History of Clyan

Part 3: Blyord’s Journal

 

Once I knew what to look for, it was not difficult isolate Henry Blyord’s journal from the tens of thousands of documents the survey ship had gathered during its initial observations of the plant.

Their space platform had apparently remained active for a significant length of time after the occupants relocated to the planet surface, and from what limited information I could get on the matter, Blyord seems to have been the only one who made regular trips back – continuing to document what he had found on the surface, even after it became obvious that the project had become moot.  Perhaps more important than all the geological surveys, and other maps made from the platform, were his simple hand-drawn maps and illustrations designed to give a sense of the changing cultures. He also provided a much more detailed history of Clyan after the fall of Amlor as well as alternative mythologies in regards to gods and creation.

While there were some inconsistencies between his accounts of the early history the dwarf had provided us, Blyord seemed to believe that account more accurate in dealing with creation than the more poetic elf accounts. While Blyord also provided some myths from more primitive cultures, he seemed to think these had no validity at all.

His journal, begun at some point after his companions decided to take part in Clyan’s activities provided me with a good glimpse as to some of the conflicts not detailed in dwarf account. While the history of Clyan after Amlor’s decline is a significant document in itself, Blyord went on to isolate and provide very specific details concerning particular periods in that history, especially in regard to some of those he had great hopes for including Lord Ely, the warrior, Alki, and others. In some respects, the history and the detailed accounts sometimes disagree or have other obvious discrepancies. For instance, Ely in the detailed account is Elo, in the historic overview.

I’ve chosen not to try and iron out the kinks in these various accounts, but give them as Blyord presented them, since the overall impact is unaffected by the few times the accounts diverge.

 

Report 1171:

Against our better sense, Dr. Charles Rahm and his companions have become involved in the planet’s culture.

I learned too late about his intentions – not merely to study the people on the planet, but to control him.

Charles has gone from being a prophet of magical science to wanting to become a god.

Neither one sits well with me since we are all supposed to be scientists.

I going to try for another vote among the crew to avoid what I believe will be cultural slaughter.

I have lobbied many and believe I can carry the day and keep Charles from making this dreadful mistake.

 

Report 1172:

            Charles is a mad man, and he has spread his madness to the rest of the crew.

            Somehow he managed to convince enough of our colleagues to support his position of sending an expedition to the planet’s surface – led by him, of course.

            I cannot argue them out of it.

            They are consumed with the idea, and the best we can do on the space platform is watch and worry.

            Maybe something good will come out of all this, but I suspect not.

 

Report 1173:

            It’s been three weeks since Charles Rahm’s team landed.

            We heard from them for a few days, and then all went silent. We do not know what is wrong. But several of us have uncovered Rahm’s notes, and his plans are odious.

He has brought with him significant genetic equipment to begin experiments that rival the Nazi for their inhumanity.

            He wants to breed his own race of super beings.

            He must be stopped.

 

Report 1174:

            It appears that time differs on the surface than it does here.

            I don’t know how it is possible. But we have witnessed shifts there that can’t be explained any other way.

            After a significant conference here, we decided that some of us must go to the surface to determine what has transpired there, and if Charles Rahm is still alive.

            If so, what have been the consequences of his experiments?

            We are divided in some ways over what might have happened.

            Some of us believe that Rahm has succeeded in his endeavors, and that he has already changed the way of life on the planet for ever.

            But there is a faction of our group that believes the planet itself is an organism, and that like an animal organism, has the ability to fight off infections.

            They claim that in this case, the planet refuses to allow mechanical innovations to evolve beyond a certain point.

            Under this theory, the machines Rahm brought to the surface would cease functioning after a time. Those that he constructs there might not work at all.

            The lack of obvious mechanical advancement seems to bear this theory out. But I am greatly concerned about his genetic experiments. They might fall under the radar of the planets defenses, the way a cancer might in a human body.

            This makes me more determined to reach the planet’s surface and investigate the matter.

