Excerpt
And so, the tales begin....


The old storyteller swirled the mead in his mug as he watched the pale pinks and blues of a dying day give way to the ghostly glow of twilight. The first impatient star of the approaching eve sparkled in the north sky, just above the tree line. It would not be long before full night blanketed the land.
"Yet another day passes in a string of endless days."

As he raised the mug to his lips, a man called out from the road, "Hail and hearty greetings. 'Tis a fine fire you have there." The man drew closer revealing he was old, perhaps even older than he himself had become. "Such a fire deserves more than one admirer to watch it dance. Such a fire," the man stepped into the glow of the flame, "begs for a tale or two to see it through the long dark."

The man bowed, causing his faded robes to pool at his feet, and though tattered and worn, they could not hide the fact they were wizard's robes. "I, kind sir, would be most happy to offer those tales if you would but allow me to share your fire this eve." The wizard peeked through the veil of his snow-white hair as he rose, a sly grin flirting across his lips.

"Aye, indeed," the storyteller mumbled over the lip of his mug, "it truly is a fire that begs for a tale or two, yet tales I have aplenty." He tossed another stick into the fire pit. "Tales I would gladly trade for a fine hen roasting over the hot flame."

"Ah," the wizard said, "then it appears fortune has guided my feet and smiled down upon us both, for you have something I require, and I," he lifted a string of quail from his belt, "have something you desire." He winked, his eyes dancing with merriment.

The storyteller laughed. "Then you, my friend, are most welcome to share my fire." He waved to a spot across from him. "Sit, and we shall see how happy your game makes my flame." As soon as the man was settled, the storyteller tossed him the skin of mead. The wizard took a long pull and smacked his lips as mead trickled down his chin to stain his white whiskers. "Such nectar."

"To ease our tongues for the tales yet to come." The storyteller lifted his mug in salute.

"Aye," the wizard said as he raised the skin, "to the tale."

As if in agreement, a shaft of light streaked across the dark sky, trailing a fine stream of sparkling dust in its wake. With ancient eyes pinned skyward, the old wizard whispered, "And so begins my tale...."