King Of The North (Book 3) Read Online Free PDF

more, and laid down to rest.
    As Farouk lie in contemplation, he realized how much easier it could have been had he been able to simply teleport to his destination. But, as Jodocus had said, one can only teleport near living things or precise locations with which one was familiar. Inanimate objects or unknown places did not provide an anchor for the spell. He chuckled at the irony of such a powerful spell's weakness. Perhaps in the future, he could alter the spell on his own, and remove such limitations.
    Exhausted, the Druid closed his eyes, listening to the calming sound of the cold sea lapping against the shore. Within minutes, he was asleep.
     
    Farouk awoke early in the morning before the sun had risen. He shivered with the morning cold, wrapping himself tighter within his blankets. Despite the magical warmth of his staff, the makeshift shelter was still cold enough for him to see his breath. He lie still for a few more minutes, letting his body become fully awake.
    He began to feel hunger pangs, and reached into his pack to fetch a swatch of dried meat and a roll. He would need energy for the day's travel ahead, and the specially blended jerky and bread were made for such purposes. They would provide him with enough energy to fuel his aging body, such as it were, until such time as he perfected the spells that would do the same.
    As he emerged from his shelter, he saw that the sun was beginning to show its corona on the horizon. There was a slight sprinkling of snow falling, and the temperature was only slightly above freezing. Nevertheless, he repacked his belongings and went on his way, leaving the dinghy leaning against the bank.
    He kept a rolled parchment at the top of his pack for easy access. With his spells, he could inscribe the landscape using only his thoughts and what he beheld with his own eyes. He would be creating a map in real time; one that he could use to recount his adventures in these rough lands at the top of the world. But, on occasion, he would be curious enough to check its accuracy as it was being inscribed. There was no reason to keep it at the bottom of his pack.
    Looking ahead, he saw a rocky trail that led into a forest of dead trees. These were trees that could not bear the weather this time of year. Further on, he was grateful to see firs, which kept their greenery all year around. At least, he thought, there was some life in this wasteland of ice and snow.
    He stepped onto the trail, and began his ascent into the tree-lined hills. The forest itself offered some shelter from the wind and snow, but blocked what little light the emerging sun would provide. So, he willed his staff into life, causing the tip to glow with heatless, blue light. It was sufficient to light his way, but dim enough not to attract the unwanted attention of any predators.
    Farouk saw very little wildlife as he trudged up the slippery, rocky slope. These were a few birds here and there, a rustling in the underbrush, but no major encounters. He would occasionally hear the distant howling of wolves echoing through the forest, and was relieved to know that they were too far away to be of any concern. His attention could stay focused on the path ahead.
    Near an area where the path winded around an outcropping of rock, Farouk heard the voices of men. Not wanting to risk being mistaken for an enemy, he rushed to the underbrush and hid as well as he could. Remembering the new power given to him by the Dryad, he willed it into action, blending in with the trees and weeds fully. There, he waited.
    Three men came into view. They were stout men, wrapped in furs, bearded and bushy haired, and carrying fishing spears and nets. They were quite obviously heading toward the shore he had just departed. He let them pass, but would remember to be wary of their return. If they saw his shelter, they would, no doubt, investigate. He wasn't taking any chances.
    Just when they were about to disappear down the path, they stopped and crouched.