Know O Prince, that between the years when the oceans drank Atlantis and the gleaming cities, and the rise of the son of Isoria, there was an Age undreamed of, when shining Kingdoms lay spread across the world like blue mantles beneath the stars.

Hither came Condor, the Cimmerian, brown-haired, sullen-eyed, sword in hand, a thief, a reaver, a slayer, with giant melancholies and gigantic mirth, to tread the jeweled thrones of the earth, under his sandaled feet.

But the Cimmerian did not travel alone. Yea did a great white eagle keep the Cimmerian's company, to stalk the Hyborian Kingdoms like a white shadow at his side.

Bards sang of their adventures, and the long battle against the cruel wizard Berg-th-mon, and his master the serpent god S'X. Many a tear has been shed in the taverns as the bards sang of the Cimmerian's loss of his lover, the pirate Berlit. Her passing caused by the savagery of the Serpent god.

But many more are the companions which Condor would gather in his war. Moreover the Cimmerian claimed that he was aided by Gatchaman, the sorcerer champion of the phoenix. Yet the blind warriors of Epimetreus the Sage had not been seen for a thousand years.

So did the whisper begin that the white eagle was Gatchaman's familiar. For some would swear that the creature would take human shape.

But no tale could be complete without mention of the she-devil, Red Swan-ja. The amazon who had sworn never to love a man, unless he first defeats her in battle. It is said that Condor crossed swords with her but twice, though each battle ended in doubt.

It is true, O Prince, that the she-devil loved no man, yet it is also true that she was to bear twins with eyes of emeralds and hair white as snow. Her sword skills, she yet kept till age prevented her from lifting a weapon. Many are the tales which presume her lover. For what man alive could have defeated her in a fair fight?

No, my Prince, their adventures did not end with that war.

For in lands far beyond Cimmeria, did Condor place a crown upon his brow to rule a kingdom he had never known to exist till he came to land on its fair shores.

But all this is recorded in the Nambudian chronicles.

So I give you now, O Prince, the tale of friendship between Condor and the Prince of the Zambullahs, the Dragon warrior Ryula.

A friendship and an alliance which would stand the test of time, and survive the great war of S'X. And a friendship which would try the patience of the Cimmerian, as the prince traveled with a Khatian urchin. A boy thief he called Swallow.

Listen well, O Prince, for this is also the tale of Condor's beginning. The tale which marks the beginning of his quest, and a gathering of heroes.

The scream of an eagle hung in the midday heat.

Condor looked up as his horse stopped, apparently spooked by the presence of the raptor.

"So, your master is once again looking for me, White Chicken?" He muttered under his breath, as he tried to urge his horse into moving again.

The pure white eagle continued to circle over him.

"If you drop something on me, you stupid bird. By Crom's blood, you will be my dinner this eve." Condor kicked at the horse. "Move you silly beast, what is wrong with you?"

Despite Condor's urging the horse refused to budge.

"Crom take you, bird. What will your master with me?" The Cimmerian cursed as he dismounted and tried to pull his horse into motion.

Something fell beside the Cimmerian. Against his own wishes, Condor's eyes were drawn to the object that lay beside him.

"A decoration?" He picked up the small pouch which appeared to have small white feathers hanging from it, one of the feathers came loose in his hand as he touched it. "Bah, the workmanship is too crude, if it falls apart so -" Miraculously, another white feather appeared in it's place.

Condor's eyes widened as he almost dropped the pouch and feather. "Crom, what sorcery is this?"

"A gift."

Condor cried out as he swung around. Without thought of his actions, his left hand had thrown the white feather in the direction of the voice, even as his right hand reached for his sword. But the steel tip of the feather did not make its mark, though it was not due to inaccuracy. A pair of pale fingers had arrested the weapon's path to its owner's throat.

"I am happy to see you too, Condor."

"You!"

The white robed figure did not change from the last time Condor had met him. As ever, the white staff, his paleness, the white blindfold, and his pure white garments marked him an anomaly in that dusty age.

In other cities, many would have called Gatchaman a myth, but Condor knew what he faced. The blind warriors of Epimetreus the sage did walk the earth again.

"I could have killed you." Condor snarled as he sheath his sword.

"You use the feathered shuriken well, Condor." The pale figure ignored his words, as he flicked the feather in the air and made it disappear.

"I want nothing from you, White wizard." Condor threw the pouch at his feet. "Take back your damned gift."

"Still distrustful as ever?"

"What is it to you, blind mage? I've seen far more sorcerous treachery than I care to recall." Condor spat at him. "Have you come to hound my trail again?"

"Condor - I came to offer my condolences for your loss."

"I need none of your pity."

"It is not pity. It is solace freely given."

"While your assistance is not without a price."

"You are being unfair, Condor." The blind mage waved his staff at the Cimmerian. "You know my limitations to travel."

"Crom take you, you could have tried!"

"Did you think I did not?" He asked. "I cannot travel the sea routes Cimmerian. You know that. That is how you avoided crossing paths with me through the years."

"You are Gatchaman, sorcerer champion of the phoenix, and sworn enemy to the false god S'X. Yet you were unable to take part in a sea battle? A battle which was of such great importance that S'X's minion, Berg-th-mon attended to it's victory?"

"I could not reach the battle field, Condor."

Condor turned away cursing. "And so it is my fault? For refusing to offer you passage?"

The mage did not answer. An awkward silence settled around them.

"However much I try to avoid you, our paths still cross." Condor said quietly. "Because of that Berlit is dead."

"Berg-th-mon would not have allowed his sister to live, Condor. That is the Stygian way of royalty. Her brother could not find her at sea. She knew well enough to stay at sea to plunder his holdings. That is why she lived so long."

"Alive, she could have taken half his forces." The white mage reminded him.

"And she would have remained unnoticed, if not for your thrice damned interference."

"She was a good woman, Condor. If I could have helped it, I would not have allowed her death."

"Would not?" Condor swung around at him in shock. "It was you all along. You precipitated my meeting with the Sea pirate!?"

"I did not make you love her."

"Did you not? You have used me from the first day we met! Must you muddle in all my affairs, black heart?"

The white mage only sighed. "Believe what you will, Condor. The fates have their own council. Nothing I say matters." He turned to leave. "Take the gift, Condor. That is all it is."

"I will n-" Condor looked around him in surprise, he was suddenly alone again with only his horse for company.

Condor's eyes strayed to look at the brown pouch with the white feathered shuriken. He rubbed his fingers together in memory of the throw. Despite himself, he liked the feel of the little weapon. Of course it could not compare to the sword as a weapon, but it had its own charm.

Condor picked up the pouch and climbed back on his horse. "Now then, may we move on?"

The beast needed no other urging to continue their journey. The scream of an eagle again commanded Condor's eyes to look up. The white eagle was circling ahead.

"Crom take your master, eagle. But his way lies my need for vengeance. If he can lead me to that of my desire, then I will let him lead me for now."

"HeeYah!" Condor started his horse in a gallop after the white eagle.