after I arrived, I encountered the Sorceress…” said Anastasia.
…
Anastasia had just gotten her young daughter to sleep when a sharp knock at the door resonated through her small, wooden cabin. She grabbed her staff and hurried to the door as she cursed at the cry of the roused infant.
More angry at the inopportune interruption than concerned for her safety, she threw open the crudely planked door. A small, bespectacled man with a curled mustache and darkened circles under his eyes stood in the doorway with a plaintive look on his face.
“Please,” he muttered.
Anastasia detected motion in the brush behind the diminutive man and saw a small winged form loitering in the shadows. The moonlight reflected off its gray scales.
“What has happened?” asked Anastasia, shaken by the normally effusive man’s dejected demeanor.
“It’s Glinwilda—and the Chalice,” blubbered the man, falling into Anastasia’s arms, “both are lost.”
“What? Come here. Duggan, pull yourself together!” she said, pushing the man onto a stool. Then she saw little Hemlock struggling to lower herself out of her crib.
“For goodness’ sake!” she cried, leaving the man for a moment to push the small child back into the safety of her tiny bed.
When she turned back to Duggan, he was wiping the tears from his face with a handkerchief then he replaced his spectacles. He looked nominally more composed.
“Now, tell me exactly what happened, starting from the beginning,” she said.
Duggan leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “It’s Glinwilda! She went after that dark woman who’s been loitering in the mountain. She’s gone missing! And Fergul the smith found the body of her wyvern outside that dark stronghold.”
Anastasia withdrew her hands from the clasp of the man, and considered his words. “What business is it of mine? Glinwilda was never a friend to me. Wasn’t it her that denied me shelter in Ogrun when I first arrived? Didn’t she tell me that without a wyvern, I wasn’t fit to live with you? Why should I even care?”
Duggan’s eyes widened and his lower lip quivered . “But we’ve helped you. I’ve helped you! We gave you food and helped you build this cabin.”
“It’s a hovel barely fit for an animal!”
“But, Anastasia, you have power—you’re a witch—like that dark woman. If Glinwilda is…gone…then we have no protection. And the dark woman has the Chalice!”
“How is that possible? It was in your highest tower constantly guarded by men and wyverns!”
“The men said they had strange visions and became disoriented. One fell from the tower to his death!”
“When?”
“Last night. The dark woman must have taken the Chalice with her magic!”
Anastasia had to concede that this seemed a likely scenario. Like Anastasia, the dark woman had been turned away by Glinwilda. But this woman reacted with hatred and threats, skulking about in the mountains that flanked Ogrun. Anastasia had gotten a read on the woman one night at the outskirts of town. When Anastasia saw her, the woman had been staring at the tallest tower at the center of the buildings, atop which a brilliant light shone out in defiance of the darkness.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anastasia said to the woman.
The woman just looked at her slyly and nodded, not trying to conceal her malice. Yes, this dark woman did seem to be a problem, and Anastasia could tell she was a Sorceress.
“I told Glinwilda to heed the prophecy I found in that book you lent me. It said that when Ogrun was attacked by th at horde of beasts, their greatest man drank from the Chalice and transformed into a giant that protected the town. I believe that was her destiny,” said Anastasia.
“You know she feared that path. The prophecy says that this hero lost his identity once he transformed and was never seen again after the beast-men were defeated,” sa id Duggan.
“Do you think this
…
Anastasia had just gotten her young daughter to sleep when a sharp knock at the door resonated through her small, wooden cabin. She grabbed her staff and hurried to the door as she cursed at the cry of the roused infant.
More angry at the inopportune interruption than concerned for her safety, she threw open the crudely planked door. A small, bespectacled man with a curled mustache and darkened circles under his eyes stood in the doorway with a plaintive look on his face.
“Please,” he muttered.
Anastasia detected motion in the brush behind the diminutive man and saw a small winged form loitering in the shadows. The moonlight reflected off its gray scales.
“What has happened?” asked Anastasia, shaken by the normally effusive man’s dejected demeanor.
“It’s Glinwilda—and the Chalice,” blubbered the man, falling into Anastasia’s arms, “both are lost.”
“What? Come here. Duggan, pull yourself together!” she said, pushing the man onto a stool. Then she saw little Hemlock struggling to lower herself out of her crib.
“For goodness’ sake!” she cried, leaving the man for a moment to push the small child back into the safety of her tiny bed.
When she turned back to Duggan, he was wiping the tears from his face with a handkerchief then he replaced his spectacles. He looked nominally more composed.
“Now, tell me exactly what happened, starting from the beginning,” she said.
Duggan leaned forward and grabbed her hands. “It’s Glinwilda! She went after that dark woman who’s been loitering in the mountain. She’s gone missing! And Fergul the smith found the body of her wyvern outside that dark stronghold.”
Anastasia withdrew her hands from the clasp of the man, and considered his words. “What business is it of mine? Glinwilda was never a friend to me. Wasn’t it her that denied me shelter in Ogrun when I first arrived? Didn’t she tell me that without a wyvern, I wasn’t fit to live with you? Why should I even care?”
Duggan’s eyes widened and his lower lip quivered . “But we’ve helped you. I’ve helped you! We gave you food and helped you build this cabin.”
“It’s a hovel barely fit for an animal!”
“But, Anastasia, you have power—you’re a witch—like that dark woman. If Glinwilda is…gone…then we have no protection. And the dark woman has the Chalice!”
“How is that possible? It was in your highest tower constantly guarded by men and wyverns!”
“The men said they had strange visions and became disoriented. One fell from the tower to his death!”
“When?”
“Last night. The dark woman must have taken the Chalice with her magic!”
Anastasia had to concede that this seemed a likely scenario. Like Anastasia, the dark woman had been turned away by Glinwilda. But this woman reacted with hatred and threats, skulking about in the mountains that flanked Ogrun. Anastasia had gotten a read on the woman one night at the outskirts of town. When Anastasia saw her, the woman had been staring at the tallest tower at the center of the buildings, atop which a brilliant light shone out in defiance of the darkness.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Anastasia said to the woman.
The woman just looked at her slyly and nodded, not trying to conceal her malice. Yes, this dark woman did seem to be a problem, and Anastasia could tell she was a Sorceress.
“I told Glinwilda to heed the prophecy I found in that book you lent me. It said that when Ogrun was attacked by th at horde of beasts, their greatest man drank from the Chalice and transformed into a giant that protected the town. I believe that was her destiny,” said Anastasia.
“You know she feared that path. The prophecy says that this hero lost his identity once he transformed and was never seen again after the beast-men were defeated,” sa id Duggan.
“Do you think this
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