 

Report 1175:

 

            Disaster has struck.

            While I am on the surface of the planet, it is only luck that has brought me here.

            Something went wrong with our landing craft. It started to break apart the moment we entered the atmosphere. We were forced to abandon it in favor of individual pods.

            My ride down nearly killed me, and I crashed in swamps in the north eastern region.

            If any of my companions survived, then they are likely scattered across the planet’s surface – hundreds, if not thousands of miles from this location.

            We thought we would have trouble leaving the planet – believing if technology ceased working after a while we might need to make other arrangements to later reach the platform. So we made arrangements for a rescue later. But we need to be all together for such to happen.

            Meanwhile, I cling to my pod since this part of the world appears to be quite savage. I’ve seen eyes reflecting back at me in the dark, and they do not mean me well, I’m sure.

 

Report 1176:

            If I had any doubts that Rahm succeeded in his insidious experiments, I have none now.

            I have seen proof.

            Warriors passed through here last night that closely resembled some of the drawings he had in his notes, two-legged, blue-skinned human-like beasts with the ability to sniff out a trail like a cat, and listen for movement like a dog, but hunt down enemies like a fox or wolf.

            I know. They came hunting me.

            I don’t know how much time has passed down here on the surface, but clearly, these creatures are the result of several generations – perhaps more. They move and respond so well that it is clear they are highly developed, the last in a line of experiments that have led up to this.

            But they are not perfect.

            My still being a live testifies to that.

            When I heard them coming, I abandoned the pod and fled into the remote swamp, hoping to elude them and return.

            But it appears the pod is as important a prize for them as I am. They took possession of it immediately, no doubt to feed Rahm’s hunger for technology while the technology still works.

            Others came after me, and I could tell from their behavior, they did not intend to capture me.

            So in fear of my life, I did all I could to escape, and eventually simply dove down into the muck at the floor of the swamp, breathing through a reed.

            The old trick apparently fooled them, perhaps leading them to believe I perished.

            They went away. But I might as well be dead since they also took my pod, which provided me with shelter, food and protection.

            I am not certain I am going to survive the night.

 

Report 1177:

            A savage shook me awake.

            I wasn’t sleeping really, but on the verge of falling under the spell of exposure.

            I didn’t know what had its hand on me. I smelled it first and it stank. When I opened my eyes I saw very little in the dark except the pale glow of a man’s eyes. Then, I made out the face, and the primitive clothing, and the equally primitive weapons. This man had a knife, a bow and a quiver of arrows.

            He seemed puzzled at who or what I was, but insisted I come with him and about a half dozen companions I soon learned were nearby.

            My initial thought was to refuse, figuring something ill would come of me if I went.

            I shivered and realized that if I did not go something very ill would happen to me right there: I would die in the wilderness.

            I went.

 

Report 1178

            These are wary men.

            Although savage, they clearly have a language of their own, and talk to each other softly as we move.

            How far we have to go, I do not know. We have traveled far already, stopped a few times to rest and feed, and then gone on.

            If I read they right, they worry about Rahm’s genetic soldiers, and seem nervous about leading the soldiers to where ever our destination is.

            They are not unkind to me. Exactly the opposite is true.

            They have treated my scratches, and fed me, which is more than I might have expected back on my own world from strangers.

            At times, I even think they are in awe of me.

 

Report 1179:

            We are in a village filled with tents of animal skins.

            This is clearly a migrating tribe. Nothing is permanent, although from my brief glimpse it appears this place has been used before, by this tribe or others like it.

            A small shrine stands to one end of the clearing with fresh and old offering to a stone god so worn from age it is difficult to determine what it looked like originally.

            Some of the women and children stare at me as I am lead in.

            I note for the first time that there are horses nearby, and hear even more naying in the distance, suggesting that these people might be moving along with a herd, shepherding them perhaps to some other destination.

            I also note some wounded warriors – who are being tended to by women near some of the camp fires.

