Foul Tide's Turning
“Her legs were manacled together, but with enough play on the chains that she could shuffle about the wagon if the mood took her. Her hands were still bound behind her back, chafing, gloveless and chilly. It was freezing in these monstrous damned Rodalian Mountains and it didn’t seem to matter how many layers you wore or blankets you wrapped around yourself, the winds would seek you out like snakes of ice, slipping through the smallest gap to bite into your bones. She could see why superstitious... savages like Sheplar Lesh treated the winds as spirits and worshipped them. You always worshipped the things which had power over you. In Vandia that was the emperor and the Cult of the Imperium Cosmocrator. Here it was the high winds. That she was born of divine blood was of little concern to the weather as she rattled through the mountain passes. They travelled at such altitude that the air had thinned out, Cassandra having to breathe faster and harder, even gravity’s touch not as strong as the forest where she had been held previously.MoreLess
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