The Escape From Falan Port

Carefully and cautiously Sean unwrapped what lay inside, a beautiful newborn baby stared back at him with the most unusual but pretty eyes Sean had ever seen. They were green but mirrored a blue and a small streak of white ran across hi right pupil horizontally. He had never seen anything so strange. The baby cooed and gurgled quietly as Sean examined him. In the babes coverings Sean found a small leather backed book with gold script in a language Sean didn' t recognized. Not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, he withdrew from the tavern to his room in the inn upstairs. Along the back wall a staircase led up to small rooms. Cradling the child against his chest he made his way up the narrow stairs. Slowly the din of the tavern faded. At the top of the staircase a hallway dark and impregnable, except for the dark burning torches that loomed ahead like ghosts every few feet or so. The noise from the tavern was now just a memory as ominous silence filled the air. Sean could hear the old wooden building settling under his foot. As he walked into the blackness of the hallway the old oak floorboards creaked in protest against the large mans weight. Sean passed numerous doors until he reached his all too familiar oak door, whose number that was painted on the door was cracked and pealing. He fumbled a minute with the varnished lock and brass handle while he shifted the baby against him.

Once inside Sean lit a candle that danced in the breeze Sean had created. It sat on a rickety nightstand next to the door.

The room itself was small and old and poorly maintained. The furnishings had seen their youth come and go. There was a single window, above the bed that was pushed up against the back wall taking up the entire length of the room. A small dresser sat next to the foot of the bed. A ceramic bowl for washing sat lonely atop it. A poor excuse for a mirror hung in shame, dirty and cracked in several places, above the dresser. Other than these few furnishings the room was bare. Sean crossed the room and put him down on the bed. The child was beautiful. Nothing oddly remarkable about the child stood out from any other babe, other than his eye, of course. Sean couldn't ignore this deep feeling of awe when he gazed at the child.

Sean took out the peculiar black book that he had safely tucked away in the child's blankets. Examining the leather case he traced the gold script with his finger. He turned the book over in his hands. He ran his thumbs up the laced bindings. A silver catch held the book shut. He slowly and carefully slid his right hand under the dark but ornate book. With his left hand he pried at the catch. Suddenly and sharply a pain cut through his body like a bolt of greased lightning. With cat reflexes he pulled his hands away from the book and dropped it onto the hard oak floor. Pain surging through every inch of his body he collapsed onto the bed behind him, landing inches away from the babe.

* * *

Apon waking up to a throbbing pain between his temples, the baby's ear piercing cry filled the room. Groggily he sat up and calmed the babe. Glancing out the window he realized it was late afternoon. Holding the babe Sean stood up and waited for the room to stop spinning. He went over to the ceramic bowl, washed his face, and headed downstairs.