fire. Let’s find the gate.” Marcus clumped around the perimeter of the wall. Only an occasional window slit broke the smooth surface between buttresses. The rain eased, but the cloud cover lowered.
“Almost a mile around,” Robb stated. His breath made small chill clouds in front of his face. “Wonder if this is an old monastery. There were a number of them during the Great Wars of Disruption. But we only know of one left standing after peace came to Coronnan. Many of them disappeared as people made use of their building stones for other purposes. A few may have been converted into palaces or Summer retreats for the nobility.” Talking—lecturing as Marcus claimed—kept him from thinking about the thickness of the haze they nearly swam through. All of his senses were distorted, untrustworthy. He felt . . . inadequate.
“Wonder if anyone has lived here in the last three hundred years.” Marcus stared up at the top of the wall, a good twenty feet above their heads.
“We’ll know soon enough. Looks like a gatehouse tower jutting out from the main wall on the next corner. Of course we walked the long way around before finding it.”
“We walked deasil, as we should. Walking widdershins is bad luck.”
“First time I’ve ever known you to care about your luck. Prepare yourself for anything. An entire band of outlaws could be hiding within these walls.”
CHAPTER 6
R obb shifted his grip on his staff and brought it forward, ready to channel magic down its length or flip it and use it as a mundane weapon.
“We’d know if there were hostiles within this building,” Marcus said. “I only sense one life. Feels mostly mundane, not a magician at all. Strange. One life with a minimal magical talent I’m guessing; enough power to call a ball of witchlight, but not enough for us to sense.”
“Or someone with incredible armor that allows us to sense his presence, but not his magic. Solitary magicians, raised outside the dragon magic tradition, are known to be quite cunning. He could be lulling us into dropping our defenses so as to make us easy prey.”
The gatehouse rose out of the walls like a huge malignant growth—nearly a quarter of the wall’s width and twice as high. The two young men slowed their steps and crept around the corner.
“This place is defended more like a castle than a monastery,” Marcus whispered.
“What do you expect? It was built as a refuge when civil war tore the land apart for three generations.”
Marcus shushed Robb with a finger to his lips as he peered around the next corner, staff at the ready.
Robb shrugged and crept forward, peering through the thickening gloom. He kept his larger body in front of his friend. In a fray his brute strength was well teamed with Marcus’ agility.
Marcus peeked over Robb’s shoulder. The formerly stout wooden doors hung askew on weary hinges. The wind made them creak with each new gust.
The dense air almost seemed to pour out of that gate. What kind of ghosts and demons hid within it?
Silently, they edged closer. Robb led them through the gap in the doors. Thick oak had shrunk away from dozens of bronze bosses that had reinforced the wood. Green corrosion brushed off on his cloak like soggy mushroom spores. The hinges protested mightily. They both froze in place, waiting, wary.
No one challenged them.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Marcus pushed forward to lead the way across the broad courtyard. They faced a two-story building shaped like a squared-off steed-shoe. Thick columns supported the second story where it hung over the first, creating a sheltered passage. Two of the pillars lay broken in the courtyard.
Robb sighed wistfully. He wished people had more respect for these old buildings.
“That way.” He pointed to the glimmer of light creeping under the door of one of the ground-floor cells in the southern wing.
A number of long paces took them across the courtyard. They climbed six steep steps from the
“Almost a mile around,” Robb stated. His breath made small chill clouds in front of his face. “Wonder if this is an old monastery. There were a number of them during the Great Wars of Disruption. But we only know of one left standing after peace came to Coronnan. Many of them disappeared as people made use of their building stones for other purposes. A few may have been converted into palaces or Summer retreats for the nobility.” Talking—lecturing as Marcus claimed—kept him from thinking about the thickness of the haze they nearly swam through. All of his senses were distorted, untrustworthy. He felt . . . inadequate.
“Wonder if anyone has lived here in the last three hundred years.” Marcus stared up at the top of the wall, a good twenty feet above their heads.
“We’ll know soon enough. Looks like a gatehouse tower jutting out from the main wall on the next corner. Of course we walked the long way around before finding it.”
“We walked deasil, as we should. Walking widdershins is bad luck.”
“First time I’ve ever known you to care about your luck. Prepare yourself for anything. An entire band of outlaws could be hiding within these walls.”
CHAPTER 6
R obb shifted his grip on his staff and brought it forward, ready to channel magic down its length or flip it and use it as a mundane weapon.
“We’d know if there were hostiles within this building,” Marcus said. “I only sense one life. Feels mostly mundane, not a magician at all. Strange. One life with a minimal magical talent I’m guessing; enough power to call a ball of witchlight, but not enough for us to sense.”
“Or someone with incredible armor that allows us to sense his presence, but not his magic. Solitary magicians, raised outside the dragon magic tradition, are known to be quite cunning. He could be lulling us into dropping our defenses so as to make us easy prey.”
The gatehouse rose out of the walls like a huge malignant growth—nearly a quarter of the wall’s width and twice as high. The two young men slowed their steps and crept around the corner.
“This place is defended more like a castle than a monastery,” Marcus whispered.
“What do you expect? It was built as a refuge when civil war tore the land apart for three generations.”
Marcus shushed Robb with a finger to his lips as he peered around the next corner, staff at the ready.
Robb shrugged and crept forward, peering through the thickening gloom. He kept his larger body in front of his friend. In a fray his brute strength was well teamed with Marcus’ agility.
Marcus peeked over Robb’s shoulder. The formerly stout wooden doors hung askew on weary hinges. The wind made them creak with each new gust.
The dense air almost seemed to pour out of that gate. What kind of ghosts and demons hid within it?
Silently, they edged closer. Robb led them through the gap in the doors. Thick oak had shrunk away from dozens of bronze bosses that had reinforced the wood. Green corrosion brushed off on his cloak like soggy mushroom spores. The hinges protested mightily. They both froze in place, waiting, wary.
No one challenged them.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Marcus pushed forward to lead the way across the broad courtyard. They faced a two-story building shaped like a squared-off steed-shoe. Thick columns supported the second story where it hung over the first, creating a sheltered passage. Two of the pillars lay broken in the courtyard.
Robb sighed wistfully. He wished people had more respect for these old buildings.
“That way.” He pointed to the glimmer of light creeping under the door of one of the ground-floor cells in the southern wing.
A number of long paces took them across the courtyard. They climbed six steep steps from the
Similar Books
