Work in Progress

Prologue

         Strangely enough it was daytime when the men finally arrived at the homestead. A small house, a farmhouse if anything, surrounded by organized and maintained vegetation. Sunflowers emerged from the ground all around the house, and roses decorated the front walkway. It was located just off the north road, almost visible from the road itself. It sported a thatched roof and alternating white and red brick. If you walked around you could find a small window on each of the four sides. Other than that it was a very typical peasant house.

         Slowly the men moved from the small road into the thick pine trees surrounding the house. Their task was obvious if you'd seen them coming; whoever was in that house was meant to die. As the apparent leader gave the signal they all moved within range of the house. There were thirteen all together, and while seven stayed outside six moved in through the front and back doors. A few minutes later all that could be heard were screams, the clash of steel, and then silence. Only three of the men emerged from the house, but they were carrying a small boy. Quickly they headed back down the road in the direction they had come, their task complete.

          These men had walked from the house thinking they had been efficient, but a mother does not easily abandon her children... A woman covered in blood crawled to a nearby dresser, a typical oak dresser by all standards, and opened a small drawer at the bottom. Inside was an amulet, nothing extraordinary, but she removed it, and held it in her hand as she died. It was bronze decorated with dragon, and the back contained words ancient and almost indecipherable. She knew her other son was out in the yard cutting wood, and could only hope he was safe and would come back to get this amulet. Only she and her husband knew they had two sons, everyone else thought it to be one. As she lay in her own blood on the ground she smiled, and died.