Chapter One

"Seesand! Seesand!" Trilled a high-pitched voice from within the small house. Celcynd knew what was coming and smiled. For several months now, his trek through holtburg to the building where he taught would always be interrupted by endless exuberance in the form of a little brown haired child named Hardunna. He could always take other paths to his destination. In fact, some would probably prove faster, but he found that he could not deny this high-spirited urchin her prize. In fact, he could not deny himself, as he had come to look forward to their morning rendezvous with joy.

The door of the house flung open so quickly, that not even the usual squeak of the rusted hinges could make itself heard. The running girl acquired her target and latched herself to Celcynds leg like a starving reed shark. "Can I go wif you today seesand? Pweeeese? Mama said I could!" It was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud, but he was a stickler for conventions and crouched down to face the child. "I do believe you have forgotten something my dear," he said with a twinkle in his eye. For a moment a cloud of uncertainty washed over her ruddy face. A split second later, the cloud parting, Hardunna flung her arms around Celcynds neck and provided him with his required boon, a kiss on the cheek.

"Ahhh! Much better!" he laughed as he picked the four-year-old up off the ground. "What say you Alynne? Shall I hamper my life today with this ragamuffin?" The head of Hardunnas mother broke though the plane of the open window. "Aye, Celcynd! Take her! For she does naught but draw on the walls with chalk and keeps me cleaning up behind her all day with her clay sculptures!" Hardunna pushed her head up against Celcynds cheek and whispered none too quietly; "I made one for you Seesand! Look!" Reaching into the folds of her ragged tunic, Hardunna pulled out what seemed at first to be a gnarled twig, but upon closer inspection in the light revealed it to be a figurine of a woman in a flowing dress. It was not often that Celcynd was caught off guard, but the smiles from both Hardunna and her mother reflected that this was one of those times. Not only for the fact that there were artists who would be jealous of Hardunnas ability to create such detail at such a young age, but more so that the facial features, the exacting detail of the flowing hair left no question in his mind that this was a statuette of the love of his life, Brentsella. Celcynd grasped Hardunna a little more tightly in his arms, and whispered back to Hardunna, again, none too quietly for the benefit of her mothers ears as well; "Thank you sweet child. I shall treasure this always."

"But now we must go!" Celcynd exclaimed while placing Hardunna back on the ground and slipping the gift carefully into his pack. "It does not befit a great mage and teacher to be late to the class that he himself is teaching! Fare thee well Alynne! I shall return Hardunna this afternoon if the Banderlings don't get her first!" Alynne laughed as she wrapped up some cheese, meat and cakes made the previous evening and slipped them to Hardunna through the window. Celcynd nodded to Alynne in gratitude noticing that she had provided much more than what Hardunna could possibly eat, took Hardunnas hand and started away from the household.

As Alynne watched her daughter and the most respected man in Holtburg make their way up the path to where all town children were schooled, she called out with a grin "Watch him closely today Hardunna. Don't let him stray off on topics of magic as he is apt to do when he is supposed to be teaching you to read and write!" Celcynd looked down at Hardunna with a sly smile and a wink. Hardunna returned the wink as best she could and without looking back, yelled out in her little voice, "I won't mama, I won't."

Chapter Two

Keutah crouched down by the entrance of the redoubt listening to the steady thrumming of the drums and fletched the last of his arrows. Every beat seemed to cause his blood to burn within him a little bit hotter, which forced him to pay even more attention to the quality of his work. For all of his arrows must be perfect. No exceptions.

His whole life, Keutah had heard the drums. He had seen and felt the magic that the shamans produced through their ritualistic banging. He had attended the ritual gatherings that the powerful sound of these instruments would often herald. But today, the language of the drums spoke only of war.

Today would be the greatest day, ever experienced by his Xuta. Today, he would lead his people to victory over the filthy humans and their encroachment into the land of the Tonk. He despised the term "Tumerok", a human label that he was not willing to accept. If all went as planned, he would make his point on this issue by carving the word "Tonk" onto the foreheads of all the humans he would kill this day, even in the symbols of their own language.

"Keutah, they are ready." Came a voice behind him, removing him for the moment from his hateful revelry. "We await your word."

Keutah recognized the voice of his trusted friend and a Shaman of his Xuta, Terauri. From childhood, they had been the greatest of friends and though Keutah had taken the road of the warrior and Terauri the path of mysticism, they remained entwined in soul as the closest of brothers.

Keutah arose from his crouch and carefully placed his finished arrows into his quiver. He looked to his friend for a moment then turned his head to the sky as looking for something particular.

