EXCERPT
From Chapter 8: Out of the Shadows
With surprising speed for such a bulky warrior, Harlech took a step backward. He moved away from the base of the stone tower that rose from the rim of Waterroot's deepest canyon, the Canyon of Crystillia. Away from the shadows that were darker than the darkest pit. And away from the cloaked figure skulking there.
"Merlin hisself?" he sputtered. "Yer goin' to steal somethin' from the wizard Merlin?"
"No, you fool. Merlin is gone, long gone! I shall take it from the person the prophecies call the true heir of Merlin. But the effect, my Harlech, will be the same. Mmmyesss." He gave a low, throaty laugh. "You see, he carries with him a staff—the staff of his master! It looks like just a simple walking stick, my Harlech, which is why I've had to search so many years to find it. But this walking stick has great powers, mmmyesss. Powers I shall soon possess."
The white hand of the cloaked figure stabbed at the air, pointing to the great stone dam that spanned the canyon below them, to the enormous white lake it contained, and to the teams of enslaved horses, deer, mules, dwarves, wolves, and oxen. They were dragging new stones from the open-pit mines, hauling more freshly-cut trees for scaffolding, pulling heavy barges across the lake, and making repairs to the narrow road that ran across the top of the dam—all at the insistent cracking of men's whips. In the distance, the White Geyser of Crystillia rumbled and threw its water high into the air, just as it had done since the birth of Avalon from Merlin's magical seed.
