Corum

In those days there were oceans of light and cities in the skies and wild flying easts of bronze. It was a time of magies, phantasms, unstable nature, impossible events, insane paradoxes, dreams come true, dreams gone awry. It was a rich, dark time. And a time of profound and terrible change...Rhalina, ninety-six years old, and handsome had died. Corum, the Prince in the Scarlet Robe, last of the Vadhagh, had wept for her. He still missed her and he contemplated his own lifespan of perhaps another thousand years. Some eighty years were to pass since the fall of the Sword Rulers before Corum's interest was to be re-awakened in matterns concerning the Mabden folk and their gods. The world had turned a man of peace into a warrior and then left him with nothing to fight. That was Corum's fate. Corum began to realize that his taciturnity was turning to madness when, in his bed at night, he began to hear voices. "Corum! Corum! Help us! Help you! he screamed back. It is Corum who needs help!