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For Brendon and Rhianneth
The stink of polluted water fills their nostrils and pulls them slowly back to painful and reluctant consciousness. Even in the darkness the desolation of this place of broken stone and death-choked water is obvious and the chill in the air here gives mute witness that even the everglowing sun has not sufficient warmth in its light to dispel the clamminess of the grave that has settled here. Dismal is this place. And cheerless. A place of fallen pride and broken power. A place of ......
Chains. Sturdy links of metal secure them to a great block of black stone.
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