by 5kops
Redmon nodded then said, "Lord Silvershield also wishes to let you that know that you have spent enough time digging. He said come back to camp and get some sleep."
Areck could hear the annoyance in Redmon's tone, yet the young man said no more before moving off.
Areck knelt painfully down and picked up his pick in hopes that a tent would be waiting for him along with a ration of thick stew. As he stumbled towards the camp, another streak of lighting illuminated the sky, making the neat rows of command tents seem surreal.
It occurred to him that he should check on his charger, making sure his mount had been fed before he marched off to bed. He barely heard the rustling of the horses as they shuffled and nickered, assuming that his brethren had taken care of them. Looking to the sky, Areck paused to let the rain wash off some of the mud that still caked his face.
When he was satisfied, Areck scouted for his tent, a small one-man triangle built specifically for campaigning, and pulled the flaps. As he ducked down to enter, an aroma of still-warm stew wafted from a wooden bowl. The meal was gritty so late in the evening, but Areck was so hungry that he closed his eyes and savored the food.
Removing his armor, Areck placed the leather and chain hauberk on a small log so it could dry before the morrow. He rubbed his aching arms and removed his shirt, pulling a thick woolen blanket around his shoulders.
Areck knelt and lighted a small candle. He said his nightly prayers to Starsgalt, letting God know that he would offer more thanks in the morning. He blew the candle out and closed his eyes.
As the sky glowed with electricity, a shadow moving through the darkness was visible on Areck's tent wall. It resembled a man, so he shrugged it off.
"A sentry," he mumbled, yawning as pulled the covers over his head.
****
Var moved without noise. His magic armor allowed him to do such things, making the shadows of the night his ally. Thus, when Var saw an armored sentry scouting the area, he moved off to a better position and decided to wait for his accomplice to present himself at a more opportune time.
The sentry moved away and a streak of lighting branch out, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder. Var had been watching the Bre'Dmorians switch between patrol duties for four hours now and there was still no sign of the knight he was waiting for.
With a sigh of irritation Var moved towards the camp, using his enhanced sight to scan the area. He crept forward, doing his best to stay in the underbrush. He noticed that an astute guard was coming his way and Var fell to the ground, pausing long enough so the pouring rain could cover his movements. It took only a moment for the knight to pass. Satisfied that the sentry was gone, Var pushed himself out of the mud and wiped away the grime.
Var mumbled a curse. This was not going the way he had planned, which had been to track the Bre'Dmorians to their camp so he could kidnap his accomplice. The problem was that the company of knightly riders had traveled only a few miles past the fork, forcing him to improvise.
He fumed at the time he had lost along with the opportunity to scout the area. Most of all, he was frustrated at the fact that by entering the forest so far back, he was forced to hike blindly towards the camp. I should have known Imp damn predictable they would be.
As Var snuck within sight of the camp, a stir of movement caught his eye. He ducked behind a small thorn bush, doing his best to stay out of sight. Though Var had no doubt that he could kill a single knight, this was not the dme to press his luck, especially with eleven others so close.
Var's padence paid off. The man he had picked out was moving into the forest. He pulled a dagger, crouched low, and maneuvered his way towards his mark.
When he had moved into striking distance, Var picked up a small stone and ducked just to the man's right. He placed his dagger on the ground within grabbing distance, should he need to kill the knight. Deciding that a direct approach was best Var threw the rock, which struck the knight on the right forearm, and ducked back down.
The man swung towards Var and unsheathed his weapon. Seeing nothing, the knight finished pulling out his blade and made his way in Var's general direction.
Var waited for the knight to pass then stalked the man into the forest— satisfied that no one could hear, he struck.
With a precise kick, Var lashed out at the knight's knee. Though it was only meant to knock the man off balance, the knight was unable to keep his foodng in the mud, lost grip of his weapon, and flailed to the ground. Not waiting for the man to rise, Var came forward and speared the knight in the chest, relying on leverage to pin the knight in place. With expert hands Var pinched the man's windpipe.
"If you cry out, Lord Knight, I will slit your throat and bury you in the Devoid," Var hissed. When he felt the knight's form go limp he continued, "Now, there are a few questions I need to ask. If you are the one I seek, then you may yet survive this." Var knew the knight was about to pass out from lack of oxygen, so he let go, placing his dagger under the man's chin.
The knight sputtered and coughed. "How dare you?"
"Now, now, my lord, don't make me kill you before this has even started."
"Who are you? And what do you want?" the knight wheezed.
"That is better," Var said. "I was told that there is a man who thinks that certain messages should never reach our fair capitol. Does anyone in your knightly retinue resemble that man?"
The knight relaxed. "You must be the stinking assassin the Master warned me about. It is about time you contacted me!"
Var raised his dagger and struck the man in the face, causing blood to flow. "The next time you insult me, D)rd Knight, I will slice out your tongue. And I was serious about burying you in the Devoid. Now, are you such a man?"
The knight did not answer. His body tensed as he dealt with his bleeding nose. After several minutes of silence and the occasional cough, the man answered. "I am the one you seek! Now get off me so we can discuss how to kill Arawnn of Almassia!"
