21 April, Hyne's Casting 943
Before Dawn
Constant rain and an unseasonably cold wind
The Walls of Timber
Had I known that the village elders consider it requisite for the men of this humble town to alternate turns on the wall in order to preserve the primitive asylum of those within, I would have perhaps considered rolling one of the cannons from the deck of the Siren through the forest to my lodging, though I know that transport of such a massive weapon is impossible.
My rest, though very much necessary to my well-being and very much cherished at the end of my day, is not considered a priority by those governing this provincial burg. It is necessary for the good of the citizenry, they explained, and it will assist me in learning more about the wilderness surrounding this enclave. Had the innkeep's daughter not been within earshot, I would have likely closed the door and retreated to my warm bed, but, foolhardy man that I am, I boasted that none but myself could protect this village from the specters and wraiths that nightly assail her walls.
And yet it remains shrouded in mystery how establishing a watch yields any results at all, as the night has passed in darkness and rain, and it has been impossible to see beyond the circle of light beneath mine own torch. I am convinced I heard the thumping of a rabbit somewhere in one thicket or another, but not even a wildcat shattered the constant drone of the rain, so my night was most uneventful. The sun, though veiled behind evil black clouds and as yet still hidden behind yon mountains, has yielded enough light to record this foul night in the pages of my journal, though my ink does run in a most unseemly fashion.
This cold morning is not being met with any true enthusiasm, as my plans for mulled wine and a warm bed have been dashed upon these damp walls with the same force as the drops currently descending from the heavens. My own doublet has done little to distract me from my misery, as it too is sodden and heavy and unable to protect me from the rain.
Young Master Zone, the dedicated lad, has been most eager to shield me from the torrent, utilizing his own jacket as a makeshift roof above my head, yet as the light increases, I have noticed that the leather is striking me about the face and shoulders more often than not, and when I seek to reprimand the boy, he is looking, not to the forests as charged by the elders, but to the town itself, and a small hovel leaning precariously against the ramshackle schoolhouse. I am uncertain that he knows his letters at all, given that he once attempted to break the head of a rather large rat with a volume of poetry, so his obsession with the schoolhouse must stem from another source. Perhaps he has faced the lash from a cruel master in some conservatory across the sea and is convinced that he shall once again feel the bite of punishment upon his flesh? I shall endeavor to question the boy when we break our fast.
The innkeep has promised salted pork and boiled eggs, which will undoubtedly cause the belly of Young Master Zone to heave and quake, as he seems unable to consume anything beyond weak gruel and toasted bread, though the way he is trembling above me, I think I shall forbid him any sustenance. A sip of warmed whiskey will do the boy some good, and setting him to work polishing the mud from my boots as I dine with the innkeep and his fair daughter will soon end his tremors.
Ah. The captain of the guard is arriving to relieve my young ward and myself, though the sun has not yet crept above the horizon and he is not due for another turn of the clock. He is a strapping fellow indeed, tall as an oak and so broad shouldered that he might be able to support the very walls of this town simply by leaning against the posts as if waiting for his compatriots. Barring a faded scar that passes down his face like a river on one of my many maps, his is a most handsome face, and I have noticed that the eyes of all the ladies follow him as he makes his rounds.
The rain seems to not disturb him in the slightest, though his icy eyes are narrowed in disapproval as he stares at young Zone. Perhaps he too is illiterate, and knows not the pleasure of the written word, and is sharing a silent moment of solidarity with the lad, or perhaps he is simply accustomed to being regarded as the most comely of the men in this village and is not keen on seeing my own, admittedly, pleasing visage guarding the town as he slept.
Young Master Zone, to his credit, did not fall from the wall when faced with such anger. There was much stammering and shuffling of his soggy feet, which is something I should be accustomed to, yet it continues to cause me no small amount of mortification. I feel that I must intervene on his behalf, stand between him and this brute and prepare myself for a most unpleasant altercation, yet lo, the attention of both has been captured by some commotion below. Thus diverted, I grab the arm of young Zone and attempt to drag him away, yet the boy will not be moved. I pull again, and slip upon the wall, wrenching my knee most painfully. I shall see the boy receives three lashes when we descend this hellish place, but what ho!
A vision! Truly, there are spirits living in this forest most lovely and fae, and the construction of the village has captured one between her walls, for I have never seen a creature so sublime. It is as if the heavens have parted and all the rays of the sun have kissed her golden hair, and though she is tending to some mundane task, likely going to fetch eggs from the coop 'round the back, it seems as if she is floating just above the earth.
My young charge is utterly bewitched, as is the Captain, though he makes a show of polishing the dagger in his belt to disguise the admiration in his eyes. No wonder, then, that the boy spent most of the night looking into the darkness of the village instead of protecting the walls. What man would stare into the abyss when he simply had to turn and see the sun herself rise in the east? And no wonder that the Captain made his way to his position well before his appointment. How many dawns has he thus greeted the morn, idly adjusted the focus on his scope or sharpening the edges of his knives?
"My men shall keep their watch now, so get thee to thine rooms."
"Oh, we can stay l-l-longer, so that..."
It was with some difficulty that I managed to clasp my own hand over the mouth of my suddenly brave, and most foolish, charge. I do not wish to be cast from the village, likely covered in boiling pitch and feathers, at least until my work here is done. The work of those loyal to Hyne must continue, and if that means that certain measures must be taken, then that is His will and it shall be done.
And yet...
Perhaps I shall volunteer for another shift, though I may leave my ward to his sleep so that he is not tossed from the walls like a cat from a bridge. I shall investigate the identity of the woman behind the school with the innkeep, and tell his daughter of the fierce beast I heard circling the village beyond the light of the torches, of its foul claws rending the very earth as surely as the mightiest earthquake, and the rage it felt when I aimed my rifle at its shadow.
