“DAMN THOSE WIZARDS!”
So grumbled Sir Aaron the Swift, Kenji of the clan Toyotama, Big Badru, and Ravenseye. Of four and thirty warriors sent, they were all that remained, and after the two years of life this journey had cost them, they were ready to do far worse than damn the wizards. Their guides, the Dames of the Northern Wastes themselves, did not join in their displeasure but continued leading the way through the bog to the Isle of Mages.
Bog, marsh, and fen seemed to be all that was left of the Northern Wastes. A century of summer had melted all the frozen earth beneath the topsoil, and the runoff from thawed mountains and glaciers, and the rains that fell in place of snow had soaked deep into the land. Such had happened the world over, but here it happened first and worst. Tundra,