Var relaxed his blade but did not let the man up, deciding that it was not smart to let such a traitorous bastard see his face. For the next twenty- minutes the pair discussed their plan.
13
DARKNESS.
Its thick tendrils suffocated Areck as he glided through the nothingness. There was no sound other than that of the soft whir of air rushing past him. The cold of nonexistence chilled his body to numbness. He was insubstantial in this place, a shade in the boundless realities that bordered the chaos through which he fell. Pandemonium tore at his mind, bringing thoughts of true destruction and the caress of oblivion.
The thought that he no longer existed stimulated an emotion of loss, creating a remembrance of life. It also stirred intervals of memories, those of service and love.
If can think, I must exist. The thought exploded in his mind. The laws of reality were trying to annul his existence. / am not obliterated. He realized that this place was a creation of his subconscious: a place of chaos, but still a tool of order and creation.
Light ripped through the darkness as a single massive eye formed. Life sprang into being. Worlds appeared from the nothingness and the eye receded into non-existence. Somewhere deep in his mind, Areck concluded that the eye was a metaphor—one that wished to be understood. However, his mind could only register a moment amongst true reality before it blinked and became another possibility.
Unable to truly comprehend what he saw, Areck reached for a dissipating fragment of probability. The touch sent Shockwaves coursing through all things that were and whisked him to a branch of reality of things that could not be changed. The past opened up and he saw things that would be. History sped by and worlds died, only to be reborn in the massive eye's embrace. Areck saw people being burned by the millions. There was war and death. There was love. These things all circled around into life.
The vastness of it all was too much for his mind to handle. He panicked and began to scream, his voice dismanded by time as soon as it spoke. Areck grabbed on to a sing
le shining vision beckoning him into a reality that was. As he clung to that reality, the fragmentation of his mind slowed and a man-sized portal, crackling with blue light, coalescing in front of him.
He was compelled to enter and see what the past held; it beckoned him, its rippling surface offering unlimited possibilities. He had the feeling that to cross over would give him immense power, the ability to run through time.
Areck steeled his resolve. He was letting his imagination wander, and it offered him strange ideas. Fate was calling him to this place for a purpose. It told him that, as he passed through the swirling portal, there might be answers to those questions that had none. He had to know. Bracing himself for the worst, Areck stepped through.
There was creation, which was destroyed and reborn. There was madness. There was darkness. The magnitude of it all made Areck loose consciousness for a moment.
Areck looked down to see the tops of a great forest, mountains in the east, and high peaks covered in glacial snow. He recognized the region as the outskirts of Moonwood Forest which spanned most of the Dragon-spine Mountains one hundred miles from west to east. As he flew over the ancient redwoods, he realized that he had been there before. If his assessment was correct, he was once again at Stormwind Keep, where tragedy would soon unfold. Starsgalt was testing his faith. This was a puzzle that he must work out in his mind, since vision seemed to be God's choice of communication.
That Starsgalt was giving him assistance made Areck swell with pride! He closed his eyes to pray, but the divine sickness washed over him and he stopped. He looked to the nothingness and smiled, for the sickness meant he was in a version of his reality.
As Areck crested the mountains, he noticed a ghostly form of light hovering on the summit, overlooking the keep. The phantom had no features but was unmistakably a dragon, one of immeasurable size. Although Areck could feel its wraithlike head snake towards him and follow his position down into the valley, it did not move.
He found it odd that another being had been drawn into this vision but did not question God's logic, as dragons were a lesser servant of the One True God. They collected information and were not for the most part aggressive. Areck looked once more to the phantom dragon before turning his concentration back towards Stormwind.
He found himself in a vaguely familiar scene. He stood upon a road still wet with morning dew. The last vestiges of fog clung to the sides of the valley, which he recognized as Three Sentinel Pass. He smelled the brisk morning air clinging to the sparse vegetation that lined either side of the roadway as morning larks chirruped in the distance. He hardly felt a slight breeze whip around a bend in the road, which seemed to veered off into mountainside.
As he approached the bend, the clash of metal rang off the sides of the canyon. Areck heard shouting and was greeted with the metallic scent of blood. His form sped around the bend to a scene of carnage; three men lay at odd angles, bones protruding in several places. Areck could not discern any facial features but relied on their knightly armor to distinguish their identity: Bre'Dmorians.
Dread washed over him as he knelt to inspect the ground for details. Seeing none of relevance, Areck moved over towards the bodies and looked down at one of the broken men. He was no expert in the sciences but though the man had been killed by a slender blade through the collarbone, possibly ambushed from behind. When he switched subjects, Areck noticed that other knights had similar wounds, except that their cuts seemed surgical, hinting at a fierce battle.
With trembling hands Areck reached down to feel the cuts, deciding that it was time to research the oddity. As he touched a body, all three disappeared in a bright flash of light. Confused, he spun around.
Not far away, a twisted warhorse materialized, limbs at odd angles. When he walked over to the beast he discovered another dead body, one he recognized, with a crossbow bolt protruding from its neck.
This is my friend, he thought. He had seen something like this event before . . . with a different outcome. Arawnn had been killed by a dishonorable knightly assassin!
