A movie unfolded in his dreams…
There were muscular warlocks of all sizes in long white capes, everywhere. Seventeen in all with narrow hips and thick shoulders. Pointed, white hats reached into the dark night. They were barefoot. Some carried candelabras, leading the coven through the woods, next to Lake Penichowaba. The high priest sported gold shoulders.
The priest murmured, “Nomprhee bish. Tres yenfell. Um shen.”
His dedicated followers murmured back, “Shem nomprhee bish. Shem tres yenfell. Shem un shen.”
Zeth felt drugged by the warlocks, smelling the candles’ sage-scented flames in the darkness. He became high, numb from the aromatic flavor that combined with ginger, horsehair, and something called flywing. He followed them through the semi-illuminated night and listened to them
