The Dawning of a New Age

“Something’s wrong,” Feril said in a hush. Her nostrils quivered, trying to pick up the scent that was making the mounts nervous. Fury sensed a problem, too. The wolf threw back his head and howled, just as a bolt of lightning cut through the air-sideways, like a thrown spear. It pierced the neck of Feril’s horse, which slumped and died before it hit the ground. “Everyone down!” Dhamon shouted as he leapt from his mount and drew his sword. Crouched on the muddy ground, Feril concentrated and her keen elven vision parted the darkness, helping her distinguish the shadowy, moving shapes from the stationary ones of the low hills nearby. As she focused on the black forms in the distance, the bushes in front of her suddenly started to move forward. She scrambled backward and Dhamon raised his sword. Pointed white teeth stood out from the inky background.