speaking them: They were as haunting as they were beguiling. And just like that, the gateway opened.
The entrance to Mhier emerged.
The Silivasi brothers broke their link, drew back their arms, each one reaching for a different hoard of supplies, and then, without hesitation, they stepped through the portal and entered the land of the Lycanthrope.
The landscape was inexplicably vivid in Mhier. The blues were bluer; the greens were greener; and the yellows were so endless in variation and texture that it was like a virtual explosion of color everywhere one looked. One glimpse at the Mhieridian sunrise was like sampling a honeycomb, a dozen sunflowers, and a golden goblet all at once. Yet the strangest omen of all was the sun’s shadow: A full timber wolf moon stood directly behind the sun’s emerging rays, even at 6:45 in the morning. The soil was rich in texture and minerals, and the vegetation—the trees, bushes, and grass—were as lush as they were tall and bountiful. It was like stepping into a prehistoric Garden of Eden. Everything was inexpressibly beautiful and larger than life.
Kagen immediately set down his pack and reached for the map in order to determine their whereabouts. The rolled-up scroll was tucked like a cherished keepsake into the top, most easily accessible compartment of his backpack, and he laid it out on the ground, placing several stones atop the parchment to keep it flat. He immediately began comparing the drawing to their new surroundings.
Nachari squatted down beside him, placing both hands flat, palms down, against the earth, in order to start divining the native energy—he was taking the spiritual temperature of the land, so to speak.
Marquis and Nathaniel took on a different role, entirely.
The role of Master Warriors.
They stood back to back like Vikings of old, guardians of an ancient treasure, each one hovering protectively over the healer and the wizard as they sent all six senses outward, seeking, in all four directions. They listened for danger; sniffed for the scent of an enemy; tasted the faintest vibrations in the air with their tongues, all the while, feeling for subtle variations in the atmosphere with their skin as they also scanned the skies, the ground, and the countryside in order to detect any imminent threats.
Like astronauts running through a final checklist before launching a rocket into space, they tested their vampiric powers, one by one.
“Hearing?” Marquis grunted.
Nathaniel grew deathly quiet for a moment. “There’s a deer running in the woods about fifteen miles northwest, a snake sunning at the edge of a swamp ten miles due east, and I can hear two streams—no, three—about forty miles northeast.”
“Sight,” Marquis barked.
Nathaniel’s eyes grew narrow, and the pupils constricted ever so slightly as he turned his head to the left and the right, snaking it back and forth in an eerily serpentine motion. He was scanning the area using infrared vision. “There’s a family of squirrels in that nearby tree, a large colony of ants with an intricate system of chambers directly beneath our feet. I don’t detect anything human or Lycanthrope in the immediate vicinity.” He cringed then. “But there’s a hell of a lot of motion going on in those Skeleton Swamps nearly fifteen miles away—large, lumbering movement, like that of gigantic beasts.”
“Speed and flight,” Marquis said, ignoring the last comment.
Just like that, Nathaniel shot into the air like the aforementioned rocket. He released his glorious, raven-black wings and soared effortlessly through the sky, dipping, spinning, and tunneling downward with dizzying speed in an effort to test each of his aviation skills. When at last he headed for the ground, his feet took purchase with a soft, graceful landing; his wings fluttered softly, then flashed in and out of view; and the silky black annexes retreated once again into the smooth, even musculature of his back. “Everything
The entrance to Mhier emerged.
The Silivasi brothers broke their link, drew back their arms, each one reaching for a different hoard of supplies, and then, without hesitation, they stepped through the portal and entered the land of the Lycanthrope.
The landscape was inexplicably vivid in Mhier. The blues were bluer; the greens were greener; and the yellows were so endless in variation and texture that it was like a virtual explosion of color everywhere one looked. One glimpse at the Mhieridian sunrise was like sampling a honeycomb, a dozen sunflowers, and a golden goblet all at once. Yet the strangest omen of all was the sun’s shadow: A full timber wolf moon stood directly behind the sun’s emerging rays, even at 6:45 in the morning. The soil was rich in texture and minerals, and the vegetation—the trees, bushes, and grass—were as lush as they were tall and bountiful. It was like stepping into a prehistoric Garden of Eden. Everything was inexpressibly beautiful and larger than life.
Kagen immediately set down his pack and reached for the map in order to determine their whereabouts. The rolled-up scroll was tucked like a cherished keepsake into the top, most easily accessible compartment of his backpack, and he laid it out on the ground, placing several stones atop the parchment to keep it flat. He immediately began comparing the drawing to their new surroundings.
Nachari squatted down beside him, placing both hands flat, palms down, against the earth, in order to start divining the native energy—he was taking the spiritual temperature of the land, so to speak.
Marquis and Nathaniel took on a different role, entirely.
The role of Master Warriors.
They stood back to back like Vikings of old, guardians of an ancient treasure, each one hovering protectively over the healer and the wizard as they sent all six senses outward, seeking, in all four directions. They listened for danger; sniffed for the scent of an enemy; tasted the faintest vibrations in the air with their tongues, all the while, feeling for subtle variations in the atmosphere with their skin as they also scanned the skies, the ground, and the countryside in order to detect any imminent threats.
Like astronauts running through a final checklist before launching a rocket into space, they tested their vampiric powers, one by one.
“Hearing?” Marquis grunted.
Nathaniel grew deathly quiet for a moment. “There’s a deer running in the woods about fifteen miles northwest, a snake sunning at the edge of a swamp ten miles due east, and I can hear two streams—no, three—about forty miles northeast.”
“Sight,” Marquis barked.
Nathaniel’s eyes grew narrow, and the pupils constricted ever so slightly as he turned his head to the left and the right, snaking it back and forth in an eerily serpentine motion. He was scanning the area using infrared vision. “There’s a family of squirrels in that nearby tree, a large colony of ants with an intricate system of chambers directly beneath our feet. I don’t detect anything human or Lycanthrope in the immediate vicinity.” He cringed then. “But there’s a hell of a lot of motion going on in those Skeleton Swamps nearly fifteen miles away—large, lumbering movement, like that of gigantic beasts.”
“Speed and flight,” Marquis said, ignoring the last comment.
Just like that, Nathaniel shot into the air like the aforementioned rocket. He released his glorious, raven-black wings and soared effortlessly through the sky, dipping, spinning, and tunneling downward with dizzying speed in an effort to test each of his aviation skills. When at last he headed for the ground, his feet took purchase with a soft, graceful landing; his wings fluttered softly, then flashed in and out of view; and the silky black annexes retreated once again into the smooth, even musculature of his back. “Everything
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