The Flame
	G. Matthew King

	She rode through the wood on a mission of grave importance.  It was the time for 
the Renewal, when the sacred flames on the cliffs must be rekindled in order to preserve their
magical fire.  Without the flame's beacons shining into the darkness, the boats and ships that
were the city's blood would be destroyed upon the jagged reefs and the coast would be
stricken by raging storms and hurricanes.  
	She rode calmly and quietly, lost in the solitude of the journey.  She had been chosen
for this by the Elders, told what she must due.  It was both a great honor and a terrible ordeal.  Her
thoughts strayed to the legend.  
	Pyrrus was a wizard of the highest order, a master in the Art that was nearly lost.  He was
reknown for his spectacular flaming creations and tricks.  And his heart was as passionate as his
chosen Art.  He fell in love with the young woman known as Lyla.  But Lyla had been chosen by
another wizard, Filias, jealous of Pyrrus.  Denied, the mages could only meet in secret, share their
love in the most quiet of solitudes.  Wizards having knowledge and resources beyond normal
scope, they were soon found out.  The two fell into disgrace, and Pyrrus was forced into exile so
that Lyla would not be executed by the Old Laws. 
	Before he left, Pyrrus proclaimed that he would return and collect the love that Filias had
denied him.  And that day Lyla had built the first pyre upon the cliffside as the boats left.   Filias was
extremely talented in arts concerning the sea, and soon after reefs formed in the harbor, making the
return to the fair seaside into a suicide attempt.  Out in the ocean storms would hover, towering and
waiting to crash down upon the village at Filias's whim.  And so twisted mage, corrupt in his own
power, ruled with an iron fist.  And each day Lyla tended the Pyre, keeping the Flame burning as
an ever reminder that Pyrrus had vowed to return.  Filias tortured her daily, trying to poison her
mind against the thought of joyful homecomings.  
	Yet she remained faithful and true to the only expression of love she had, the Flame.  
Filias became angrier and angrier, until one night he unleashed his terrible temper.  A storm
came that night unlike any that had ever been seen before or since.  The rain poured in sheets,
the lightning blinded and the thunder made men deaf for days.  For while the hurricane raged, it
was the malicious director of the storm which made it so memorable and deadly.  And it was
directed at the cliffs where Lyla stuggled to light the fires.  She had seen it as well as Filias.  A
boat was out on the Storm-tossed sea.  A boat bearing a flag of a fist sheathed in flames.  Pyrrus
had returned.
	The fires flared suddenly in the night, brighter than the ever had.  Pyrrus swung his ship
through the waves, guided by the bravest of sailors and the strength of his love.  The harbor was
soon overrun in flames as he gave vent to the fire in his heart.  Pyrrus made his way to the cliffside
knowing his love was there having tended the Pyre that guided him home.  He stuggled through
the wind and rain as Filias used his Art to try to destroy the mage.  And he slowly made his way
up the rough hewn path to discover the truth.
	He turned and saw Filias gloating as if he held some final triumph.  Filias reached out
with a gnarled hand to strike at Pyrrus with thunder and lightning.  Some claim is was the Goddess
Herself that intervened, slowing his hand.  Others say that evil simply cliams its own in the end.  
Pyrrus screamed on oath of blood and poured forth his love and his Art and his life into one final
blow. And the Storm opened in the sky as a column of flames flowed from the heavens upon the
cliffside.  Many say Pyrrus wept as he died freeing his love and his land.
	The young lady paused at the cliffside, lost in the tranquility and love of the place.  
Then she followed Lyla.  With a prayer to the Goddess, she threw her body into the Flame.