“. . I can tell you that no creature who breathes today can help you pass through those wide, untamed lands safer than Jugar Dregas, King of Jesters and Jester to kings! You won’t regret it. . not one bit!”
“I’m already regretting it,” Drakis replied, “but as none of the rest of us have any idea about the world beyond the totems of Timuran, we’ll just have to bring you with us.”
“North?” Ethis said, raising one hairless brow. “Why north?”
Hear the call of the song whispering. .
Follow the Northern Wind’s call. .
Training and instinct.
“Because it pleases me,” Drakis replied.
“How far north?” Ethis pressed.
“. . Forget it, Dre,” the tall boy said smiling down at him as they worked under the sunshine in the fields. “It’s too far to walk no matter how long. .”
“As far north as we must,” Drakis snapped, then turned to Belag. “So this is all there is then?”
“Aye,” Belag nodded his great head. “Many are dead. . many more have lost their minds. . others deny their own thoughts and can imagine no other life. We are all who have come.”
“Then it will have to be enough,” Drakis turned, but the large hand of the manticore turned him back around.
“Please,” Belag said, his huge, yellow eyes peering into Drakis’ face. “Tell me. . I have to know. .”
“Belag, we’ve got to move now while. .”
“Please,” the manticore said, gripping the human by both shoulders. “I have to know. . are you the One?”
Drakis let out a quick, short breath.
Jugar spoke from behind somewhere at his back.
“Yes,” the dwarf said with words deliberate and carefully spoken. “Tell us: Are you the warrior-king of the prophecy?”
The Hall of the Past soared above him, not yet fallen to flame and rubble but as it stood just hours before.
“Are you a god?”
The dwarf smiled in return, “Ah. . you want to know if I am a god?”
Drakis glanced at the flaming ruin across the hilltop.