King Of Assassins: The Elven Ways: Book Three - Plot & Excerpts
Nothing remained of him but that which he caught by a will of iron, and felt himself imprisoned. Within what, he had no notion. A scene unfolded before him of a Larandaril he both knew and did not know. He was both there and not there. He watched as they carried the Warrior King on a litter into the Dead Circle. A moment of panic hit him and yet it played across his eyes as a memory, so real it must once have happened. Sinok Anderieon sat up as they lowered the bower, swinging his legs over and crossing his arms, his brow lowered defiantly. He wore his mail but no helm; instead he used a bejeweled leather strap to hold back his silvery-white mane of hair from his forehead. He stared across the Circle. In the beautiful, enchanted valley of Larandaril, this alone was its singular blight. Perhaps it encompassed all the blight that might ever have entered but magic kept it out, one could not know; but nothing lived, crawled, or flew across its expanse. It was as if it had been blasted into the ground and lay, quietly lethal and sterile, for the rest of its existence.
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