Mask of Swords
“The drumbeats of hooves fleeing in all directions, and Tervingi horsethains shouting in triumph. He struggled to stand, struggled to fight. His men needed him. Earnachar had betrayed him, and those sworn to Mazael needed his protection.But he could not move through the burning light that filled his mind, and darkness swallowed him.Fragmented dreams flittered through his reeling thoughts. The Old Demon, laughing. Romaria falling before the altar in Castle Cravenlock’s chapel in a flash of blood-...colored light. The Malrags sweeping across the Grim Marches in a tide of blood, and Lucan Mandragon standing in the glow of his terrible spells, the Glamdaigyr burning in his hands. Slowly his thoughts and dreams settled.Eventually his mind was clear enough that he could think again, and his eyes opened.He was in a large tent, a pavilion, the only light coming from a steel brazier in the corner. His armor and weapons were gone. He was sitting propped against something rough – a boulder, he thought – and heavy iron manacles bound his wrists and ankles. He did not feel at well.MoreLess
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