started her, and she reflexively
closed her fingers around it. Whatever it was that she had found,
it was firmly planted in the frigid earth. She wanted to move
forward, but at the same time, she could not bring herself to let
go of the freezing object she'd found. She pulled and strained,
finally looking to the artifact she had stumbled upon.
Even as she could feel the speck of golden
light in the distance flit away forever, she saw the item she'd
found replace it. It was a lantern, and the second her eyes met the
wick, it fizzled to life. In the oppressive blackness, the dim
flame seemed blinding. When her eyes painfully adjusted, she rubbed
them to find that the world she was accustomed to had returned. The
light she blinked at was the handful of rays that made it through
the heavy curtains. The dream was over.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes was a matter
of moments. Shaking the powerful emotions and painful throbbing
from her head was another matter. She looked in vain for a basin or
such to at least wash her face, but the room was rather poorly
stocked. Dejected, she slowly gathered her things and laced her
boots. When she was certain she had everything, particularly the
sword, she entered the hallway, locked the door behind her, and
sought out her only intact pocket to place the key. On the way to
the stairs, she stopped in front of the door she'd seen Leo at the
day before. After a long moment she continued on, deciding to let
him sleep.
The tavern was a very different place in the
wee hours of the morning. Pale light from the cloudy morning sky
replaced the warm light of candle and lamp. The only motion was the
stirring of flies upon a half-finished plate of food left by an
unsatisfied customer the night before. Where had been a room full
of rowdy patrons now was only one, a filthy man who'd had a bit too
much of the ale and made a pillow of his leftover cabbage.
Behind the bar was a wiry young fellow,
likely the owner's son. He'd leaned his chair against the wall and
gazed lazily into space through a few greasy locks that hung in
front of his half-closed eyes. Myranda approached him, hopeful of
procuring a few pieces of the meat from last night. In her
experience, if the meat was past its prime, the kitchen would
usually part with it free of charge. It might not be tasty, but it
would be nourishing, and so long as it filled her stomach, she was
satisfied.
"Sir?" she said.
He did not react.
"Um, sir?" she repeated loudly.
She waved her hand before his eyes, only to
hear a long, grating snore. She shook her head. It was one thing to
sleep on the job, but teaching one's self to do so with open eyes
was a trick. He had earned the sleep, she would not rouse him. Her
stomach already grumbling, she pushed the door open slightly. A
biting wind blew some stray snowflakes into her face. She paused
for a moment to pull up her heavy hood and fasten its frayed cord,
all the while letting the arctic breeze whisk inside. Once she had
finished preparing herself, she opened the door fully.
Despite her precautions against it, the full
force of the wind passed right through the cloak. There was a time
when it had been as thick and warm as the ones that nine out of ten
of her fellow northerners wore, but time and use had rendered it
thin and ragged. The sleeping innkeeper shifted uncomfortably as
the cold air found its way to him. Myranda glanced back at the
motion, suddenly reminded of something she needed to do. She walked
up to the counter and dug the room key out of her pocket. The
groggy keeper gave a glance of acknowledgment and drifted back to
sleep.
Again, she pushed open the door and faced the
blast of wind from outside. The vague white light from the clouds
reflected off of the barely disturbed snow. Her slowly-adjusting
eyes glanced at the mottled gray sky and dark horizon of the nearby
Rachis Mountains to the east. The colorless landscape did little
for her sour mood, as the chosen beverage of the night gone by
closed her fingers around it. Whatever it was that she had found,
it was firmly planted in the frigid earth. She wanted to move
forward, but at the same time, she could not bring herself to let
go of the freezing object she'd found. She pulled and strained,
finally looking to the artifact she had stumbled upon.
Even as she could feel the speck of golden
light in the distance flit away forever, she saw the item she'd
found replace it. It was a lantern, and the second her eyes met the
wick, it fizzled to life. In the oppressive blackness, the dim
flame seemed blinding. When her eyes painfully adjusted, she rubbed
them to find that the world she was accustomed to had returned. The
light she blinked at was the handful of rays that made it through
the heavy curtains. The dream was over.
Blinking the sleep from her eyes was a matter
of moments. Shaking the powerful emotions and painful throbbing
from her head was another matter. She looked in vain for a basin or
such to at least wash her face, but the room was rather poorly
stocked. Dejected, she slowly gathered her things and laced her
boots. When she was certain she had everything, particularly the
sword, she entered the hallway, locked the door behind her, and
sought out her only intact pocket to place the key. On the way to
the stairs, she stopped in front of the door she'd seen Leo at the
day before. After a long moment she continued on, deciding to let
him sleep.
The tavern was a very different place in the
wee hours of the morning. Pale light from the cloudy morning sky
replaced the warm light of candle and lamp. The only motion was the
stirring of flies upon a half-finished plate of food left by an
unsatisfied customer the night before. Where had been a room full
of rowdy patrons now was only one, a filthy man who'd had a bit too
much of the ale and made a pillow of his leftover cabbage.
Behind the bar was a wiry young fellow,
likely the owner's son. He'd leaned his chair against the wall and
gazed lazily into space through a few greasy locks that hung in
front of his half-closed eyes. Myranda approached him, hopeful of
procuring a few pieces of the meat from last night. In her
experience, if the meat was past its prime, the kitchen would
usually part with it free of charge. It might not be tasty, but it
would be nourishing, and so long as it filled her stomach, she was
satisfied.
"Sir?" she said.
He did not react.
"Um, sir?" she repeated loudly.
She waved her hand before his eyes, only to
hear a long, grating snore. She shook her head. It was one thing to
sleep on the job, but teaching one's self to do so with open eyes
was a trick. He had earned the sleep, she would not rouse him. Her
stomach already grumbling, she pushed the door open slightly. A
biting wind blew some stray snowflakes into her face. She paused
for a moment to pull up her heavy hood and fasten its frayed cord,
all the while letting the arctic breeze whisk inside. Once she had
finished preparing herself, she opened the door fully.
Despite her precautions against it, the full
force of the wind passed right through the cloak. There was a time
when it had been as thick and warm as the ones that nine out of ten
of her fellow northerners wore, but time and use had rendered it
thin and ragged. The sleeping innkeeper shifted uncomfortably as
the cold air found its way to him. Myranda glanced back at the
motion, suddenly reminded of something she needed to do. She walked
up to the counter and dug the room key out of her pocket. The
groggy keeper gave a glance of acknowledgment and drifted back to
sleep.
Again, she pushed open the door and faced the
blast of wind from outside. The vague white light from the clouds
reflected off of the barely disturbed snow. Her slowly-adjusting
eyes glanced at the mottled gray sky and dark horizon of the nearby
Rachis Mountains to the east. The colorless landscape did little
for her sour mood, as the chosen beverage of the night gone by
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