Dream Story

Note: I have always had a inventive imagination and recently it occurred to me I might like writting stories. I decided to write about a dream I had to test my writting skills on something of my own but something that already existed and so this is it. I did not change the dream I only added in the details and as such the end does sastify me but for now I will leave it as is.

It was an hour or so before dawn when the sandy haired young man was roused from his dream-filled slumber by some unwelcome intruder’s incessant shaking. He let out a grunt of detest and rolled over burrowing his face back deep in to his pillow instantly regaining his previous sate of lethargy. Again the shaking wrenched him from the world of dreams and this time he sat up instantly enraged and determined to do whatever necessary to cease the shaking permanently. He opened green eyes and peered out at his aggressor threw groggy slits held tight in exhaustion against the intruding light. Still half asleep- the boy had a harder time attaining the state than most and the only thing more difficult than achieving sleep was waking from it in the morning- he could hear words that he knew should make sense, which slowly brought him into reality. “Alex leave off or I’ll put you in a sleep so deep that all the shaking in the world would not wake you!”
         “Don’t blame me! It’s not my fault we have to get up this early”
         Now fully aware, if not exactly energized, Owen swung his feet wearily over the side of the bed and dismissed his younger brother so that he could get ready. He hastily put on the light brown leggings and tunic he had selected the night before as the most fitting thing to wear under a suit of armour for any extended period of time.  He had chosen the plain looking clothes because they breathed well, were very comfortable and would not make him feel as if he were wearing winter wool in high summer under his amour at the end of the day. He had learned that lesson years back when his father brought him and his younger brother Allen aside one morning and told them in hushed tones that he thought they were old enough to learn the basic forms of the sword- something there mother strongly disagreed with- and that they were to go hunting so their father would not have to endure their mother’s displeasure at learning her boys were being taught how to fight professionally.  Then a proud sensation had bubbled within his chest as he saddled his horse dreaming of glory from imagined battles and feeling years older than he truly was. That feeling was absent this morning for exhaustion held it at bay. Alex, Owen’s youngest brother, had informed Owen that he had not been able to wake his older brother out of his deep sleep at the arranged time and now they were  late. Half a mile away from his mother’s tearful farewell it was as if Owen had just awakened and the gravity of the day dawned on him. Sure he remembered being forced from his peaceful slumber, getting dressed, donning his battle gear and finally parting with his worried mom after much hugs and kisses and not a little bit of lecturing about keeping himself and his brother out of trouble, but it was as if all of it were a dream. Then he had been functioning on a basic level, sub-conscious dictating his actions at least as much as consciousness had. Now truly awake, the weight of his armour burdening the gravity of the day truly dawned on him. He was going to war.
         Not since his grandfather’s time had the country suffered a war that required calling all men old enough and all women willing from every city, town, and farm to arms. Their country was a small country in relation to most of the kingdoms and empires that existed across the great continent and could only field a regular army of five thousand mixed infantry and cavalry but that was always more than enough to take care of the minor and irregular threats the country generally encountered. Their were bands of brigands who occasionally thought they could sack a hamlet on the outskirts of the borders and sometimes defeated mercenary groups released from neighbouring countries, unsatisfied in either blood lust or wealth would raid the kingdom to be denied by the army. Even in past wars never before had the kingdom faced an army of numbers as great as the one, rumour had, it they faced now. It was rumoured that a goblin horde numbering greater than ten thousand was swarming towards the capital. This was why the King had ordered the mobilization of the reserve army.
