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The Atheling - Chapter 14
Here, where light and dark commingled, one stood to greet them. No Lothuri was he, for sure…. The features were blunt as the pitted Dryacs atop the Gurnyac keep. His scalp, furthermore, was shorn. His robe was dark brown, whatever that meant.
“Behold D’huru Nor, your mentor. Look your last on the world out there, an you will.”
There. By his broad flat accents, the be-hawld, the yaw , the last, the very gruff of his voice, Torc had him. From the far north, he was, of barbaric B’hadgazan. Now what was a man like that doing here?
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By Grace ChetwinHere, where light and dark commingled, one stood to greet them. No Lothuri was he, for sure…. The features were blunt as the pitted Dryacs atop the Gurnyac keep. His scalp, furthermore, was shorn. His robe was dark brown, whatever that meant.
“Behold D’huru Nor, your mentor. Look your last on the world out there, an you will.”
There. By his broad flat accents, the be-hawld, the yaw , the last, the very gruff of his voice, Torc had him. From the far north, he was, of barbaric B’hadgazan. Now what was a man like that doing here?