"Tell me something Terauri. What says the high priest about our adventure today?" Terauri smiled. "Your question does not spawn from even a hint of concern in your heart Keutah, for I know you care little for the spiritual, but nevertheless, his support is yours."

Keutahs head snapped back from his gaze into the heavens to fix upon Terauaris' face and his own demeanor could not but show his surprise. "Do not jest Terauri! Now is not the time for comedy!"

"I jest not Keutah. " Said the shaman. "As much as he is against violence, he seems to see an unintended outcome to your actions that will one day prove a boon to all in this land."

"You are right my friend, I care not for the magic's, nor do I have patience for supposed soothsayers who always seem to foretell doom and despair for our people." Keutah paused as if thinking of how to apply a certain piece of a puzzle. "But if what you say is true, and I have the blessing of the great Daeaua, then I shall use it to my purpose. Even those that have questioned my actions up until today shall quiet themselves now."

"This day is yours my brother. " Said Terauri. "Now it is time to speak to the warrior host you have assembled here. Go and share your vision of victory."

"Yes." Keutah spoke now with a greater passion than Terauri had ever seen in his old companion. "Let us go!"

As Keutah made his way to the top of the redoubt tower to address the Tumerok host, only one thing that his friend said held sway. It throbbed in his head and his heart leaped at the words. "Yes, yes," he thought. "THIS day is MINE!"A Tale of Celcynd By: Tynerion of Solclaim

Chapter Three

Celcynd looked up from the scroll he was studying and with a raised eyebrow, took stock of the thirty-two children placed in his care this day. Most were increasing their proficiency in writing as he had dictated, but his attention focused on the two that were not. Little Hardunna had abandoned the tedium of scripting the lines and curves of the printed word for a little piece of clay that she had obviously brought with her for just such an occasion. To this Celcynd paid no attention. For he could not expect a child so young to apply herself to tasks meant for those twice her age. "In a few years," he thought, "I can see that I will have quite a task on my hands with the name of Hardunna. Hopefully, my patience will grow with the years so that I am prepared." He laughed to himself.

Tynerion on the other hand, would need to be dealt with. A consummate daydreamer, this boy of eight years could not remain to the task of writing for more than ten minutes. Unless that is, the words made some semblance of a magic spell. More than not, Celcynd would receive Tynerions assignment at the end of the day incomplete, but with words written beautifully in the margins such as "Malar" and "Quavosh". Regardless of Celcynds ire for Tynerions disregard of the "less noble" studies, He, more than anyone understood this boy and held a liking for him. Particularly for the fact that looking into Tynerions eyes when the studies turned to magic, Celcynd would see a glimpse of himself at that age.

"Tynerion!" Celcynds voice boomed startling Tynerion out of his vision of streaking bolts of fire and glistening portals. "What number are you on?!"

"Master?", Tynerion responded in a meek voice.

Celcynd fixed his stern gaze on the youngster. "Your assignment is to write the ten tenants contained in the Code of Pwyll, what number are you on?"

Tynerions face turned white as he looked down at his parchment before him and looked again at his teacher's stone hard face. "Number six master."

"You have no more than three spans to complete your assignment young master. And if there are any extra words on your scroll than what I have asked for, there shall be an accounting between you and I!" pronounced Celcynd.

"Yes master. But master, will you still... umm...", started Tynerion now showing a goodly amount of fear.

"Will I what Tynerion?" said Celcynd knowing exactly what the boy wanted to know. "Will I reward lazy children who think more of slaying Olthoi with streaks of lightning than for learning the lessons I teach? Will I succumb to the whims of a group of waifs with self-induced ignorance by creating a portal for their amusement?" Celcynd realized that his point had hit the mark by seeing Tynerions sheepish demeanor and relented by softening his stance. "If all finish well, I shall benefit your desires with a shining portal during our midday break."

These words caused a general thrill through the children who lived for the times when Celcynd would make a display of his artifice magic, that so few had ever seen within their time.

Celcynd thought back to the time when he had seen his first workings of magic. Several young men and women standing before the Empyrean master Harlune hoping against all odds that they might be picked to become his student. Harlune was a difficult being to be around. Time after time groups of would-be mages would knock on his door in Arwic asking to be taught the essences of magic. And each time he would shake his fist at those standing there, spouting dispersions on whether they might truly be offspring's of a Shreth. Each time Harlune would create a portal instructing them that true happiness and knowledge was within its swirling mass. When the seekers would walk into the portal, they would always end up in the middle of the river in Rithwic where they would make their soggy way home with downcast faces.

But when Celcynd stood before the shimmering gateway that Harlune created, He could not move. His eyes affixed and his heart racing, he could feel the energy the portal emanated. With fire in his eyes, he faced the portal as a statue until the pink waves dissipitated and he was once more free to move.

