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Chapter 5 -- On the road
Chapter 6 -- Release
Chapter 7 -- The Sword of Fanuiloth
An obscure figure, veiled as if by magical mists and vapours, a feregni in full battle dress, leather armour and silver greaves, approached the altar, from the doorway. His helm was silver, chased with gold and copper scrolls and curvetting lines, and he wore a sword, which was sheathed in a scabbard, beautiful to behold, decorated with runes and a crest. His cloak was decorated with amethysts sewn into the folds, and turquoise opals, and he wore an apple-jade brooch. He turned to look at them, and with a shock, Steppan thought he recognised Fluin. But, muddled though he was in this dream, he knew that Fluin was asleep next to him. Then he realised that the man merely had the look of Fluin about him, with golden shoulder-length hair, streaked with grey, tied back in a warrior’s queue, and blue eyes. There was something else, though, a way of carrying himself that was very reminiscent of Fluin, a quiet confidence and grace. He became aware that in this dreamscape, Fluin stood next to him, as awed as he.
Looking all the time at the two of them, the feregni drew his sword from the scabbard. The sword was even more beautiful than the scabbard, its blade shimmering with power. The figure turned back to the altar, and placed the sword upright against the north-facing central column. He knelt in front of the altar, and said a short prayer. Steppan felt the buzz of future-change, and the beginnings of a vision-headache. The figure bowed to the altar, and looked at them again, with those farseeing, penetrating blue eyes, and nodded, as if satisfied with what he had engineered. Then he abruptly vanished.