back.
In front of him lay Scrunchyâs body, just the way they had found it. The rats had left little more than a skeleton, still wearing a silver breastplate and helmet, sword clutched in one outstretched hand. A pair of daggers lay on the ground by his waist. A brown rat peered up at Nakor from within the rib cage. After a moment, it scurried away and vanished.
Suddenly, the book takes an unexpected turn toward the gruesome.
Nakor turned away, only to see two small stones set on a sandy beach. The fingers of his hands clenched, unnoticed, into fists. Nakor had not been there when Serina and Wanni were killed. They had been out hunting, less than a day after they had freed Olara. It was almost a week before Nakor, Roth, Caudi, or Brigit learned what had happened. Roth had heard a rumor of two strangers who had been found dead by the shore of the lake. According to the people who had buried them, Serina and Wanni were both pierced through the heart by a single arrow. They would have died instantly.
âThe fingers of his hands.â As opposed to the fingers of what, his left armpit? What kind of weird anatomy do these elves have, anyway?
There was a snorting noise behind him. Knowing what was about to happen, Nakor tried not to look.
The dream took over, and Nakor felt himself turning to watch as a mounted warrior thrust his spear through Rothâs unarmored chest.
The snorting noise had nothing to do with any of this. That was just a random pig wandering through the dream. Nakorâs subconscious is a weird place.
Just as had happened in reality, Nakor felt pain and fury overwhelming him. He stretched out one hand, fingers spread, to point at the murderer before him.
The man turned his horse to look at Nakor.
Wait, is the man looking at Nakor, or is he just trying to get his horse to look?
Drawing upon the power of the air itself, Nakor sent a blast of wind at the man that knocked him from the horse.
As he struggled to rise, Nakor raised his other hand. He used the pain and anger at the death of his friend to fuel his magic, drawing upon power he had never before allowed himself to use. Now, he used it with an almost insane rage, sending the man hurling through the air to smash against a large oak tree, back broken by the impact, just as had happened two years ago.
âUse your aggressive feelings, boy. Let the hate flow through you. Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey towards the dark side will be complete!â
Nakor sank to his knees, overwhelmed. Then he raised his head, knowing what must come next. As he watched, the young wizard Caudi raced into view, pursued by two men.
She turned and started to cast a spell, but one of the men hurled a dagger that lodged in her stomach. She stumbled backward.
Sprinting, Nakor tried to reach her in time, as he had been unable to in life. He was still too far away when one of the men stepped up and stabbed Caudi through the heart, killing her instantly.
Nakor slowed to a walk, watching as her body crumpled to the ground. One of the men yelled as he spotted Nakor approaching. The other looked up, and said âThatâs the other one we want.â
They approached, swords drawn. Too numb to even attempt a spell, Nakor silently drew his rapier in one hand, dagger in the other, and waited motionlessly.
As the men neared, Nakor suddenly leapt into motion. He batted a sword out of the way, and almost casually stabbed one of the men with his dagger. Smoothly, he stepped back, avoiding a thrust by the other manâs sword.
Seeing his companion bleeding out his life on the ground seemed to put fear into Nakorâs remaining opponent. Gathering his courage, the man lunged again.
Nakor caught the sword on the long blade of his dagger, diverting the attack to one side. Then he smashed the basket hilt of his rapier into the manâs face.
He stumbled backward with a yell, dropping his sword and clutching his hands to his face. Nakor
In front of him lay Scrunchyâs body, just the way they had found it. The rats had left little more than a skeleton, still wearing a silver breastplate and helmet, sword clutched in one outstretched hand. A pair of daggers lay on the ground by his waist. A brown rat peered up at Nakor from within the rib cage. After a moment, it scurried away and vanished.
Suddenly, the book takes an unexpected turn toward the gruesome.
Nakor turned away, only to see two small stones set on a sandy beach. The fingers of his hands clenched, unnoticed, into fists. Nakor had not been there when Serina and Wanni were killed. They had been out hunting, less than a day after they had freed Olara. It was almost a week before Nakor, Roth, Caudi, or Brigit learned what had happened. Roth had heard a rumor of two strangers who had been found dead by the shore of the lake. According to the people who had buried them, Serina and Wanni were both pierced through the heart by a single arrow. They would have died instantly.
âThe fingers of his hands.â As opposed to the fingers of what, his left armpit? What kind of weird anatomy do these elves have, anyway?
There was a snorting noise behind him. Knowing what was about to happen, Nakor tried not to look.
The dream took over, and Nakor felt himself turning to watch as a mounted warrior thrust his spear through Rothâs unarmored chest.
The snorting noise had nothing to do with any of this. That was just a random pig wandering through the dream. Nakorâs subconscious is a weird place.
Just as had happened in reality, Nakor felt pain and fury overwhelming him. He stretched out one hand, fingers spread, to point at the murderer before him.
The man turned his horse to look at Nakor.
Wait, is the man looking at Nakor, or is he just trying to get his horse to look?
Drawing upon the power of the air itself, Nakor sent a blast of wind at the man that knocked him from the horse.
As he struggled to rise, Nakor raised his other hand. He used the pain and anger at the death of his friend to fuel his magic, drawing upon power he had never before allowed himself to use. Now, he used it with an almost insane rage, sending the man hurling through the air to smash against a large oak tree, back broken by the impact, just as had happened two years ago.
âUse your aggressive feelings, boy. Let the hate flow through you. Strike me down with all of your hatred and your journey towards the dark side will be complete!â
Nakor sank to his knees, overwhelmed. Then he raised his head, knowing what must come next. As he watched, the young wizard Caudi raced into view, pursued by two men.
She turned and started to cast a spell, but one of the men hurled a dagger that lodged in her stomach. She stumbled backward.
Sprinting, Nakor tried to reach her in time, as he had been unable to in life. He was still too far away when one of the men stepped up and stabbed Caudi through the heart, killing her instantly.
Nakor slowed to a walk, watching as her body crumpled to the ground. One of the men yelled as he spotted Nakor approaching. The other looked up, and said âThatâs the other one we want.â
They approached, swords drawn. Too numb to even attempt a spell, Nakor silently drew his rapier in one hand, dagger in the other, and waited motionlessly.
As the men neared, Nakor suddenly leapt into motion. He batted a sword out of the way, and almost casually stabbed one of the men with his dagger. Smoothly, he stepped back, avoiding a thrust by the other manâs sword.
Seeing his companion bleeding out his life on the ground seemed to put fear into Nakorâs remaining opponent. Gathering his courage, the man lunged again.
Nakor caught the sword on the long blade of his dagger, diverting the attack to one side. Then he smashed the basket hilt of his rapier into the manâs face.
He stumbled backward with a yell, dropping his sword and clutching his hands to his face. Nakor
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