New Excerpt

“No,” cried Necromancer. “What have you done, Mordane?

This fabric is sacred.” He took it over by the water basin and

rinsed it. The wine was coming out, but the wizard was still

panicked.

Meanwhile, Mordane was picking himself up off the ground.

“What was that all about?” he asked while confirming all his teeth

had remained intact.

Necromancer made the rag glow with magic. Steam rose

quickly leaving the material dry in moments. He held it up to the

light and stared at the very fibers.

“This is the only remaining piece of Gallatrium’s cloak. I hope

for your sake you did not ruin it.”

“Do I know this Gallatrium?”

“You have much to learn, young one. This is old. It is a story

far older than written records. It is older than history itself. Long

before the many dark ages when the world was young, there was a

wise man that had been particularly blessed by his creator. His

name was Gallatrium and instead of world power, he chose to be a

simple farmer living with his family in solitude. He could have

been the greatest man to ever live but wanted nothing from his

power other than to care for his family.

“There were no other souls near his land save for he and his

four children. The one time he gave into temptation to use his

power for personal gain the creator took his wife from the world.

Thus, he lived a simple life and sought neither fame nor adulation.

He chose to protect his offspring from greed and the world around.

No harm could possibly come to them on his farm. He gave them

all that any father could give his children.

“As Gallatrium’s offspring grew in age, they also grew in

curiosity. Increasingly they yearned to see what the mysterious

world had to offer. Gallatrium warned them of the evils they would

find if they were to leave his house and forbade their departure. He

cautioned that leaving his house would mean he could no longer

protect and watch over them. The world was a cruel and deceptive

place for which they were not prepared.

“His stories only served to raise the children’s interest. The

outside being forbidden made it doubly intriguing. And so, one

night the four children of Gallatrium conspired to leave home in

four separate directions. They planned to walk until the sun rose

and then return to tell their father of their adventure.

“At the appointed time, they noticed that the night had taken on

a strong chill. They donned their cloaks but did not find them

warm enough for the unseasonably cold wind. One took his

father’s cloak for it was warmer than all others. Gallatrium wore it

every day and never felt cold beneath its surface. Jealousy and

envy overcame the other three children regarding the garment and

a fight ensued. When they were finished, their father’s cloak was

torn to shreds on the ground. The children blamed each other and

soon they neared blows. Vowing to never want to see the others

again, they set out on their separate paths. So great was their anger

at the others that they paid no heed to their path.

“When the sun reached the sky, they were in an unfamiliar

world of new things to see and do. By the time they thought of

returning home, they knew not which way to tread. They searched

in vain. Gallatrium’s farm was forever lost to them. Each

wandered aimlessly along in the wicked world. Nearing death,

they stopped searching and started homes of their own.

“When Gallatrium woke that morning after they left, he saw

that his children were gone. He had been hurt as no one could hurt

him. Falling to the floor he sobbed. His tears flowed onto the cloak

and brought out the handprints of his young ones.

“By picking up a piece one had touched, it enabled him to see

the child who had torn that piece of cloth. Though he could do

nothing to help any of them in the terrible times that came to pass

in their lives, he still had to watch as any parent would. To repair

his cloak was as impossible as repairing the relationship amongst

the children. And so he spent his days holding these rags and

watching his children in their successes and failures.

“Without his cloak, the cold north winds beat on him, and his

body aged. In time, he was a shadow of his former greatness, held

up in his desolate abode, with his only comfort being the sight of

his children and their families.”

Mordane had heard every word and was amazed at the story. “Is

it true?” he asked.

Necromancer nodded solemnly. “By the time Gallatrium died,

this one piece was all that remained, and he parted with it only in

his passing.”

“How do you know so much about this?” Mordane asked.

Necromancer smiled his devilish smile and answered, “It was I

that took it from him.”