            I suspect and later learn the truth of my perception that they have been in conflict with Rahm’s soldiers for some time, and that my arrival simply interrupted events, adding one more complication to an already complicated situation.

            Yet my feeling is that things aren’t going as Rahm planned, and that his super race may be finding reality a little harder to cope with than he envisioned from our platform in space.

            They lead me into one of their tents where I suppose they intend for me to sleep.

            I am so exhausted I need no further urging.

 

Report 1180:

            The local tribe thinks I am a god.

            The irony is not lost on me since Rahm has struggled so hard to gain a similar distinct while all I had to do was fall out of the sky.

            This – according to the tribe shaman – fits in with some prophesy that dates back to the beginning of this people.

            And yes, the shaman speaks a tongue I understand – after a fashion.

            These people deal with many other people in their travels they learn enough of each tongue to barter.

            The fact that they learned my tongue somewhere along this circuit of trade gives me hope.

            My status as god is helpful at first, but always uncomfortable.

            Not only do I not wish to make the same mistake Rahm has made in assuming airs as a superior being, I need to be less all-knowing so that these people will actually teach me something I need to know.

            I tell the shaman I am a wizard, not a god.

            He is willing to accept this, and the concept sits better with me for a number of reasons, not least is the fact that most of my life I always considered myself something of a technical wizard.

            But this description apparently fits me better than even I intended, since the shaman informs me that I indeed have magical powers to cast spells and influence people.

            Naturally I don’t believe him.

 

Report 1181:

            The tribe needs to move on. But I don’t intend to go with them.

            Over the last few months, I have learned bits and pieces of local languages, particularly what they call the common tongue.

            I also learned that civilization as I might recognize is at the end of a road west from here.

            The tribe, following its natural seasonal migration, is going north where it intends to meet up at some great gathering to trade and to mate.

            Over the last few months, I have also learned lessons in magic – at the insistence of the shaman.

            But I am extremely clumsy with is, despite the shaman’s claim I have a great gift.

            I nearly turned my foot into a rock while intending to start a fire with a spell. I have also other near disasters to report, by clutter this account with my failings.

            I am getting better, and have learned about as much from the shaman as I can. He says people of great magic reside in the cities, and I should seek them out to learn more.

            What I need to learn is the fate of those who came down from the platform with me, and I know I won’t learn that here.

            Armed with a short sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows, I head down the western road, as the tribe – my tribe – picks up its life and moves north.

 

Report 1182:

            After weeks on the road, I finally reached a city – I mean a real city.

            During my travels, I passed through many villages, and some of these – especially the further west I went – were sizable communities, serving as market center of the hundreds of farms that dotted the landscape near them.

            I managed eventually to hitch a ride on wagons taking some of the harvest to the main port city, a place called Taffar.

            Until I arrived here, I expected to find a larger, more elaborate village, but not a sophisticate urban environment – one that might have come out of the Roman or Greek era empires with a clear class distinction, and more amazing, a variety of races – and not all of them human.

            I part company with the wagons as they head for the port where the masts of ships are so thick they might be mistaken for a winter forest.

            The single tower at the center of the city is what intrigues me most since people have talked of it to me almost from the moment I began reaching farm county.

            The Sorcerer of Taffar resides in it, protector of the city and through whose spells the people are able to raise great harvests for shipment to other parts of the world.

            The lands around Taffar serve s the bread basket for the planet, with a soil so rich farmers can harvest twice a year.

            I’ve decided I need to speak with the Sorcerer, because if anyone will know of the doings of Rahm, he will.

 

Report 1183:

 

            When I finally got into see the sorcerer, he not only welcomed me, he said he had expected me for quite some time.

            His was one of the early bastions of a rising new order in the gulf, an attempt to create order on world where chaos as ruled for so long

            He said the old gods of the north were in turmoil – part of the death throws of the old order that would take generations to die, but once dead, the world will need something new to take its place.

            When I mentioned Rahm as a possible candidate, the sorcerer went white.

