The night before he and his forces reached the besieged city of Nonalli, Waiqar Sumarion was awakened by the glowing, phantasmal image of none other than Timmoran himself.

"Rise, Waiqar, for the time has come for you to leave this battle."

Waiqar shook his head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. He didn't trust his still groggy senses.

"Wise one," he said, "did you say I am to leave this battle?"

"Yes."

"But wise one, we have come all this way to help Nonalli. If I leave now..."

"If you leave now, and travel quickly, you may yet reach your destination before it is too late. Your warriors are strong. They can fight without you. But only you can undertake the quest I am setting before you. Choose twenty of your most trusted soldiers and set out before dawn. Follow the shoreline until you reach the village of Vallidyl. Wait there, and I will visit with more instructions."

Waiqar bowed to the shimmering apparition.

"Yes, wise one. I will do as you say. But I must know ... what is our destination?"

The image of Timmoran flickered as the mighty wizard pondered his answer.

"Your destination," he said at the last, "is the citadel of Llovar himself. With my guidance and your skill, we will succeed with a small band where entire armies have failed. But say nothing of these things to your men. For the harvest comes not until autumn, and it is barely spring.

"Go now. Gather your twenty. Time is short."

With those words, the image vanished, leaving Waiqar alone in the dark with
his thoughts.