![]() ![]() In the heart of the circle the old man stood alone, listening to the roar and shriek of the storm. Icy flakes crept into worn carvings and under lintels and made a frosty beard on the great Stone of Summer with its bowed head and glowering mouth. The last storm of winter shrieked across the Great Plain, blowing clouds of snow on its boreal breath and painting the stones of the ancestral temple of Khor Ghor with glittering patterns. Any offence the references produce is unintentional and in no way reflects the reality of any locations or people involved.Ī copy of this work is available through the British Library. ![]() Excepting brief quotes used in reviews.Īny reference to real names and places are purely fictional and are constructs of the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without permission of the publishers or author. First Published in Great Britain 2013 by Mirador PublishingĪll rights reserved. ![]()
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