            Rahm it seems has aligned himself with some of the evil forces in the north, supplying the civil war among gods with an army of strange warriors new to the world as well as new weapons that give his army a decided edge in combat.

            When I told him such beings had hunted me in the swamps of Dzafar, he seemed surprised, saying my powers must be great indeed if I could survive such pursuit.

            I proposed to go north to find Rahm immediately, but sorcerer said I should remain and train with him. My talents will be needed before the wars in the north are over.

            So I stayed.

 

Report 1184:

            I don’t know where the time has gone, but I’ve been here almost two years.

            Despite regular trips to the docks to collect news from the sailors, I have heard no word of others like me who had come down from the sky.

            I'm  getting anxious.

            While my training is moving along at a very rapid pace, I fear Rahm is gaining strength, and the sooner I find and confront him, the happier I’ll be.

            The sorcerer, however, tells me I’m not ready and begs me to remain with him so I might learn my craft for the time when I indeed must face him.

            Reluctantly, I agree. But I know that I won’t spend another two years here. If time is different down here, I’m concerned about events transpiring on the space platform. What are they doing? Are they still there? And exactly when will they launch the rescue mission to bring us back?

 

Report 1185:

            I don’t know what’s happened with time.

            Days turn into weeks and weeks into years, so that they smear together into one vast haze.

            The sorcerer tells me time as I know it doesn’t exist and I believe him. He says people like us move in and out of time, traveling in directions the others cannot.

            The elves alone have this ability. Even the gods – great and lesser – appear to move along with time.

            Yet this doesn’t completely explain why I have spent so many years here with the sorcerer when I fully intended to seek out my companions, or why life is growing more and more like a dream for me.

            Merlin – of Arthur legend – claimed to have lived his life backwards, growing from age to youth.

            But even he could not have made sense of this multi-directional landscape I have become entrenched in.

            The sorcerer says I have something important to do yet in the past, but I am not yet ready for the chore.

            I think always on Rahm and his doings, and I wonder if he has this talent for time, or is he and all the rest of us who have come down from the space platform already dead?

            Even the sorcerer cannot tell me this.

 

Report 1186:

            It is time to move on.

            I don’t know how long I have lived in this fairy tale city. In some ways, the city doesn’t even exist yet, a bubble in time maintained by the sorcerer, partly designed to catch me when I came.

            In confusing attempts to make logic of this world, I ask questions and get insane answers. Such as the fact that the Taffar whose streets I walk through every day won’t exist in the time line for many centuries, and that the news I am hearing from sailors hasn’t happened yet.

            We are still in the deep past, the sorcerer says.

            Even his tower has not yet risen, here in this time only because he has great power.

            In his dark moments, he foretells a time when he will no longer have such powers. A dark cloud covers a point in the future at which point he believes his death will come.

            He tells me this is the reason he has kept me here so long and worked to shape my great powers.

            I will have to carry on when he has perished.

            Meanwhile, I make plans to leave. Not north, but south, from which rumblings of war have started, and rumors that Rahm may play a role in this war preparation. He appears to be building an army with the intent of invading the north country. If I can, I must stop him.

 

 

Report 1187:

            I’m on the road again to an unsavory place called Htam.

            Before my leaving, the sorcerer cautioned me against think of this Htam as the one that would rise on the same spot late. We in prehistory, at a time when the gods of the north still rule, and the world of the south are still rebelling outposts of former trading and military expeditions.

            Htam, one of the oldest cities of the south, has become the center of the rebellion against the old gods, a place to which every radical movement from every other part of the gulf goes to meet and plot.

            It is rumored, too, that Kern, the outcast of the north, is residing in Htam, plotting his return to the north.

            For this reason, it makes sense that I travel south first to determine if Rahm has a hand in this return.

            Somewhat disturbing is the fact that when I leave the river delta upon which the city of Taffar stands, the tower and its grid work of streets vanishes.

