Wurts, Janny - Wars of Light & Shadow 01 by Wurts Janny

Author:Wurts, Janny
Language: eng
Format: epub

XII. Conquest

The change in season brought buffeting winds to Daon RaTmon Barrens, even as every spring had before the loss of sunlight to the mist. In past years, turbulent gusts mingled the fragrances of wildflowers and 609

TheWarsofLightandShadow sweetgrass that mantled the backs of the greening hills. Unicorns had rejoiced with the quickening earth. But that had been before man's meddling had diverted the Severnir's waters from their natural course, Asandir reminisced as he stood vigil under the lichened span of Ithamon's wrecked southern gate.

The valleys outside were robbed of their carpet of flowers.

Saddened by the taint of mold and rot that Desh-thiere's hold had lent to the seasonal breezes, the Sorcerer trained his mage's perception upon the land until physical form became overlaid by the vision of his innermind. Before him all things stood revealed in primal patterns of light.

Beyond the imbalance marked upon the landscape by centuries of warped weather, he sensed something else: a more subtle wrongness, built of pent-up expectation and a near subliminal tingle, as if between air and the solidity of the earth, violence lay coiled in ambush. Asandir delved deeper.

The anomaly faded before his probe, eluded him so thoroughly that for a moment he stood disoriented, unsure if he had chased some spectre of his own uncertain thoughts.

He released his focus, frustrated. His feet were clammy in dew that natural sunlight would long since have burnished dry. Asandir sucked 610

TheWarsofLightandShadow in a deep breath. His fears loomed real enough, perhaps, to corrupt even true seeing. And yet he remained unconvinced that the sick things half sensed between the shimmer of life force were phantoms inferred by apprehension.

This day began the chain of events that must culminate in a s'Ffalenn king's coronation at Etarra. During the next hours, and spanning the course of several weeks to follow, Desh-thiere's meddling would skew the world's fate beyond reach of augury or strands to reflect any certain outcome.

With luck and persistence, these hills could be restored to their former fairness. Yet although the moment had come to complete the Mistwraith's defeat, Asandir remained grim.

Contrary to nature, his cloak hung in straight folds off his shoulders: winds that should have whipped in off the downs to strafe the ruined wall walks were this moment quelled by a barrier ward fashioned by his discorporate colleagues.

When complete, the spell worked by Luhaine and Kharadmon would be a masterwork that twisted even time to subservience.

A cat's paw of air through the archway sent a dry leaf scratching.

Aware the disturbance marked an arrival, Asandir drew breath and 611

TheWarsofLightandShadow asked, "Ithamon is secure?"

Kharadmon replied from the mist-murky shadows, a sulky note to his tone. "Luhaine's not satisfied." A pause ensued.

"There's clear sunlight not a dozen yards above the mists at the outer walls."

Asandir flicked back damp cuffs to chafe blood back into cool hands.

"So Lysaer said. He sensed as much through his gift. That excited him to the point where he took himself off to practice sword forms. Dakar is still finishing the breakfast the others were too tense to eat.

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