11 April 2011

And I'm free....free-writing...[]

The crows were mourning the sun's last wind-swept rays over the barren hills of Tolan iLahnin, where stood the mighty Citadel of Rin-Kored. The earth was groaning. Iron wheels tore apart the loose-packed road that led to the last mine, and on them road Destruction. Ten great horses pulled the mighty wain as their master drove them mercilessly, determined to reach the mine by nightfall. Destruction waits for no man. There were rumors of a new danger approaching, from the mountains of Bhetkalen. Destruction knew no fear but the unknown. He raised one hand to shade his eyes as the evening sun bit into them, just before it vanished behind those very mountains. Giving the beasts another lash with his other hand, he wiped the dust from his brow, the dust that had become an ever-increasing burden since he left Tán Losin with his cargo. His cargo.

They had been silent for the entire journey; Destruction knew the benefits of silence. It helped that he did not need to speak to them, for he did not, in truth, wish to know entirely why they needed passage to the mines, and the last mine in particular. Another lash for the horses, and the West Mine came into view, its timber entrance-way the only thing that marked it from the surrounding hills. To the east, the Citadel was just barely visible, having been built when the easternmost mines still had any silver in them. Greedy axes had torn the virgin ore from its resting place and laid the east hills barren. Destruction could not claim that he had not helped, for his iron-wain was one of the many which made regular trips from the mines to the port city of Tán Losin and back, each trip another robbery on both ends.

Destruction brought the horses to a halt, and they stood still, waiting for another signal from their master. A porter called out from the watchtower. "What business?" he demanded in a weak voice that creaked with caution. It was not an idle question; the West Mine had been closed for the past month, after the far tunnels had caught fire, and it was only the promise of vast undiscovered riches deeper down into the hill that had kept it from being abandoned entirely. The roadman known as Destruction called back. "Old crows for the nest." He had been given the words, and from the porter's response, it appeared he had spoken them aright...


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