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A Reckoning for Adrian Locke
Posted: 27 Oct 2006 03:02 AM |
((Just a little recent history in the spirit of the Halloween season.))
Adassa Sanitarium- One month previous.
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The stormclouds had cleared long enough for the sunset to lend the white granite walls of Adassa Sanitarium a red-orange caste before nightfall. Ominous though it was, not a person in the world gave it a moment's notice. No one... except for one man. It delighted one man to no end.
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The inviting glow from the window of the guardhouse meant that Edrik had already gotten the fire going.
Good, Phillips thought. Wind was starting to kick up again. It was blowing down now from the Divider Chain... broke up that storm, at least.
James Phillips: Jim to his wife, Phillips to the rest of the guard, was a quiet, serious man who really didn't mind the third watch all that much. The quiet, well, the quiet, he always thought, it gives a man time to think. Besides, he hadn't ever taken very well to managing the inmates. He either wanted to feel sorry for them or was creeped out by them. More the latter than the former. D*mn nuts, casting spells. Some kind of cruel joke of the gods, he always thought. Something like that in the hands of someone that doesn't have a collected thought in their head. Irresponsible, is what it was.
Yes, third watch at the gate was just about perfect, as far as he was concerned.
Phillips blinked away his reverie and surveyed the little wooded vale that fell away from the foot of the wall. A poorly cobbled road meandered through tall grass down the slope a ways and into the conifers. Just about impossible to follow it much further than that.
The wind gusted and caused the corners of his cloak to snap at his calves. He turned into the wind and his cloak flew horizontal behind him, his eyes watering from the sting. By /Theus/, he'd almost prefer the rain. The clammy cold went right through his chainmail. He blinked the tears from his eyes and wiped them on his cloak hood. When he turned back around, he could just make it out, a light emerging from the forest.
Duty took over and Phillips walked briskly over to the guardhouse and opened the door.
"Edrik, check the ledger. We have a visitor," he called in.
"No, sir, we don't," came the reply. "Not scheduled, anyway."
"Go down and see who it is, will you? I might have to go wake the Warden."
"Alright." A door opened and shut.
Phillips closed the door and returned to the wall just as the cloaked figure reached the gate. The figure glanced up, but he couldn't get a read on the face in the torch's uneven light. And suddenly, the torch was extinguished.
This guy must really be sure he's getting in, Phillips thought dryly. He walked back to the guardhouse, awaiting Edrik's report.
Then something odd happened. A faint vibration in the stone... a faint grating... it was the portcullis, it was being opened for some reason.
D*mmit, Edrik! This man had better be the White Bishop himself, or I'm going to have your head on a plate, he thought to himself angrily.
He jogged across the guardhouse and to the staircase, grabbing his sword for good measure. His boots clomped down the wooden stairs, then were muted on the earthen floor below. He strode through the still open doorway behind the wrought-iron portcullis.
"Edrik! What in Theus's name do you think you're doing? I told you-"
He turned to face the cowled figure, his tirade toward Edrik trailing off to nothing. The face was faint, he moved closer.
"Who are-"
The iron gate crashed down.
*Crack* He saw white as Edrik landed a blow to his temple from the side. He fell to a knee and looked up at the young guard. His eyes were glassy and his jaw was slack. He looked like one of the d*mn looney inmates.
Edrik moved in, looming over the man. He drew back his arm to strike him again, but Phillips was ready this time. He moved right just in time, as Edrik went off balance. He wrapped up his legs, sending the younger to the ground.
*Crack* White again as Edrik drove his heel into the bridge of his nose. He winced and blew out hard, spraying blood onto the dirt.
He rolled to the side and pushed himself up to a knee. He drew his sword- enough was enough. He was done with this, Havarin could sort it out in the morning.
Edrik was up as well, and stepping in for a kick to his side. He took it, grunted and slashed up towards his face.
The sword found its mark just below the jaw, and was crimson immediately. Edrik paled and stumbled, murmurring something incomprehensible. He stumbled, fell, and died there on the ground blinking wildly.
Phillips, stunned, turned toward the gate a second time. He wanted to know the meaning of this.
The cloaked figure pulled back his hood and gazed directly at him with cold, blue eyes. The wind gusted again, and at that moment, with dawning recognition, James Phillips was afraid. He stood, frozen as the man gestured at him, shouting an invocation.
And then... something odd happened.
He decided that maybe he wasn't that afraid. After all, what did he really have to fear? This man was unarmed, as was now glaringly obvious to him. No, he wasn't that intimidating at all. In fact, Phillips thought, this man looked downright trustworthy. Hells, most young folk were so disrespectful these days, and here he was, making this one wait in the bitter cold. Why had Edrik made him wait so long?
Edrik... Edrik... Phillips furrowed his brow a moment, but the look passed quickly.
Anyway, he'd have to give him a talking to once he got back to the guardhouse. Right after he opened the gate, that was.
He hoisted the gate as quickly as he could, securing it open. He turned to find the man already through.
"Most kind of you," the figure said to him.
What a fine young gentleman, Phillips thought, smiling dully.
"Havarin Mourne. You will take me to him."
Yes, of course. That seemed perfectly reasonable to him. The Warden would most certainly want to speak to such a fine young man as this.
So Phillips led on, from the gate, past the Sanitarium, to the Warden's private residence. No need to knock, he thought, why bother? He would only be waking him up in a moment, anyway.
Through the door, through the foyer, up the stairs to his personal chambers.
He paused.
This was it... but wouldn't the Warden want to meet this fine young man alone? Yes... yes, he was certain of it. He would just wait here for the Warden to come out and thank him.
The cloaked man pushed past him, opened the chamber door, and turned.
"No one is to enter. Havarin has a visitor... an old lady friend... the noise is perfectly normal."
Phillips turned to stand guard.
Perfectly reasonable. After all, why wouldn't the Warden want some privacy with his wife?
His brow furrowed.
Was it his wife? No... maybe not. Was the Warden even married? He couldn't seem to recall for some reason, but the thought troubled him suprisingly little. After all, who was he to judge? Whoever that woman was, the Warden had every right to privacy.
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Perfectly reasonable... perfectly reasonable.
All so perfectly reasonable, right down to the screaming that lasted until dawn.
Perfectly reasonable, he was certain. |
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