Morning all and welcome to the Fifteen Minute Novel. Here I take the start of a story idea and work on it for fifteen minutes a day. I started with an old writing prompt that interested me, cleaned it up a bit to fit the basic outline of the story I want to write and then set aside fifteen minutes each week day to see it grow. Each morning’s writing starts with the last sentence of the day before. And so now we have the story of Kasca…
Day 41: “It would be a start,” Kasca said.
“It would be a start,” Kasca said. If the Overlord created the disease there would be notes on it and perhaps an antidote, he had at the ready. Whether the antidote was ineffective or they didn’t have time to use it would be something she could possibly find out form the notes.
‘If he didn’t create the disease then there would be the possibility that he had a chance to attempt an antidote,’ Kasca thought. Even if he was just starting, the notes could prove useful.
“Not doing that today though,” Kasca thought. Her knitting needles clicked softly as she added rows to her creation. The fire crackled and outside the wind howled. She expended too much energy in her previous search. Now she needed to rest, to recharge and to see what could be done in the morning.
Her eyes strayed to the shelf of books. Scrying was mentioned in a couple of them. Much of the information she knew and thus skimmed over was she read, trying to add more new spells to her list. In the morning she would take down any book dealing even lightly with scrying and see if there was a way to look inside any volumes the overlord might have left behind.
Kasca sighed. It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was a start. At some point the fever would burn itself out of the Sanctuary and the buildings and people purged of contamination. Then perhaps something more effective could be planned. For now, she could only gather information and see what happened when the disease passed.
“Have to wait for winter to pass as well,” Kasca thought.
Icy rain was already tapping on the roof shingles. Given the rocky ground slate was used and the ice was a constant tapping on the tiles. “Certainly not traveling weather.”
Kasca knitted quietly until she was hungry, then she ate, knitted until her eyes would no longer stay open and then went to bed. The tapping slowed as the icy rain turned to snow and fell in fat wet flakes.
Kasca slept deeply and woke in a more hopeful mood than when she went to bed. She had a plan. She got out of bed and dressed for the weather. Snow covered the ground but ice lay beneath the snow making her trip to the outhouse treacherous. She managed to make it without falling and relieved herself.
On her return to the cottage she looked to the morning sky. It was clear, with no clouds but it had that peculiar white winter sky look to it as though the sky were a blank piece of parchment. There was not a single tint of blue to it.
There was however a column of smoke coming from the sanctuary. It rose into the sky. The wind was blowing in the opposite direction today and Kasca could not smell the smoke. She could feel the wind and shivered hurrying her steps as much as she could on the slick ground as she moved back inside.
Kasca bolted the door and moved to the fire. It wa still banked for the night but she worked it up into a blaze and moved her soup pot over it. For a moment she could only sit crouched in front of the fire letting it’s heat take away the wind’s chill. Gradually she warmed and stood. She relinquished her outdoor garments, hanging her cloak on the peg by the door as she began her day.
Ten til Midnight 