“The Carnelian Throne Deilcrit, in hopes of shaking the burning cold away with movement, crawled to the edge of the ledge and stared down the way he had come. He crouched there, slapping himself, his breath streaming white as the mantle that draped the Isanisa River far below. Kirelli, stiff-legged on the cold, joined him. Together, to the rhythmic buzz of Quendros’ snoring, they stared down at the cloud mantle through which they fought their way the day before. He could not see Dey-Ceil...neeth, nestled in the shelter of Benegua’s northern gate. Nor the Wall of Mnemaat, occluded by the forest and the mists and the thick icy clouds that girdled Mt. Imnetosh’s hips. Winter or no, it was too cold. The savage chill had ridden the white clouds down the mountain to plague them. It had frosted the rocks with ice and numbed their fingers and slowed their sword arms, as if in league with the wehrs who had harried them. From out of those clouds the wehr-rage had come, while they stumbled, climbing blindly upward.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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