Prologue I
The ship slammed through another the wave. The helmsman's dragonmark flared briefly from the poop deck. The sailors muttered darkly. But the armored man in robes was not thinking about the boat or the storm-tossed sea.
He was thinking about the first meeting, weeks ago. His tremendous sense of honor, the feeling of purpose. His mentor's rough voice.
Keeper's had a vision. You're in it. Something bad is brewing in the east. The sages think it's Karrnath. You'll be leaving soon.
Don't get too excited. We're sending a squad of five; you'll be the junior member. You'll keep your ears clean and do what you're told.
The old man gestures to his stump, where the demon took his arm.
Appearing in the keeper's vision... it's you're called for what you can do. Every blessing has its price. But you could see the pride in his eyes.
And then a few days ago. You spoke again. He was angry. So angry.
The cardinals have declined to release the men. They say.... he pauses breathing deeply to control himself.
That you're the only one in the vision. So you're the only one who should go.
There's a boom as he brings his arm down on the table. You don't say anything, you know he asked to go. You know they rejected him.
You're not going to be totally alone. There's another brother I know there. He'll get you some help. He punches the table again.
The flame called you. It's an honor to go. A blessing to be called. You nod and don't look at his arm.
The paladin looks at the rain soaked parchment again. In the darkness you can't see the parchment, but you can still the the writing in your mind's eye.
Among the Icetops long slumbering wings unfurl
Darkness seeps into the haven of winter
Winterhaunt brings the feared return
Don't need to tell you that Winterhaunt's once every twenty years, when the dark plane of Malbar comes into conjunction with Eberron herself.
There's a town. Winterhaven. In the highlands of Gardbury Downs, northwest of Lakeside.
Winterhaunt in a month. You'll have to travel hard to make it.
