Connin
33rd Day of Summer, 997th Year of Grace
We departed at dawn.
The Lord's light had not yet claimed the horizons when the squad consisting of around fifteen men rode out of the camp, the camels' grunting being the only sound that filled the desolate flats.
I rode among them in my white robes, only a staff at my side to support me when we were to walk on sand.
After long moments of travelling, the north ridges rose jagged in the distance--black teeth against a pale sky.
The closer we drew, the heavier the air became.
It was not the result of heat and dust but something fouler--something that gnaws at the heart.
The unsettling feeling was the mark of Chaos.
My stomach turned, a sickness creeping up my throat and before it could reach my lips, I whispered underneath my breath: "Lord, keep me steady."
It was all I needed to lift some of the weight off my shoulders.
We climbed up the ridge and began searching for any clues without wasting any time. But there was nothing to be found--no corpse, blood or blade.
We found nothing until a shadow moved in the corner of my vision.
"Ambush!" I cried.
"Shields!" the seargent roared.
The men raised their shield of iron and wood but still some fell--shafts buried into their throat or shoulder.
Serovian soldiers appeared over the ridge, drawing their bows for another volley of arrows.
The seargent cursed, rallying our men but fear had already taken root. After all, the enemy was twice our number, shooting us down from higher ground.
I jumped off my camel and struck the ground with my staff. "Earth, guard us!"
The ground trembled at my command and a wall burst upward before our squad, arrows shattering as they struck against it.
The men gasped, their courage returning. Perhaps, they believed the Lord Himself had raised his Hand to protect them.
Of course, the Lord had acted through me.
"Forward!" The seargent bellowed, raising his blade.
The men surged forward with confidence this time.
I lifted my staff and pointed at the ridge. "Break."
The ground beneath the enemy split open, the crack jagged like lightning and deep. Many stumbed and fell to their death upon the rocks while others' weapons slipped from their grip.
Our men met them in a moment and the clash was brutal.
The Serovians fought like fiends without dignity or honour, ganging up on men fighting alone but our soldiers didn't back down from the fight.
I realised the enemy was trying to outflank us and cut off our escape route so they could delay us until reinforcement arrived.
"Fire, descend," I muttered to the wind.
A streak of white fell upon the stone where they gathered, bursting in brilliance.
The Law's power surged through me as commanded it to burn down the enemy ranks. But the weight of such sorcery began to overwhelm me and my knees buckled.
Perhaps, the enemy had also recognised me the biggest threat because all their arrows flew toward me instead of the men around.
But before the arrows hit their mark, a wall of shields rose before me.
"Protect his grace!" one soldier roared.
"As long as he lives, we shall win!" another declared.
The men struck at the enemy with renewed strength, blades flashing in the glow from the flames descending from the sky.
After a few more moments of struggling, the Serovians faltered.
Some fled behind the broken ridge while others threw down their arms and surrendered.
The men around me shouted in triumph while we stood in sands littered with corpses.
I knelt among them and muttered another prayer to the Lord under my breath.
Adam
35th Day of Summer, 997th Year of Grace
The hill was quiet when I approached, the guards at the gate more interested in their cards than the path behind them.
I kept low, sneaking along the briar patch that bit at my claok until I reached the stone wall.
The mark I'd left the day before was still there. It was a section of the garden where almost no guards were stationed.
I pulled myself up and over the wall, dropping inside the garden of Thorne's manor.
The lanterns glowed dimly through the branches and I moved while hugging close to the edges, keeping to the shadows by the wall where ivy grew thick.
I spied Thorne under a pavilion. He was broad-shoudlered man but bloated at the gut, dressed in silk with a cup already in hand.
A woman stood behind him with a tray in her hand, a bottle of wine stop it. She was probably some tavern wench dolled up for the night's amusement.
I saw her try to pour another cup for Thorne but the bottle was already empty so he gestured her to bring another with the flick of a wrist.
He sank into his chair, smoking pipeleaf and puffing out smoke curled like snakes.
I followed the woman and waited outside the door to the manor's kitchen while she fetched another bottle of wine.
The opportunity came too easily.
I whispered a prayer to the wind and all the lanterns in around the manor backdoor blew out.
When she returned with the new bottle, she was startled by the unexpected darkness so she set down the tray on a stone bench near the door while she went back inside to get a lantern to light her path.
I was at the tray right after she entered the manor and with steady hands, I loosed the pouch hidden in my sleeve and worked the root powder into the bottle of wine.
With a single stir, the powder vanished into the wine.
The wench returned with a lantern in hand and lifted the tray without pause.
I had already slipped back into the shadows and watched her carry the wine deeper into the garden.
My work was done.
I retraced my steps, scaled the wall and got out of the estate.
News of my success would reach me the next day.