Darkwell (Forgotten Realms: Moonshae Book 3) by Douglas Niles

Author:Douglas Niles [Niles, Douglas]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780786959747
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast Publishing
Published: 2011-07-19T00:00:00+00:00

Thick snow swirled in an eddy, gathering against a sheer rock wall. The drift grew quickly, covering the narrow shelf to a depth of several feet. Above, a craggy face of granite soared upward and disappeared into the night. Below yawned a vast chasm.

The only movement here was the endless shifting and blustering of the snow. But then came a more solid motion, and a figure appeared, climbing slowly along the steep shelf. It walked upright, like a human, yet it was heavily muffled in a cape of thick fur. It left manlike footprints with its high, thick boots, but these footprints quickly vanished under the persistent onslaught of fresh snow.

Darkness was almost complete, yet this figure walked with precise steps along the very edge of the precipice. When it reached the high drift, two mitten-covered hands emerged from the cape. The figure took a blunt, hoelike object from its back and quickly cut a footpath through the drift. It followed the path as it was cut, and even as the snow drifted across the path behind it, the figure emerged on the other side of the drift and continued up the ledge.

Finally it stood at the crest of a sheer ridge, where the full force of the north wind carried the snow up the far side. Ducking against the increased force of the gale, the figure began to descend. Moving steadily through the night, as the snow grew deeper, it pushed its way down the high mountain ridge and into the still snowy but less windy reaches below.

The snow lay heavy on the low country, drifting into deeper and deeper piles. Here the figure paused and awkwardly reached beneath its cape to pull forth a pair of snowshoes. Attaching these to its feet, it shuffled onward, still making slow, steady progress against the storm.

The body was entirely cloaked in fur—the fur of winter garments. Only a pair of wide eyes, with large brown pupils, was visible beneath the furs, and even those eyes peered from the depths of a fur-lined hood and woolen scarf.

All night, and into the white dawn, the figure never once stopped to rest or eat or drink. It followed an unmarked trail, somehow finding its course through a snowy wasteland of leafless trees and barren hills.

Then it climbed across a broad, snow-swept hillside and found a wide path entering a hilltop grotto, concealed by high limestone walls and somewhat sheltered from the violence of the storm. Here, in this small vale in the hills, the traveler finally paused.

Here it stood still for some minutes, looking around the grotto. Finally the figure pushed through a drift of snow higher than its head to reach a niche in one of the limestone walls. And there it found what it sought.

The traveler knelt beside another creature, this one a great white horse, now blood-spattered and torn. The stallion’s flanks were still and its eyes were closed, but a wisp of steam emerged faintly from its bloody nostrils.

The traveler removed the mittens, revealing humanlike hands that were very slender, with long, narrow fingers.

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