Archives: Sunday, February 12, 2017

Carn Horneck

The healer stood over the bed, enshrouded in smoke from the bronze brazier he dangled over the prostrate king. Erwald lay on his royal bed of heather, wracked with fever  and calling out in a strange tongue none could understand. Garth leaned in the doorway, his face a placid mask that betrayed none of the dismay he felt.

Read on »