Creeping shadows - Fragments of an unfinished tale

‘Dark times are brought on by those who bear dark thoughts’, went a saying from the Age of Ancients, and it kept surfacing in Mariana’s mind like an ominous warning. She felt a pang of nervousness as she looked at the cold land that lay around her. Despite the few tidings she had heard about what was happening here, it seemed too calm and quiet. Her young guide gestured to her to follow and started moving away, pulling up his hood again. She trudged along behind him uncertainly, hoping she was making the right choice.
There was a path a little ways along the sandy beach, almost obscured by foliage and away from the waves that lapped the shore. Her guide moved towards it stealthily and Mariana kept up with him, trying to maintain her posture so as not to give away her uncertainty. “How much further?” she asked him. “It will not be long now,” his gravelly voice did little to ease her anxiety.
In a few moments, the trees and shrubs on either side of the path started to clear, and she could make out the outlines of a few buildings in the distance, though there was no sign of lamps or voices. As they drew nearer to the village, her spirits dropped further.
It was in shambles. The houses and small shops had been reduced to ghostly frameworks. All manner of things from tattered clothing to a blacksmith’s axe lay on the ground. A tavern near the village square was the only building that still had a roof which was relatively intact, though its sign was badly singed and creaked noisily, reminding her of how quiet the surroundings were otherwise. Scorch marks covered the entire scene.
“What happened here?” she asked hesitantly.
“Dragon attack, whatever was left was pillaged by looters. It’s happening everywhere,” the man did not elaborate further. Mariana felt a chill run down her spine. What was she getting into?

xxxxxx

Mikael stood a little away from the injured and looked out across the sea to where he could just make out the whirlpool and the mists beyond. The armies were coming, and he knew that he was now involved in the fight whether he wished to be or not. He glanced at the sword he wore at his side, at its worn scabbard and grimy hilt, then over to where Talia was assisting the healers. He had to fight, and he knew he could now, he thought to himself as he leaned forward against the crumbling ramparts and recalled his duel with Zanar. It was the price he would have to pay for fighting that worried him. As he stood there under the gathering darkness and burning fires, he grimly recalled a saying his mother had once taught him, ‘Dark times are brought on by those who bear dark thoughts’.