6.
Dark Pilgrim
Ferdia’s path was drawn before him by the sword Deshkil.
He did not have to unsheath it, did not have to point it any direction, it was enough that he could feel its subtle agitation at his side as he rode into the westlands.
When he came to a fork in a trail or to a place where the best means of proceeding might not have been immediately clear, the hilt of the blade twitched one way or the other and Ferdia duly followed its indications.
It had led him true from the outset, guiding him to water precisely when he began to feel thirsty or to convenient places of shelter when the weather disobliged, or as the day drew into night. He quickly lost any reason to doubt the blade’s suggestions and was glad of this.
For now his mind was free to pass his life in review, to anal
