that followed, my parched lips cracked in a grin.
My work had only just begun.
<<<|>>>
Lesson II S ORCERER'S C RIME
I
I rode into that village on the back of the most miserable, broken-down nag of a horse that I'd ever had the displeasure to ride.
The icy chill in the air was a sure sign that winter approached, and the ankle-deep snow drifts were needling that fact quite insistently into my feet and ankles. Traveling alone through the wilderness with nothing but a cantankerous equine for company was fine while the weather was still relatively pleasant. In the winter, however, it was all too easy for death to creep up on me while I slept away the daytime hours.
One thing I'd learned quickly in my life on the road: never try to camp for the night in the wilderness unless you have someone to watch your back. It doesn't matter how many magical wards you put up or how well you disguise your makeshift shelter.
The monsters will find you.
My protective enchantments kept the horse and I from freezing to death, but it was a pale offering. Ever since the weather had turned, my magic was the only thing that warded off the creeping frost. Maintaining protective wards for so long was like gripping a frozen iron bar with every ounce of strength I could muster, and I was exhausted. A fold of my dark grey cloak was wrapped around my face like a muffler and my hands were tucked in tight against the saddle beneath me, and yet it still felt like they had decided to take a permanent vacation and leave me behind with the damn horse.
The near-full Deadmoon hung in the sky above me, shining its bleak bone-white luminance down on the snow, leeching every speck of color out of my surroundings. The trees were black and the snow was starkly white, and everything else fell somewhere in between. It was always an unnerving sight, but one I had grown used to during my travel. The hairs on the back of my neck were fixed in a permanently-prickled state, though whether that was due to constant vigilance or simply the frozen air I was never quite sure.
It was somewhere around this state of affairs when I decided that I no longer cared about getting to Selvaria. The city – and my new life, since I had abandoned the one in Elenia for very good reasons – could wait, as far as I was concerned. All I needed was a warm fire and a cot. I'd even settle for a dirt floor as long as there was a blazing hearth.
The one remnant of my pride hung around my neck, kept in a tiny leather pouch close to my heart. It was the Arbiter's heartblade, the one I'd stolen from D'Arden Tal before he realized what I'd done. Everything else had been left behind in Elenia, burned to cinders when I lit my own lab aflame before disappearing in the middle of the night. I'd regretted the necessity, but disappearing with my life had been far more important than anything else that day.
All of this was why I ended up riding into a two-horse town in the black of night. With my arrival, it was immediately upgraded to a three-horse town, and there was much rejoicing. Of course, given that the gap-toothed citizenry were certainly all safely tucked into their shacks, the actual celebration would have to wait until morning.
A sorcerer had come to… I squinted at the rough wooden sign at the edge of town, which had a name printed on it in black letters. It was mostly covered in sticky snow, but I could just make out the glyphs. Varsil.
Edar Moncrief, the only sorcerer ever to outwit an Arbiter, had come to Varsil. Watch out, peasantry.
There were no walls here, which was immediately concerning. The horrors that stalked the night were fewer in the wide-open farmland like that through which I rode, but that didn't mean they weren't there. They didn't even build a wooden fence to keep the tiniest of fel beasts from knocking on their doors; a testament to just how comfortable the people in the Old Kingdoms had become with the terrifying night.
The flickering light
My work had only just begun.
<<<|>>>
Lesson II S ORCERER'S C RIME
I
I rode into that village on the back of the most miserable, broken-down nag of a horse that I'd ever had the displeasure to ride.
The icy chill in the air was a sure sign that winter approached, and the ankle-deep snow drifts were needling that fact quite insistently into my feet and ankles. Traveling alone through the wilderness with nothing but a cantankerous equine for company was fine while the weather was still relatively pleasant. In the winter, however, it was all too easy for death to creep up on me while I slept away the daytime hours.
One thing I'd learned quickly in my life on the road: never try to camp for the night in the wilderness unless you have someone to watch your back. It doesn't matter how many magical wards you put up or how well you disguise your makeshift shelter.
The monsters will find you.
My protective enchantments kept the horse and I from freezing to death, but it was a pale offering. Ever since the weather had turned, my magic was the only thing that warded off the creeping frost. Maintaining protective wards for so long was like gripping a frozen iron bar with every ounce of strength I could muster, and I was exhausted. A fold of my dark grey cloak was wrapped around my face like a muffler and my hands were tucked in tight against the saddle beneath me, and yet it still felt like they had decided to take a permanent vacation and leave me behind with the damn horse.
The near-full Deadmoon hung in the sky above me, shining its bleak bone-white luminance down on the snow, leeching every speck of color out of my surroundings. The trees were black and the snow was starkly white, and everything else fell somewhere in between. It was always an unnerving sight, but one I had grown used to during my travel. The hairs on the back of my neck were fixed in a permanently-prickled state, though whether that was due to constant vigilance or simply the frozen air I was never quite sure.
It was somewhere around this state of affairs when I decided that I no longer cared about getting to Selvaria. The city – and my new life, since I had abandoned the one in Elenia for very good reasons – could wait, as far as I was concerned. All I needed was a warm fire and a cot. I'd even settle for a dirt floor as long as there was a blazing hearth.
The one remnant of my pride hung around my neck, kept in a tiny leather pouch close to my heart. It was the Arbiter's heartblade, the one I'd stolen from D'Arden Tal before he realized what I'd done. Everything else had been left behind in Elenia, burned to cinders when I lit my own lab aflame before disappearing in the middle of the night. I'd regretted the necessity, but disappearing with my life had been far more important than anything else that day.
All of this was why I ended up riding into a two-horse town in the black of night. With my arrival, it was immediately upgraded to a three-horse town, and there was much rejoicing. Of course, given that the gap-toothed citizenry were certainly all safely tucked into their shacks, the actual celebration would have to wait until morning.
A sorcerer had come to… I squinted at the rough wooden sign at the edge of town, which had a name printed on it in black letters. It was mostly covered in sticky snow, but I could just make out the glyphs. Varsil.
Edar Moncrief, the only sorcerer ever to outwit an Arbiter, had come to Varsil. Watch out, peasantry.
There were no walls here, which was immediately concerning. The horrors that stalked the night were fewer in the wide-open farmland like that through which I rode, but that didn't mean they weren't there. They didn't even build a wooden fence to keep the tiniest of fel beasts from knocking on their doors; a testament to just how comfortable the people in the Old Kingdoms had become with the terrifying night.
The flickering light
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