Frankly, coming to the Winged people was so he could kill lots of birds with one stone, and it seemed to be working just well. He turned to the barbarian who had just picked himself up from the ground. "Skolvar."
Skolvar opened his mouth and then closed it before he opened and closed it again. "How? How?"
Galthor shrugged. "It's a miracle."
Skolvar's face twisted. Miracles were common in the Divine World. Gods of different races could perform miracles, doing extraordinary things for their mortal worshippers and followers, so it was not an uncommon thing.
But which god would bless and perform a miracle for Galthor? That was like asking a god to bless a blunt, rusted blade, and yet that was exactly what happened, as no one could deny what they were seeing.
