Paign, although shadowed in the fog, wasn’t so far away that he couldn’t hear the quiet voices of his friends. He felt awkward, as if he shouldn’t be able to hear them, and was very relieved at that moment Peter and Johann walked into their gloomy camp.
“’Tis time to go,” Johann declared, a fierce glint in his pale blue eyes. “The gargoyle army is prepared to part at once.” Paign noticed that the farmer’s wide hand gripped the hilt of his sword so tightly his knuckles were white. But nothing in his voice betrayed the anxious suffering raging inside Freida’s father.
Peter’s jaw was set hard. “Let’s get going.”
Tiny went and stood next to Farmer Skulstad, his feet planted firm, his stance wide, a look of death in his eyes.
Out of the shadows behind their impromptu camp, Lohxnahr walked lightly towards them. As always, he smiled and appeared completely unconcerned, when he said, “The time has come to part into the lair of Kahrnahrgx and battle our brethren to the death. Who will prevail? Will we be victorious, or will they? Won’t it be interesting to find out? Yes…I do believe this will be quite enlightening!”
That sounded almost cheerful, Paign thought, even more agitated than before.
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