The Tower of Shadows
Assassins
As the two horsemen peered across the moor, they sensed their curiosity darkening toward suspicion.
Barren and rocky, the blasted landscape stretched eastward for mile after mile until, with unexpected suddenness, it reared against the horizon in a line of serrated cliffs. Night was falling quickly. As shadows settled like carrion birds on their surroundings, pallid pricks of palest blue twinkled wanly in the sky. They gave off little light and less comfort.
“Even the stars are dead in this forsaken country,” said one rider in a weathered voice. The iris of his good eye dilated with wary consideration; the crystal in the other glinted dully in the twilight.
His companion, dark of skin and cloak, turned a scarred face toward him. “We should never have come here. I’ve wandered some of the strangest lands in Ellynrie. But this place . . . I’ve never seen anything like it. There’s malice on the wind. I can taste it in the air and sense it in the very bones of the earth.” He stroked the hilt of his sword reassuringly and patted his whickering mount.
“Dragons and demons, Sarin,” the one ...
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