One hour prior to Eilonwy, Tabitha, and Claire's arrival.
A thin feather of smoke weaved through the air from a black chimney; the cloud of grey rose higher than the walls of Promise. Kellach sat on a stool, burning the rest of the trash that had been left behind by his old teacher. The windows were open and airing out the place, though it did little good seeing as the air had been dry and stuffy the last few days. Kellach rolled up his elaborate wizard sleeves and took a string to tie back his hair at the nape of his neck. Sweat dripped down his temples and forehead and he wiped them away.
Locky chirped and clicked.
The young wizard sighed. "You're so lucky you can't feel this heat." He fanned himself with his hand. Then, a brilliant idea came to mind. He started moving his wrist in a circular motion, a white blue mist sparkled around. The sounds that came from the spell resonating from his hand popped and cracked. The air around him started to feel cool as it spread.
A swift knock came to the door, causing Kellach to flinch and the spell scatter somewhat uncontrollably throughout the room. It froze parts of the walls, the floor, and a few miscellaneous items. Kellach clenched his fist, upset with himself for losing control over a simple knock. He had been on edge the last few days as his dreams became ever more vivid, and the girl.
The knock sounded again and this time, with a wave of his hand, Kellach unlocked the door and it swung open on its own.
"Took you long enough. What have you been doing in here?" Jourdain walked inside, her arms crossed and hidden away inside her gaping sleeves. She sniffed, smelling the burning incense. She also noticed the patches of ice. "Son."
Kellach continued to sit on the stool, looking into the fire, his back facing his mother.
"Kellach." Jourdain said with more force.
"Yes?"
Jourdain closed the door and grabbed a chair. She sat down next to her son and said, "Kellach, when I said go through some of Zendric's old books, I didn't mean move in."
Kellach stared at the fire that was close to going out, its embers shone glowing. "I know."
"Why all this, then?" She slipped her arms free from her sleeves and stretched them out.
Kellach finally looked at his mother. "Believe me, I'm trying to find the answer to that." His tongue twisted in his mouth. He wanted to say more, but didn't know how. "I'll be eighteen in a few months. I'm not a boy anymore, I'm...I'm a man now."
"Ah." Jourdain understood completely. "You need your space. But don't you think living somewhere closer to home would be better?"
Kellach was quick to answer her. "I need to be surrounded something I'm familiar with yet far enough away to not be bothered." He paused. "Please don't take that the wrong way." His face pinched with concern.
Jourdain nodded, standing. "All right, son. If that's how you feel, than I won't push you to do anything else." She started toward the door but then stopped. "What will you do for money?"
Kellach hadn't thought that far, but an idea quickly came to mind. "I'll start teaching magic."
Jourdain raised a brow. "Kell, there are still many things you don't know yet. You are very bright, but you are still learning through me—you still need a teacher."
A groan slipped through Kellach's mouth as he turned his attention on some books sitting on the shelf. He stood, taking one in hand. "In some ways Zendric is still my teacher. All these things he left behind—I can use them."
Jourdain fought with herself about saying more. This was another lesson for Kellach to learn, and in order for him to learn it, she need not say anything. Life was a lesson one had to experience on their own. "Okay. Take care then."
Once the door shut, Kellach snapped his fingers and locked it once again. The book he held in his hands was the Akdam's Traveling spellbook. It was one of the first spellbooks Zendric gave Kellach to learn from.
For old time's sake, Kellach opened the book and read through the simple spells he once had trouble learning.
Moyra sat on a barrel slicing an apple with her favorite knife. She snagged the apple from a spiteful woman who charged Royma, her mother, extra money for taking her time in choosing which fruit to buy.
All's fair in love and apples, thought Moyra. She grinned, thinking herself funny.
Moyra liked to people-watch, scanning main square. Not only was she looking for an opportunity to make some extra coin, but she was also a Knight of the Silver Dragon, and protecting her town was something she took pride in doing.
A great shadow loomed over her and she looked up, her brows coming together. Clouds?
The land had been so dry lately; not a single dark cloud in sight for miles, only clear blue skies and white fluffy clouds. She swallowed the last of her apple and sheathed her knife, hopping off the barrel. A sudden wind came, kicking up the dirt as she ran for cover under a merchant's tent. Giant drops of rain splattered the ground. The dirt and stone paved road quickly became submerged and little puddles showed up everywhere.
"If you're not going to buy anything get out!" A man shooed her away, forcing her stand in the rain and she was drenched in under a minute. The town's people quickly took shelter, and main square became almost deserted. She watched as Driskoll and a few other men from the Watch run to New Quarter. Something was up and she was going to find out.
She followed after Driskoll, keeping a fair distance behind him so he or any of the other men from the Watch wouldn't notice her. They were headed towards the Westgate. She slipped through an alley, taking a short cut. If she wanted to know what was going on she would have to keep up another way. If Moyra were to run right up to the scene, she knew she would be turned away.
They would say, "This is Watch business."
Technically they wouldn't be wrong either; even if she was a Knight, she was also a civilian.
From the distance where she stood, she could see the gate lowering and the Watch men with arrows drawn. It was hard to hear what was going on with all the rain, so she quickly tip-toed her way to the Westgate as close as she could. She poked her head out from the side, no other civilian was in sight, only the men of the Watch.
Soon, the gate was closing, and Torin was rushing back in with a young girl in his arms and two others following closely behind him. Driskoll was right there, too, running alongside them. He was talking but Moyra couldn't hear a thing.
First the sudden downpour, and now three strange looking girls had been let in when the gate should have stayed closed. What was going on? Certainly her beloved town wasn't in danger again.
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