The sorcerer Zinixo had declared himself the Almighty, and none could doubt that the end of the era was at hand. Not for a thousand years had the world known upheaval on such a scale. Not since the War of the Five Warlocks had disaster and destruction wielded so free a hand across Pandemia. Goblin hordes rampaged in the heart of the Impire. Dragons took to wing, incinerating entire legions in the space of a heartbeat. The slave-sorcerers of the Covin practiced whatever barbarities Zinixo required - and the chorus swelled with each victory: "Almighty!" Soon would come midsummer, and the Nordland Moot, and the smell of blood upon the air. Soon the mad dwarf-sorcerer would truly reign supreme. Stableboy, sorcerer, king, and now rebel: as leader of the insurgency, Rap of Krasnegar faced almost certain defeat. But with typical faun stubbornness, Rap continued his near-hopeless struggle. Against all odds, he fought his way from land to land, searching out and recruiting those few magic-users the Covin had not yet perverted. He told them to await his call: Soon the time would come, and Rap would wield his force against Zinixo in one single, killing blow. It wasn't much of a plan. But there wasn't time for more than one last strike for freedom...