The sorcerer applied a quantity of the amber tree unguent to his shoulder, left hand, bow and quiver, and lastly to his precious staff. He could not risk traveling without the staff. He inhaled again deeply and then exhaled the last of the green smoke from his lungs.
Morlecainen then said succinctly, “Go now. Leave here and be there. The return command is ‘Return to Ylysis’.”
Excruciating pain coursed through his body. His head throbbed. He sensed a passage of great distance and saw surreal images of the Room of Sorcery, Castle Ylysis, the swamp, the great River Luumic, the mist-shrouded forests, mountains, and lastly a large castle made of dark gray stone. The journey seemed to last forever, but the fact that the position of the single small yellow sun did not change in the sky made Morlecainen realize that no appreciable amount of time had actually passed. In a few hundred heartbeats, he had experienced enough pain to last the changing of a season.
benjamintowe 