         The army that was gathered ten miles east of town was composed entirely of common folk with little or no training at all. Every man from fourteen up and even women who had proved there intent to fight, by completing basic training offered in the major cities, to fight was wearing standardized armour crafted for them and carrying the same sword and shield that was standard issue in the regular infantry. While the kingdom was a small one it was rich enough in iron due the vast mines in the mountains that ranged along the north-eastern coast. The abundant supply of iron available for crafting called blacksmiths from across the continent to Trius to ply their trade. This enabled the minor kingdom the ability to arm every civilian that met certain requirements with standard issue infantry amour and sword. For men it was simply reaching the age of fourteen. Women were granted to right to arm and fight along side their men if they proved their ability and intent in a three month training program that could be completed at various cities and garrisons scattered across the country. This program was of course open to anyone willing though most men declined seeing it as a hindrance rather than an opportunity to be taken advantage of and the women who received instruction did it to prove they could do anything a man could not out of any true desire to fight. A month before his fourteenth birthday Owen had, like every other boy at the same stage, eagerly dragged his father to the local smithy to be sized for the set of light iron breastplate, chain mail and helm that made up an infantry man’s armour. The breastplate itself was fashioned from scratch, along with sword and shield, after careful measurements were taken from both the boy and the father so that, with the use of adjustable leather straps, it would more than likely fit the young man straight on through adulthood. The chain mail, helm, gloves and greaves were pulled from the stock traded in from older boys who had out grown theirs. Occasionally a new set would have to be fashioned for a boy but it was rare as the armour hardly saw more abuse than simple roughhousing could provide. This way after compiling a stock of sizes that would a fit most boys up until adulthood a smith would not have to constantly craft armour for growing boys. Only when they had reached the age of twenty-two and had not grown the previous year would a permanent set of chain mail and other trappings be crafted for a man. This gave the untrained ranks of peasants, craftsmen and farmers now in sight the minuscule advantage of at least appearing organized and ready for battle.
         As the boys neared the army, a half a mile out, they were greeted by a young lookout with deep set eyes who informed them to report to the yellow command tent that stood east of the force just off the road, for registration and assignment to a squad. They joined a short line leading to a desk where a man with a rough face, grey hair and short cropped beard who looked no older than thirty despite his iron beard, who was dictating to a scribe as he questioned the people nearest the table one at a time. The scribe would scribble something down and then the send whoever the warrior was interviewing to another larger white tent to the rear of the army. While they waited the brothers talked about the glory they would earn for themselves and their family and how each would best the other in some heroic fashion or another. Before he realized it there was no one standing in front of what Owen took to be the officer sitting behind the table. “State your name, family, city of birth and any applicable experience soldier.” The gruff captain barked.
         “My name is Owen, of the Gerdess clan of Hawthorn sir. I’m 17 and my father trained me and my two brothers back there with sword, axe and spear since I was 15. My father is with the regulars at the capital.”
“Hhmf” the grizzled officer grunted, “What are you doing here then, seventeen is old enough to join up?” Owen waited expecting the officer to continue but after a short time of silence Owen replied.
         “Well, um, the truth is my mother couldn’t stand one of her children joining the army even under my father’s command, she doesn’t even know he trained us. Anyway I started my apprenticeship with the blacksmith in Hawthorn last fall.”
         “Hah! If it were up to women we’d have no army at all and then where would we be, eh? Go to the large tent to the south there and they will assign you to a squad. Next!”
         Owen gave his brothers a reassuring glance as they approached the ruff captain, then made his way to the white tent at the rear of the camp. The tent was large enough to accommodate fifty people at a time yet all it contained was a small table with a man sitting behind at the very back. The man was not armoured and wore plain enough clothes though just a bit nicer than anything someone from town would own. “Don’t dawdle your late enough as it is, the deadline was midmorning and it’s almost noon. What is your name young man?
“Owen sir”
“Owen from hawthorn I take it? Well I am Fenton and I am the clerk assigned to the reserves until we reach the capital. Let me explain our situation here. The king has called you up because there is a rumoured host of ten thousand goblins marching on the capital so we need every man we can get. They dispatched Captain Geruf and me to organize this rabble so we can bring you to Carse where you will retrieve training so you can be combed into the regular battalions. Since you have had some training we are making you a squad leader. There are 101 squads so far and if we do not receive any more stragglers including everyone in line we should total 103 squads. Each squad is consists of fifteen men. There are 10 squads to a battalion but battalions eight; nine and ten will have eleven. