The ice ball exploded in a blast of razor-like shards and numbing cold. He held his flaming sword before him, confident that it and his faith would protect him. Thomas's eyes widened and he quickly dove for cover behind one of the nearby pillars. Thrusting his hands forward, he hurled the ice ball at the pair of trespassers. When he pulled them apart again, a small ball of solid ice hovered between them. Kelvin clapped his hands together, arcane words upon his lips. "No," one of the Asmodeans spoke, his voice dripping with sarcasm that made Harkon want to ram the blade of Wytchbrand down his throat. He should fear.fear for his immortal soul if he did not rise to the occasion and hold to the pact he'd made to avoid being burned at the stake for his heresies. The young penitent's eyes darted all around, wary and harboring more than a little fear. Turning, he nodded to Thomas who stepped clear of the circle to make way for the others. Coincidence? Harkon thought not, which was why he now stood in the center of some blasphemous temple facing the followers of Asmodeus.Īs Harkon smiled at his good fortune, the teleportation circle behind him flashed again. And what had he discovered in that small, backwater town? Why, that a great green glowing spire of stone had manifest in the forests beyond the city. A trail of clues and events that pointed to a vile conspiracy facing Talingarde. It was his fanaticism that had kept him doggedly on the trail over the last few months. Matthias Harkon was a fanatic, a fact that he was quite proud of. 7 Abadius, 4717 - 1 Calistril, 4717 - "How Did They Get In Here?"
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