Page 129

The Wisebeard’s vision suddenly broke as he felt himself slip. Falling to the cold ground he looked around in a daze. Staring down he could see the pale face of an elven man, eyes were wide and blood stained his face and blue clothes, but he didn’t move. Balamor jumped in shock as he saw the long slit across his throat. There was no time to react, he needed to keep moving. Awkid pulled him from the ground once more and they both staggered onto the bridge. The wolves charged across the stone ground throwing sparks behind them with their sharp claws. Nearly halfway across the bridge Awkid skidded to a stop and pulled Balamor back. The trails of his robes crossed the magical barrier and instantly turned to ash. Balamor lost his breath just as another vision stole his mind. The same stranger’s hand rose just before the mysterious bounds and Balamor traced its path with his own. A circle cut into the glowing translucence as he followed. The Wisebeard finished the symbol with four dots at the center and pushed his palm forward as the vision diminished. Awkid Anvorbeard watched as Balamor’s hand slowly passed through the barrier along with the rest of his body. The young hobbit turned back and reached for Awkid,

“Trust me!”

Awkid gazed back at Tarr Wolves only feet away before clutching Balamor’s hand. The mapmaker pulled the dwarf through the mystical enclosure with the rest of his strength and the two of them fell to the ground. They watched in awe as the wolves leapt through the Bounds of Akinn and their monstrous figures disintegrated into a cloud of ash and smoke. The adventurers were still catching their breaths as the madness settled along the bridge. Balamor stood up using the stone railing for support and brushed himself off. Scanning from left to right he couldn’t believe what his eyes. Stone ruins extended beyond a huge archway as far as he could see. He looked at Awkid with a grin,

“Welcome Mr. Anvorbeard, to the Mog Brush.”

The End

252 comments about this story Feed