12

Sharaam, city of magicians

Endy swayed measuredly in the saddle. The clothes were still damp from the recent heavy rain, and there were smudges and dirt stains on the boots and trousers. His back was numb, his legs were buzzing, and his neck was unbearably itchy. On the road in autumn it is very unpleasant, he had already forgotten that. The man adjusted his collar, looked ahead, and sighed. The forest thinned out considerably, and the road became wider and better. But most importantly, the city walls appeared ahead.

Made of dark gray flat stone, tall and gloomy. Narrow towers, over the peaks of which red lights burn, gloomy guards in black robes.

The city of magicians, Sharaam, greeted the guests unfriendly. Endius felt uncomfortable in front of the massive gates of bog oak, soaked in some undeniably magical mixture that gave the dark wood an ashen bluish tint. And when the air around him suddenly thickened and shone with a white light, he shuddered in fright. Fortunately, the white