Sword and Crown II - Insurrection

Chapter 2 - There and Back Again

The clouds were dark and moving fast in the sky. It was like a storm, but it wasn't. Storms came from the sea.

This particular disturbance came from Balterror. The swirling clouds came from the North, bringing along a slight breeze. The boats were already docked at the banks of the Arven, but Galoren insisted that they stay in Aryanorr until the approaching storm abates. Understandable, but the sage did not need to say it with such passion at the time.

Faragon lounged on a window. He had not seen the sage much lately, and everytime he saw Galoren he noticed that the sage's eyes were tight and focused as if Galoren was fighting an opponent in chess. What was the old man thinking?

Iredon began to hum in its sheath just as the dark clouds past overhead. Was this cloud the Crown's doing? He grasped Iredon to find out. 

Faragon's surroundings changed, the colors and heat leeching away. Faragon felt unnaturally cold. To the north, however, was a large pillar of rusty, orange light that illuminated the entire vicinity. The light seemed to funnel downwards, to Balterror. The light pulsed and writhed, as if it could barely be contained. The light was so... malignant. No doubt, this was the Crown's doing. And that could only mean...

Faragon had to find Galoren.

The moment Faragon let go of Iredon, everything turned back to normal. Still, Iredon was humming as he raced down the hallway.

The rain started to fall.

Galoren was standing motionless in front of the window of the library. He was facing North, towards Herraroth and with his back to Faragon. The sage had worn his normal gray robes, which hid his white tunic. His staff was against the window sill, and his sword was nowhere to be found. 

"Galoren, Morgodor-", Faragon began to say.

"-has the first piece of the Crown", interrupted the sage without even looking at Faragon, "I know. I've seen these kinds of storms before. Only it could bring such a great disturbance." 

Faragon noticed that his sword Iredon had stopped tingling. "What should we do?"

"Leave me, Faragon! No more questions. I must think...", said Galoren while still staring out the window. His voice had rose to a near shout - a first for Galoren. Faragon had never seen him that frustrated - or angry - before. As if to enforce Galoren's command, lightning shattered the sky. Everything was engulfed in sudden flash of light. Faragon left, unsettled by Galoren's coldness. Why was the sage in such a sour mood?

Faragon's ears were bombarded by the sound of the downpour all around him. The wind whipped through the halls, slicing into Faragon's cheeks. The air was unusually cold, even for a rainstorm. The change in the weather was so sudden, so unexpected. If the Crown could alter the weather... Faragon bit his lip at the thought.

Then he remembered something Galoren had told him: Ponder enough questions and one will soon go insane. Besides, his fingers were getting cold. 

Faragon looked forward to lighting the fireplace in his room.

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The cackle of flames was heartening as the rain continued to pour outside. The downpour had lessened, but the lightning kept cracking the clouds in the North. But all those were far from Faragon's mind. The fire soothed him, and its dancing flames relaxed Faragon's mind. His thoughts flew to the campfires he shared with Daren and his father. The memory of the heat and the taste of Garen's cooking made his mouth water. Then his mind went to the main bonfire of Astane, with all the festivals and the feasting among the people.

The people of Astane... who now lay dead. The people whose bones were burnt by the fires that consumed them in their sleep. The people massacred by the man in black who Faragon had stabbed with an arrow.