This is why I have been brought here, he thought, to see who the killer is!
Areck slowly made his way over to the broken mount and knelt down to examine the missing foreleg of the charger, which had thrown its rider. From the distance Arawnn had been thrown, Areck concluded that the courier had circled the battle and charged the treacherous knight. He guessed that the traitor had rolled away after making impact with the mount's knee, severing its leg, which drove the war-horse into the ground.
Not wishing to cause more evidence to disappear, Areck circled the beast and noticed a thick crossbow bolt driven into the steed's flank, bearing bright colors. He frowned at the recognition of nobility.
As Areck moved closer to get a better look at his fallen friend, he noticed a dramatic difference in Arawnn and the rest of the nightmare. The face stared back at him with blank, lifeless eyes and a look of remorse and failure so unlike his friend's smile. He longed for that carefree grin, a look he might never see again.
Areck pushed away from the body and looked up to Heaven, realizing that he had been given an answer, albeit a tragic one. His friend, Arawnn of Almassia, would die by a traitor's hand from a single deadly blow. This was history as it was going to happen, seen through God's infallible eyes; a grievous event that could not be changed.
"There is nothing I can do about it . . ." Areck let the words trail off, the first he had spoken upon the dream plane. He was greeted with eternal silence. "If I cannot save my friend, then I must find the traitor!" he said. "Anyone who dishonors the knighthood deserves God's justice, even if I must kill him myself!" The words of vindication felt good to Areck's soul. He would honor his friend by sending the assassin to Hell.
With a last look at his friend, Areck reached out and closed Arawnn's eyes, sending a bright flash of streaks across his vision, blinding him momentarily. When Areck's sight cleared, the body had not disappeared but was changing. The eyes became eerily familiar, then the hair, and mouth, until a new person lay in front of him with the still-lifeless expression.
The hair on Areck's arms stood as a shiver crawled up his spine.
The empty eyes looking back at him were almost like his own! They were his own.
Sound stopped. Movement stopped. Time distorted.
Areck flung himself away from the body, not comprehending this change of the future.
The eyes of his other self moved.
****
An intense jolt of pain plucked Areck from his slumber and sent him flailing to his right, veering his warhorse directly into the rider next to him. As a Bre'Dmorian, he had been taught to sleep-ride over long distances, his steed capable of following in line. Sleep was usually light and required good weather, as a mount's jostling stride forced a rider to continually stay in touch by using random commands.
The weather had not been good since they had left Aresleigh. Though the sun greeted the company of Bre'Dmorians each morning, by dusk, thick sheets of rain soaked the landscape. This made Areck's punishment unbearable; digging trenches in such whether was nigh impossible, forcing him into several hours of hard labor and little rest each night. To make matters worse, sleep deprivation was getting the best of him and Areck was becoming delusional, unable to suppress his nightmarish dreams.
He had hoped that by sleep-riding during daylight, his mind would be too conscious to attract nightmares yet tired enough that he could eke out some rest. He no longer knew what time it was and his exhaustion was magnified by his surroundings.
Areck tried to focus his thoughts, his tired mind unable to register that he had not compensated for his initial flail, and he was pulling his charger in a 360 degree circle, creating havoc among the riders. When Areck looked back to offer an apology, the entire line of squires was trying to control its mounts as chargers grunted in disapproval and bit those who invaded their space.
Nervously, he gazed towards the three knights who watched sile
ntly as the line of squires tried to get their mounts back into marching order.
As Lord Vinion began to shout an order, Lord Silvershield put out his armored hand to hush his fellow knight; Vinion looked displeased. Bowon Silvershield turned away from his angry officer and stroked Legion's mane, allowing the squires to handle their mounts with minimal interference from the knights. The company returned to order, pulling their chargers into a line.
Areck felt the heated expressions of his classmates boring into his back. He knew how silly he had made them all look, though weariness numbed his shame a bit. This was mild in comparison to the others, Areck thought of his vision, remembering that the latest vision had unfolded well, until the dream had been taken over by a nightmare. Maybe it is time for me to seek counsel from those who are more schooled than I. . . Those less engulfed in the situation.
"What in Starsgalt's glory is happening back here?" Lord Vinion asked, his voice tinged with a northern accent and his mouth drawn into an angry scowl.
Areck looked up in time to see the small party of knights ride forward, heading straight for him. Lord Vinion dismounted and walked directly to the person everyone was gazing at. The man's dark grey eyes burned a hole into his mind. Although Vinion addressed the entire unit, his comments were directed at Areck.
"A company of knights should never break from their column unless so ordered!" Lord Vinion said. "I heard no such order! If you men cannot follow military code, maybe you should all be back washing dishes! Now which one of you is responsible for this mess?"
There was no honor in assisting in another squire's demise and the rest of the riders sat at attention, waiting for Areck to admit what happened. With his chin raised high, Areck stepped forward, ready to accept another punishment. If he hid his actions, he would forever be labeled a coward in the face of confrontation, an unspeakable slight against his honor.
"Squire Areck. I should have known." Lord Vinion said without looking at the young man.
