The Prophet of Panamindorah 2The Prophet of Panamindorah 2 by ~alhilton
2. Music in the Dark
They say it was a trinket in the Temple of the Creator for a thousand thousand years before it came into Panamindorah. They say he commissioned a shelt to bear it in his service. They say I lost it, which is not quite true. Gabalon stole it from me, but only because I was careless.
--Archemais, A Wizards History of Panamindorah
From that day on, Corry spent every evening beside the lake. On the fifth day, he was trudging home near dark when he heard soft music. Moving furtively, he started back towards the opening in the palmetto hedge. Corry poked his head around a tree to have a look at the grove and something hit him between the eyes. Corry crumpled over. Through his pain, he was dimly aware that the projectile had glanced off him to land with a plop in the lake.
Corry squinted up at the voice. Through doubled vision, he saw a deerbone white, like a ghost in the gathering gloom. Atop her back sat the fauness. As
The Prophet of Panamindorah 1The Prophet of Panamindorah 1 by ~alhilton
Chapter 1. Voices in the Walls
Historians have written chapters or even books about the night Selbis fell to the cliff faun armies. However, few historians devote more than a couple of paragraphs to that night a hundred years before when Selbis almost fell to the Durian wolves and wolflings. Lack of information partially accounts for their silence. It was a curious eventperhaps more legend than fact. However, some part of the story must be true, for the Endless Wood derives its name from this incident.
Some say the city floated. Some say it gathered about it a moat of blue flame. Some say that Gabalon polluted the air of the wood with a deadly plague. All agree on this: Durian wolves and wolflings entered the wood aliveand disappeared forever.
--Capricia Sor, A Concise History of Panamindorah
Corry ran a hand lightly along the library wall. The directors office was above this spot. He pressed both hands against the plastered cement blocks. Sometimes he could do
The Prophet of Panamindorah PThe Prophet of Panamindorah P by ~alhilton
Prelude: Sing Muse
Hope died with the day in the city of Selbis. In the west the sinking sun bled color like a severed artery, etching the shadows of parapet teeth on the red stone walls. In a tower room of the great keep, the light fell across a man, a wolf, and a tree. The man sprawled on a branch-strewn couch. He held an enormous dagger, its cross-guard set with jagged fragments of pearl, a strange pale jewel in the pommel. His other hand clutched something on the end of a necklace. Sap oozed from the torn branches beneath him, staining his white silk shirt and black trousers. He lay as still as a waxwork, humming softly under his breath, his clothes ruffling in the breeze that blew through the open window.
A great black wolf lay on the floor, watching him through dull eyes. He wore an iron muzzle so heavy that he could barely lift his head. Blood glistened in the fur above his shoulder blades. Sometimes he offered a growl in response to the mans humming, but the sound came we