The Terror of the Innocent

The terror of the Innocent

Please note that, as an ongoing work, you might find little notes like this one spread throughout the story. They are there, basically, as editing points for my reference.

1st chapter of the book proper to start with quote_start each other chapter with quote?

“They say that history and experiences are the greatest teachers. In all my travels, this has been proven time and again. Of course, for many, surviving these often-harsh lessons is a problem…”

         Linor the Wise

In the sky, an autumn sun hung heavy in the humid air as the last of the day fled into the west. Shadows that had, during the height of the day, been little more than pools of shade had elongated and darkened to wrap parts of the land in twilight early. The deep green grass in the pastures looked darker, a thousand thousand little daggers striking up into the sky trying to capture the last of the light before they sleep, being joined by the pockets of wild flowers that the animals had not yet grazed upon.

The shepherds had now gathered most of the animals down from the foothills to the stables and barns that were clustered close to each other near a pond whose surface rippled gently throwing up a dozen reflections of the setting sun.

Observing this all, laying on an outcropping that stood like a rocky island in the sea of grass, lay Ellena, watching the peace of the plains settle in for another night. Her long brown hair was stirred briefly in the evening breeze throwing a few strands across her face. It was getting late and though she was tempted to stay and watch the final sunset, she knew that Illorian, her guardian, would be expecting her home for the evening meal and studies. Knowing that all those dusty tomes would be sitting on the big oak study table waiting for her to flip through dampened her mood and she let out a long, slow sigh.

Ever since she was six she had been coming to the same spot every night to watch the sun set in the west, wondering what lay over the purple mountains that were shrouded in an evening haze. Her twin had accompanied her only once in the 8 years, spending most of her time with their guardian in the study. Ellena frowned. She could just imagine it now, her walking through the door to their home, seeing dinner sitting on the table with a book of arcane knowledge sitting propped open against a pitcher and the top of Allory’s head just visible over the old leather book.

Ellena couldn’t see why they had to study all the books in Illorian’s library, going over long lost legend and myth. Most of the books were fairly boring, just covering insignificant dates in lands far away that she would never see. There were some, of course, that piqued her interest. Most of those were kept under lock and key in the large trunk in the corner of the study though, beyond her reach for the most part.

In the past, when she was about nine, she had tried to pick the lock on the chest. Just as she thought she had made some progress in opening the heavy mecahnism, she set off some sort of trap. The lock had given her such a shock that the skin on her fingers had blistered as if they had been burnt. It was an injury that she could not hide for long, so she had gone to the village healer.

The healer, Joirin, was an old friend of Illorian’s and she had listened to the old mans tales of their times adventuring many many times over the years. She felt most of them were just tales he made up to keep her amused, but every now and again, a look in his eyes or a moments hesitation gave her pause to wonder if there was more to the stories than she first though. Joirin had applied an ointment to her fingers and had bandaged them without a word. No questions as to how she had injured herself, no questions at all. She had sat there in silence watching him work to ease her pain.

Then, just before he had finished, he had sighed deeply and looked up at her over her hands with the bandage still only half wrapped. The eye contact that they made was almost electric and Ellena felt as if Joirin was looking inside her. “It would be best if you didn’t try to pick the lock on that trunk again,” he said softly. “There are things inside that scare even me, and I am about as worldly wise as they come.”

Ellena, unwilling to let the issue rest had pressed for more details, but what she had gotten left her with yet more questions. “The trunk contains the relics of Illorian’s adventuring days. Much of what is in it he keeps so that no one else with less pure intentions could use it.”

“Like who?” she had asked.

Suddenly, as if coming to his senses, Joirin shook his head and continued bandaging her hands. “Never you mind,” he had said in the sternest voice she had ever heard come from him. “I will tell Illorian that you scolded your hands working with me. He does not need to know about your attempts on the chest.

The memory faded faster than the setting sun as Ellena stood and brushed the loose blades of grass from her long skirt. She much prefered wearing them shorter as they gave her more freedom of movement and allowed her to run. But the elders of the village frowned on such things and she was only permitted to wear shorter skirts when she trained with the village weapons master Tam.

Turning away from the dying rays of the sun she started to walk down the grassy back of the rock outcropping, picking her way between the loose clumps of earth with practiced ease. It was a fifteen minute walk back to the village and by the time she got home, it would be nearly full dark. It was then that she would have dinner, followed by evening studies. She had already stayed out too long and dinner would be well underway by the time she got home. But Illorian never punished her. At least not unless she was out after dark.

Fifteen minutes later she was passing through the gates to the village. It was quite unusal, she had been told, for a village to have a wall, let alone a stone one as did Tolos, but she knew that they were many days walk from the next nearest settlement and duing the night, many wild animals prowled the grasslands looking for food. Plus, according to Tam, just over twenty years ago, a local band of thieves had preyed upon many of the villages in the valley so they had build walls to protect themselves. It just so happened that the people of Tolos were very near a stone quarry so had made their defences a little more permanent than a simple wooden stocka