“Complain, complain. That’s all you’ve done,” snapped Zifnab. “You haven’t said a word about my performance. ‘Fly, you fools!’ I thought I played that rather well.”
“Gandalf said it better?”
“Gandalf!” Zifnab cried in high dudgeon. “What do you mean, he said it ‘better’?”
“He gave the phrase more depth of meaning, more emotive power.”
“Well, of course he had emotive power! He had a Balrog hanging onto his skivvies! I’d emote, too!”
“A Balrog!” The dragon flicked its huge tail. “And I suppose I’m nothing! Chopped liver!”
“Chopped lizard, if I had my way!”
“What did you say?” the dragon demanded, glowering. “Remember, wizard, that you’re only my familiar. You can be replaced.”
“Chicken gizzard! I was discussing food. I’m extremely hungry,” said Zifnab hastily. “By the way, what happened to all the rest of ’em?”
“The rest of who? Chickens?”
“Humans! Elves, you ninny.”
“Don’t blame me. You should be more precise with your pronouns.” The dragon began to carefully inspect its glittering body. “I chased the merry little band up into the citadel where they were welcomed with open arms by their fellows. It wasn’t an easy task, mind you. Blundering through the jungle. Look at this, I broke a scale.”
“No one ever said-it would be easy,” said Zifnab, with a sigh.
“You’re right there,” agreed the dragon. His fiery-eyed gaze lifted, went to the citadel, shining on the horizon. “It won’t be for them, either.”
“Do you think there’s a chance?” The old man looked anxious.
“There has to be,” answered the dragon.
Epilogue
My Lord,
My ship is currently in flight above … below … through … (I hardly know how to describe it) the world of Pryan. The flight back to the four suns is long and tedious, and I have decided to take the time to record my thoughts and impressions of the so-called stars while they are still fresh in my mind. From my research gleaned in the Hall of the Sartan, I am able to reconstruct the history of Pryan. What the Sartan may have had in mind when they created this world (one wonders if they had anything on their minds!) is unknown. It is obvious to me that they arrived on this world expecting something other than what they found. They did their best to compensate, by building magnificent cities, shutting the mensch and themselves up inside, shutting the rest of the world out, and lying to themselves about the true nature of Pryan. All went well for a time, apparently. I would guess that the mensch—reeling from the shock of the disintegration of their world and the move to this one—had neither the inclination nor the energy to cause trouble-This state of peace passed rapidly, however. Generations of mensch came along who knew nothing about the terrible suffering of their parents. The citadels, no matter how big, would inevitably be too small to contain their greed and ambition. They fell to squabbling and feuding among themselves.
The Sartan, during this period, were interested solely in their own wondrous projects and did their best to ignore the mensch. Intensely curious about this project, I traveled into the heart of the crystal spire from which beamed the “star” light. I found there a huge machine, somewhat similar in design to the Kicksey-winsey that I discovered on the world of Arianus. This machine was much smaller and its function, as far as I was able to determine, is extremely different.
To describe it, I first put forth a theory. Having visited two of the four worlds built by the Sartan, I have discovered that each was imperfect. I also discovered that the Sartan were apparently trying to make up for the imperfections. Arianus’s floating continents need water. Abarrach’s Stone World (which I plan to visit next) needs light. The Sartan planned to supply these deficiencies by using energy drawn from Pryan—which has it in abundance. The four suns of Pryan are surrounded by stone that completely encases their energy. This energy is beamed down constantly onto the world surrounding the suns. The plants absorb the energy and transfer it down deep into the bedrock that supports them. I would estimate that the heat built up at this lower level must be incredible.
The Sartan constructed the citadels to absorb this heat. They dug deep shafts down through the vegetation into the rock. These shafts act as vents, drawing the heat off and expelling it back into the atmosphere. The energy is collected in a place known as the sanctuary, located in the center of the complex. A machine, running off the energy, transfers the power to the central spire, which in turn beams it out to the sky. The Sartan did not do this by themselves, but used their magic to create a race of powerful giants, who could work in the citadel. They called them tytans and gave them crude rune-magic, to help them in their physical labors.
I admit that I have no proof, but I submit to you, My Lord, that the other “stars” visible on Pryan are Hght—and-energy-gathering machines such as this one. It was the intention of the Sartan, as clearly explained in the writings left behind in the citadel, to use these machines to transmit the abundance of light and energy to the other three worlds. I read their descriptions of precisely how this feat was to be accomplished, but must confess to you. My Lord, that I can make little sense of what they propose. I brought the plans with me and I will turn them over to you so that you may study them at your leisure.
The transference of energy was, I am certain, the primary purpose of the “stars” of Pryan. However, I believe, although I was not able to test my theory, that the “stars” could be used to communicate with each other. The Sartan mentioned being in contact with their brethren on this world and, not only that, but were apparently awaiting to hear from other Sartan located on other worlds. The ability to establish interworld communication could be of inestimable value to us in our drive to reestablish ourselves as the rightful rulers of our universe. One can see why the Sartan were eager to complete their work, but the growing turmoil among the mensch in the citadels made it difficult, if not impossible. The Sartan were constantly being called from their tasks to quell the battles. They were frustrated, desperate—for all they knew, their brethren in other worlds were dying for lack of the energy they alone could provide. The Sartan set the tytans to look after “the children.”
As long as the Sartan were around to control the tytans, the giants were undoubtedly highly useful and beneficial. They were extremely effective at policing the mensch. They took over all the hard physical tabor and the mundane, day-to-day chores of running a city. Free at last, the Sartan were able to concentrate all their efforts on building the “stars.” Up to this point, my account of the history of Pryan has been clear and concise. Now, it will of necessity become somewhat vague, in that I was completely unable to discover the answer to the mystery of Pryan, a mystery that is shared by the world of Arianus: What happened to the Sartan?
It was obvious to me, in my research, that the Sartan were becoming increasingly few in number and that those few were having an increasingly difficult time dealing with the rapidly deteriorating situation among the mensch. The Sartan came to realize their mistake in creating the tytans and in giving them rudimentary rune-magic. As Sartan control over the giants decreased, the tytans’ ability to use the rune-magic increased. Like the legendary golems of old, did the tytans turn on their creators?
Having fought their magic myself, I can report that it is crude but exceedingly powerful. I am not yet certain why, not having finished analyzing the attacks. The nearest analogy I can furnish at the moment is to say that they hit the complex, delicate structure of our runes with one single, simple, uncomplicated sigil that has the force of a mountain behind it. Now the citadels stand empty, but their light still shines. The mensch lie hidden in the jungle and fight among themselves. The tytans wander the world in a hopeless, deadly quest.