by Toby Bennett
A great flight took off from the beach of Nisgul’s northern shore but there were no wings to bear Akna across the plain, despite Gilash’s fears, he had nothing but his own feet to take him out into a wider world. He ran his hands through his streaked hair, absently winding a stone into the long strands. It was a habit that he had picked up from the shadow that had so briefly been a part of him, the reflex of a dream, but the shadow still whispered to him faintly of things she had seen beyond Niskar’s clouds, all so familiar and yet new, in so many different shapes and places only half remembered, like a smile or a face you will not see again. Akna was young but already experience laid heavy on him and seemed to get heavier, as the moon rose to watch his plodding pace. It got harder to convince himself to force his worn body forward, even with the shadows' promises and encouragement. After all an adept knew that there was little original in the hearts of men, fools would still sell kingdoms for the arms of whores, give up their souls for fame or sell dark years for a second’s touch of divine light. Everyone must have their dream at any price, it was easy to become cynical when you knew this much. He raised his eyes and spotted the dim light of cooking fires, no doubt some caravan winding its way to Niskar, their coffers full and their hopes high. To the thief that seemed worth the walk.
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