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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.
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