[filetracker.pl] Robert M. Wegner — - Opowieе›ci Z...

As Kenneth moved toward her, he felt a sudden, sickening pressure in the back of his skull. The air turned foul—the smell of wet fur and ancient, stagnant water.

"Sir," a voice rasped. It was Varit, a veteran whose face was more scar tissue than skin. "The ropes won't hold in this gale. If we go down, we’re just adding more meat to the pot."

Kenneth didn't look back. "She’s the daughter of a freeholder who gave us grain when the pass was blocked last winter. Meekhan doesn't forget a debt." [Filetracker.PL] Robert M. Wegner - OpowieЕ›ci z...

A shadow detached itself from the mist. It was thin, far too long in the limbs, with fingers that ended in hooks of bone. It wasn't a beast, but a hunger —a remnant of the old wars that still haunted the deep places. It hissed, a sound like dry leaves skittering over a tombstone.

Kenneth moved with the practiced grace of a man who had spent a decade fighting on uneven ground. He ducked under the swipe of a claw that would have opened his chest and drove his blade upward. The steel, etched with protective runes by the Company’s healer, bit deep. As Kenneth moved toward her, he felt a

Kenneth, a lieutenant of the Mountain Guard, stood at the edge of the ravine. Below, the mist was a thick, grey soup. Somewhere in that soup was a wagon—and more importantly, the young girl who had been inside it when the bridge groaned and gave way.

With a final, guttering hiss, the shadow dissolved into a greasy black smoke that the wind quickly tore apart. It was Varit, a veteran whose face was

The spirit shrieked—a sound that bypassed the ears and tore at the mind. Kenneth felt his nose begin to bleed, but he didn't falter. He stepped into the creature’s reach, grabbed its icy throat with a gauntleted hand, and twisted his blade.