Weatherwitch: Book Three Of The Crowthistle Chronicles - Plot & Excerpts
Soft through the leaves he goes creeping unseen, Hunting deer in the glades of an evening. —TRADITIONAL HUNTING SONG The world, a sphere of metal and rock scarfed in water, turned. Above the churning vapors of the troposphere, stars appeared to glide across the heavens from east to west; from High Darioneth, across the Snowy River to the western shores of Tir. There, in Grïmnørsland, a hunting lodge perched on a stark crag, looking out over the ocean. Surf pounded the cliffs and a blood-biting wind howled in from the sea, smacking of brine. Around this building the landscape ramped into the stormy distance; gaunt and wild, rugged, roaring with cataracts, roofed by racing clouds in full sail, battered by salt winds, lapped by mists. This was a realm of black rock, grey sky, and silver water, where dark green conifers, rank on rank, stalked up mountainsides to pierce steaming skies. The hunting lodge belonged to the King of Grïmnørsland, Thorgild Torkilsalven. From here, on the twenty-first of Mai, five princes set out: Halvdan and Gunnlaug, the second and third-born sons of Thorgild; Kieran and Ronin Ó Maoldúin, the eldest sons of Uabhar of Slievmordhu, and Walter Wyverstone, younger brother to Crown Prince William of Narngalis.
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