Yet his legs slowed in their rhythm. Slower... and... slower.
They must not stop. To seek rest here would be to die.
And to die here, a mortal, chosen as Ar-Hyrdyn’s messenger and allowed to this most sacred of places, would not only be to die away from the battlefield, it would be the foulest sacrilege. His days for all eternity would be filled with the terrible sound of Ar-Hyrdyn’s hunting horn and the howling of his beasts as they pursued and tore at him forever.
He sank now almost up to his knees, but still he moved, wrenching his legs free from the clinging dust. And still the golden light drew him on.
Faintly, on the stinging breeze, he thought he heard the sound of Ar-Hyrdyn’s warriors. Were they encouraging him or were they just singing and laughing, unaware of his fate, his pr
