This fabric is sacred.” He took it over by the water basin and
rinsed it. The wine was coming out, but the wizard was still
Meanwhile, Mordane was picking himself up off the ground.
“What was that all about?” he asked while confirming all his teeth
had remained intact.
Necromancer made the rag glow with magic. Steam rose
quickly leaving the material dry in moments. He held it up to the
light and stared at the very fibers.
“This is the only remaining piece of Gallatrium’s cloak. I hope
for your sake you did not ruin it.”
“Do I know this Gallatrium?”
“You have much to learn, young one. This is old. It is a story
far older than written records. It is older than history itself. Long
before the many dark ages when the world was young, there was a
wise man that had been particularly blessed by his creator. His
name was Gallatrium and instead of world power, he chose to be a
simple farmer living with his family in solitude. He could have
been the greatest man to ever live but wanted nothing from his
power other than to care for his family.
“There were no other souls near his land save for he and his
four children. The one time he gave into temptation to use his
power for personal gain the creator took his wife from the world.
Thus, he lived a simple life and sought neither fame nor adulation.
He chose to protect his offspring from greed and the world around.
No harm could possibly come to them on his farm. He gave them
all that any father could give his children.
“As Gallatrium’s offspring grew in age, they also grew in
curiosity. Increasingly they yearned to see what the mysterious
world had to offer. Gallatrium warned them of the evils they would
find if they were to leave his house and forbade their departure. He
cautioned that leaving his house would mean he could no longer
protect and watch over them. The world was a cruel and deceptive
place for which they were not prepared.
“His stories only served to raise the children’s interest. The
outside being forbidden made it doubly intriguing. And so, one
night the four children of Gallatrium conspired to leave home in
four separate directions. They planned to walk until the sun rose
and then return to tell their father of their adventure.
“At the appointed time, they noticed that the night had taken on
a strong chill. They donned their cloaks but did not find them
warm enough for the unseasonably cold wind. One took his
father’s cloak for it was warmer than all others. Gallatrium wore it
every day and never felt cold beneath its surface. Jealousy and
envy overcame the other three children regarding the garment and
a fight ensued. When they were finished, their father’s cloak was
torn to shreds on the ground. The children blamed each other and
soon they neared blows. Vowing to never want to see the others
again, they set out on their separate paths. So great was their anger
at the others that they paid no heed to their path.
“When the sun reached the sky, they were in an unfamiliar
world of new things to see and do. By the time they thought of
returning home, they knew not which way to tread. They searched
in vain. Gallatrium’s farm was forever lost to them. Each
wandered aimlessly along in the wicked world. Nearing death,
they stopped searching and started homes of their own.
“When Gallatrium woke that morning after they left, he saw
that his children were gone. He had been hurt as no one could hurt
him. Falling to the floor he sobbed. His tears flowed onto the cloak
and brought out the handprints of his young ones.
“By picking up a piece one had touched, it enabled him to see
the child who had torn that piece of cloth. Though he could do
nothing to help any of them in the terrible times that came to pass
in their lives, he still had to watch as any parent would. To repair
his cloak was as impossible as repairing the relationship amongst
the children. And so he spent his days holding these rags and
watching his children in their successes and failures.
“Without his cloak, the cold north winds beat on him, and his
body aged. In time, he was a shadow of his former greatness, held
up in his desolate abode, with his only comfort being the sight of
his children and their families.”
Mordane had heard every word and was amazed at the story. “Is
it true?” he asked.
Necromancer nodded solemnly. “By the time Gallatrium died,
this one piece was all that remained, and he parted with it only in
“How do you know so much about this?” Mordane asked.
Necromancer smiled his devilish smile and answered, “It was I
that took it from him.”