The Eye of the Hunter Read Free Page A

guardpost, yet the land about is lower. A platform atop or mayhap a tower would give a place to stand and yield warning enough should foe draw nigh.”
    Gwylly cast back his hood and looked up and about, his red hair tumbling out, the coppery color in sharp contrast to his eyes of green. “Foe?” The Warrow gestured outtoward the storm-swept plains. “What foe? It’s deserted out there.”
    Aravan smiled down at the Wee One. “Look not to the empty plains, my Waerling. Instead, thine eye should be turned toward the Grimwall, for there it is that the Foul Folk dwell, there in the mountains ahead. And it is that which this post once guarded against:
Spaunen
. For those were the days before Adon’s Ban, and the
Rûpt
ranged far and near, and this land was at risk. Yet the Great War changed all, and now the Foul Folk remain in the grasp of the Grimwall, nigh the places where they take shelter when the Sun rides the sky.”
    Gwylly knew that Aravan referred to the Great War of the Ban, when Gyphon had sought to challenge Adon for dominance over all. In the struggle Gyphon had been aided by the folk of Neddra—the underworld—and by minions on Mithgar—the Kistani, the Hyranians, some Renegade Dragons, and a few Wizards, as well as by Foul Folk and others. In contrast, Adon had been aided here on Mithgar by the Grand Alliance of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and Warrows; and some even claimed that the Utruni—the Stone Giants—had been part of the Alliance as well.
    In any event, the struggle had been mighty and the balance in doubt, yet at the last the Alliance had prevailed, and Modru, Gyphon’s lieutenant upon Mithgar, had been defeated and the rebellion collapsed.
    As punishment, Adon set His Ban upon the Foul Folk, signalled by a blazing star where none had been before, a star which burned brightly for weeks, a star which faded and was nevermore seen. Yet during the time that the Ban Star burned, the Foul Folk began to suffer from a sickness whenever they stepped into the light of day; and the longer the star burned, the more deadly became this sickness, until in the end the touch of daylight upon one of the Spawn would bring on the Withering Death; even the briefest exposure meant a deadly collapse, the victim turning into ashes in mere moments.
    All Foul Folk suffered Adon’s Ban, and other creatures as well, including some Dragons—those that had sided with Gyphon—now Cold-drakes, for Adon reft them of their fire as punishment.
    But of the Men who had aided Gyphon, none sufferedthe Ban, for they had been misled by the Great Deceiver and Adon spared them in the end.
    And
this
was what Aravan referred to when he spoke of the Great War changing all: for now the Ban drives the Foul Folk into hiding, into places of concealment in the Grimwall Mountains when day is upon the land. Hence even at night Foul Folk would not range this far, would not come unto these ruins, unless driven by great need or by great fear, for the Sun would find them and slay them should they be caught out upon these plains after dawn, should they not discover a crevice or cranny to hide in during the day, a place free of Adon’s light.
    And so Gwylly peered at the ruins, while thoughts of Wars and Bans and ancient days skittered through his mind.
    As the wind moaned and snow blew over the rock wall and swirled in through the tumbled doorway, the buccan looked up at Aravan. “How would this place be defended? I mean, it’s not more than ten of my strides across—six of yours—certainly not large enough to house any great force. I would think that it would easily fall.”
    “Aye,” responded Aravan. “But a place such as this is not meant to be defended. Should foe be sighted, then the sentries would ride from here and give warning, or perhaps light a beacon fire and then ride.”
    “Like Beacontor?” asked Faeril.
    Gwylly shook his head,
No
. “Beacontor, love, was meant to be defended. The towers of the Signal Mountains were ringed