The aged and
wind swept granite thrusts bore countless lichen edged crevices, filled
with the same brown and lifeless needles that covered the ground
wherever rock or pine, or holly did not. The air was cool and clear,
but altogether void of fragrance.
The meeting place had been well chosen. A wide and shallow bowl at the
very crown of the Hill, carved by nature from the rock that formed its
bones, it commanded an unobstructed view for miles in all directions.
Beyond the reach of all but the hardiest pines, it lay bare and open to
the sky above. Here sun by day and star by night were free both to see
and be seen by the descendants of a race as old as conscious thought
upon the Earth.
It is a fitting place to die, thought Akar solemnly. He rested now upon
the southern promontory which stood out from the edge of the bowl like
the horn of a saddle, waiting for his foe to reappear from the cover of
overhanging branches into which he had vanished from view. By now he
must surely be aware of his presence. But he knew Shar-hai would do
nothing in haste.
So arching his head skyward like the wolves of old, he let out a long,
dispassionate howl, issuing his challenge to whatever ears might choose
to hear it. He felt new strength and courage coming to him from out of
the Hill, from the roots of stone and past, and he vowed again not to
surrender his spirit until every chance to kill or injure the usurper
had been utterly spent.
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