All posts by Robbie Swale

 

Nothing that lives is without fear. It is a gift against recklessness, a servant against complacency in the face of danger. But like all servants it makes a bad master. Fear is a small fire in the belly to warm a man in the coldness of conflict. Let loose, it becomes an inferno within the walls which no fortress can withstand.

The Deacon, The Wisdom of the Deacon, Bloodstone

 

I was wined and dined, money and presents poured into my hands. I was on top of the mountain. But there was nothing there. Nothing. Just clouds. And I found that you can’t live on that mountain. But when it throws you off – oh, how you long for it! I would kill to climb it again. I would sell my soul. It is so stupid. With fame I thought I would be someone. But I wasn’t.

Belzer, to Naza, The King Beyond The Gate