Y Werthyr, winter solstice, 911 AD
Y Werthyr, winter solstice, 911 AD“Poppycock and balderdash!” the Archdruid roared, glaring at Myrddin. “Fire lances, indeed! Fiddlesticks more like! What’s the point of these stupid devices if my Druids can launch fireballs without them?”
Fire lances,“The point is,” said Myrddin keeping his temper in check, “that the demons will sap their psychic energy, whereas we Druids will conserve ours in the case of need. The fire lances will hurl the fireballs with minimum concentration required. If I have dealt with all objections, we may proceed to the demonstration. Is everybody ready?”
“Ay,” the Druids chorused, and a hail of fireballs hurtled towards Myrddin and Niviene, who chanted the gathering spell. The fireballs fell, smouldering impotently at their f
