Most people think in days, “what am I going to eat today? Who am I going to hump?” Some think in weeks, fewer think in months or years. My mind, my vision, my great question, is how do I protect and improve my children and grandchildren for a thousand generations? I became rich, I became a king, power flowed to me. It took me becoming those things to learn that my deepest drive was I must lay the foundation to secure the world for my progeny.

  That my legacy, my blood, my family, my house, my people would continue until existence ceases to exist. To create an empire that lasts for 10,000 years or eternity. This requires strength. Strength of body, strength of mind, strength of will, strength of virtue. My sons will be kings and conquerors, and my daughters will bear the same. And perhaps one day they will look to the stars and conquer even the heavens from the gods. That is what I am building.

  -Harald Erling, as dictated to Leif Olander

  ***

  Panic set in. Holding his breath, Leif kicked his legs. He bent and extended his knees. He thrashed. All to no avail. He strained with his watery eyes but he saw only darkness.

  He forced himself to calm down. His only hope was to think his way out. He drew his knife and sliced it through the water beneath his feet. It connected with…nothing. He reached down with his left hand and sure enough, he felt nothing latched to his legs or beneath his feet. There was no rope or chain, no creature gripping him from the depths. And yet he was stuck there as surely as if he was tied to the very stones and dirt beneath him.

  Leif’s breath was running out. His heart thumped against his chest. Calm. Think. Bloody hell. Air. He needed air. He needed the air that lay just above the water.

  With only seconds of breath left in his lungs, Leif grasped for the air above with his magic. Above the water level, the air flowed gently, imperceptibly around the open cavern. He clawed for it, forcing it to move, to respond, to come to him.

  Leif was disoriented. He felt himself blacking out. The edges of his vision were dark and murky, even through the underwater darkness. He closed his eyes and yanked on the air with his magic. It was his last hope for salvation.

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  Just above him the water swirled then spun downwards towards Leif as he pulled. The air was coming to him in a vortex. His heart thundered and threatened to burst out of his chest.

  His vision went black just before the swirling thread of air met his lips.

  He sucked in the air. Greedily he drank from the straw he’d created. Gulping air from underwater was an odd sensation but he didn’t care. He was alive. He could breathe. His heart finally slowed and as it did, he felt the binds around his ankles loosen, and release. He looked down through the watery darkness in annoyance. He couldn’t see anything but perhaps whatever force had held him under, had almost killed him, would feel his displeasure.

  He swam to the surface and the shore that wasn’t far. Soaking wet and still reeling, Leif dragged himself to the single statue holding the lit lantern. Leif lay there for a moment before forcing himself to sit up. He didn’t want anything else catching him by surprise. His breathing and heartbeat slowed but he still felt a slight burn in his throat and lungs. He picked up a rock that sat beside him and hurled it into the calm pool, and wondered how many bones of young wizards sat at the bottom.

  He wrung out his things, thinking of how nice it would have been if Vigo had ever taught him how to breathe underwater.

  When he was as dry as he could make himself he set off into the crack in the stone by the statue holding the fire. He found himself in another winding tunnel but could feel a cool breeze flowing past him, scented with pine. He wasn’t walking long when natural light painted the walls of the cave and he stepped out from the darkness into a forested valley.

  Spruce and pine trees rose up before him. The floor of the forest was covered with grass and green moss and a light hazy mist. Tall sheer cliffs of rock encircled the forest valley. It had a haunting, mystic quality to it.

  A squirrel chattered and raced across the trees which broke the otherworldly fantasy. Off to his left a small waterfall cut down over the rocks and fell into a pool. A stream trailed off from the pool and weaved its way through the trees, southward.

  He looked up and an eagle glided in the sky above him. The scene was beautiful but it was the warm sun on his face, shining through the mist that rejuvenated him. The air was cold but the sun was a reminder that he was alive. He felt grateful.

  There was a small structure near the pool built against the rock wall which must’ve been built and used by countless wizards. Over time he could tell it had been reinforced, cleaned up, or stuffed with moss for warmth. It was simple, a miniature log house, with a small space for a fire ringed with stacked rocks, and just enough room for him to lay his bedroll alongside it.

  He left most of his things in the little cabin and continued exploring. The valley forest was thick but pleasant. There was a faint path from his cabin into the center of the woods. He followed it cautiously, taking in the route and the sounds of the forest. It didn’t take him long to reach a glade with three doors. The heavy wooden doors were each set into jagged but solid pieces of rock. Behind the doors set into the stone there was only the forst. They doors seemingly lead to nowhere.

  Other than the doors he found nothing else unusual about the forest around his cabin. On his walk back he saw two hares bounding through the trees, and a fox that seemed to be watching him.

  He climbed into his shelter anyway. He lit himself a small fire and resolved to sleep before getting himself into any more trouble.