Extract from Elfsorrow
The shouts of pursuit spilled into the passage behind them. A thud by his head and a skipping off a stone at his feet told The Unknown Warrior that the bowmen had almost got their range. He pushed Diera in front of him, still trying to support her terrified stumbling run, Jonas whimpering again under her cloak.
“Keep running if I fall.”
Another shaft whistled past his head, burying itself in the wall just beyond. Diera yelped. “Ten yards ahead, a turning.”
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Extract from Shadowheart
The great hall at the top of Lystern’s squat, wide college tower felt chill despite the warmth of the day and the sunlight streaming through the ornate stained glass windows that overlooked the huge circular table.
On an arc surrounding the Lord Elder Mage, Heryst, sat the four mages who made up the law council. All old men, all trusted advisers of the relatively young college and city ruler. Opposite them, The Raven were gathered around Darrick who stood at their centre while they sat, listening to the charges arraigned against him. Otherwise, but for fifteen college guardsmen and a gaggle of clerks and monitor mages, the hall was empty, its spectacular domed and timbered roof ringing hollow.
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Extract from Demonstorm
‘Again!’ Tessaya swept his arm down. ‘Again!’
The Wesmen charged the walls of Xetesk once more, tribal banners snapping in the breeze, voices mingling to a roar. The ladders drove into position, his warriors stormed up their rough rungs. Below them, archers tried to keep the defenders back from the wall. A difficult task over such a distance.
In the deep night-shadows of Xetesk’s walls, tribesmen pivoted more ladders. Along a four hundred yard stretch of wall they arced up. The best of them just rough cut and bound, the worst little more than shaved trunks of the tallest trees they could find. In earlier attacks, some had not been tall enough. He saw the ladders catching the light of the torches on the battlements before they thudded into place, warriors already swarming up them two abreast.
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Extract from Ravensoul
Blood sprayed across Geskard’s chest. He grunted in satisfaction and stepped back out of range. He needn’t have bothered. His strike had beaten his mark’s defence and bitten deep into the shoulder, carving through leather jerkin and flesh before smashing the collarbone.
The uneven contest was done. Their eyes met. The victor and the unfortunate with too much money on his belt and too little skill with his blade. This city was no place for such imbalances. Never had been.
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