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Dusty sat on the cold limestone, huddling against the night’s chill. Moonlight danced its way through branches and shadow into the mouth of the cave, accompanied by the screams and shouts of his fellow villagers. Even more alarming were the thunderous explosions of sound and light that he knew could only mean one thing: magic.
Dusty should be down there with his parents, helping, not holed up in his childhood hideout. But when the attack began, his father, a gruff farmer that brooked no dissent from his only son, ordered him out of the village.
“Don’t come back ‘til you’re sure its safe.”
Their farm was at the back of the village, against the small stream that this deep into autumn was mostly dry, and he was the first to turn up at the cave. The others will be here soon, he affirmed to himself.
He endeavored to stay calm, but his thoughts persisted in dwelling on the attack. Questions about who might be behind it, and why they would come to Moon’s Thresh vexed him with their inscrutability. The village was far from any borders. Had enemy troops penetrated so deeply within Morena, surely news would have traveled more swiftly then any army could.
The timing was curious as well, during the last day of the moon festival. He and Master Primwell had only been in the village a few days. They had heard no rumors of nearby troops, nor of bandits. Could the attack have something to do with the holiday?
The problem had no easy solution, and finally Dusty drove it from his mind. Perhaps Cal or Dish would have more information. Until then, brooding over unanswerable questions served no useful purpose.
He set his book of cantrips on the ground before him. Focusing his mind, Dusty pictured a glowing orb of light, while whispering the incantation. Soon, there was enough light to read by, but the concentrated nature of the energy meant that it would be all but invisible from outside the cave.
He began reviewing the pages, starting with the simplest spells. He ingrained the words into his mind. He had never before used magic under any more grievous circumstances than Master Primwell’s watchful gaze. He must be prepared to fight should the situation call for it.
His friends would arrive soon. But if they did not, he would be ready to go looking for them.