Crown of Dragonfire
“He had always thought this land beautiful. Here rolled the low, rounded mountains of Relen, a wilderness Ishtafel had wandered often in his youth. He had not been young for five hundred years, yet the land below had not changed. Pine, olive, and carob trees grew upon chalky slopes, and wild goats and deer herded between them, feeding on wild grass and drinking from streams that flowed through verdant ravines.
I learned to hunt here, Ishtafel thought. I learned to kill. I learned to fire arrows ...into the hearts of beasts, to skin them, gut them, smell the blood, hear their echoing screams.
When later Ishtafel had gone to kill men, he would always remember the animals he had slain here, looking back fondly upon his first taste of death. That was something he could never get back, he knew—the thrill of it. The power. The drunken realization that with his own hands he could snuff out life—as easily as snuffing out a candle's flame. He had felt like a god. He had since become a true god, ruler of a reborn Edinnu, but that thrill now escaped him.MoreLess
I learned to hunt here, Ishtafel thought. I learned to kill. I learned to fire arrows ...into the hearts of beasts, to skin them, gut them, smell the blood, hear their echoing screams.
When later Ishtafel had gone to kill men, he would always remember the animals he had slain here, looking back fondly upon his first taste of death. That was something he could never get back, he knew—the thrill of it. The power. The drunken realization that with his own hands he could snuff out life—as easily as snuffing out a candle's flame. He had felt like a god. He had since become a true god, ruler of a reborn Edinnu, but that thrill now escaped him.MoreLess
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