Neverwinter Forest sarsen moon

Jamukha raised his paw into the air. When he brought it down, the next stretch of journey was underway. An easy lope through the scattered springs, then out beyond the flatland, towards the tree-dusted hills of green.

He had forged this path up from the desert through mile upon mile of hard rock— the lonely province of goats and bedouin hunters. A year and a half saw the khan’s man campaign along the silk road, no longer conscripted to Alukhai’s leader, but loyalty is a hard thing to kill. What’s more, Jamukha had seen enough of the world to anticipate immense political variation, and for not but his own intrigue rides it still.

In exchange for koumiss, the horseman secures a bedouin’s goat and steers the animal to a shield in the wood where trees braid up in a walled fortress. Caught between pack-scent and rider, the ewe brays and Jamukha along with him; a winding, seeking song for the inhabitants of the wood.