            Instead of great shipping vestals and sandstone urban buildings, I see canoes and huts along the banks, with a few fishermen and hunters gathering around small fires for warmth.

            I have stepped back into time, but a time before the time when I arrived.

            I can think of nothing more disconcerting.

            But I feel hope, too. At least in this time I know that above me somewhere the space platform revolves around this planet and at some point, the remaining members of the crew will mount a rescue mission to recover me and the others – if the others managed to survive.

 

Report 1188:

            The road south is longer than I expected, and filled with refugees from conflicts deep in the south, sad characters of all sorts traveling, their lives strapped to their backs, dwarves and men, as well as other creatures seeking some new hope in strange places because they know what they have left behind and it is terrible.

            And, of course, I travel towards danger not away from it, something of a troubling concept since I still have little confidence in my ability to ward off an attack, magical or in combat, despite years of preparation for both.

            I study the faces of those I pass and see one consistency in all, a look of terror that tells me I shall find little comfort where I am going, even if I find what I want.

            As I go south, the air grows warmer and frequent storms wash in from the gulf as if the gods in the north did battle here as well, leaving the wreckage of trees and the occasion shattered ship in their wake.

            I ache for a way to communicate with my own kind, but all the trinkets I brought with me from space have ceased to work – some lasting longer than others, but all failing eventually – and not for want to power since each had a power source supposedly capable of lasting an eternity.

            At some point, I need to find a way to communicate with the platform, yet as hard as I ponder it, I come no closer to thinking of how.

 

Report 1189:

            Weeks, months perhaps, have passed traveling down a road towards a destination that remains a rumor. Only today, I see the first signs of a higher civilization – if you can call it that.

            Ancient Babylon might be an apt description of what I see ahead, a city constructed into the cusp of a mountain with tower upon tower, dark and terrible, yet full of wonder.

            Even from a distance I can see the traffic in and out, a constant movement of people and beings doing business in the heart of this metropolis.

            The future Taffar where I lingered for so long can not compare with this ancient thing which is like a large stone heart beating with the rituals of the world, pumping out that which keeps the world thriving.

            I see soldiers for the first time since leaving Taffar, grand soldiers dressed in crimson cloaks and golden armor. They ride on fine horses, passing all of us on urgent errands elsewhere.

            Rome’s legions could not have looked so magnificent as these, nor as menacing.

 

Report 1190

            Weeks have passed since my first sighting Htam, and yet I am only reaching the foot of the mountains where the city lay, suggesting just how large the city is, and how with each footfall I grow more and more in awe of it.

            Gods must have lent their skills in its construction, but dark and terrible gods, whose fingers carved hideous shapes upon every battlement and every door, the faces of terrible creatures the like of which even nightmares scarcely compare.

            Sign posts, and road side temples all bear these strange faces, beings – I am told – whose shapes and life can only be found in the heart of the underworld where the heart of evil lay.

            Before my leaving Taffar, the sorcerer had warned me about the deep core of Htam and the priest who stirred up a primitive magic deep in the dark heart of the great city. While a king sat on the throne and used the military to fulfill his ambitions at controlling trade, the real power of the city lay in the hands of the priests.

            If Rahm dealt with anyone, it would be with the priests.

            But I still do not know how I can reach the priests to learn the truth since I arrive in Htam as humbly at any beggar.

 

Report 1191:

            I arrived at the city wall after dark so could not gain access until morning.

            No more scurrilous company could I have kept than those with whom I camped over night, drunks and thugs cursing around camp fires, telling bawdy tales of their future intentions if their plans in the city work out.

            Whores fell in with rogues drinking and carrying on long into the night so that I could hardly sleep even if I dared.

            I had traveled long distances over rough ground to get here, but never felt so fearful in the wild as I did at the foot of high civilization.

            None took notice of me despite my fears and in the morning I joined the throng that entered the city, where my awe at seeing the city at a distance was somewhat modified by the intensity of the human occupants, many of whom stank, nearly all of whom acted little more civilized than the savages I met when first arriving on this planet.

