Fortress of Eagles
Chapter One
The path, slanting up through young forest to gray rock and old trees, became a hollow, leaf-filled track at its end. When Tristen reined in and stepped down from the saddle, ankle-deep in autumn, the silence on that hill was so great he could hear the individual fall of leaves as soft, distinct impacts . . . until Petelly tugged at the rein, impatient of good behavior, and leaves cracked and rustled under his massive feet.
Guelessar's forested hilltops had shown bright red and sunny gold above the fields not a fortnight ago. They had cast off much of that color in the wild winds of recent days, the result of which had piled up in ditches and against fences all along the roads. The trees on this height stood all but bare, more exposed to the winds than those lower down the trail, and Tristen scuffed through ridges of brown and gold as he led Petelly along.
He had ridden out for pleasure on this late-autumn day in this first year of his life and this first year of king Cefwyn's reign. He had come into the world as a wizard's Summoning in the soft, whispering green of spring, and he had discovered the world of Men in a summe ... read full excerpt from: Fortress of Eagles ebook
