...And On He Flew

Garamond said his farewell to Arial the Black and departed, going down swiftly from the high crag upon which the sorcerer had his tower. Reaching the plain beneath the black peaks, he raced on toward the gray mountains and the opening of the rocky vale on the western reach of the flatland. Garamond fairly flew, yet within him his heart was lead. The weight of the things he had heard seemed to drag him down hard to the dirt and small field flowers that rushed past and beneath him as he went. "I must reach the Hollow of the Vale," he thought. "No news as this can be borne in one breast. I will breathe it out in The Echo of the Vale." And on he flew.