Bells ring as a Venetian merchant fleet departs Constaninople at sunrise.
Waves glitter and chuckle.
Oars creak and thunk.
Thracian hills are green.
A distant sail is red.
Wind whips hair.
A fresh breeze counteracts the oarsmen's stench.
Lucas and Djansha clasp each other.
Sounds, sights, smells and somatic sensations and we also imagine the taste of salt on the lips.
1 comment:
Kaor, Paul!
I just wish ROGUE SWORD could have gotten better covers than the ones you found. Too many of them make Lucas Greco look like the stereotyped barbarian warrior.
Ad astra! Sean
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