The biting wind cut through his tunic and, in a bizarre reaction to his terrifying passage there, his first thoughts were ironic.
I practice with my sword, I carry it with me constantly for fear of enemies. Now I’m going to freeze to death for want of a coat.
The light, however, was oddly bright for a winter storm and, further disorienting him, the wind faded away suddenly leaving the airborne snowflakes to continue on their urgent paths for a little while, and then float gently down to earth.
* * * *
Ivaroth turned like an animal which, from some inner depth, has sensed the presence of a predator.
The blind man’s storm had stopped, and the whirling, subsiding cloud of snow was alive with shifting rainbow colours and strange dark shadows.
Then the shadows merged. And out of the greyn
