the risk, of the consequences of failure. Lying on that almost nonexistent ledge, Roydon’s lips turned up in a reluctant smile. He had never taken these kinds of senseless risks. He had been a methodical and calculating commander in the king’s army, his strategies often labelled brilliant and innovative. But the risks had always been thought out and weighed carefully before execution. This time all it had taken had been the cry of an eagle.
At the reminder, the earl looked up at the sky, the bird had disappeared and with it the desperate pain in his head. But the aching pull remained constant, still urging him to continue, to follow. Wearily Roydon rose to his feet and carefully inched along the ledge to his right, his hands finding scant purchase on the vertical cliff that rose from his foothold.
He could not continue for much longer, soon darkness would cover the mountain and he had to find a place to spend the night before the dark mantle descended.
Squeezing between the cliff and the huge bolder on his right, Roydon paused in surprise when he finally emerged from the narrow passage.
The ledge widened to an almost level shelf . Slowly Roydon walked across the wide, shallow bowl-like clearing; his footsteps soundless on the carpet of rough grass that fought to survive in the sparse soil that had accumulated on the rocky shelf. The sound of water drew the earl towards the far end of the clearing where a stunted tree crowded the cliff face. Fighting for survival, it hugged the rocky wall as if seeking protection from the elements. At the base of the tree a deep, natural pool had been formed by a trickle of water that cascade down the mountain. Wonderingly, Roydon skimmed his fingers across the surface of the water. It felt cold and refreshing on his heated skin; he couldn’t wait for its icy fingers to cool his sweating body.
Turning towards the cliff he deposited the satchel beneath a rocky overhang that extended a few feet over the clearing, but still allowed him to stand upright under the massive outcropping of rock.
The earl then advanced to the rocky barrier that enclosed the clearing on the side opposite the cliff. A parapet of knee high rocks that seemed almost man made gave way to…nothing. Below him, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet fell to the forested valley floor. From this high the forest covered the ground like a huge mottled green carpet as far as the eye could see. Closed in by the cliffs on either side, the clearing seemed a haven of peace in the middle of a hostile and savage environment.
Turning towards the overhang, Roydon hurried to unpack his satchel. Taking out the cloak, he then spread one of the blankets on the rough, springy grass, putting the other aside to use as a drying cloth. Quickly he unstrapped his sword from his back and proceeded to disrobe.
The water looked cool and inviting as he walked towards it. He had not been mistaken, after the hot, sweaty climb the cold , deep water soothed his tired muscles and refreshed his clammy flesh. Sitting back on the smooth stone at the bottom of the pool, after rubbing the sweat and dust away, Roydon at last relaxed. The worries of the earldom, as well as the sadness and despair of his sire’s passing, were suspended for a moment as he allowed his head to rest against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.
Only the vague sensation of something missing, the knot of discomfort in the pit of his stomach remained and these he tried to ignore as he allowed his mind to drift.
The frigid coldness of the water finally prompted him to leave the pool. Stepping on to the grass, Roydon shook his head to rid his shoulder length hair of excess water. Then he pushed it back and raised his strong, hard face to look at the setting sun. A sun that painted the sky a multitude of colours as it slowly sunk towards the horizon, its rays still had the power to warm his skin.
So the earl stood, six feet
At the reminder, the earl looked up at the sky, the bird had disappeared and with it the desperate pain in his head. But the aching pull remained constant, still urging him to continue, to follow. Wearily Roydon rose to his feet and carefully inched along the ledge to his right, his hands finding scant purchase on the vertical cliff that rose from his foothold.
He could not continue for much longer, soon darkness would cover the mountain and he had to find a place to spend the night before the dark mantle descended.
Squeezing between the cliff and the huge bolder on his right, Roydon paused in surprise when he finally emerged from the narrow passage.
The ledge widened to an almost level shelf . Slowly Roydon walked across the wide, shallow bowl-like clearing; his footsteps soundless on the carpet of rough grass that fought to survive in the sparse soil that had accumulated on the rocky shelf. The sound of water drew the earl towards the far end of the clearing where a stunted tree crowded the cliff face. Fighting for survival, it hugged the rocky wall as if seeking protection from the elements. At the base of the tree a deep, natural pool had been formed by a trickle of water that cascade down the mountain. Wonderingly, Roydon skimmed his fingers across the surface of the water. It felt cold and refreshing on his heated skin; he couldn’t wait for its icy fingers to cool his sweating body.
Turning towards the cliff he deposited the satchel beneath a rocky overhang that extended a few feet over the clearing, but still allowed him to stand upright under the massive outcropping of rock.
The earl then advanced to the rocky barrier that enclosed the clearing on the side opposite the cliff. A parapet of knee high rocks that seemed almost man made gave way to…nothing. Below him, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet fell to the forested valley floor. From this high the forest covered the ground like a huge mottled green carpet as far as the eye could see. Closed in by the cliffs on either side, the clearing seemed a haven of peace in the middle of a hostile and savage environment.
Turning towards the overhang, Roydon hurried to unpack his satchel. Taking out the cloak, he then spread one of the blankets on the rough, springy grass, putting the other aside to use as a drying cloth. Quickly he unstrapped his sword from his back and proceeded to disrobe.
The water looked cool and inviting as he walked towards it. He had not been mistaken, after the hot, sweaty climb the cold , deep water soothed his tired muscles and refreshed his clammy flesh. Sitting back on the smooth stone at the bottom of the pool, after rubbing the sweat and dust away, Roydon at last relaxed. The worries of the earldom, as well as the sadness and despair of his sire’s passing, were suspended for a moment as he allowed his head to rest against the edge of the pool and closed his eyes.
Only the vague sensation of something missing, the knot of discomfort in the pit of his stomach remained and these he tried to ignore as he allowed his mind to drift.
The frigid coldness of the water finally prompted him to leave the pool. Stepping on to the grass, Roydon shook his head to rid his shoulder length hair of excess water. Then he pushed it back and raised his strong, hard face to look at the setting sun. A sun that painted the sky a multitude of colours as it slowly sunk towards the horizon, its rays still had the power to warm his skin.
So the earl stood, six feet
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