Well, yet again I have updated the prologue from before. Hope you like this better!
* * * * * * * *
The lone soldier, James Bidas, was already tired of the watch shift. His wooden chair was stiff, and extremely uncomfortable. The boredom, from sitting and watching, steadily, into the night, was intense. After about an hour of this tedious work, he stood up and walked across the balcony above the city gate, stretching his stiff legs. He wrapped his cloak a little tighter around his body in an attempt to stay warm. his breath rising in vapour-like tendrils before his eyes. Every time he moved his heavy armour of chain mail clinked; an ominous sound in the profound silence that surrounded him. The atmosphere was tense. Almost, thought James, as though the night was preparing for something.
He stood and gazed across the silent land. From his vantage point James could just see out of the massive gorge that contained the city. A road sliced its way through the bleak country, and sloped down into the gorge to meet the gate. He spat over the wall in a useless attempt to ease his boredom, and sat again on the awkward chair. Droplets settled on his light, cropped hair, evidence of the mist choking the gorge. Behind him stood the bulk of the city: a mass of towers that bit into the air like sharpened teeth. They rose high above him, sinister and forbidding.
Not for the first time, James wondered why the city needed a guard watch at all. There had been no need for tight security for centuries. It was a time of peace, after all. Despite the absence of soldiers patrolling the streets, and the fact only the main gate was constantly watched, the city had the joyless atmosphere of a fortress; or a prison. Perhaps it was something to do with the isolation of the city itself, or of the desolation of its surroundings. In any case, the streets were empty, and not a sound could be heard. The scent of organised opression was heavy in the air. James continued to ponder for a while, withdrawing into his own sense of self. It was a guard by the gate below, coughing, that brought him out of his daze, and back to the job at hand.
He continued to watch, observing the swirling mist with glassy eyes. Looking from side to side, he monitored the city walls, which stretched away in a large curve behind him. They were bare.
There was a slight breeze, which failed to clear the vapour surrounding him, yet inconveniently strengthened the chill in the air. His boredom did not lift, and again his mind wondered as he thought wistfully of what he could be doing now, had the military not decided to station his battalion in this wretched city.
In the midst of this lull of concentration, he was jerked back to life as he heard the gates open. Cursing his lack of attentiveness, he immediately stood up to see this unfortunate person was who wished to enter the city. It seemed a strange occurrence - he had seen no sign of life on the road for hours. Once he had regained half his senses and remembered this fact, it was no surprise to see that someone was leaving. James watched carefully as a man, swathed and hooded in a dark green cloak, strode forward, leading a grey horse, saddled and bridled, at his side.
He stared in suspicion at the man. City-goers don't leave, not in the dead of night in mid-winter, he mused. James was fully aware now, and feeling uneasy. He continued to gaze avidly at the stranger. The figure had left his horse, and was striding towards one of the guards at the gate, his hand raised, as though in greeting. The next thing James knew there was a thump, and the guard was on the floor. The shocked soldier thought he caught the glint of a knife, and started to panic. He couldn’t speak, he couldn’t move, he couldn’t warn the other unsuspecting watchman. The man appeared to have been dozing, and had obviously not heard the commotion on the other side of the gate. James watched in horror as he suffered the same fate as his companion.
The stranger stood for a moment, looking down on the still-warm bodies, before cleaning his knife on an old rag. Turning back, he mounted his horse and rode up the path. James continued to stare as the killer rode away up the shallow incline. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His body quivered with shock. Suddenly, the rider turned, facing the gate again. James felt unseen eyes upon him, and watched as the rider reached behind his back. The terrified soldier realised too late what was happening. He regained control of his body, and rushed to the alarm bell. He barely had time to grab the bell before he heard the fletching whistle. The arrow pierced his neck killing him instantly, leaving the murderer to ride away in silence.
