(eng) Jonathan Moeller - Demonsouled 06 by Soul of Skulls

Author:Soul of Skulls [Skulls, Soul of]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21 - Rage

Riothamus looked around the misty forest.

The road wound its way through the bottom of the valley, green hills rising above them. Trees clung to the mossy slopes, their roots winding around boulders and heaps of broken rock. Thick banks of fog masked the hills’ crowns, with white fingers reaching across the road.

“The perfect place for an ambush,” said Riothamus, fiddling with his saddle. He would never get used to horses.

“Aye,” said Molly, leaning back to look at him. She cared for horses just as much as he did, but at least she was the better rider. “We’ve reached the Stormvales. Nothing but hills and valleys for a few hundred miles. Lots of petty little lords and knights. They all swear fealty to old Lord Hiram Stormcrest, but they fight each other…and sometimes raid travelers.” She laughed. “If they try to rob us, they’ll have an unpleasant surprise.”

Riothamus nodded and looked at Mazael. He rode some distance ahead, face grim and hard. No doubt the venom in his veins caused him constant pain, though he never complained. He gripped his mount’s reins with one hand, glancing from time to time at the compass in his other hand.

He never let the thing out of his sight. Step by step, they were drawing closer to the San-keth archpriest.

And to Malaric…and whatever allies he had gained.

Riothamus let his eyes fall half-closed, and reached for the Sight.

He did not understand it, not fully, and he suspected it would take him decades of practice to become comfortable with it. He knew many of his predecessors as Guardian had ever really mastered it. The Sight allowed him to see into the spirit world, granting him the ability to view magic, watch events in far-off places, and even to see glimpses of the past and the future.

The Sight came at his call, and Riothamus swept it over the valley, seeking for foes. A bizarre mix of distorted images flashed before his eyes, echoes of things that had happened here. Wars had been fought in these valleys, armies marching past, and he saw the ghostly echoes of the runedead.

But there were no enemies nearby.

Riothamus turned his Sight to the west, seeking for Malaric.

A vision shimmered before his eyes, the same thing he saw every time he tried to use the Sight to find Malaric.

A skull, wreathed in crimson flames, shielded by a pair of wings.

Except the wings were fashioned from steel, with sword blades in lieu of feathers.

He could not figure out what that meant.

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