Vignette the next.
Sometime around 1995 I was inspired by the idea of writing a fantasy novel with the working title of "The Hollow Man". This was one of the first scenes that came to me and was to take place somewhere near the middle of the book.
****
Not long after Jasta headed off into the maze of boulders, Rik excused himself from the others to attend to a call of nature. Instead of returning immediately to his little group, he decided to take a quick look down the path Jasta had taken.
Although he had been joking when he originally insisted to the others that Jasta must be one of the legendary Tarkhelion monks, he had begun to wonder. Certainly there was a real mystery here. Jasta's insistence of wearing her hooded cloak at all times may, indeed, have been due to her claimed facial disfigurement, and not the imposed strictures of that mysterious order, but one couldn't help but wonder.
She certainly moved too loudly and clumsily to normally be taken as a member of a group known for its cat-like grace. Then again, if she was really so clumsy, how had she managed all those daring burglaries without getting caught? There was also the unanswered question of how she had so quickly dealt with those two guards if she was as unskilled in combat as she claimed.
And now she had declared that she could climb this boulder-strewn hillside to the looming castle above without being seen, somehow get in and get out with the key, and return it again before dawn without anyone being any the wiser. Seeing as how all the doors, even those on the battlements, were heavily guarded and the few windows were but arrow slits a hands breadth wide, Rik couldn't imagine how anyone could get in who wasn't blessed by the gods with extraordinary abilities, cat burglar or no.
Suddenly, he spotted a patch of brown cloth as he rounded a large boulder. Quickly ducking back, he froze against its near side, heart pounding. Up until this moment he had never considered just what the consequences of spying might be if Jasta really was a Tarkhelion monk. His heart slowed over the next minute or two during which he strained his ears but heard nothing from the other side.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly and carefully inched around the side of the large rock and strained his eyes in the light of the full moon to see what Jasta was up to. She wasn't there. Laying in the path beside the boulder was her cloak, neatly folded and accompanied by her backpack. Laying beside it and gleaming whitely in the moonlight, still steaming in the cool night air, was her skeleton. He could tell it was hers for it was still wearing her ring, but of the rest of her there was no sign.
****
Not long after Jasta headed off into the maze of boulders, Rik excused himself from the others to attend to a call of nature. Instead of returning immediately to his little group, he decided to take a quick look down the path Jasta had taken.
Although he had been joking when he originally insisted to the others that Jasta must be one of the legendary Tarkhelion monks, he had begun to wonder. Certainly there was a real mystery here. Jasta's insistence of wearing her hooded cloak at all times may, indeed, have been due to her claimed facial disfigurement, and not the imposed strictures of that mysterious order, but one couldn't help but wonder.
She certainly moved too loudly and clumsily to normally be taken as a member of a group known for its cat-like grace. Then again, if she was really so clumsy, how had she managed all those daring burglaries without getting caught? There was also the unanswered question of how she had so quickly dealt with those two guards if she was as unskilled in combat as she claimed.
And now she had declared that she could climb this boulder-strewn hillside to the looming castle above without being seen, somehow get in and get out with the key, and return it again before dawn without anyone being any the wiser. Seeing as how all the doors, even those on the battlements, were heavily guarded and the few windows were but arrow slits a hands breadth wide, Rik couldn't imagine how anyone could get in who wasn't blessed by the gods with extraordinary abilities, cat burglar or no.
Suddenly, he spotted a patch of brown cloth as he rounded a large boulder. Quickly ducking back, he froze against its near side, heart pounding. Up until this moment he had never considered just what the consequences of spying might be if Jasta really was a Tarkhelion monk. His heart slowed over the next minute or two during which he strained his ears but heard nothing from the other side.
Curiosity getting the better of him, he slowly and carefully inched around the side of the large rock and strained his eyes in the light of the full moon to see what Jasta was up to. She wasn't there. Laying in the path beside the boulder was her cloak, neatly folded and accompanied by her backpack. Laying beside it and gleaming whitely in the moonlight, still steaming in the cool night air, was her skeleton. He could tell it was hers for it was still wearing her ring, but of the rest of her there was no sign.