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. "I think we're about where we
set out to be. Look." He pointed to a cleared patch in the mist far
below.
Black, built from the heart and bone of the mountains, a vast,
turreted castle rose, a jagged skeletal finger. The setting sun was a
fiery wound in the brittle blue sky, bleeding light across the
forbidding dark stone. Around them the sobbing wind mourned
and gibbered.
"Can you feel it, Flint?"
The sense of evil that had been their guide to this place seemed
to boil and rumble in the vale below as though this were the source
of the keening winds and icy fear.
"Aye, I can feel it. And I don't much like it." The dwarf
glanced over his shoulder at Riana, who sat hunched and
shivering, her eyes on the frozen rocks at her feet. "Tanis, I could
well believe that those ghosts came from this vale." He looked out
into the valley again and felt the touch of something colder than
the bitter wind brush up against his soul. "And I think, too, that
something knows we're here."
Were he not so tired, Tanis would have smiled. He'd known
the hard-headed old dwarf too many years not to be surprised by
the fanciful turn of his thoughts. He looked closely at his old
friend. What he saw in Flint's eyes made him shiver. It was sure
knowledge that made Flint say what he had. Though the wry twist
of his smile told Tanis that he'd no idea where the knowledge
came from.
"Just a feeling," the dwarf muttered
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