"The what?"
"They'll know...and you, Alaric. Come here."
Alaric was startled, but he obeyed Saren's order. He went over beside the warrior, who held out a clenched fist to the boy. "Take it," he said, and Alaric took what Saren offered. It was a crude black and red necklace, with a ball suspended by a single strand of material. The entire thing was made of the same material throughout.
"Keep it," Saren whispered. "Pass it on someday. It'll... come in handy."
The family was silent as Al accepted Saren's gift. He would take care of it for years to come. After this, Saren laid back, and he was silent. The fallen warrior slipped away from life, leaving his battered body lying there on the floorboards.
-----------------------------
The rumbles of war had not yet reached the interior the mainland. Here, in the far northern reaches of Misthalin, a sheet of normality still covered the world. Edgeville was as quiet as ever; it was a small town, nowhere near the bustle of nearby Varrock. The land was cool that morning, even in the heat of summer. A bitter wind was blowing from the north, carrying that foul Wilderness air into the civilized world.
“Daigan!” came the echoing voice resounding throughout the valley. The boy immediately stopped chopping as he heard his name. He hoisted his family’s bronze axe onto his shoulder, and then he took off through the woods for the small cottage. Daigan’s family was one of the few that still lived out here in the small space south of Edgeville and north of the village of barbarians. This area was good for lumber, and Daigan and his father scraped a living out of it, but just barely.
The boy came walking up the small trail to the cottage. It was a very small abode, laughable to the people in town. But it was all they had; most of the money from the wood they used on food, and the price they were getting for the logs had been decreasing every year.
18-Dec-2009 05:36:34
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