00003

‘Twelve gold coins and no breakfast.’ Tharetes thought as he walked out of the inn with his pack hoisted over his left shoulder. ‘This is not a good day.’ The bang and the sound of a wooden bolt sliding into place behind him let Tharetes know that the innkeeper thought that whatever was happening was important enough to risk not making anymore money.

Except for a few dogs sniffing at some trash by the front of the inn the town seemed deserted. Tharetes started walking towards the town gate reasoning that given the current situation, and decided lack of breakfast, now was as good of a time as any leave. On his way to the town gates he came across the town well. Tharetes stopped there momentarily to fill his belly and wash some of the grease out of his jet-black hair, before continuing on.

Moments later, water still dripping from his hair down the back of his shirt, Taretes arrived at the town gate. ‘The reason the town seems so empty, is because it is.’ Tharetes thought wryly, noting that the entire populace of Cragton seemed to be milling about the town gates. The crowd was agitated; people were speaking with their neighbor in hushed tones, eyes darting around making sure that no one else was listening.

“What’s this all about then?” Tharetes asked the elderly gentlemen with the white beard beside him.

“Haven’t you heard? We’ve received an emissary from an approaching army.”

“An approaching army? Whose army is matching on Cragton?” Tharetes asked. “There hasn’t been a war or an army on the march in years. I’m sure that I would have heard something about this on the road before today.”

00002

#

Shouts from the stables below brought him back to consciousness. His body lay tangled in the bed sheets on what appeared to be the floor, but that wasn’t the first thing that he noticed, that was the pounding in his skull. Tharetes eased his eyes open to the full light of the sun streaming through his window and then quickly shut them in pain.

Vague memories of playing double-inns last night with two of the towns guardsmen came back to him as he rubbed the feeling back into his face. ‘But did I win or loose?’ A quick jingle of his purse, tied to the pants he still wore from the night before, confirmed that he had indeed left the card game a winner.

Tharetes briefly stood up from the floor before a wave of nausea overtook him and forced him to a seated position on his bed. ‘Two-fisted Jack, damn those guardsmen and this inn’s foul ale, who knew these townsfolk could drink so much.’

The door to Tharetes room burst open revealing the elderly innkeeper, a nervous expression was plainly written on his face.

“I’m sorry to disturb you Sir, there’s trouble at the town gates.” Tharetes stumbled up from his bed, using the small table beside his bed for support as another wave of nausea passed through him.

“What sort of trouble?”

“I’m not sure Sir, something big though, everyone’s cleared out of the in so far…” Stammered the innkeeper, “…well except for you.”

Ignoring the pain in his head Tharetes rolled his eyes. “So you want me to clear up my tab and vacate is that it?”


“Yes Sir, you’ve worked up quite a tab, what with ale all night for the three of you…”
‘For the three of us? Perhaps I didn’t win as much as I thought I did.’ Tharetes jingled the coins in his purse, noting the look of anticipation on the innkeeper’s face. ‘Even in the midst of all this trouble the greedy never rest.’ Tharetes thought to himself as he handed the innkeeper ten gold coins.

“There were the drinks for the ladies as well Sir.”

‘For the ladies?’ “Eleven?”

“Twelve.”

Frowning, but unwilling to argue given his lack of memory Tharetes handed the innkeeper two more gold coins. “What about breakfast then?” Tharetes asked.

“Ow I’m sorry sir.” The innkeeper apologized. “Everyone has gone to the town gates, there’s no one here to cook.”

00001

His gaze traveled down to the red sands of the desert valley below. Even from the height of the cliff, on which he stood, he could feel the heat rising from the desert floor. Today would be hot.

The wind quickened its pace, swirling dust and dirt over his boots and over the edge of the cliff. The end of his Shirka was caught by the wind and unraveled slightly. Absently he caught the stream of fabric and wrapped it around his head again, making sure to tuck the end well out of the winds reach. After his hands finished their work they reached back over his shoulder and found the hilts of his swords. Once his father’s swords, and before that his grandfather’s, passed down from father to son for generations. Now the swords were his.

A shiver of anticipation ran through his spine, the coming months and years would bring glory to himself and his lineage. Here he stood on the very edge of ‘Kyntaro’s Doom’, the edge of the world that he alone had proved was not the edge of anything at all. Instead the edge of the world was nothing more then a vast desert linking the Pyration Empire to a vast unexplored continent. Kytaro’s real doom was not traveling this far north and discovering the valley below.

Suppressing a smile he turned around to view the progress. Behind him the plain seemed alive, a seething mass of men and animals churning over the earth down into the desert below, a moving city that had made its way here, to ‘Kyntaro’s Doom’, to the edge of the world.