The Jewel Thief

1: the diadem tale

The wind was strong. 

The people were stronger, of course.

Today the wind was tempest. The loud shrieks of lightning-like-air struck children and grandmothers alike with bewilderment as a tumult broke into the quiet land of Caelum. "No- this isn't wind" Cahir murmured to his brother as the gust proceeded towards the Queen's harvest. 

Solim laughed, and then replied in dismay "You've been inside reading those fables of yours too long. A little wind won't hurt you, now will you help me gather this crop or not?".

The clouds settled over the peak, gradually making their way downhill. The boys watched the grey masses swallow the mountain, but the Athyn Castle stood strong, unbothered, defiantly between Caelum town and the peak, holding reels of whatever it was the lowlanders knew not of. He looked up, doubtful of how foolproof their plan was. The winds hazed visibility far too much for the castle's Watchers to notice.

This must be Cahir thought the best time there possibly could be to swipe some harvest from that dreadful Athyn.

"Of course" he reluctantly concluded that the monsoon had just come early that year. Indeed, the golden buds promised more than a month's worth of fortune for them, perhaps three meals a day and fresher grass for the cattle. The boys continued to reap through the farm, but the storm mocked their bravery. Their heap wreaked with havoc as the wind ruffled its carefully stacked piles. Solim rushed to gather whatever he could as the crop flew in turmoil.

She knows

She couldn't possibly know

"Grab the sacks and run! This isn't lowland wind!" He screamed over the uproar. Cahir seized the loosely tied sacks and ran towards their collection "Solim, Solim where are you?" he clung onto the bags as the winds blurred his sight. He was responded with silence; or perhaps the gust had overpowered him.

Cahir had begun to make his way to the lowlands when a hand reached up his waist- the crooked figure of mercy. Solim's torso had a sharp cut staining his cotton tunic with deep crimson blood. "Ho-ome" he mouthed faintly. The wind was catching up, with turbulence greater than they had ever seen. He knew there wasn't time for questioning, so he reached out to Solim and made his way away from the approaching storm downhill.

---

The night had been long. By the time the sun made its way to the small town of Oryn, the streets had been wrecked with ruin and rubble. The winds weren't deadly, but they were unusually deadly enough to spark worry. Confusion made its way into the dull lives of lowlanders as they attempted to justify the early monsoons.

Sitting in the small wooden cabin that kept the brothers and their father home, the fresh breeze of morning made its way through the cracks of their door. "You kids go off stay too often" Iven said to them "how many times have I told you to stay off anywhere around the Queen's territory- hell this might be your fault". Cahir caught a glance of Solim's pale face before duly apologising to their father. The blood had flushed out his tone, unable to grasp the events of that night. He had performed a few brief runes (that he'd stolen from the Castle's bookshelves of course) on Solim's wound, but there was no telling how long they would last.

They walked in silence to the townsquare, unsure of the consequences to their actions. Had the small crop theft they had almost conducted proved fatal, or no- surely the King's power didn't breach the limits of mother Earth herself. Cahir wandered around the marketplace in disbelief of the demolition. He passed wooden rooftops that had scattered across the ground and fruit carts toppled over each other. The sun was scorchingly blinding as the distraught market-owners scurried to clean up after the debris.