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sound of dragon wings strong and sure in the dusk but the swift feathery strokes of a dozen hawks. Independent like all predators the hawks clung together now like timid waterfowl fleeing winter. Tiny golden bells on their jesses flashed with the last sunlight as they sought to climb higher and higher into the sky.Escaped was Pols first thought. His second: Released—and panicked. They dont know where to fly when theyre not flown at prey.Maarken watched too absently picking at the crusted blood on his tunic. A mere pinprick in his shoulder it might have taken him he had been Sunrunning when the arrow struck his flesh. Only its quick removal had saved his life. quotTheyll find it hungry living in the Desert. I wonder how they got out of the mews.quotPol steadied his horse as the tired animal stumbled. quotTheir hoods are gone. Someone freed them.quot Turning in his saddle he watched the remnants of an army trudge past. quotMaarken. . . .quotquotYesquotquotIt hurts.quotFaradhim usually possessed an excellent sense of direction. The scent of Water the sighing of Air the suns Fire the feel of Earth—all these things combined to tell a Sunrunner precisely where was where without having to think about it even in unfamiliar territory.No one had ever taught Hollis how to discern direction underground.Elemental presences there were but she could make little of them. Moisture oozed at intervals from cool smoothly hewn walls and a breeze from somewhere bent the candle flames and torches. But it was the profound silence of rock that seemed to change her perceptions of all else a quiet extending for measures all around her. In the world above sky made of wind and light arched overhead and the ground was divided by rivers. Here Earth had complete dominion. Water
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