Renown Of The Raithlin: Book One Of The Raithlindrath Series - Plot & Excerpts
Nightmare Lanrik rolled over on the hard ground. He wanted to sleep, but his Raithlin cloak was uncomfortably damp, and his boots, which he dared not take off in case Mecklar and Gwalchmur found the camp and attacked, were cold and clammy. The travelers had stopped by the edge of a willow-rimmed tarn. It had been drizzling for days, and everything from the misty tops of the trees to the root-bound soil was saturated. He curled his knees up to his chest but still shivered under the cloak. There was no fire. Aranloth might have been able to start one but had remained true to the lòhren principle of using lòhrengai only at need. For over a week, they had ridden hard and kept the northern bank of the Carist Nien in view. The lands they journeyed through were lush and green. Aranloth said the sea was only some fifty miles away, and its influence caused heavy rainfall between the coast and the river. They were further away from the sea now, in the hills of Lòrenta, but the rain had followed.
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