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make it indestructible. Then I must find its wielder.
You must perform miracles, it seems to me, Tay Trefenwyd mused ironically.
All of us must do so, Bremen answered softly.
They looked at each other in the gloomy light, an unspoken understanding taking shape between them.
Beyond their shelter, rainwater dripped in steady cadence from the rocky outcroppings.
It was midmoming, and the light had turned silvery as the sun sought to fight its way through the
lingering stormclouds.
If the Druids at Paranor are dead, then we are all that is left,
Tay said. Just the five of us.
Bremen nodded. Then five must be enough. He rose, looking out into the gloom. We had better get
started.
Chapter Six
hat same night, west and north of where Bremen confronted the shade of Galaphile, deep within the
T
stone ring of the Dragon s Teeth, Caerid Lock made his rounds of the watch at Paranor. It was nearing
midnight when he crossed an open court on the parapets facing south and was momentarily distracted by
a wicked flash of lightning in the distant skies. He paused, watching and listening to the silence.
Clouds banked from horizon to horizon, shutting out moon and stars, cloaking the world in blackness.
Lightning flashed a second time, momentarily splintering the night like shattered glass, then vanishing as if
it had never been. Thunder rolled in its wake, a long, deep peal that echoed off the mountain peaks. The
storm was staying south of Paranor, but the air smelled of rain and the silence was deep and oppressive.
The Captain of the Druid Guard lingered a moment longer, contemplative, then moved on through a
tower door and into the Keep. He made these same rounds every night, disdaining sleep, a compulsive
man whose work habits never varied. The times of greatest danger, he believed, were just before
midnight and just before dawn. These were the times when weariness and sleep dulled the senses and
made you careless. If an attack was planned, it would come then. Because he believed that Bremen
would not give warning without reason, and because he was cautious by nature, he had determined to
keep an especially sharp eye these next few weeks. He had already increased the number of guards on
any given watch and begun the laborious process of strengthening the gate locks. He had considered
sending night patrols into the surrounding woods as an added precaution, but was worried that they
would be too vulnerable beyond the protection of the walls. His guard was large, but it was not an army.
He could provide security within, but he could not give battle without.
He descended the tower stairs to the front courtyard and crossed. Half a dozen guards were stationed
at the entry, responsible for the gates, portcullis, and watchtowers that fronted the main approach to the
castle. They snapped to attention at his approach. He spoke with the officer in charge, confirmed that all
was well, and continued on. He recrossed the open court, listening to a new roll of thunder break the
deep night silence, glancing south to search for the flash of lightning that had preceded it, realizing as he
did that it would already be gone. He was uneasy, but no more so this night than any other, as wary as he
was compulsive about his responsibilities. Sometimes he thought he had stayed too long at Paranor. He
did his job well; he knew he was still good at it. He was proud of his command; all of the guards
presently in service had been selected and trained by him. They were a solid, dependable bunch, and he
knew he could take credit for that. But he was not getting any younger, and age brought a dulling of the
senses that encouraged complacency. He could hardly afford that. The fall of the Northland and the
rumors of the Warlock Lord made these dangerous times. He sensed change in the wind. Something bad
was coming to the Four Lands, and it would most certainly sweep up the Druids in its wake. Something
bad was coming, and Caerid Lock was worried that he would not recognize its face until it was too late.
He passed through a doorway at the end of the court and walked down a hall that ran to the north wall
and the gate that opened there. There were four gates to the Keep, one for each approach.
There were a number of smaller doors as well, but these were constructed of stone and sealed with
iron. Most were cleverly hidden.
You could find them if you looked hard enough, but to do that you had to stand right up against the
wall where the light was good and the guards on the battlements would see you. Nevertheless, Caerid
kept a man at each during the hours between sunset and sunrise, taking nothing for granted. He passed
two on his way to the west gate, fifty yards apart along the winding corridor. The guard at each
acknowledged him with a sharp salute. Alert and ready, they were saying. Caerid gave a nod of approval
both times and passed on.
He frowned though, when out of sight, troubled by their deployment. The man at the first door, a Troll
from the Kershalt, was a veteran, but the man at the second, a young Elf, was new. He did not like
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