Beautiful Queen Inos married the loyal stableboy Rap and made him her king. They were very much in love, and they lived happily ever after. Fifteen years went by Rap and Inos were comfortable, secure, and truly happy, raising their family in the little backwater kingdom of Krasnegar, well removed from the hurly-burly of great affairs... But in far-off Hub, the old Imperor's health—and, some said, his sanity—deteriorated inexorably. The borderlands were seething, Prince Emshandar—or Shandie, as Rap knew him—found himself leading his grandfather's armies into terrible battles where victory and justice hung in gravest doubt. And now the end of the millennium was at hand, ushered in by prophecies of cataclysmic upheaval on a scale never before imagined. All across Pandemia, sensible people tried to dismiss a growing sense of unease as superstitious nonsense. Then a God appeared to Rap and warned him that the prophecies spoke the least of the truth. Devastation was a certainty; total destruction loomed. The very fabric of the world was at risk. And it was all Rap's fault. The lasting in the world Rap had wanted was another adventure. And it might be the last thing he would ever get..

The power-mad dwarf-sorcerer Zinixo had driven Emshandar V from his throne. He had shattered the ancient Protocol that kept tenuous peace among Pandemia's warlocks. And his conquest had only begun. Somehow the deposed Imperor had escaped his clutches—so far—but Shandie would soon be found. Then the Impire would be Zinixo's alone. Outlying countries would fall beneath his fist. And at long last, he could wreak fabulous revenge upon Rap of Krasnegar. For Zinixo wielded the greatest magic ever imagined: an army of slave-sorcerers bound to serve his every whim—to the death. No one could stop him: Shandie had scarcely an ally in the world; Rap's magical powers were a shadow of their former strength; and there was hardly a free sorcerer to be found in all Pandemia. Where could any resistance effort find even...A Handful of Men?

Zinixo, the Almighty, may have overthrown the Impire and crowned himself, but there was revolt in the land. Next to Zinixo's, their forces were paltry, but each rebel leader carried the flame of freedom and was willing to go through any trial to save his people and his land....

The sorcerer Zinixo had declared himself the Almighty. Now goblin hordes ravish the Impire. Dragons incinerate entire legions. And the slave-sorcerers of the Covin practice whatever barbarities Zinixo requires. It is only a matter of time before the mad Zinixo is almighty in fact as well as name—unless Rap of Krasnegar can conjure up a miracle . . .