Yes. But that, well, that is between them. ‘Not our concern,’ he said, turning on his knees to find his bedroll.

‘When Lord Anomander calls, will we answer?’

Narad looked across at Glyph. ‘He won’t have to, Glyph. That place I described? I fear we will already be there.’

Standing fast, upon the shores of peace. In her name.

‘Glyph?’

‘Yedan Narad?’

‘Your old language. Have you a name for a shoreline?’

The hunter nodded. ‘Yes.’

‘What is it, then?’

‘Emurlahn.’

Yes. There.

CHAPTER FIVE

And here the tale’s tone must change.

A war upon death? The wayward adventures of the Azathanai? Foolish youth and bitter ancients – raise a sceptical brow, then, and let us plunge into the absurdity of the unimaginable and the impossible.

I’ll not gainsay the prowess of the Azathanai, nor seek to diminish the significance of their meddling. Draconus was not alone in his headlong careering into disaster. The question, for which there remains no answer, is this: are they gods? If so, then childish ones. Stumbling with their power, careless with their charges. Worthy of worship? You would well guess my answer.

You are curious, I gather, and indeed led into bemusement, by my fashioning this tale. In your mind, I am sure, the place of beginnings lacked the formality of territories, shorelines, the hinting of a discrete and singular world, upon which myths and legendary entities abound. Dare I suggest that what clashes is within you, not me? The deep past is a realm of the imagination, but one made hazy and indistinct with mystery. Yet is it not the mystery that so ignites the fire of wonder? But the unformed realm is a sparse setting, and little of substance can be built upon the unknown.

I give you places, the hard rocks and dusty earth, the withered grasses and besieged forests. The cities and encampments, the ruins and modest abodes, the keeps and monasteries – enough to yield comforting footfalls, enough to frame the drama, and in so doing, alas, mystery drifts away.

If I was to speak to you now of countless realms, jostling in the ether, and perhaps setting each one as an island in the mists of oblivion, might the imagination spark anew? Draw close, then. The island that is Kurald Galain and Wise Kharkanas abuts realms half seen, rarely sensed, within which mystery thrives. Let us unfold the world, my friend, and see what wonders are revealed.

A war upon death. The wayward adventures of the Azathanai. Foolish youth and bitter ancients…

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