It was noon when the small team arrived at the border of Airson where the mounts and gorge were. Dan dismounted, and sneaked behind a rock, well sheltered, and scanned every corner that his eyes comforted to catch any demon.
"This damn fog! It made the gorge air poisonous; hadn't this situation last week." Dan growled.
The elf magician had a convincing answer for that surmise.
"Anytime these sickening demons step in a place for a few days, they will change the air over there. The rotten smell of death is the only sensing scent." Atendor said.
Arno was checking around from the bow sight view. His arrow was ready to be released of string. A few spalls slit under his shoes.
Dan took the torch near his uncle to make sure he had a better view. They walked among the fog and he squeezed the hilt in his hand when approached a cave.
