Part 6 - The First Page

Im going to follow the advice of the old guy a bit here. I was struggling a bit trying to work out the next part, and as a result, i ran the risk of stalling. He suggested i do the section after that and then just come back to it when i can, but normally i like to do things sequentially, mainly because it feels natural. However, i dont want to stall, so im going to move on and simply ask for your understanding.

In Part 5
Simply put. Tolan finishes explaining how he came to work for the church (he now is basically sent out into the world to collect trinkets and return them to the church, he doesnt know what they do or why, he is simply a courier, as is Sil and several other young men whom Tolan doesnt really know). Then Tolan offers precious stones to pay for the sword, but Relek rejects them saying that its a service for the church, blah blah blah, Tolan conceeds when Relek suggests the church simply owe him a favour (its a part of Rock-Folk tradition to avoid using currency as it all in one way or another comes from rock). Tolan agrees and leaves when a group of men enter seeking the blacksmith so that he doesnt get in the way of Relek's business. He carries the sword wrapped in a blanket on his back.
Right, now you know what ive caused you to miss, for now, so lets continue

Part 6 - The First Page

The cold evening air bit at Tolan after the snug warmth of the Blacksmith's. He pulled his cloak around him, but it bunched under the weight of the sword and would not fully cover his chest. A cloud of steam passed his lips as he sighed in frustration, he was going to have to try and make it to the inn holding his horse quickly otherwise he risked catching a chill, a chill that would only be exacerbated by the week long ride to the Abbey. Tolan started off at a brisk walk putting extra weight down into each step in an effort to keep his blood pumping warmth through him. Small towns like this one rarely stayed active once evening set in, and all around people were making their way off the streets or closing shops. The cold had helped to snap Tolan awake after the cosy comfort of Relek's and now he drank in the small amounts of bustling activity as he breezed through the streets. A faint smell tickled Tolan's nostrils and suddenly he was aware of just how hungry he was. He had eaten only a small amount of travel food on the way to the town and since then had been seeking out Relek who had only been able to supply him with mead rather than anything substantial. A short way up the road that Tolan was on, a small shop was still brightly lit, with a table outside cluttered with items and emanating from the main building was the strong smell of almost ready food. Tolan had better manners than to intrude on someones meal simply because he was hungry, but that didnt stop him from wanting to drink in the wonderful smell that awakened his senses. He drifted over to that side of the street as he approached and noticed something even more intoxicating to him that the smell of freshly cooked food. It was a bookshop. Tolan had spent his first few years in the Abbey hiding among the various rooms of the Abbey's library, often his bed would be found empty at night and the young boy would be sat next to a large window in the library reading by moonlight. His love for books had grown exponentially since then much to the joy of those who taught him, or at least helped him to teach himself.

Tolan approached the table slowly and drank in the rich assorment of books that covered it. Parchment was a valuable commodity and books were possesions to be prized by even the richest of men. Rather than taking the years needed to gain experience on the field of battle or on the streets of commerce, Tolan had taken on board the experiences of hundreds before him who had passed on the descriptions of their successes and failures in various volumes for all who were willing to learn. This is where he saw the true blessing of Parchment, in the sharing of knowledge. Many volumes existed on the strategies and tactics of war and combat, but as Tolan began to mature, it was the complex theological volumes that discussed the concepts of the Gods and it was one such book now which commanded his attention.



“The Exodus of Heaven” it was a study by the current Head of the Brishik faith, Elias. Tolans earliest memories were of the kindness he found at the hands of the teachers of the Brishik faith, and had been a loyal servant for the 15 years since. He had never met Elias or High-Servant Elias as was his formal title, but throughout his education he had been informed that some of the options before him were placed there at the request of the High-Servant for some unknown reason. Tolan never questioned the reasons for this directly, but instead worked beyond the very best of his abilities, so not to disappoint so holy a figure. In his youth however, Tolan was prone to daydreaming about the reasons for this Holy guardian who watched over him, and this daydreaming led him to reading the many theological volumes written by Elias, and had found the man to be an astute minded individual who’s faith was not blind, but truly earned.

