10
The water was perfectly calm, a still, silver mirror reflecting the face that stared into it. The skin of the water bent slightly with the force of the breath pushing down on it, but did not break as the words poured out and spilled over its membrane. The words suggested a shape to the liquid, and it flowed as ordered, arranging itself into the requested form. A final word of command, and the silver surface darkened, and other images appeared.
A dark shape, scuttling and rushing through a forest, leaped at its target, another shape, a human. A man. Armoured. A guard perhaps? Or a soldier, though the markings were unfamiliar. More chaos as shapes broke into movement all around, and all that could be made out of the confusion of images were flashes of green leaves high above, sunlight s
