THE MIND IS THE GREATEST WEAPON. Thus reads the inscription overlooking the entrance to the great castle at Nyfonte. To Bresnin and his three Squires, however, these mystic runes were nothing but unintelligible scratches, as incomprehensible as any other remnant of the ancients. The four advanced slowly with their broadswords drawn, for they knew there would be Thralls waiting beyond the portal. The risk was deemed worthwhile, for somewhere behind those walls lay a key to unlocking the Powers of the Ancients. If Tapir and the northern group were successful, they would be ready to rendezvous at the border in three days. Bresnin and his men had that long to secure the land of Ny and turn their attention outward for soon the time for swords and clubs would give way and Bresnin would be called upon to fulfill his destiny as a champion...
No one knows how the ancients came to inhabit the island of Phæcia or whether they were magical beings when they first arrived, but after a time they developed a sophisticated and powerful system of magic which was centered on the land itself. The very earth of Phæcia surged and flowed with mystic energy and the longer the ancients spent living on the land, the better they understood how to focus and tap this power.
The magic of the ancients had reached a plateau when the great wizard Busron embarked on a course which would alter the entire composition of Phæcian life. He proposed that since the earth provided the power for Phæcian magic, that the power could be amplified if the earth were reshaped, molded, and thrust upward toward the sky. Following the precise plans he had formulated over a lifetime of study and research, the master architect and those significant number who were inspired by his vision set about to erect the first focal altar in the place called Pael. To carry out his plan, whole new disciplines had to be created. Stonecutting, for example was unknown to the ancients before this time. After thirty years of triumphs and setbacks, his life's work was nearing its completion when Busron died of pneumonia. His able Protege, the sorceress Silesia took over and five years later the focal alter proved to be all that Busron had promised and more. The Great Age of Construction had begun.
Silesia not only oversaw the completion of Paelfonte, but immediately commissioned several other construction projects while she herself stayed at Paelfonte researching the benefits of the focal alter and theorizing on improvements to be made in future models. By the time she died (140 years later, for one of the effects she was able to extract from Paelfonte was an extended lifespan) six focal altars housed in large castles loomed over the land.
The practice of magic, hence the entire fabric of Phæcian culture, began to change. The population, which had been spread fairly evenly throughout the island began to congregate around the castles. It seemed that the use of the altar was not necessarily confined to the castle, if groups of mages cooperated to extend its power outward. Associations of sorcerers grew up around each castle and each developed their own strain of magic. These strains were recycled through the focal altars and eventually the land for miles around became altered to suit the personality of its ruling house. The Six Houses of the Ancients were formed and each ruled over a distinct region.
The whole concept of combat was changed. Phæcians, who had never been particularly peace loving, soon exploited the altars' martial benefits by developing a system of mental combat which made conventional weapons obsolete. Whenever there was a disagreement, (which happened more often as the Six Houses became more culturally isolated) each side would choose a champion who would fight for the entire group. The resulting confrontation would look rather dull to a non-magical creature, but all the Phæcians watching could sense the flow of mental thrusts and parries and appreciate the great skill involved. The literature of the ancients is full of stories and poems of the great heroes of mental combat. Of course, no one alive today can understand a word of the great ancient texts, but soon, perhaps very soon, that and a great many other mysteries will be revealed to a select few.
The ancients even went so far as to create an entirely new race of beings to perform menial labor. Why, after all, should such an advanced, almost god-like people have to sweep the floors, when enchanted beasts could be called on to simplify their lives? Besides, the plans for the new focal alters called for transporting massive pieces of solid stone over great distances. Magically endowed with the essences of both man and oxe, the brawny Thralls were brought into the world and served their masters faithfully for many years. The ancients, served not only by the Thralls but also by a form of telekinesis which some had developed, completely lost touch with their bodies, while their minds drifted off into greater realms of abstraction. The stage was set for the apocalyptic disaster which would bring an end to Phæcian civilization.
The House of Pael was made up of some of the noblest families of Phæcia. Descended from some of the original inhabitants of the castle of Busron, the Paelians considered themselves the premier wizards in the land, The original focal altar, however, lacked many Silesian modifications and the land area it commanded was tiny compared to that of some of the later models, especially Kresni, immediately to the north. The Paelians resolved to utilize their obviously superior mental prowess to capture the focal altar at Kresnifonte as nothing but the best was good enough for the Paelian nobility. The Kresnians, however, had utilized their position to develop their skills and handled the Paelian invasion so easily as to cause great embarrassment to the proud wizards of Pael.
In the seething rage which ensued, an unknown Paelian came up with an ingenious plan, so simple and elegant, and yet completely unexpected; so old and forgotten that it somehow seemed fresh and vital: raw physical violence. While your opponent was preparing for the subtle intricacies of mental combat, you would simply break a tree branch over his head. End of conflict.
Most Paelians, however, were in no shape to be breaking tree branches. So as with every other bit of physical labor, the Thralls were called in to perform the menial task of murder. The Thralls learned quickly. Nine days later, the last living Phæcian was slaughtered. The Thralls had taken to murder as if they were born for it, and did not stop their blood frenzy with the Kresnians. The Paelians who at first were delighted with the sleek efficiency of their ingenious stratagem stared in horror as the Thralls turned on their masters and joining with the Thralls which had belonged to the Kresnians, swept across the entire island attacking the utterly defenseless ancients. Paelians tried to attack the Thralls mentally, but to no effect. They attempted to fight with their own hands, but found themselves totally incapable of matching the strength of the Thralls. Finally, when it became clear that the problem was entirely out of control, various groups of mages turned their attention towards doing what they could to preserve their civilization. It was decided that if it were the case that all Phæcians should perish, that perhaps a new race of enchanted creatures could be conjured which would combine the strength and agility of the Thralls with the mental capacities of the Ancients.
By the time the last Ancient was killed, no one knew whether or not their hastily prepared spell would succeed in conjuring this new race. No one knows how long the spell took to come to fruition, but at some point the products of the Ancients final labours, the Moderns appeared on various parts of the island. They had no concept of who they were or how they had come to exist, but they soon learned to protect themselves in a hostile world. None of the Moderns were sure what exactly awaited them in the distant castles, but were unanimous in their desire to capture them...
Bresnin's group had lost one fighter in their siege of the castle, but the three who survived entered the altar room in awe. On the walls, various images of the surrounding countryside seemed to be projected from the altar in the center of the room. Walking forward and attempting to touch one of these images, Bresnin gasped as he found himself instantly transported to the location he had just been looking at. His mind immediately began racing with possibilities...