The Book of Deacon

her eyes. A sliver of light peek

art. Never before had a dream been so vivid. She shook herself in a vain attempt to chase the tormenting images from her mind. The only comforting thought came in the words he

eam. The only one that brings happi

own her back was one she'd not felt in weeks--months, even. Of course, once the cold hit her when she left the tent, the novelty would wear thin rather quickly. Carefully, she pulled the flap of the tent aside. A cascade of snow fr

he night before. It had all been blanketed with several inches of dense snow that elsewhere might have been a terrible storm, but amounte

a beast. The form indicated a dragon, but it was a bit bulkier than she'd imagined a dragon to be. Of course, she had no interest in finding out if she was correct, particularly b

through the snow. She looked to the dragon. "That goes for you too. But why were the two of you here, I wonder? T

t of the Northern Alliance, or perhaps that of the southern land of Tressor. Instead she found the same simple crest she'd seen among other marks on the sword and armor. It rese

ther side. You should consider it something of a triumph that you had managed to be killed by something other than an angry mob. I know it is no consolation, but the end you came to here prevented

ikely she'd find a buyer of any other kind. Myranda never even entertained the possibility of being paid a fair price for the piece. These days the shopkeepers were nearly as cutthroat as the soldiers, wit

from the soldier's pack to her own lighter one. If only it had been smaller or she had been stronger, she could have taken the tent with her, but the days of walk

e of the day before. A trained eye and the clouds overhead told her that it was just past noon when she finally saw something on the horizon. A bui