Rowing, by all means, was hard work. The continuous arm movements, constantly having to adjust for every little current, and hoping to any god that would listen that the little, beaten-up rowboat wouldn’t fall to pieces the moment it hit a rough wave; evidently, Skye wasn’t a sailor in his past life. Finally, he reached the breezy shade of the jaws, a large group consisting of huge rock pillars jutting out from the sea. Taking a moment to rest, Skye tried to produce the same wind he had right before he hit the sea, falling from a great height the tornado raised him to. Thrusting his arms out in front of him in different positions, trying to stimulate different emotions and states of mind, nothing he did seemed to work. With an exasperated sigh he massaged his eyes, falling back into the boat, before jolting back upright a couple of seconds later; his rowboat had bumped into a spire he could have sworn was several feet away. Cautiously optimistic, Skye tried falling back into the boat a few more times, but to no avail. Giving up, he resumed rowing as the town of Redwake came into view, built around a cluster of many natural rock pillars. For what appeared to be a fishing town, the docks were unusually empty. Skye strained his ears, expecting to hear the hustle of mid-day business, but the jaws were silent, save for a slight breeze winding its way through each spire. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a woman, crouching wide-eyed under a set of wooden stairs leading up to the main village.
“You, traveler, you need to leave!” She whispered. “It’s not safe here, I don’t…we can’t…” Skye walked nearer, crouching down to the woman’s level.
“Listen, the town has been invaded by bandits. This wouldn’t normally be a problem, but pretty much every combat-ready person here is out hunting. Ever since the local fish started dying, they’ve needed to head out farther to- but that isn’t important. If you’re still here, you must either have a death wish, or actually be capable of fighting them.” Skye chuckled nervously.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t think I’m in any condition to fight. Maybe if I were to find help, we could-” Skye was interrupted by the sound of running feet on creaky wood. Looking up, he saw a tall man lunge off the deck above him, a long, rusty dagger in hand. Skye yelped, jumping out of the way, and quickly backed away towards the docks.
“Where’d ya think yer going?” The man growled, slowly advancing towards Skye. He was clad in a ragged black cloak, with a bandana pulled up over his face, yet looked thin and pale. The bandit laughed harshly as he jumped forwards, dagger in hand, and Skye instinctively flinched, holding his arms in front of him. He briefly experienced a strange feeling, almost as if he was aware of every single wisp of air brushing against his skin at once. After what seemed like an eternity, Skye wearily opened his eyes. The bandit was now laying on the ground a fair distance away from him, limbs bent at awkward positions, groaning softly. He appeared to have been blasted away from Skye, towards a nearby rock spire; needless to say, something broke, and it wasn’t the wall. Confused, Skye took a couple of steps towards the town, where he saw a group of similar looking bandits scrambling towards a group of rowboats near the edge of the village. He jumped as the lady from before slapped him on the back, beaming happily
“Well then,” she said, sighing with relief. “You never told me you were a mage!”
Probably my worst chapter…