It wasn't that unusual for Cor to find himself by the water when he needed to think. Anvard was a distance from the sea by which he'd grown up, but the river had a charm of its own. He still marveled over how green Archenland was - not to mention how cold. The abundance of water was an adjustment.
Cor sat up, brushing sand out of his doublet. It was unusual to find himself waking up on a beach with the familiar sting of salt in the air and no memory of how he'd gotten there (Not unheard of, but unusual, and in those cases, he could usually count on finding Corin close at hand to regale him with tales of the previous night's misadventures).
To be fair, his brother had definitely been plotting some sort of 'remedy' for pre-wedding nerves, but Cor thought he'd successfully talked Corin out of planning anything too outrageous. Nor did he feel any of the telltale aches of having overindulged the night before. Dread of pomp and ceremony aside, he wanted to marry Aravis, and he didn't want to embarrass her or himself.
This beach didn't look like any on the Archenland coast, anyway. It wasn't nearly rocky enough. He spotted a piece of parchment weighted down by some kind black stone and groaned aloud. "This isn't the time for games, Corin," he muttered, picking up the note.
He thought, at first, that he must have read it wrong. This wasn't the kind of prank his brother would play. Cor reread the note, and then examined the device it referred to. It wasn't actually stone, he realized, turning it over in his hands. It was more like some kind of strange metal. One side of the object lit up, and Cor almost dropped it, startled. Magic, indeed, although he hesitated to call it devilish. In Calormen, he had heard all sorts of superstitious tales about 'northern demons.' Still, he couldn't make out how to use the device as the note instructed.
He looked around. The note also spoke of 'others.' Presumably that meant more human - or at least thinking - inhabitants of the island. "Hello?"