TKC 306
Lorn Makar is a tall man, spare of frame, his hair long and
dark. He too possesses two different coloured eyes, but it is hard to discern
on first viewing. One knows there is something odd about his eyes, and yet it
requires close scrutiny to realise the blues are of different tones. After a
time of knowing him one does not see it anymore; it is simply who he is.
The tall man, cloak swinging, laughing, wanders out of the
darkness eclipsed by mine and Enris’ combined green glows.
Lorn Makar.
Uncle Lorn.
Sorcerer Extraordinaire.
Enris hisses and releases my hand to shape a fist. This he
raises towards the approaching man in warning, while keeping his sword levelled.
“Stay back, uncle!”
Damin makes a sound; he has understood who it is we now
face. This is not a Glonu; this is an Ilfin who set a trap and has now sprung
it.
“Please, whelp,” Lorn murmurs in his gravelly voice, “you
cannot frighten me. Douse your light; you are blinding only yourself.”
Rarely have I known Enris to doubt himself, and now I see it
in him. His sword shivers and the greenness wavers markedly. With resolve I thus
clasp my hand over his raised one. The eerie glows strengthen again.
“Where is our father?” I demand.
Coming to an arrogant halt a few feet away, Lorn regards us with
his superior smile, eyes flicking from me to Enris and back. “I admit I am
surprised you two survived despite all that has happened. It appears you father
knew what he was doing.”
“Meaning?” Enris frowns. I feel how his hand shakes under
mine.
“Your father told me, his younger and loved brother, how he
created in you the ability to act as one entity, claiming it would stave off
death and also engender in you strength. And here you are.” Lorn spreads his
hands.
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