Frostfell (The Wizards) by Mark Sehestedt

Author:Mark Sehestedt [Sehestedt, Mark]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9780786964222
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2012-11-13T00:00:00+00:00

Akhrasut Neth

The howling had not subsided. In fact, it seemed to Amira that even more wolves had come, and the sounds of their singing came from every direction. Full night had fallen, bringing with it a thick, clinging fog that dampened Amira’s cloak and made her hair cling to her scalp.

The belkagen had not returned to camp, and Gyaidun just sat there in the shadows, staring off into nowhere.

Amira heard something approaching through the trees and caught her breath. She hoped it was the belkagen, but she feared it might be Haerul. She could hold her own against this barbarian chieftain no matter what the old elf said, but like it or not she needed their help, and she knew she needed the belkagen’s assistance to navigate all the intricate customs and proprieties of these people.

Besides, she’d had a few encounters with werewolves before. None of them pleasant. If Amira was right and Gyaidun’s account of the Vil Adanrath matched with her own recollection of the lythari, she knew she had little to fear. If the accounts she’d read were true, the lythari were not afflicted monsters like other werewolves.

Still, she recalled the belkagen’s words to her. They are a people of pride and honor, and their chief, Haerul, has pride and honor like none I’ve ever seen. Scratch it at your peril. She’d already seen Lendri angered, and war wizard that she was, remembering the gaze he’d fixed upon her still sent a shiver up her spine.

Amira huddled in her elkhide blanket next to the fire and kept her eyes fixed on the direction from which she heard the sound. More than one person was coming, but she’d only just noticed the second. Both moved with a furtive grace and quiet she’d seen only among animals.

A wolf emerged from the shadows between the trees, bounding through the brush to approach the fire with no hint of fear. Amira recognized Mingan, and Lendri came into view not far behind him. Despite the chill, he wore only a loincloth, and he carried no weapons.

Gyaidun rose to greet him and they embraced, exchanging words in their own language. Lendri gave Amira a small bow, then said, “The Vil Adanrath have come.”

“You convinced the omah nin?” said Gyaidun. “I did little more than offend my brother and rouse my father’s ire anew. It was the belkagen who convinced Haerul to come. They are camping on the other side of the spring.” A wry, almost mischievous smile broke the elf’s grim countenance. “My father has heard you are here.”

“He won’t even come to greet his daughter’s husband?” said Amira.

Gyaidun said nothing, but the look Lendri gave Amira made her wish she’d held her tongue. “Our ways are not your ways, Lady Amira,” he said.

“You need not tell me that.”

“He does, however, send greetings to the War Wizard of Cormyr and bids you well come to his lands.”

“His lands?”

“Akhrasut Neth is sacred to the Vil Adanrath. As the omah nin, Haerul’s word is now law here, and he welcomes you as his guest.

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