The Shadows Chapter 1

The Guru and the Nu

By Keith Adams

Twelve Thousand years before the founding of Guardia, on a small frozen chunk of ice that served as the last refuge of humanity, snow fell as it was spread in a thousand directions by the howling wind which chilled one to one's very soul. On this island, carved into the summit of a mountain, was the home of one of histories most tragic figures. A thick wooden gate sealed the cave against the wind, and the person on it's inside barely noticed it.

Inside, the cave was small and cramped. It was a single chamber, and was extremely unkept. There was a bed of wool on a jutting out ledge. The chamber was basically circular. In the center was a Pentagram engraved into the rocky ground. All along the walls were books, mainly devoted to History, Geology, and Thaumatology. At the opposite end of the chamber from the door was a mantled fireplace. Above it hung a gloomy gray cape which partially covered a brown vest and a set of white pants. Above the cape hung a grayish helm which was basically circular with a point coming down in the center. Sideways, on a pair of rungs, was a Scythe engraved with archaic runes.

The owner of this house presently was gone to the towns common, which was in reality little more than a clearing in the woods. Meanwhile, a bluish portal erupted in the rooms center, out of which came an old man, with whitish hair and a moustasche, in a trenchcoat and a old brown hat with circular rim and a Red Nu ( a large creature with a circular torso with facial features and short appendages) pulling along a wheeled platform filled with odd apparati, such as a box with one darkish end and a set of journals.

"My friend, would you terribly mind unloading this stuff into this room. The person who told us to do this will be terribly upset if we don't follow his orders precisely. Unfortunately, without complete knowledge of what happened at this juncture, precise knowledge is impossible," muttered the old man, whose name was Gaspar.

"Who is the owner of this house? Some Lordian?" questioned the Red Nu, named Spekkio.

"Possibly the most powerful mage the world has, or ever will, for that matter, seen. He never applied himself as much as others, yet he is still incredibly strong."

"Is it the blue-haired guy?"

"Yes, it is the .."

Suddenly the door swung open. A man in his early 30's, wrapped in a blue cape and heavy fur vest and pants, with blue hair grown out, and dark blue gloves covering his hands, swaggered in, carefully eyeing the two figures.

"What are you doing here Old Man?" questioned the blue-haired man "You really should have asked before you began to dump your ..." the man eyed the monitors and such, full of wires "junk in my home. Space is limited."

"I did ask," stated Gaspar.

"Come again? I recall no such thing," the man's voice was growing harsh.

"Listen, young man. It will come to you in due course. But this will be necccesary at a later date, after you have explained this. But why are you here? I would imagine you would be searching for ... "

"She's dead. I have searched the entire world thrice over. She's gone, dead. The weak wash ..," whlie his words were harsh, the man's face wore an expression of unspeakable grief, his red eyes a blazing infereno .

"You never know, Janus. You will never know. You might find her, if you look." Gaspar said. He glanced around nervously, seeing that the Nu, Spekkio, was finished unloading. "Well, Janus, I'm off. Best of luck to you, and may your dreams be pleasant." With that, the Old Man and the Nu stepped through the gate.]

Magus clenched his fists as Gaspar left. Why had he entrusted him with this junk? He would understand none of it. Why hadn't he left it with that inventor girl Lucca. Magus couldn't care less. Schala was dead. Magus knew it for true, and he knew she would never return. It wasn't so bad in itself, but i his youthful selfishness and solipism he never could tell her how much she had meant to him. She might have known. She always could know what people are thinking. She possesed a rapport with others; she understood them. Such a contrast to himself. He knew he was percieved as callous. In truth, he was. He never cared about how others felt. Why should he? If they cannot take callousness, they were surely far too dependent on others, and weak in spirit. Why should he care for those who cannot perservere in the face of a tad of adversity, such as Lavos for his day was com ... no it wasn't. Magus was himself there as Lavos fell; he laid the killing blow himself. The Day of Lavos would never someday destroy the World. Magus was unsure of whether that was a blesssing or boon, but Lavos was a callous destroyer of lives. Much like himself. Far too much.


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