Chapter 2: Circle of Fate
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	Syllables dropped from his lips almost without him thinking
of them, and a brilliant bolt of lightning descended from the
cloudless sky, instantly killing the creature that had had the temerity
to attack him.  The resounding thunderclap that resulted scared away
its brethren--for now.  He knew that they would return, and soon.
They always had before.  Even he was beginning to feel the strain
of the magic he commanded.  Killing the malformed creatures in this
crater of evil was a task best suited to magics on a grand scale.
Pearl, Flare, Ultima, Thunderstrike, Inferno, Trinity.  Once, he'd
been forced to cast the Gold Ritual of Concordant Entropy.  Everything
within a hundred yards had been reduced to ash or vapor at that one.
Everything but him, and he'd barely escaped.  It had been sheer luck
that the hastily-sketched runes had held the tide of chaos away from
him.
	But he was wasting his precious time with such memories.  He
studied the ebony wall before him.  The tower was built of the substance,
and there was no entrance that he could see.  Yet there must be an
opening.  He'd observed what looked like a man riding an elongated,
clumsy-looking winged steed flying from the dark tower to some
distant point, yet when he'd levitated himself, he'd seen that the
roof offered no more access than the base.  Most concerning of all
was the fact that his magics had so far been useless.
	He finished sketching runes on the surface of the... not
stone, exactly, but not metal either.  What was the tower built of?
No matter.  Concentrate on the words, before another beast of these
shattered lands attacked...
	The chant was in an ancient tongue, all but forgotten in these
times, but once used by the wielders of magic.  He knew them as fluently
as the common speech, and his mind readily comprehended their deceptively
simple meaning:  "By the winds that measure Time, by the flames that
encircle Space, by the Hundred Powers of Light and Darkness, I summon
the force beyond solitude.  Assail the Rune-marked, certain as silence,
swift as love's passing.  Consign it to OBLIVION!"  He shrieked the
last word, traditionally the name of the spell, and forced himself to
focus completely on the circle he'd painstakingly drawn, gold against
the blackness.  The tower was beginning to glow a soft, ugly green
in that region.  Sweat poured down his face as he struggled to confine
the destructive energies, to shape them into his tool.  Power coursed
through him, more power than any mortal save one of the Thirteen Masters
could hold.
	The other Twelve were long dead now, but Mordath held.  The
power built, released, all in a matter of seconds...
	The magic died, the strain vanished.  Mordath opened eyes that
he hadn't remembered closing, and...
	The wall of the tower stood with not so much as a mark.
	Mordath, Master of Five Magics, snarled.  He reached out with
his mind, contacting a land that lay hidden far from where he stood,
establishing a connection with the one he sought.  Then, he spat,
"From the Land of Summoned Monsters, I command Sphinx to appear."
	He felt the resistance of the other.  The monsters did not
come willingly to Mordath, for he was not by nature a Caller.  He had
stolen the secret, or half of it, long ago, but every time he attempted
a Call, he was forced to subjugate the being.  A few were powerful
enough, and strong enough in will, to resist--Leviathan, Ashura,
Bahamut, and the other nobles of their kind, mostly--but otherwise,
the outcome was always the same.  Still, he did not Call often.  He
could rely upon his own magic for most tasks, and Calling tired him
to a far greater extent than even the Gold magic.
	The creature shimmered into existence, reluctantly drawn to
this reality.  It would serve him, because it could neither leave
the place of summoning nor return to its Land until it did.  Even
now, the grotesque human head resentfully spoke.  "What do you
require of me?"
	"You are famed for your wisdom.  I require an answer."
	"I am required to answer a single question, by the Pact.  Then
you may not attempt to Call me forth for a complete cycle of the moon."
	The other half of the Callers' secret, the part he hadn't yet
learned.  They could Call a creature as often as they wished, until it
died, and then they would die as well.  Perhaps it would be best not to
employ that secret, since he was under no such constraint now?  "I know
well the terms of the Pact.  My question, then.  I find my magics
insufficient to create an entrance to this tower, nor is there a
natural one, to the best of my knowledge.  How may I enter this tower?"
	Sphinx paused for a moment, then replied, "You may enter the
tower uninvited only through the use of magic of the most extreme
power."
	"Fool!  I have dared even Oblivion, yet you tell me..."
	The creature interrupted.  "That is the answer.  My service is
ended."  Without another word, it vanished.
	He considered another summoning, despite the Pact.  He would
show the Sphinx true power!  Power that would course through its body,
killing it slowly.  And very painfully.  He would summon greater
power than the Summonned Monster had ever seen, and...
	Of course.  Greater power.  Sphinx hadn't said that his
approach was incorrect.  He simply needed more power behind the spell.
	Where to get it?  He could call on Lorrithian, Fiend of Light.
She was in his debt, for a service he'd done her long ago.  Although
why she'd _wanted_ to take human form... no matter.
	But the Fiend of Light was no more powerful than he, and she
could neither give him her power nor link hers to his.  No, it had
to be an individual source.
	Of course.  The green-haired one and her pet ninja had carried
fragments of a sphere imbued with magical power.  If he could gather
the enitre sphere, or even most of it, it would provide him power
enough.  And once he could enter the black tower, he could study the
magic that emanated from this place.  Knowledge had always been his goal,
even as a mortal.  Particularly magical knowledge.
	Mordath was going to know everything.  And he'd do anything to
reach that goal.
	He smiled to himself.  Perhaps Kharazz would be interested as
well.  The Fiend of Shadow was a fool, but he had his uses, and the
ninja had crossed paths with him before.  Yes, Kharazz would help him,
especially if it involved destroying something.
	"I call on fortune and the wind to bear me to the Shadowlands.
Open now, travel GATE."
	He stepped from the black tower to the night realm, and waited.
Soon or late, Kharazz would appear, and time held no meaning here.