Gray clouds filled the sky, shading the western side of the Rlaspeck Mountains. Right where the string of mountains bent like a boomerang lay a small countryside settlement called Jagannath. Most people farmed or mined there since the soil was rich with minerals and the mountains were flowing with precious jewels.

A drop of rain settled on the soil of the small town, causing the villagers to glance skyward. Their crops hadn't gotten nearly the amount of rain they needed all spring. While the farmers rejoiced, the blacksmiths and miners scowled.

"Confound it weather!" grumbled Medwin as he wiped his hands on a towel. He, along with the mineworkers and bakers, hoped to work outside to escape the stuffy heat. As the town's blacksmith, it was his job to make everything needed and so rain or shine he slaved over hot coals, melting metal.

More rain pelted down now, turning the brick streets crimson and chestnut from their usual dull colors. Running a hand through his hair, Medwin glanced at his son and daughter; twins in fact.

"Since it'll be plenty hot in here, we can switch shifts. One of you will stay if I need assistance and vise versa. In the mean time, try and see if you can help out Eras at the Inn. The miners will probably step in for a drink, for this weather will have gotten them down.

Glancing up from her book, Chantrēah let her brown, wavy hair tumble down her shoulders. She had a lean figure with dancing green eyes etched so deep they looked like a depthless oblivion. Her cherry red lips pursed together as she marked her page and stood.

"I would be pleased to Father. Would you like Roán take the first shift?" she felt a hard stare from across the room. With blue eyes lit up by some hidden fire, Roán kept his penetrating glare until Medwin chuckled.

"Naw. I won't need any help soon. Just check back every few 'ours. Be gone with ya both." Ruffling Roán's messy blond-streaked hair, Medwin let the two go.

Grumbling, Roán pushed open the door and motioned for Chantrēah to follow. The girl quickly brushed up beside his shoulder and strode into the rain-drenched streets. Just as their father had said, the inn was packed with miners whose horses pawed in the mud, tired of being left in the pouring rain. For a while, Roán was silent as they walked down the path. His unmeticulous hair was dripping wet, making it curl into his eyes. Using the back of his hand, Roán swept the hair back in place and glanced at his sister.

"Father seems stressed lately. He likes to isolate himself away from people. All he has been doing lately is working at the smithy and when he comes home, he goes to his room." Chantrēah studied her boots as they suctioned into the mud and popped back out.

"I think it is Mother that is making him this way." The two fell silent.

Their Mother had left two years ago and she hadn't returned. The only proof they had of her leaving what a note she left in the middle on the night on the door. Chantrēah and Roán could recite it out of pure memory. The note stated that she loved them very much but she had unfinished business to do. Medwin had been furious for about a week then he broke down. A year ago he seemed to go on with his life again, returning to his normal activities until this month.

"I still haven't gotten over it and I don't think I ever will. Do you ever wonder where she went?" Roán paused to glance into his sister's green eyes. Nodding, she dismissed the subject by hopping up the steps to the inn. Staring at the sign that said The Golden Eagle Inn, Roán gingerly followed his twin. After she yanked the door free, Chantrēah grabbed her brother's wrist and tugged him to the main desk.

A man with wild red hair and a matching orange mustache lifted his gaze as he saw the two approaching. The scar on his left cheek quivered as he dropped his rag.

"Ey! Why isn't it Chantrēah and Roán. What brings you to thee Golden Eagle today?" leaning towards them, the man winked a green eye at Roán and chuckled.

"We are here to help you, Eras. What do you need?" The young man grinned as Eras propped his head up by his palm. His callused finger drummed on the cherry wood counter top, keeping a steady rhythm.

"Chantrēah, you mind straightening rooms for the new guests?"

"No I don't sir. I would be pleased to do so." She replied affably. Eras nodded and swept her off to work then gave Roán a hard glare.

"What are you good for, boy?" he asked.

"I don't know, what is a seventeen year old man good for?" Raising his eyebrows, Roán watched as the man shook his head full of red hair.

"Ah, you are indeed a man. I'll put you to good use, I will. Go tend to the horses; give them a dry place to sleep and feed them and once you are done with that, chop some firewood."

"Yes, sir!" Slipping out the door, the boy leaped from the deck to the grass and took off racing towards each tied up animal. Leading two at a time, he placed them in the stable next to the inn. All of the horses were eager to go inside and didn't put up a fuss. Once he was finished with the easy work, Roán began shoveling out the stalls and putting the soiled straw into a pile in back of the barn. Sweat beaded down his forehead as he used all of his muscles to carry a heavy load. Then, using a small knife, he cut the red twine that held the straw bales together and spread out the hay on the floor and finally put grain in the horse's buckets.

