The element of Fire was the province of the Dragonfolk, who dwelt in the broad desert lands. In appearance, they were most dramatic of all. Long-necked, long-tailed, sinuous creatures, they were winged, and their scales glowed with a metallic sheen. Their bulbous, glowing, gemlike eyes allowed them to see all around without turning their heads. They were born pure silver, and chose their preferred color in infancy, retaining that hue ever after. Though some chose blues, greens, and blacks, most preferred the colors of their element of Fire— shades of red or gold.
The Dragonfolk could produce two kinds of fire. They could turn the energy stored within them into a long jet of flame which they exhaled—but their other fire was more lethal. They could focus energy through the crystalline structure of their eyes to form a slender, concentrated beam with appalling destructive capacity. Thus were born the legends that a dragon’s stare was deadly. Their teeth and claws were deadly too, but these were for defense only, for the Dragonfolk ate no flesh. Instead they spread out their massive translucent wings, ribbed like those of a bat, to absorb pure energy directly from the sun itself, as a plant does with its leaves. The wings were ill-adapted for flight, but an adult dragon could glide for short distances. The young, being lighter and smaller, could fly farther.
Within the province of the Dragonfolk’s Fire-magic lay the art of storing power within gems and crystals that had been formed by heat and pressure within the earth, and the skill of working and smelting metals. All forms of fiery energy lay within their art, and they were capable of producing the most deadly and terrifying weapons. But being a peaceful folk, they kept these a closely guarded secret.
Because of the very nature of the Universe, the four Elemental Magics had four Negative Magics to balance them, and it was the responsibility of the Magefolk to keep these under control, and if possible, turned upon themselves to positive ends. None of these powers were the specific domain of any one race of Magefolk, but each was the responsibility of all, since all the Negative Magics were wild, unpredictable, and potentially very destructive.
The first, and most primeval of the Negative powers, was the Old Magic. This called upon ancient, elemental forces as old as time that had stalked the chaos of the newborn Universe before the Guardians brought the Magefolk into the balance to provide order. The Old Magic was the power of these ancient spirits—the Rock Spirits or Moldan, who once walked in giant, troll-like form; the Tree Spirits or Veridai; and the Naiads, the Spirits of the Waters. These ancient spirits had long been brought under control by the Fathers of the Magefolk, and were now trapped and powerless, unless deliberately called into the world.
More lately born were other races who called upon the Old Magic: the Mer-folk and the Phaerie and Dwelven races, who lived in peace with the ancient spirits in the deep waters, in the heart of primeval forests, and beneath the hollow hills. These could, as they wished, dwell either in the mundane world, or in the Elsewhere inhabited by the elemental spirits. It was rumored that they were the offspring of matings between early Magefolk and the ancient spirits, but whether or no, the An-cient Magefolk had seen fit to imprison them in the mysterious Isewhere of the Old Magic, to protect the peoples who later came to inhabit the world, for they were said to be tricky, false, and dangerous.
To call on any of these elemental beings was a perilous business. Released from their long imprisonment back into the world, they wielded great power, but were likely to turn it upon summoner as well as foe. But some of them, to the consternation of the Magefolk, did still wander free, occasionally appearing to turn the tide of history in some new direction— and rightly so, for without Chance as well as Balance, the Universe would grind to a halt.
The second of the Negative Magics was of a much more sinister nature, its origins shrouded in mystery. It was Necromancy—the Death Magic, by which a sorcerer could sap the very life-force of another. Like the Death Wraiths, who used this magic to feed themselves, an evil Mage could use another’s life energy to fuel his power, making it temporarily stronger. This vampirelike annihilation of life was so grossly against the i very grain of the Universe that few of the Magefolk even knew of its existence, and those who did guarded the secret to their utmost capacity.
Then there was the Cold Magic. This was the Magic of Entropy, which drew its power from the chill, lifeless black depths of the Universe. In the hands of a powerful Mage, the j Cold Magic could sap the very heat of the sun itself, plunging | the world into the darkness of eternal winter. 1
The Wild Magic was the fourth of the Negative Magics. This governed the primeval forces of nature—tempests, hurri- j canes, and whirlwinds; floods and tidal waves; earthquakes, volcanoes, and lightning. It was said that by employing the Wild • Magic, a Mage could make the very soul of the world rise up as a living force. But to make it biddable—ah, that was another matter.
In her dream, Aurian saw these matters acted out in a panoply of history that spanned generations. At last she saw how, in defense against the Negative Magics, the four races of Magefolk had created the Weapons of the Elements. She saw how the Race of Leviathan crafted the Caldron of Life, which was to be a defense against the very Necromancy for which Miathan had used it. She saw the Skyfolk’s Harp of Winds, which was made to master the Wild Magic, but which, in evil hands, could be used to summon it, for the Magefolk, in their pride, had forgotten a fundamental fact—that a weapon has two edges. She saw the Wizards, her ancestors, create the Staff of Earth to control the Old Magic, and saw with horror how it turned on them to release an Elemental free upon the world—a Moldan, which had cracked open the sea-filled rift between the Northern and Southern lands. It was only then that the Magefolk realized their error.
The powerful Dragonfolk, masters of weaponry, turned aside then from their task to create a ward against the Cold Magic. Instead they created a Master Weapon—the Sword of Flame, whose powers were manifold, and transcended those of the other three Weapons. This ultimate weapon was judged to be too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands. A Dragonfolk Seer foretold a time when the Sword would be needed to save the world from evil, but that was unimaginably far into the future. Under his guidance, the Sword was crafted for One alone to wield. The blade had a mysterious intelligence of its own, and was made to know the hand for which it had been created, but to reduce the risk, it was sealed in a great, imperishable crystal. To gain the Sword, the One had to discover a way to release the blade. When all was done, the Dragonfolk hid the Sword beyond all seeking, and the few who knew where it had been bestowed took their own lives. Thus did the Sword of Flame pass out of all knowledge.
Aurian blinked, and saw dawn ]>ght gilding the silver of the lagcxm. Every detail of the dream was etched clearly in her mind. She shivered in the slight dawn chill and stretched limbs that were stiff and bruised by the rocks on which she had lain. Turning her powers within herself, she made a brief contact with the tiny spark of life that was her child and Forral’s. Forral. Ah, Forral. Would she awaken every day for the rest of her life to be crushed all over again by the bleak knowledge that he was gone? But the child—their child—seemed well. It slept, safe and snug within her, and Aurian prayed that it would remain so. Then she saw the dark bulk of Ithalasa surface above the brightening waters of the lagoon, and all other thoughts fled from her mind.