Looking up at the towering Empyrean, a flood of guilt washed over him. "My apologies Master Harlune. I should have obeyed your command. But I could not." he said with a voice of regret though there was none in him.

Harlune did not reply. Studying Celcynd for what seemed like an eternity without expression, Celcynd wondered if Harlune was contemplating the best way to dispose of Celcynds body. Instead however, Harlune spoke softly, almost too soft to hear. "Follow me."

From that point on, Celcynd lived with Harlune and became his apprentice. Years of menial tasks and incessant repetition of ancient texts became his entire life. He learned of the magical Ley-Lines that coursed every which way through the land and how to harness and focus the energy to a mages own will. For the longest time, Celcynd portals would take him to the most terrible places. Swamps full of Mosswarts, seashores with brutal Reedsharks where he would run screaming to find a tree suitable to climb until he could procure the right components for another portal. Harlune used to say "Celcynd, there was a group of drudges here this morning that wondered if you could come back for a second act. It seems your act of jumping out of trees into portals is quite amusing for their little ones." This was the only time that Celcynd would see the lighter side of Harlune. And even then, Harlune would never laugh or even crack a smile.

So much had changed since those times. Celcynd had mastered the magic of Artifice and was held in very high regard as being the first human to learn and practice the ancient ways.

A giggle from the rear of the schoolroom brought Celcynd back into the present and before he could bring his gaze to bear on the source, he lost his sight completely to the presence of two soft hands covering them as the owner stood directly behind him. Celcynd inhaled the aroma of Frankincense as a voice as melodious as a clear stream flowing through meadow spoke, "Guess my name, and I shall be yours forever."

For the sake of the children, Celcynd knew he must guess. "Is it Wantorth the Fletcher?" He proposed with a smile.

"NOOO!" several of the children yelled in unison.

"Ah then, it MUST be the peddler from the outskirts of town, come to bring me my new Breeches I ordered a month ago. It's about time! The holes in my current pair are causing drafts!" He chided.

This time all the children exploded with a resounding yell that indicated he had yet to guess correctly.

"I can guess no longer." He said with a laugh. "Who has taken the great Celcynd by surprise?"

Unable to contain herself any longer, Hardunna stood up in the back of the room and yelled with so much enthusiasm that even the birds outside took flight. "IT'S BENT-SELLA SEASAND!"

"Ahh! So it is!" said Celcynd, lifting out of his chair as Brentsella removed her hands. And a much prettier sight than those who I had thought it might be!"

All the children laughed as Celcynd embraced his love, careful to keep it as innocent as possible for the children's eyes.

"Would you like some company for your mid-day break my dear?" Brentsella asked, their embrace complete.

It took no second thought for Celcynd. "I would indeed!" He said. "Allow me to glue these scamps to their seats first. I will have no spies giggling around us as we have before."

After assigning several of the eldest students to watch over the class as they ate their meal, Celcynd and Brentsella Headed off to the shade of some nearby trees. As they went, Celcynd had to roll his eyes at the cantering of verse coming from the children yet behind.

"The Sun has the Moon,

and the Earth, the Sky

Celcynd has Brentsella

'til the day they both die."

"Children." Griped Celcynd.

"You love them." responded Brentsella gently.

Celcynd smiled, "Yes. In that, there is no doubt."

Celcynd and Brentsella spend a good portion of the break only smiling and looking into each other's eyes. Celcynd could not fathom why this woman had made such an impact on his life. He had truly believed that he would end up as Harlune, cramped up in a far away cave, living his life with only a Reedshark as protection and his magic. But Brentsella had melted away the hardness that he had learned from living all those years with the master Empyrean. One word or touch from her would wash away the rest of the world, and everything would become right.

At one point, Brentsella broke out of the lover's revelry by stating, "I have something for you, my heart." Brentsella fished through the small pouch she wore, and produced a shining silver ring.

Celcynd was not much for flashy jewelry, and as he focused on the object in Brentsella's hand, he knew that she had taken this fact into consideration. It was very simple and unadorned. Thin enough that it did not stand out, but perfect in its simplicity.

"It is something I want you to have." Brentsella continued. "And every time you look at this plain and simple ring, let it remind you of me and the times that we have had. We have never been extravagant in our relationship. It has only been plain and simple, but more than anything else, pure."

Brentsella waited a moment for Celcynds reply, but none came. Instead he seemed to be looking beyond her to the north, and a quizzical look slowly made its way across his face. Where a second ago, that beatific smile beamed, a frown now stood.

"What is it Celcynd?" She asked, now a little disconcerted.

"Drums," responded Celcynd with focused interest. "I hear drums."