Merlin called a halt at the spot he identified as the location for the pitched battle between Gilgorgon’s dwarves and the dark elves. Though for the most part the area had been scrubbed clean, one still could make out the scorch marks left by the blasts from Merlin’s staff.
The wizard told us that this was where they turned the tide of the battle. And most curious to him there was a fresh monument set up to commemorate the occasion. And more curious still it was not forged by dwarves.
But a chill went through me as a vision of Willie – the Will’o’the Wisp – passed before my eyes. Neither Rumble nor Merlin saw the vision – but myself alone.
In fact, they did not notice that I had frozen in place while they continued on. When they did realize I was not with them and returned for me, I stood helpless and watched their attempts to revive me from my stupor.
It was the first indication that something completely out of the norm was bound up in the mystery surrounding the fate of our friends the dwarves.