Prologue: The Lake Stone

Under the calm of the star-filled sky, the wrinkled hag shuffled, a crooked cane in her gnarred hand, taking smalls steps so she didn’t tire before she reached the guardhouse. Though she lived just inside East Taren, it took her half the night to reach the border of West Taren.

“A dangerous journey for an elder,” East Taren townspeople whispered among themselves as she passed, night after night. “The West Taren savages would find a tired old lady traveling alone an easy target.”

Her keen ears occasionally caught the idle chatter as she passed, causing her to snicker to herself, knowing the gossips saw only her bent back and feeble walk, and therefore assumed her magic was feeble as well. No brigand who crossed her path and challenged her lived to make that mistake a second time. Just two nights ago, she had cast asunder an entire band of rogues. Lying at her feet, they had begged for mercy. She gave them none.

In need of money, she had reluctantly agreed to train an ignorant guardsman of West Taren—an Unnatural. Even though her pupil showed no talent, she had kept her promise, teaching the fool the ways of magic. What she taught, however, were inferior spells that lasted but seconds, ones creating smoke and sparks and little more. An East Taren child might have shown him such cheap, trivial tricks for free, but her pupil knew no better.

Ignorant of magic, as all West Tareners were, he shamelessly overpaid for such worthless lore — ten silver pieces a visit. Tonight, she intended to collect more than silver; tonight, she hoped to collect power beyond imagining.

Her eyes, milky and clouded with age, squinted ahead. There stood the guard, nervously awaiting her arrival. She despised Unnaturals, and this was the second one she had agreed to teach. At least the first one had potential. This one was useful only for the money he paid her and as a pawn, to be exploited as she desired. The guard suspected nothing.

The old woman thought about the success of her deception and cackled. The guard, as he always did,

 mistook her disdainful amusement with him as enthusiasm for the next lesson. He glanced around anxiously, then hurriedly escorted her into his small guardhouse, containing two wooden stools and lit with only a single lantern. The old woman knew the risks the guard was taking and thought him all the more foolish for doing so.

She loathed the dusty, cramped quarters almost as much as she hated the guard, but she drew comfort in the knowledge that this loathsome project was nearing its end. After so many cycles, the guard was ready. Her magic had slowly crumbled his judgment, like rust ate away at unkempt armor.

Directly outside the guardhouse was the Great Lake of Lamec, and precisely in its center lay the Lake Stone, the talisman from the heavens. The waters glistened and glowed from the mysterious power of the Stone. Soon she would obtain its power.

“For this lesson,” she told the guard, “I want no silver.” Upon seeing the predictably puzzled look on his face, the old woman went on. “I ask only that you take me by boat to see the Lake Stone for a closer view.” She waited awhile to judge the look in the guardsman’s eyes. “I wish to touch it.”

As she expected, the guard rambled on about how no one was allowed near the Stone and of his responsibilities to guard it. Growing impatient, she cut his pitiful babbling short with a hard tap of her cane upon the stone floor. The guardhouse was suddenly silent.

“Do you not want to continue with your lessons, man? I offer you a chance to save your money, and you insult my generosity with this nonsense.” The old woman leaned forward so close, the uneasy guard feared the hag would kiss him. “This is no bandit or vandal who stands before you, guard,” she whispered hoarsely. “What possible harm can I, a bent old woman, do by touching the Stone? Even the King himself of this marvelous capital city would grant my simple request if he knew of it. Perhaps I would do better to go to him instead.”

The old woman smiled; her teeth were brilliantly white. She backed away, sat on a stool, and waited. The guard looked uncertain, unsure. Not willing to make eye contact, he simply stared at the floor. The old woman was confident in what he would say next. Starting with the guard’s first lesson, she had gradually developed a link to touch his mind with hers. Now, he unwittingly exposed his thoughts for her to manipulate and exploit as she pleased. Her grin slowly widened. She had access to his very soul—and thus access to the Lake Stone. She knew the guard feared her as much as he feared getting caught near the Lake Stone—a crime the West Tareners punished with death.