This is a final taste of Mirklin Wood, which publishes March 15. It’s on pre-order.
The dark rain soaked everything. Gregyn arrived at the dun shivering from wet and exhaustion, only to be intercepted by Werglidd at the gate.
“Come with me immediately,” the court sorcerer ordered. Barely able to stand by this time, Gregyn had not the strength or energy to protest or defend himself as Werglidd compelled him to his tower apartment and barred the door.
“I know it was you, lad,” the middle-aged sorcerer fair sparkled with excitement as Gregyn stumbled to the divan before his legs gave out completely. “I knew Talidd was about to work a high-level ritual. Sawyl has been here purchasing supplies. And, of course, for a ritual of that magnitude, Talidd needed his strongest people. Even an apprentice would do when possessed of your power.”
Gregyn let his head fall back on the divan, allowing Werglidd’s words to wash over him as the chamber spun round him.
“Who were you linked with?” Werglidd asked. Time had passed. Gregyn sensed he’d slept. He felt worse than before. Although normally much stronger than Werglidd and therefore immune to his magicks, Gregyn felt scoured out and beyond the flows of power that had been at his fingertips for most of his life. Werglidd had ensnared him at his weakest. “Who were you linked with, lad? Lying will only cause you pain. I know you were linked, else you’d be dead. How’d you learn that trick? You’re only a Level 2, so you’ve not been taught it. Who were you linked with?”
“Naryna,” Gregyn whispered, lips moving of their own volition.
“A lass?! That shouldn’t have worked. You’re the interesting one, now aren’t you? Well and good then. I’ll keep your secret and you’ll keep mine, if I tell you any.
Reblogged this on Daermad Cycle.
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