            The sorcerer had given me a name to look up, a man of magic inside the city with whom the sorcerer had had dealings and trusted to some degree.

            To my delight, the man of magic turned out to be Billings, one of those who had traveled down from the space platform with me.

            He was as delighted at seeing me as I was at seeing him and we soon shared our tales of how we arrived here.

 

Report 1192:

            Billings had crash landed in the deep south – out of range of the Simterians or Rahm so he had maintained his pod longer and kept up communications with the platform right up until the equipment failed.

            He could not explain the failure since he had maintained the equipment well, though guessed it had something to do with the planet.

            He had some fortune in meeting up with elves, who reluctantly gave him shelter and advice.

            They suggested he make his way to this city where he might hear word of his fellow travelers, which he did.

            Once here, he hooked up with a local conjurer and took up his living as a kind of spell caster, offering small cures for small fees, while occasional providing others with bits of information about the activities of the priests.

            It was in this capacity that he served the sorcerer of Taffar.

 

Report 1193:

            Billings had seen no sign of Rahm during his stay here, but says that doesn’t mean Rahm isn’t here.

            He knows that the priest are conspiring with forces that many consider too dangerous to stir up, and that they have built a special furnace in the heart of their chambers for some purpose no one can fathom.

            We are trying to find a way to get in and see what it is, but no matter how big a bribe we offer the soldiers that guard the sacred chambers, none will defy the priests.

            The soldiers fear the priests more than they do the King, telling us the king can only chop off their heads.

            But Billings, who has spent years here, knows that sooner or later we will find someone we can bribe.

            Htam is filled with disgruntled people, who hate the priests and the king, and who wouldn’t mind making a profit.

            We do find someone after awhile, and make our way with this solider as a guide deep into the chambers of the priests where we come upon a furnace, larger and more powerful than any either of us has seen on the planet. To our relief, the furnace is manufacturing only swords and other weapons typical of this world – higher quality perhaps, but not the modern devices we feared we would find, or that would signify Rahm’s involvement.

 

Report 1194:

            There is another furnace.

            More secret and perhaps more deadly, and constructed down deep near the most sacred chambers of the high priests.

            Billings says we can never reach it because it is in a section of the city that only the highest ranking priests can go.

            Even the king’s men, perhaps not even the king himself is allowed there.

            But I’m convinced that this second chamber will give us the information about Rahm we want, and that we must find a way to get in there.

            I’ve come to the conclusion that at least in part Rahm’s plans have been thwarted, since he cannot sustain the high level of technology he needs to sustain the kind of war he has planned.

            The first furnace showed that Rahm or someone like him is building a finer grade of weapon and amassing them for a future conflict.

            Yet with such weapons – regardless of their superiority to existing weapons here --  the conquest would be slow and tedious.

            This gives us time to breathe and to plan.

            Billings is convinced the war will be fought in the north – perhaps with the aim of killing off the gods there so that they will not interfere with Rahm’s plans for the rest of the planet.

            This theory, of course, makes it even more imperative that we see what is being made in the smaller, more secret furnace – since this is obviously and even more special weapon.

 

 

Report 1195:

            I’ve decided that the only way we’re going to get access to the inner sanctum is to kidnap one of the priests and force him to take us there.

            Although Billings has survived by guile, he has learned a lot about violence, and has grown out of the sheepish scientist I knew at the platform in space.

            But his guile also makes him careful, and he tells me he thinks such a plan is foolhardy.

            The priests are not to be taken lightly. They have great power and they hold grudges.

            Even if we succeed, it is likely they will hunt us down, Billings says, and do something very unnatural to us.

            I complain that he is beginning to sound like some of the guards we previously tried to bribe.

            He says that is because they have common sense and know danger when they see it, while we do not.

            Still in the end, Billings agrees to help implement by plan.

