Ways of Power 1: Power Rises Read Online Free PDF Page A

indeed Rancoth who had summoned it, and not some rogue Dark Magi that was loose on the land.      
    Adroman had come completely apart when he heard the news. No, it was impossible, he had said. His son couldn't be the wielder of dark magic!
    He had tried to come to grips with it, and Grecrum spent days explaining that no magic is inherently evil; that it is simply a tool, that what makes a Dark Magi dark were his own internal motivations. Those motivations prompt the use of certain schools of magic that more readily lend themselves to evil.
    Grecrum told Adroman that in the ancient times, Light and Dark Magi were one race, and that only through time had they split off, and that the predisposition for good and evil became genetic.
    The only way to tell the difference between the two races was that Dark Mages’ eyes, no matter what the color, always have a faint reddish tint to them. Light Magi on the other hand have eyes that glow with a color that is pure, without any hint of taint to them.
    In the end, Adroman couldn't bear to be near his son, so he left, no, abandoned , him in Tower City. It angered Rancoth to think about it. He didn't exactly hate his father, but he had left when Rancoth needed him most. He had needed his father to reassure him, to tell him it would be all right, that it wasn't really his fault. But Adroman couldn't live up to the task, and Rancoth had suffered for it.
    In time Rancoth grew to think of Grecrum as his father. Grecrum cared for him, and saw to it that Rancoth continued with his education under the tutelage of Dorbin. Dorbin was a member of the short-statured, stout-hearted Dwalish race. He was well educated in a number of subjects, but his true passion was smith work. Rancoth adored his curmudgeonly ways, and knew that deep down the little man had a soft spot for him.
    Grecrum also managed to convince Karakas, one of the rare Light Magi necromancers, to train him in his arcane arts. Necromancy was not exactly like demonology, but it was close enough that with Karakas's help Rancoth was able to learn to control his abilities, and those of the minions he summoned.
    Rancoth also spent plenty of time with wise old Tre'Atoll, and Jurile was always eager to spend time with him too. Of course, when she became captain of the tower guard, she made sure that Rancoth had stayed out of trouble, especially during his turbulent teenage years.
    Yes, this was his family and that was good enough for him. But now Grecrum wanted Rancoth to see Adroman again. He had told him last night during dinner that his father would be coming to the tower the following evening.
    Rancoth's stomach had been in knots ever since; no wonder he had the dream. Well, lying in bed contemplating the ups and downs of his life wouldn't make the harsh reality of the day go away. Rancoth sighed, and resigned himself to the fact that it was now time to get out of bed.
    He sat up, and stretched again, flexing his fingers and toes, trying to convince them that it was time to start the day. He relieved himself and dressed in his favorite teal robe and black leather boots. The robe had been made for him by Tre'Atoll's cousin, and he loved the way it fit and looked. It had a simple zigzag design on the fringes of the collar, cuffs, and around the base of the robe which hung clear to his ankles.
         Rancoth kept his straight dirty-blond hair at shoulder length, and preferred to wear part of it in a high pony tail, leaving the rest to cover his neck. He let the bangs fall in front of his glowing pale green eyes. He kept his face clean-shaven, liking the look of his strong jaw and cleft chin, ever since one of his ex-girlfriends said it was his best feature.
    He had grown to be tall like his father, an inch or two above six feet. With broad shoulders and a narrow waist he was well muscled, but not in a bulky sort of way. His skin was smooth, and retained a rich mocha complexion throughout the year, though he did darken a little in