The wind whipped over the somber sea, sending the light ship speedily over the last furlongs of her journey and into the sheltered harbour. A man stood alone, grave-faced, in her prow. It was no light matter that had brought him to the fair land of bright lakes and undying forests called Enedhwin.
Lord Carras of Dirion disembarked from the craft that had borne him across five hundred leagues of ocean and leant against the pier, accustoming his legs to land once more. The soft tongue of Enedhwin murmured in his ears as men and women hurried on their errands across the busy docks.
"You have come off the ship?" a voice asked in his own language, and Lord Carras turned to see the stranger who had addressed him.
"Aye," he answered.
"An ambassador?" the other queried.
"You think so by my garments?"
"They are finer quality than most wear," he returned with a smile. "Besides that, you have no peasant's bearing."
"You observe well; yes, I am an ambassador from Dirion to the king." His face tightened and he fell into a brooding silence.
"Have you been to Enydhwyn before?" The voice roused him aware.
"That I have. It is a fair country, yours, with Dirion's soft loveliness and Rodron's rugged beauty in one land." Yet his words only brought to mind the voice of his king again, and his lips tightened with worry in a set face.
"Something troubles you, my lord?"
Carras turned to look at him, for the question was not one that needed an answer.
The man nodded simply and laid a quiet hand on his arm. "Fare well, friend," he said, and went his way into the crowd.
YOU ARE READING
A Cold Cry
FantasyOne man against a nameless evil, against deception, and ultimately against himself. Something dangerous lurks in the mountains of Enedhwin, and no-one is willing to search it out... no-one except the cocky and loyal-to-a-fault foreign ambassador. Bu...
