath shouted as he hiked back up the path, the dark strands of his hair
dancing in a hot breeze.
	"This magician Pug must walk without leaving footprints! I can find no
evidence of him. How progress your meditations?"
	Owyn shrugged. "No luck. I've tried everything from lesser path cantrips
to greater path incantations. Nothing works. It's almost as if there were no
manna here."
	Arching his brows inquisitively, Gorath motioned for the boy to
continue.
	"Most people misunderstand the way that magic works," Owyn explained.
"As a magician, I don't have power within me. All I know are a series of words
and actions that help me gather the power, or manna, from the natural world. If,
however, there is no manna for me to collect, then all of my magical training is
futile. I'm powerless."
	"Would the same be true of Pug?"
	Owyn nodded. "He would be as helpless as I am, worse perhaps. If I were
accustomed to having the kind of command that he has and suddenly lost it... "
	"He could be in very dire danger," Gorath said, finishing the thought.
Leaning over, he fetched Owyn's staff from where it lay discarded in the sand.
"I think that makes our journey all the more urgent."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

		     THE SEVEN PILLARS OF KARZEEN MAUK

Something inhabited the column.

Alerted as much by a feeling that they were being observed as by the strange
light which throbbed within the pillars, Owyn felt they should exercise caution
in dealing with the alien ruins.

SOUTH-WEST PILLAR

The pillar was smooth to his touch.
Towering over Owyn, it seemed to be made of an exquisite crystal of some
fashion, though it was wholly unlike anything he had ever seen on Midkemia.
Through it he could see refracted images of the desert beyond, but when he
varied the angle at which he held his head, it seemed as though he could see
other places which were not on the other side of the column. Instead, it seemed
that there were images of oceans and skies of other colors.
	'Your observations intrigue me. You are savani, are you not?'
	Startled at the presence of the alien sentience in his mind, Owyn shook
his head. Unsure whether he should simply think his reply or speak it aloud, he
decided that speaking it would be the safest route. "I'm not familiar with the
term savani so I don't know if I am one or not. Who am I communicating with?".
Nearby, Gorath threw Owyn a startled glance, apparently alarmed that his friend
was speaking to the air. Before Owyn could rattle off an explanation, the voice
within his mind returned.
	'I am Sutakami, Mother of the Thousand Mysteries, once goddess of
Timirianya. You have summoned me. What do you desire to know?'
	"I am not sure what you are asking," Owyn said. "Are you an oracle?"
	'No, the voice replied. I may only tell you that which is already known,
though I dimly perceive things that may come to be. I sense you are newly come
to this world. Perhaps you would desire to see something of the creatures who
inhabit the desolation of our world...'
	Suddenly Owyn's mind reeled with visions of men with scales rather than
skin and large hulking creatures with shining carapaces which roamed the
deserts. Grasping to retain what he learned about the creatures as the
information flooded through his mind like a tide, he at last seized upon an
image of a wispy figure.
	"What are these things I see?" Owyn asked. "They look as if they are
made of smoke."
	'They are the ancient servants of Relynn Skarr, the last priest of
Dhatsavan before The Desolation. Creatures of magic, they can only be killed by
special spells which drain directly from their materiality, their strength. Now
they still wander the ruins of Dhatsavan's ancient Temple. For a moment the
image wavered, then stabilized once more. I must rest... I am needed...
elsewhere.'

Northwest Pillar

The pillar was made of crystal.
In better condition than the others in the circle, its reflective surface was
not as pitted by the blast of the sands as the others had been. Stroking its
surface, Owyn marvelled at the amount of work it must have taken the craftsmen
to make.
	"I wonder what this place was originally," Owyn asked, not expecting
the mental reply which flooded his senses.
	'You stand in the ruins of Karzeen Mauk, once the high temple of the
seven gods of Timirianya. Once, these columns were only symbols of the gods,
crafted by the savani artisans who were the servants of Dhatsavan. Now they are
the vessels within which we have taken refuge.'
	"Refuge? What drives a god into refuge?" Owyn asked. "I wouldn't think
it would be possible."
	'Valheru,' the voice said. Though without a true voice it was impossible
for Owyn to tell, but there were shadings within it that seemed a mixture of
hate and sorrow. 'Those who were known as the Valheru extinguished all life as
we knew it here, using this as a battleground where they warred with all who
dared challenge their universal supremacy. Only when Dhatsavan showed to us that
our struggles would be futile did we create a plan by which we could drive out
their hordes of Pantathians and Kadaand Xekka'mati...'
	"What did you do?" Owyn asked. A long silence greeted him before a
distant reply came to him.
	'Of the Seven Who Ruled, there are only six of us who survived The
Desolation. Two have faded so far from the world they can no longer give voice
to their thoughts, but instead are little more than sentient forces of nature.
Only Dhatsavan will remain, waiting for the time of the Awakening. He shall call
us when the need has come... We shall not speak again, savani.'

SOUTH-EAST PILLAR: DHATSAVAN - WITHOUT CUP

Owyn hesitated.
Shimmering in the hellish alien heat, it seemed probable the sun warmed crystal
would blister him if he touched it, but he was curious what material the
glass-like pillar had been made of. Privately he wondered if the serpent people
they had encountered in the desert plains had been responsible for the enigmatic
monoliths, but somehow the idea seemed wrong to him.
	'No. The Pillars of Karzeen were not crafted by the Panath-Tiandn,'
a voice whispered in his mind. 'We made ourselves...'
	Horrified by the sudden, uninvited intrusion of the alien presence
within his mind, Owyn drew back from the column, but the intruder remained. 'We
seven were the gods of Timirianya, savani. I myself was once Dhatsavan, Lord of
Gates. But once the Valheru brought their wars of desolation, we narrowly
averted the great star death... '
	"I don't know what any of the things you are saying mean," Owyn replied.
"I have heard a very little bit about the Elven old ones called the Valheru, but
beyond that... "
	'It is unimportant, savani,' the voice said. 'What we were is lost
beyond regaining, but there is time yet to save your people from the same fate.'
	"Our world?" Owyn asked. "The Valheru have been dead on my world for
time beyond reckoning. They can't pose any threat to us... "
	A feeling of disinterest washed through him as the God brushed aside the
question. 'The one you know as Pug of Stardock will tell you more when the time
comes for you and the Wanderer to make your choices. For now, you must bring to
this place the Cup of Rlnn Skrr. Do this and we will free Pug from his captivity
...'
	Suddenly suspicious about the nature of the entity which spoke to him,
he worded his reply carefully. "If you are a God, why do you need me to fetch a
cup for you? And why should I trust a bodiless someone who claims to have
imprisoned the one we look for?"
	'You are wise to question,' the voice replied, 'but it is mine alone to
know this truth. You may do as I ask and bring to me the Cup of Rlnn Skrr or you
may perish in the desolation of Timirianya. The choice is yours. I warn you
however it would be an unwise decision to utilize its powers. Pug already has
learned this lesson.'