SORCERERS GLEN

The Grand Master sat back in his chair with his blue eyes closed and sent a small prayer earthwards. The White Sorcerer had returned a little after the hour of the sabre-toothed rabbit, having encountered difficulties no greater than an ageing broom but the news he brought was the worst possible their fears justified the WarLock known as the Black Raven for his totem had indeed returned to his ancient lair in the realm of men