Three years after Fenris went into the heart of the Fading Mountain and did not return, a wolf fled south through Arlathan.
He barely knew his shape. His mind burned with darkness, with the unhinged terror of flight without purpose; his veins burned with the fire of the mountain’s deep and dayless ore. Trees flew by him in the night, great black hands that reached through the snow for his heart, as if it had not been torn from him in Isig.
A halla lifted its head behind a tree, a crown of gold antlers glittering in the cold light of the stars. Fenris shied from her, blindly drawing silence from a forest that had known a hundred years of it; the purple eyes turned to him and passed over him, and when Marethari had gone again in shadow he crept forward from the trees’ shelter, continued south.
Fear caught him like a swollen tide. The snow pitted silently beneath his feet; wind crept in his wake and turned even those signs of his passing into nothing. Isig had held no answers, not to his past, not to a single riddle in the locked spell-books of Cumberland’s Circle; instead in the Golden City there sat a magister on the Maker’s throne, the gold tarnished dark where his hands rested, where his velvet robes embroidered with the sun fell across the uncut jewels in its face.
Memory rose like a toothed thing, made of darkness and of fire, and of pain, and Fenris shuddered.
So my dear friend primal-hobbit is reading the Riddlemaster trilogy for the first time (the first time! Ever! Oh, it makes me giddy just thinking about it), so I decided to dig up my old post on the trilogy and McKillip. Long-winded, goopy emotional thoughts under the cut.
Just knowing other people react this way to The Riddlemaster Trilogy brings me indescribable joy. ^_^
These books. These books. Everybody has that one book that comes to them just at the right time in the right way and it stays with them for the rest of their life and informs every word they ever write after, even if they don’t know it. I’ve written (breathlessly and still so inadequately) about them before and about how much they mean to me, but–
These are just it, for me. I have so many books I love, but these are the most perfect stories for me that I’ve ever read, and if I could I’d burn every word in all three of them into my brain until I could soak up even the slightest shred of brilliance out of them and turn it into my own writing.
I love them. I love them so much, and if the people reading them on my recommendation get to love just one piece of that world, it makes me happier than anything.
I just finished reading a book I thought you might like, so I thought I'd pass a recommendation along (although you may have already encountered it?). It's called 'The Night Circus', by Erin Morgenstern, and it's beautiful. Truly. The imagery and ideas are stunning, it is amazingly atmospheric and evocative - elegant, haunting, bittersweet - and its language reminds me of your writing. <3 I have also laid my hands on The Riddlemaster of Hed trilogy (your fault) and can't wait to start reading.
YESSSSSS RIDDLE-MASTER RIDDLE-MASTER and do you know what jadesabre301 sent me a text the other day with a picture of some books she’d ordered off Amazon finally arriving and she tried to sneak it off in the side of the picture but Riddle-Master was one of them and I am just