FrivYeti/CalinPg1
CHAPTER 1: SOL INVICTUS
"Morning, Adar." Karim the fishmonger smiled as Adar strolled past, tipping his hat to the young guardsman. "You want to get anything? Fresh caught this morning."
"It won't be after I've carried it for eight hours, Karim." Adar grinned at the elderly fishmonger, shaking his head. "Besides, I have to get all the way to the northern garrison in an hour - no time for cooking." He tapped his scimitar, sheathed at his side, and shrugged. "You know how the captain gets if we're late. Like to send the whole garrison down the road looking for me."
Karim chuckled and nodded. Everyone in Calin had heard of the strictness and attention to duty required by Captain Garamond. Although it had been forty years since any real trouble had beset the town, everyone knew that things could change at any time, especially in this day and age. The Southeast was not as safe as it had been, with the Realm's soldiers trickling away day by day and dark rumours rising about monsters, Fair Folk, and the dead walking, and any day might bring barbarian raiders or darker monsters. Besides, the well-equipped garrisons were the main reason that trouble didn't threaten, and the locals had no wish to jeapordize that. "Well, then, I'll try to save you some for when you come by tonight. Think you'll make it?"
"The thought will keep me going." Adar nodded once more before continuing on his way. Magda made one of the best fish dinners in the region, and he'd heard tell of travellers coming a full day's travel out of their way along the Larjyn road just to get a bite. It was Adar's own luck that Karim and his wife had taken a liking to him, and were willing to exchange some herbs picked along the road between Calin and the northern garrison for a well-cooked meal. And their daughter was a real dear. He wasn't sure that she fancied him, but a man could dream...
Thus occupied with his thoughts, Adar passed by the northern gates and started along the road. Calin lay inside a steep-walled valley, and nothing was going to get through those peaks in the late autumn. Only the northern and southern garrisons in each end of the mountain were points that were seriously watched, aside from occasional patrols. Within Calin, ten thousand souls toiled every day, growing crops and flax and weaving, sending money to the Realm to ensure their supposed safety, and trading with the Guild whenever supplies ran low. It wasn't much of a town, he supposed, by the standards of the great cities of the Blessed Isle, but it was home, and a lovely place nonetheless.
Humming a jaunty tune, Adar left the road to pluck a few herbs, smoothing them in a hankerchief and tucking it into his jerkin. He glanced up at the sky; blue as Mela's scales, with the sun shining brightly, not a cloud to be seen. It really was a gorgeous day. Spotting another good herb, he bent over to pick it, and the sky went dark.
It only lasted a moment, and by the time Adar raised his head in surprise, it was already gone. Looking up to see whatever had blocked out the light, he thought that he saw a glimpse of something green through the treetops that lined the western part of the road. He walked cautiously through the trees, in the direction that it went, carefully picking his way through the undergrowth. Almost unbidden, one hand fell to his sword.
It only took a minute for Adar to reach a point where he had an unobstructed view of the mountainside, but that wasn't helpful. As he looked around, he couldn't see anything that might have been that large, and he couldn't imagine that it could already been gone. As he looked around further, he frowned, trying to figure out what he had seen.
Abruptly, however, Adar heard something. A hissing sound, like a snake, coming from ahead up the rocks. Drawing his scimitar, Adar looked around. It occured to him that if there was an animal that size, and he got too close, he might be in danger. Stopping, he tried to peer forwards, feeling fear trembling in his gut.
The hissing stopped, and a horrible screech filled the air. Adar's mouth went dry, and his sword dropped from nerveless fingers. Spinning, heedless of direction, he ran from the sound. His mind was filled with panic, and nothing but the need to escape occurred to him. It was ten minutes before he could think of anything save flight.
Behind him, unheard, a quiet chuckle filled the clearing, and a shower of raven feather exploded as the source of the fear gave pursuit.
