The Defender of Myris Dar

Terror on the Beach

Rowan ran lightly down the path that led to the beach, watching the ground as she placed her soft booted feet on the uneven path. The morning was already hot, even the birds were no longer singing, conserving their energy through the heat of the day. The sun dappled the ground as she entered the tree lined section of the path that she loved so well. She slowed to a walk and relished the cooler shadows. The ocean breeze lifted the stands of her long blond hair that had come loose from her braid. She reached up and tucked them back behind her ear.

She was looking forward to her morning ride. Roanus, her young grey stallion, was making beautiful progress and she expected to be able to take him out soon on tour with her comrades. 

Perhaps a swim in the surf afterward their ride would be good, giving her the opportunity to work with him in a less familiar environment and further develop the trust between rider and mount.

The path opened and the pebble strewn shore crunched under her feet until she reached the fine white sand. Rowan reached up to shade her eyes, scanning the surf. As she was about to turn towards the shore path that led to the lower stable and training corral, something odd caught her attention. She frowned, studying a strange boulder on the beach that she had never seen before. Then it moved. Rowan gasped. 

It was a person! 

She swiftly glanced along the shore – no boats or other people.

Rowan strode forward slowly, her senses on high alert. As she approached she saw that it was a man, still wet from swimming ashore or being washed up, she wasn't sure. He had no weapons that she could see. She walked around to stand with the sun behind her so she could see him clearly. He was not Myrian.

"Are you alright?" She shifted so her shadow fell over him.

He blinked and brought a hand up to shade his eyes. He gave her a piercing look, but then groaned and sagged back to the sand.

Rowan moved up beside him and knelt down. She pulled her water skin from its strap and helped him take a sip. "Where have you come from?"

He shook his head, grasping at the water. Rowan offered him more, waited for him to drink his fill as she looked over him. "Are you wounded?"

The man shook his head and struggled to sit up, Rowan helped him but stepped back when he tried to hold onto her.

He said something, but she couldn't understand him.

He tried again in broken common. "I sank boat."

"Your ship sank?" The man nodded.

Rowan scanned the beach again, looking for debris. There was nothing but the man before her. "Where?" she asked.

He waved vaguely in the direction of the left arm of the bay which curved around to make a natural breakwater.

"Did your ship run aground? Where is the rest of your crew?" Rowan looked back at the stranger, the hair on the back of her neck beginning to rise. "I will take you to see a healer," she said. "Can you walk?"

He nodded, and struggled to his feet. Rowan stepped forward to help him, but suddenly there was a long dagger pointed at her chest. She gasped and pulled back but he grabbed her wrist and hauled her toward him, trying to wrap his arm around her throat.

Rowan resisted. He pulled harder. Then she charged, using his momentum to knock him down. He landed with a surprised grunt as she rolled off him, stripping the knife from his grasp. She pulled her sword from its scabbard on her back,  levelling it at him. "Who are you? Where is your crew, pirate?"

The man raised his hands up in surrender. He gazed up at her and began to cackle with a sinister smile.

An arrow whistled passed her – close enough for her to feel the puff of air from its passage.