“The Exodus of Heaven” was the first book Tolan had ever read of Elias’ and one that Tolan had since been banned from reading because of the damage that excessive usage had done to it. Since the day that Brother Andreas had chased him from that section of the library Tolan had longed to own his own copy, but the code of the church forbade him from owning anything personal. Some people chose to circumvent this rule; like his childhood friend Quill, who had a lavishly decorated room at the Abbey, but Tolan was a good man, and one devoted to every avenue of his faith. He held the book in his hands a moment, feeling the leather binding which had fallen off the abbeys copy several reads ago. It was barely used. Sighing he placed it back on the table, but another book caught his eye. Bound in a tan leather and bearing no words on the front cover but instead, a large symbol which seemed oddly familiar to Tolan, but he could not place. He picked it up and turned it over. There were no words anywhere on the front, back or spine, and the leather seemed careworn, but in no way anything near what you would call damaged. Tolan slowly opened the first page which held only one sentence “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow” Tolan was suddenly confused beyond any words, and he quickly turned to the next page. It was blank. Tolan quickly flicked through all the pages to find that they were all blank, save for the first. Tolan read it again, puzzled by what it could mean. “Spy the man who attempts to become your shadow”.



The sentence made no sense to Tolan, and his mind worked quickly to ascertain the logic behind what seemed to be...Tolan couldn’t quite put his finger on it until it clicked. It was a command. Tolan was compelled for some primitive reason to look back the way he had come and there he saw what the book wished him to. Halfway down the street behind him was a cloaked man stood at a silk stall looking in his direction. The man was of a far larger build than Tolan, muscled, cloaked and hiding what seemed to be a fairly large Axe. All that was visible outside the cloak was the mans head, shrouded in shadow and the arm which held the end of a sheet of silk in front of him which was roughly leathered in the style of most Mercenaries and Brigands from the highlands to the north. His tightly bound and heavily padded boots further betrayed his mountainous origins where men often hired themselves out to the small often snowed in villages suffering from Troll or Goblin problems. The man looking over at Tolan would not have been cause for alarm on its own, but the fact that the scruffy man was being shouted at by the small female vendor in front of him without even noticing was enough to raise Tolan’s suspicions.

Tolan closed the book firmly ready to begin trying to lose his tail, but as he went to place the book back on the table, he was compelled to open it once more. What would the book say now that he had done what it wanted? Slowly he opened it and read the finely inked words across the first page.

“This story is not to be taken lightly, nor should anyone who embarks upon it feel forced into service. Save for one. Tolan; son of the Brishik Faith, only you are forced to bare this story for you are its beginning; its opening chapter, and leaving so powerful a gift on an unknown table, in an unknown street will only cause the story to come to a premature and unwelcome conclusion.”

Comprehension escaped Tolan, and he decided that the safest thing to do rather than stand here trying to understand such a statement, would be to take the book back to the Abbey, there he could get help in making sense of it. He placed a single polished stone into the box at the end of the table and hastily pushed the book into his satchel alongside the brooch.

Tolan continued on his path down the street he was on, careful not to look back at the man he knew was following him. Measuring his steps mindfully he attempted to look casual, peering around at the street life around him as it slowed down to a trickle of people heading home for the evening. Ahead of Tolan about fifty foot, the street was suddenly plunged into darkness, either because of a lazy Lamp Watchman, or for some other more sinister reason. Given the circumstances, Tolan leaned towards the latter as the most likely explanation. A careful look down at his feet showed Tolan the looming shadow of his unknown tail, he was gaining, presumably to coincide with the area of darkness just ahead. Although gifted with sword skills more than sufficient to keep him alive, Tolan was not by any means a bulking, behemoth like the warriors to the far North. Their huge double headed War-Axes would be a struggle for Tolans lean figure to even get a handful of swings out of. This lack of bulk however gave him two advantages over most bog-standard warriors, it made finding his footing ten times easier, allowing him to open up his style to encompass a number of unorthodox or rare techniques, but it also made him fast, in combat, and more importantly, out.

It was this particular advantage that Tolan was going to need to make use of..not through the darkness, that would be suicide, an attacker would only need to hold their weapon out at shoulder height and wait for Tolan to decapitate himself, perhaps through the side alley just off to the left...Tolan’s astute mind quickly weighed up all the options. If he was seen to be deliberately avoiding the trap, an archer could just as easily pick him off. But if there was an archer, surely he’d already be dead, there was no-one around to witness an assassination except the man following him, and something told Tolan the huge man wouldn’t go running off crying for the Night Watchman. The alleyway was his only choice, and making no effort to hide his choice, he made a short sharp burst for it feet before the darkness. He heard the hurried, cumbersome steps behind him, and the familiar scrape of leather on steel as the man behind him unlimbered his huge Axe.