Chapter ONE - Weebly

across the lane, heading north, away from the conjurer.
The man’s abilities went deep—the power he wielded
dwarfed that of any other conjurer Ethan had
encountered—but he was still subject to the laws
governing spellmaking. The greater the distance
between them, the less effective his spells would be.
The same could be said of Ethan’s spells, of course, but
at this point that was a trade Ethan was happy to make.
Each step jarred his aching bones, especially the
painful jumble of bone shards in his hand. Still, he
forced himself to keep moving. Earlier in the day he had
all but sworn that he would kill the conjurer. Now he
cared only about getting as far away from him as
possible, about living to fight this battle another day.
He hobbled to the next corner, pausing briefly to get
his bearings. He had reached North Street. He could
head south, toward the residences of the North End,
but that would take him too close to the conjurer. His
choice, though, was to head north, to Lynn Street,
another lane of wharves and warehouses. Beyond them
lay the harbor. He had allowed the conjurer to corner
him here. He was hurt, weakened, exposed. And he