its the start of a book i'm writing, hopefully in three parts
|The old man covered his face to protect it from the cold as he climbed up to the monastery, cursing his old limbs as they caused him to travel slower than he would have liked. As he rounded the corner he could hear the bell of Harmony chiming loud and clear, but also could see smoke rising in the distance, as dread filled his heart, he hoped it was just the bonfire lit by the monks after the festival of Twin Moons.
As he got nearer his feeling of foreboding got stronger and stronger until he reached the gates and found the whole monastery ablaze, he rushed to the library praying to Keth’leroc that the fire had not reached there yet, and found it thankfully intact. As he pushed open the doors the flames lit up the inside and to his horror, it had been ransacked.
Suddenly a moan roused him from his stupor, as an injured monk fell through the doorway an arrow protruding from his side, “if..you…have..come..to..finish..it” he said with laboured breaths “you..are..too..late”,
“Finish it?” said the old man “I am ‘Lothr Goodwin’ I had an appointment with your librarian, you are?”
“Brother Seigier my friend, I was told of your arrival, yet you could not have come at a worse time”.
As Lothr sighed and opened his mouth to agree, an ear-splitting screech filled the air, followed by a insane cackle “Seigier, what in “Thandoc’s” name was that?, Seigier?” he turned to look in the monks direction, only to see him slumped lifelessly against the entrance, Lothr walked over, said a small prayer, and closed Brother Seigier’s unseeing eyes. Then mustering his strength he searched the wreckage for the tome he was after, finding it under one of the bookshelves, and headed out the door, completely unaware that a pair of hollow amber eyes had watched the entire episode…
It was a cold winter night, when he woke in the farm, the sounds of screeching and crashing filled the night air, and his mind wandered back to what the trader had said to his Grandfather earlier that day, “three nights ago the monastery of the seven blessings was burnt to the ground, they say that daemons’ did it”
“nonsense said his grandfather, daemons’ haven’t been seen in these parts for nay on forty years”, “true but I heard that the monks all had bite marks on them” “shut your mouth, your frightening Darrius”
“Aye I’m sorry young Darrius” the trader said “hadn’t realized you could hear me, I also heard of a hooded woman with two exotic looking knives asking for ‘Thar’thandol’ yet no-one has seen him in 50 years”.
Now it might have been a trick of the light, but as his grandfather shrugged, he could swear he saw his eyes recognize the name.
He opened his door, and quietly padded outside to see if he could make anything out in the darkness, when from behind him he heard a noise, Darrius spun round fearing the worse, but only seeing his grandfather sat there smoking his pipe, “ what are you doing up Darrius?” he asked,
“I heard this noise, and I came to see what it was”
“If you go back to bed now, we’ll go and see what we can find in the morning, would you like that son?” Darrius’s face lit up and grinning he said “sure thing”, as he turned to go, the moon came out from behind the clouds and shone off a sword by his grandfather, it looked very old, and was covered in strange markings that though he saw move, but that couldn’t be possible he told himself.