Leaning up against a wall, Roán sighed and felt his muscles tremble. That had been harder than he expected and he still had the firewood to chop. Using all of his power to propel himself off the wall, he strode down the muddied pathway and yanked the rusty ax out of the stump where Eras had left it. Lifting it over his head, Roán split a log in half and repeated the process until he was able to swing and hit mindlessly. The calming sound of cracking wood soothed his nerves. He didn't even notice the wind picking up, sending the rain towards his skin at high speeds. Each drop felt like a thousands needles. The blisters on his hands from shoveling cracked open and began to bleed. Biting his tongue, he continued the backbreaking work.

Soon the sky turned a dark gray and thunder rumbled from the foothills. All day his father hadn't asked for him to come home. It seemed odd but then again he probably enjoyed the solitude of working alone. Chucking the ax back into the tree stump, Roán placed the newly chopped wood in the stack.

Traipsing towards the Inn, he shucked off his muddy boots and went inside. Dozens of people chattered to one another and ate dinner. The miners seemed content just sitting there instead of going home. It took the boy a while to find Eras, but soon Roán found the red haired man setting a plate on a table. He looked fatigued from the day's busy work.

"Your father came by a while ago. I told him you'll be staying for dinner, that is if you'd like to." Walking back to the counter, Eras picked up a moist rag and tossed it to Roán.

"Thank you, I accept your offer. Did my father need any help? I promised him I'd come back if he needed any." Roán concentrated on working the cloth in circles.

"No, he didn't." Eras raised an eyebrow when he noticed the blood on the rag coming from Roán's hands. "Looks like you worked harder than a slave." Nodding, the young man continued with the work. One thing he had learned over the years was to never complain and take hard work as a compliment.

"What would you like for dinner?" asked Eras as he took the rag from Roán. The young man shrugged. "Do you have any bread, roast, and cheese?"

"Yes we do." The red haired man turned towards the kitchen and called out his order.

While his food was being prepared, Roán seated himself at a table in the back corner. A tall candle burned in the middle of the counter dripping wax onto a tiny metal disk. Blocking out the sounds of the crowd at the inn, Roán concentrated on the patter of the rain and the rumble of thunder. Every so once in a while the building would be lit up by a large flash of lightning then resume back to the shadowy darkness.

Finally he spotted Chantrēah carrying their plates to the table. White steam rose from the meat while the cheese rolls melted next to the half loaves of bread. Rubbing his palms together, Roán watched as his sister set the food down in front of him and took a seat across from him. The candlelight sharpened her eyes as she glared at her twin. Picking up his fork, Roán began eating his roast until the stare disturbed him.

He whispered, "What?" Leaning in close to the candle, Chantrēah glanced about.

"Who's that man behind you? He has been sitting there and watching you ever since you sat down. I don't like the looks of him, you should ask Eras to throw him out."

Turning his head so the stranger was in view, Roán surveyed him. A green cloak was wrapped around him and a sword rested on his hip. The hood was pulled over his head, hiding his detailed features. His hands were fat and gnarled, his knuckles wearing large white scars. Oddly, he hadn't touched his food; only a few sips were taken from his mug. The stranger caught Roán's gaze and was about to turn his chair when Chantrēah sharply yanked her brother's shoulder to face her. "I am not sure." He confessed. The girl nodded slowly, her wavy hair having a dark chestnut appearance in the meager light.

"Eat quickly. I don't want to stay here any longer." She snapped. The young man nodded and started to gorge his meal. Chantrēah took a few bites of her bread and rose.

"I am going to get my boots I left up in the lounge. I took them off for they were muddy. I will be back." Then hurrying away, she ran up the steps and disappeared.

The instant the girl left, the strange man jumped out of his chair and strode over to where Roán sat. Nervously, the boy began to fidget. He felt sweat rolling down his forehead. Twisting wildly in his chair, he bumped into the stranger, sending both of them backward. With a crash, Roán's plate shattered on the floor. Pieces of glass flew in the air and showered the two men. The stranger advanced on the boy, reaching out for him. Thoughts rang through the boy's head. His heart began to beat rapidly, causing his breath to come out in short puffs. What did this man want with him? As if Roán had made up his mind, he grabbed his chair and chucked it at the pursuing stranger. The man howled with pain as the boy took off up the stairs. Immediately the stranger raced after him, knocking over a few people on the way. He was shouting something unintelligible, but Roán blocked out his voice.

Roán slipped as he rounded the corner on the balcony, his head knocking the railing and sending him staggering for the first room he could see. Adrenaline crashed over him like a wave, making his legs turn to jelly. Forcing himself to move, Roán crawled under the mattress and held his breath. Tears if fear beaded in his blue eyes. Why was this man chasing him? What did he do? Roán's questions ceased when the brass doorknob jiggled open. The stranger's tan boots could be seen sauntering around the room, the man opening closets and drawers at random.

"I know you are in here boy. Come on out!" Ordered the stranger. A frightened gasp escaped from Roán. The man's boots stopped near the bed. For a moment, all was silent. The clang of mugs and shouts of men could be heard. Then thunder rolled out from the hills and blue lightning filled the room. All went pitch black. Roán could swear he heard this heart thumping.

"Gotcha!"