            After all, the reason we came down to this planet in the first place was to check on Rahm, and if we fail to do it, we are wasting our time here.

 

Report 1196:

            Billings is dead.

            And if I don’t get out of Htam quick, I’ll be dead, too.

            Our planned worked well enough. We got a hold of a young priest, dressed ourselves in garb like his and forced him to lead us to the secret furnace.

            Even if the place was not guarded by great spells and numerous guards and priests, we could never have found our way in on our own, so winding were tunnels we followed.

            Worse still, the deeper we went the more oppressive the place became, not merely because of the walls of the passage were decorated with visions of unspeakable horrors, souls tortured in the glory of some sadistic gods, but because we could feel the presence of the ghosts of those tortured here over the centuries, spirits so tormented by the spells and tortures of the priests they could not move on to another world.

            Indeed we began to hear the voices of those ghosts in our heads, a torture in itself, as those spirits shed their misery upon us so that we were nearly as miserable as they.

            We both felt as if we would not escape that place alive, as proved correct in the case of Billings.

            We reached the secret furnace all right, and we were stunned to see the army of priests that hovered over it, breathing into swords and spears, strange spells we knew bore only death for their victims.

            I knew immediately that this was not Rahm’s doing, nor any of those who came down with them. This was an evil far greater in scope than any one man could take credit for, something that I never encountered before, but which came out of the earth itself, called up from some deep and terrible place by foolish power-hungry priests who actually believed they could control this thing once they let it loose on the world.

            Our kidnap victim then tells us the power comes from the underworld, from the souls of evil gods and others who have bound together for purposes beyond mortal imaginations, to cast the world into darkness and evil if they could.

            Billings at that point dropped his sword and the ringing of it against the stone turned every head in our direction.

            Our captive priest leaped away, yelling and pointing at us, calling us infidels and invaders.

            Some bolt from somewhere struck Billings dead on the spot. His death saved me, and I ran back the way we had come, my memory sorting out the twists and turns until I reached the main city and made my way back to Billings’ hovel.

            But I cannot stay here long.

            I already hear the alarm being sounded throughout the city.

 

Report 1197:

            I had to abandon the apartment.

            Dark shapes swarmed in on it during the night and I knew I would not survive if I remained.

            I wander the streets now, waiting for daylight when I can pass out one of the gates and escape this city.

            I do not know if they will follow. But I suspect I have stirred up something very evil, and that I am no longer protected by my anonymity as I was previously.

            I do not know if Rahm is behind any of this – though my instincts tell me this isn’t particularly his doing.

            There are many powers in this world, some beyond even Rahm’s ability, and I seem to have drawn the attention of one of these.

            The Sorcerer of Taffar had warned me to take care, saying that I have great powers that others would fear and seek to destroy.

            At the time, I dismissed this as simple rhetoric, now I know better.

            Yet this crisis is more than just fear of being caught. I am in a deep turmoil that has uprooted me.

            On the platform in space, I accepted only reluctantly the concept that a world could be run on rules of magic, instead of science.

            Deep down I clung to the belief that sooner or later, if we dug deep enough we would find the scientific basis for the world, and that this would dispel all the magical illusions.

            Seeing the priests in their ceremony, and feeling the intensity of the power they drew up out of the underworld, I now know how flawed my hopes were, and just how different a world this is from any place we have encountered before.

            I will never been the same.

            Now, I must cling to those lessons in magic the sorcerer gave me, wishing that I had taken them as more than foolish exercises in the absurd since they are all that I have with which to survive.

            The sole comfort I have in all this, of course, is the fact that if I am frustrated by the concept of magic, so is Rahm, and that whatever plans he made before coming down are now in ruins.

            But I also know that Rahm will not be frustrated long and that once he learns his original plans are no longer valid, he will invent new ones that will coincide with this world better.

            This means that Rahm will seek the core of the magic and then seek to control it.

            For me this means that if I can’t stop Rahm in any other way, I’m going to have to kill him.