Roll by Kevin J. Anderson

Author:Kevin J. Anderson [Anderson, Kevin J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: X23
Publisher: Aethon Books
Published: 2021-05-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Spectres

Hexworld is not real. We are not real. If by chance a character witnessed absolute evidence of his unreality—even if he just laid eyes on a real object—that character would cease to exist.

—The Sentinel Arken

A narrow line of peaks separated from the main mass of the Spectre Mountains and sprawled westward across their path, forming one more obstacle. The main range continued its southeasterly course before it faded away into foothills near the sea.

Before the dawn of the second day had risen over the crags, the three travelers packed their possessions. Bryl used his normal magic—unglamorous but useful—to replenish their traveling supplies. According to the map, the Spectre range was only two hexes wide here, and Vailret looked forward to finishing the hard traveling. They set off into the last stretch of mountain terrain. Delrael walked slowly on his kennok leg, seeming to be self-conscious of it. But as he forgot to think about it, he moved normally again.

Throughout the day, they followed a clear-cut trail over the mountains, passing tumbled rockslides, scrub brush, steep switchbacks. They climbed to an elevation where the air was cold and dry. When they reached the glossy black hex-line at dusk, a block of crags to the west drowned out the remaining sunlight.

They could travel no more than a single hex of mountain terrain, and Vailret was ready to stop for the night. Bryl and Delrael looked exhausted as well. After a full day of travel, Delrael walked with only a slight limp, but the concentration of moving his kennok leg seemed to drain him.

They camped at the hex-line, and Vailret found enough scrub bushes to build a fire. He piled the wood in the center of a sheltered clearing, then left Bryl to start the fire. The old half-Sorcerer had always used a trivial fire-starting spell, but this time, he rubbed the Water Stone and rolled it on the ground. Bryl laughed as a lightning bolt came down from the sky, striking the scant pile of wood. He controlled the lightning, and the wood became a roaring fire.

“Bryl—it took me an hour to gather all that wood! You just blasted most of it into ashes—now it’ll never last until morning.”

“No matter.” The half-Sorcerer shrugged. “I can adjust the weather to make it warm here. I’ve got three rolls left for today.”

Vailret squatted down close to Bryl, pointing a finger at the half-Sorcerer’s beard. “Now look. Over the past couple of days, you’ve kept rubbing the Stone as if you’re anxious to use it. But let me tell you something—you don’t even know what you did in Ledaygen. When we rode out to get the Cyclops, did you notice that the stream in the gorge had been ripped from its bed and thrown against the rock face?

“You did that by summoning all the water to your aid—you diverted a stream out of its course from a full hex away! That Stone is not a toy—it’s one of the most powerful weapons the old Sorcerers left on Hexworld.

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