Ostel stood before the tip of the Gods Arrow Fallen to Earth and stared. The summons had touched him with an energy he did not recognize. It had not been the power of anyone he knew, neither mage nor Ciralys. He had never felt such a powerful Call. But he hadn’t imagined this.
He had followed the summons out of the southgate and into the Ah’bashen plains, the darkness of night and his lack of a lantern hiding his identify from any who might be watching.
The strength of the call had led him to the broken ruins of a city destroyed in the Sundering, the devastating climax to the War of the Summoners, that had destroyed the great civilization they had built. He had slowed as he approached the bright white light, the skin at the back of his neck tingling and his stomach twisting.
Elder gods save us! he thought as he saw the sign. The tip of the Gods Arrow, Fallen to Earth. It was a warning to any who could hear, to any who could see, that had been set in place by the last Summoners before their deaths. It was a simple thing and would be a source of wonder for any who did not know what it meant. But he knew. All of his line knew.
The Sahrin – the Summoners – had returned. Somewhere, somehow, a man or woman with the Mark of the Eye of Eternity had come into their dreadful curse and used their power.
He had to warn the council, the Ciralys, the king! But if the Arrow of the Gods had fallen, it was already too late.
Set in the world of my #WiP
