He looked to his left, saw a figure chained to a post. A winged man, or what was left of a winged man. He is Ben-Elim. Uthas stopped and stared. One wing of white feathers, stained with blood and grime, hung broken and useless from his back. The other wing was gone altogether, all that was left of it a frayed stump protruding from the Ben-Elim’s back. He was chained to the post, suspended by iron collars about his wrists, head slumped, dark hair hanging. Another collar of iron was fixed about his neck, the chain secured to an iron ring embedded into the ground. As Uthas stood and stared, the
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