Tomas glanced sideways at his friend. The boy he’d grown up with in Crydee had changed. There was a stillness now behind Pug’s eyes, like the surface of a deep well. The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested on the pommel of no sword. He carried no blade.
Not one raven—hundreds. They descended from a sky the color of old lead, settling on the bare branches of thorn trees that had not been there a moment before. Pug stopped walking. raymond e feist vk
The world lurched. Tomas grabbed Pug’s arm as the moor tilted, the sky and ground swapping places for a sickening instant. When his vision cleared, they stood on the frozen road to Stone Creek. Behind them, the fog had vanished. No tower. No ravens. Tomas glanced sideways at his friend
“Tomas. Look.”
“I put him one step out of phase with this reality,” Pug said. “He’s still there. We just can’t see him anymore.” The magician’s hands, bare despite the cold, rested