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Late Autumn 5922

Ripples

Warned by her balked scryers that Elaira’s resistance seeks contact with the Koriathain’s most ancient enemy, the Prime orders the enchantress stopped, at all cost, before she sets foot in Sanpashir; then she announces her boldest step yet to pin down the elusive fugitive: ‘We’ll engage the infallible use of a fetch and stir Desh-thiere’s curse to dog Arithon’s trail…’

The same night, torn from sleep in the Lord Mayor’s suite at Etarra, a fair-haired man thrashes awake in soaked sheets, chilled by the shadow of prescient nightmare: shivering, alone in the dark, he fears most to stand his frail ground against the consummate evil coiled inextricably through his being…

Days later, still troubled by dire portents, the Light’s High Examiner responds to the news that the search for the minion of Darkness near Kelsing turns up nothing but rumours of an elusive herbalist: ‘He left no object for a diviner to trace? Even a flask or a tie-string? That’s suspicious! Hold the croft that ­sheltered him under covert watch and deploy more dedicates to quarter the country-side…’