“There's a storm coming.”
A solider sat stoking a firepit, a pot of soup sat above the flames, its smell permeated the air of the small hut.
“Looks to be a rough one too.”
“Well nothing we can do besides bunker down and wait for the next boat tomorrow.”
“Aye, sir,” said the younger.
A crow cawed overhead as he locked the wooden shutters. It gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut. Crows were supposed to be connected with dark magic, and plenty of dark magic was locked away in this tower. He turned back to the elder, his face slightly pale. Omens never did sit well with him. The elder chuckled.
“Private Brinley, my boy,” said the elder with a grin, “You must be the most unlucky solider I know to be stationed here. I've been stationed here 20 years,” The younger rolled his eyes a bit, hearing this story over and over already, “You've only been here a few months and you still jump at everything that moves.”
The older scooped a ladle of soup into two small bowls. Steam rolled off the hot meal in stark contrast to the chilly air, it smelled just like something his wife would've made. He sat the bowls down on a small table.
“Relax my boy, this is my final duty before I retire and I need to know these prisoners are secure. You can't be jumping around at every sound.”
Brinley nodded, finding his worries suddenly foolish. The Captain was right. He sighed.
Suddenly, the reinforced doors flew open with a bright flash of lightning, splintering wood flew in all directions. Thrown to the ground by the force Brinely forced himself to his feet stumbling against the wall for support. Vision useless, ears ringing, and equilibrium nonexistent he reached for his sword and drew. All was now quiet save for the crashing of the waves outside and a set of light footsteps.
It would only be a moment, but it seemed like an eternity before his vision would regain enough to take in what had happened. His world still spun wildly as he attempted to focus on a slender figure standing in the doorway. He looked over where his Captain once stood. His body lay limp across the stone floor, blood already pooled below.
“Captain!” he yelled.
Still shell-shocked, turned back towards the slender figure, a tight but twisted smile came across its face as a black bird landed on its shoulder.
“CAPTAIN!”
Another bright flash.
The crow cawed.
- - - - - - - - -
The storm would pass overnight leaving a morning to behold. Robin awoke, and as was her habit every morning, she checked the college herb garden. Only today she was surprised to be met by the Archmage herself.
“Archmage Madia, what a surprise. Can I help you with something?”
“Actually you can Robin.”
Robin cocked her head slightly, wondering what in the world the Archmage would want with her.
“The Crown is looking for some people to assist in investigating an incident at Heaven's Needle.”
Robin was confused, “Archmage with all due respect I am hardly an investigator, I'm a herbologist.”
“The Crown asked for me to send someone and I could think of no one more capable than you.”
“But, Arch-” she was cut off.
“But nothing, you are going. Pack your things. You'll meet up with the other volunteers in the Castle courtyard this afternoon.”
Robin nodded her head in compliance but didn't say a word as Madia left. She let out a long sigh as as she plucked a pedal and rolled it between her fingers. “Why me?”
- - - - - - - -
The streets were crowded with the ramblings of the common folk. Their words all blending into a dull inchoerant roar. What in the world am I doing he-, her thought was interrupted by a soft crunch under her foot. She looked down. On the dirt road lay a piece of windblown paper, the large word 'ATTENTION' printed across the top. She picked it up slowly brushing of the dirt as she did. "Impossible..."
A solider sat stoking a firepit, a pot of soup sat above the flames, its smell permeated the air of the small hut.
“Looks to be a rough one too.”
“Well nothing we can do besides bunker down and wait for the next boat tomorrow.”
“Aye, sir,” said the younger.
A crow cawed overhead as he locked the wooden shutters. It gave him an uneasy feeling in his gut. Crows were supposed to be connected with dark magic, and plenty of dark magic was locked away in this tower. He turned back to the elder, his face slightly pale. Omens never did sit well with him. The elder chuckled.
“Private Brinley, my boy,” said the elder with a grin, “You must be the most unlucky solider I know to be stationed here. I've been stationed here 20 years,” The younger rolled his eyes a bit, hearing this story over and over already, “You've only been here a few months and you still jump at everything that moves.”
The older scooped a ladle of soup into two small bowls. Steam rolled off the hot meal in stark contrast to the chilly air, it smelled just like something his wife would've made. He sat the bowls down on a small table.
“Relax my boy, this is my final duty before I retire and I need to know these prisoners are secure. You can't be jumping around at every sound.”
Brinley nodded, finding his worries suddenly foolish. The Captain was right. He sighed.
Suddenly, the reinforced doors flew open with a bright flash of lightning, splintering wood flew in all directions. Thrown to the ground by the force Brinely forced himself to his feet stumbling against the wall for support. Vision useless, ears ringing, and equilibrium nonexistent he reached for his sword and drew. All was now quiet save for the crashing of the waves outside and a set of light footsteps.
It would only be a moment, but it seemed like an eternity before his vision would regain enough to take in what had happened. His world still spun wildly as he attempted to focus on a slender figure standing in the doorway. He looked over where his Captain once stood. His body lay limp across the stone floor, blood already pooled below.
“Captain!” he yelled.
Still shell-shocked, turned back towards the slender figure, a tight but twisted smile came across its face as a black bird landed on its shoulder.
“CAPTAIN!”
Another bright flash.
The crow cawed.
- - - - - - - - -
The storm would pass overnight leaving a morning to behold. Robin awoke, and as was her habit every morning, she checked the college herb garden. Only today she was surprised to be met by the Archmage herself.
“Archmage Madia, what a surprise. Can I help you with something?”
“Actually you can Robin.”
Robin cocked her head slightly, wondering what in the world the Archmage would want with her.
“The Crown is looking for some people to assist in investigating an incident at Heaven's Needle.”
Robin was confused, “Archmage with all due respect I am hardly an investigator, I'm a herbologist.”
“The Crown asked for me to send someone and I could think of no one more capable than you.”
“But, Arch-” she was cut off.
“But nothing, you are going. Pack your things. You'll meet up with the other volunteers in the Castle courtyard this afternoon.”
Robin nodded her head in compliance but didn't say a word as Madia left. She let out a long sigh as as she plucked a pedal and rolled it between her fingers. “Why me?”
- - - - - - - -
The streets were crowded with the ramblings of the common folk. Their words all blending into a dull inchoerant roar. What in the world am I doing he-, her thought was interrupted by a soft crunch under her foot. She looked down. On the dirt road lay a piece of windblown paper, the large word 'ATTENTION' printed across the top. She picked it up slowly brushing of the dirt as she did. "Impossible..."