Devoid of Faith

Chapter 1: Devoid of Faith

Morag Mountain: tall, gray, and haunting. Its mysteries were many and only the eldest of the Elders knew them all. Of course, no one had ever seen the Chief Elder in over 100 years. Some say he passed into the next lifetime, and others believed he still lived on the mountain. The mountain it self was older than old. It had been there since before time itself had begun. Those who had ventured into the foothills, in hopes of climbing the daunting vista, returned shortly after their departure to tell many unbelievable stories. Many believed the stories to be paltry attempts to cover their cowardice. Only two people in all the city-state of Lyman knew that these stories were indeed the truth: Old Man Greyson and Mystica, his student. Mystica's knowledge, however, was obtained covertly. Greyson would never have imparted what he knew of the mountain and its inhabitants to anyone, including the younger Mage.
Mystica knew that the old man feared her, since she was in truth, more powerful than she let on. She noticed the way he kept an eye on her, making sure she stayed in line. His futile attempts at containing her made her laugh. She always found a way to escape his spying. Full of life and compassion, Mystica was no different from your average twenty-year old female. She loved to go out to Market Square and browse through the stalls. Her first love, however, was helping her fellow townspeople in anyway she could. The entire population knew of Mystica's abilities as a Mage and felt it an honor when she helped. They loved her. That didn't stop her from being lonely. Ever since her childhood friend, James, had left the city, she had trouble finding solace in another's company. After searching exhaustively to find another friend and confidante, she gave up and threw herself into her studies, thereby meeting and surpassing her patriarchs in the Art of Magic.

      The morning after the unusual earthquake and subsequent vision of the mountaintop, Mystica awoke only to find herself on the floor. Light streamed in through the window and the French Doors. Shielding her eyes, she rolled onto her side and tried to stand. When that failed miserably, she grabbed a hold of her bed, steadied herself, and rose. Putting a hand to her forehead, she sat on the foot of the bed and waited for the room to stop spinning. Taking a few deep breaths, she finally stood. Glancing over at the French doors, she wondered at the open curtains...Did she or did she not close them before passing out?
      Tossing the question aside, walked over to her mahogany chest and knelt down. She picked up her crystal ball, tucked it into its velvet bag and put it in the chest. Striding out of her room, she closed the door behind her and made her way down the hall to the study. She prayed that Old Man Greyson would still be in his chambers. Her brief glance out her window placed the time to just after dawn. Greyson would not leave his chambers until it was time to break his fast, which gave Mystica about an hour or so until she had to deal with his presence. She passed few servants in the hallways, which was not unusual in this area of the Mansion. The maids and servants avoided the East Wing like the plague. The East Wing, of course, was where Mystica and Greyson's set of rooms were; the study, with all its books and scrolls ; the practice room, where Mystica's lessons took place; the solarium, where obscure herbs and plants grew; and of course, their bed chambers . There were many other, secret rooms, and no servant or maid possessed the knowledge of their existence. Mystica was also supposed to be unaware that other rooms existed, however, her wanderings during Greyson's infrequent absences had turned up many of them. She knew exactly where he held his "interrogation" rooms, and his personal laboratories.
      Upon reaching the study, Mystica slowly and carefully opened the door. Giving the room a cursory glance, she sighed and stepped over the threshold. Closing the door behind her, she walked quickly to the large writing desk and pulled out a piece of parchment, a quill pen and some ink. Frantically, she began to write a quick note to her dearest friend.

Hawk,
Come quickly, I need your help. Our world is in terrible danger.

Underneath, she scrawled her rune in place of her signature:

Satisfied with the letter, she blotted it, stuck it in an envelope and raced back to her room. Locking her door, she all but ran to the French doors and flung them open. Standing in the middle of the terrace, she closed her eyes, lifted her face heavenward and concentrated her will, looking for the familiar touch�
Within moments, the heavy surge of air was felt upon the terrace. The roar of flapping wings was plainly heard as the strong form of an Arian man descended. He landed gracefully and bowed his head in respect and greeting.
"Lukas, I need you to deliver this," Mystica said, handing the Arian her letter.
"Where to, Lady Mystica?" Lukas asked, taking the envelope.
"The Other side of the forest," She replied. "To James. Do not let him see you."
"I remember," the Arian nodded. "Leave it to me. Do you need a token..." he trailed off as Mystica shook her head vigorously.
"No. I know you can get it to him," she explained. "He has never seen you and he shall never see you."
Nodding solemnly, Lukas took to the sky once more.
"God's Speed, Lukas!" Mystica called after him. Lukas raised his hand in farewell and sped off into the morning light.
"Now, we wait," Mystica muttered. She watched the sky for a few more moments, then turned on her heel and went inside.

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