![]() ![]() It bore the name it had always borne - Gyronlandt. The land that lay in the advancing shade of this strange tide was a great spur that protruded south from a vast continent. Something that was unpleasant - menacing even. Yet there was something hovering before this dark and massive tide, something that flickered elusively into the senses like an image caught in the corner of the eye that disappears when looked at directly. ‘It’ll only be a thunderstorm,’ some declared, knowingly, though more to hear the reassurance in the words than from any true knowledge.įor there was no tension in the air, no tingling precursor of the tumult to come, raising the hackles of men and beasts alike. ![]() This was surely a monstrous blizzard pending, the kind that was rare even at the heart of winter. Sour-natured weather was to be expected as winter fought to hold its ground against the coming spring: dark skies and blustering, buffeting winds bearing cold rains, and perhaps even yet a little snow would offer no great surprises. Slowly, throughout the day, mass piled upon mass, higher and higher, as if those leading the vanguard were being overrun by panicking hordes behind.Įyes that had been lifted casually towards them in the morning became narrowed and concerned as the day progressed, for the clouds were grimly unseasonable. Clouds, dark and ominous, bloomed menacingly out of the north. ![]()
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