![]() Tossed the jawbone back in with the rest. Gil sighed and levered himself back to his feet. ![]() A mess of small bone fragments, like the leavings of some overenthusiastic soothsayer on the scry … There wasn’t much – shards of wood that might once have formed a casket, a few long strips of leather, cured stiff and crumbling. He shut out the ache and brooded on what lay below him in the grave. The shoulder of his sword arm nagged from the unrelenting damp. His cloak, puddled about him where he crouched, was soiled at the border and soaking up water from the rain-drenched grass. Three days of stubble, rasping on calloused fingers, itching on hollow cheeks. He crouched on the edge of the opened grave, fighting off a vague urge to jump down into it. Ringil Eskiath weighed the desiccated human jawbone glumly in the palm of his hand. The Grand Chronicle of Yhelteth, Court Bard Edition CHAPTER ONE ‘Once there was a High Quest to Northern Lands, a Bright Fellowship led out in Sunlit Glory by three Heroes from the Great War, companied with the Finest Warriors and Wise Men of Empire, and guided by an Angel fallen from On High.’
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