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He moved quick for a big man,covering the distance in an instant,sword overhead
howling like a Banshee, he swung in a slicing arc. Rem whirled left and met the Giants
blow with Adder,knocking it wide then following back with a vicious swing. Gar barely
caught it,and Rem whirled back with a blow that took Gar's head and sent it rolling down
the hill. The hulk that had been Gar spewed blood out the severed neck then toppled to
the ground with a heavy thud.
Rem emptied Gar's saddlebags, taking what little he could use, then walked down the
hill and collected his grisly prize. Stowing the head in one side of the bags, he saddled
the chestnut and led him up the hill to the paint. Saddling the paint he tied the chestnut
to the saddlehorn, climbed up, and rode back in the direction he had come. Keeping the
paint at a trot ate up the miles in the darkness. For the next day and a half he rode
unmolested, weariness finally making him stop beside the river Thenn, two days ride
The spell was cast. Too late to call it back now,it winged it's way like an arrow straight to
the target and like a flare,the Kings Maester burst into flames before the astonished
eyes of hundreds. Mael, the blond, short, but well-proportioned witch issuing the
dart,slumped and eyes rolling white,collapsed into the grass. The spell had drained all
her physical strength if not her psychic. Give her a minute, she'll be fine,the old coven
master grumbled as a half score witches ran to her. Takes power he muttered with pride
looking at his unconscious protege. That'll give them something to remember us by!
Safely stowing their sister in one of the oxdrawn wagons,the small caravan turned
toward the mountain trail and moved on.
Rem caught a couple of nice rainbow trout and enjoyed his first hot meal in days. He
thought of Gar and placed a large rock in the opposite side of the bags, and tying a
grass rope around the middle, submerged it in the cold water. "That'll keep you pretty",
He chuckled. He awoke mid afternoon and broke camp. Retrieving the bags, Rem
saddled up and pushed on.
On the outskirts of Castle Azael a crowd was gathering for the weekly cockfights.
People came from miles away to bet their meager savings and enjoy the camaraderie .
Vendors hawked their wares as children ran to and fro.The noise reached a deafening
pitch as the first contestants, a green legged red bird, against a spangle with white legs.
Final bets were placed and the racket died in an instant, as the two birds were billed,
and the handlers took each back to their respective scorelines.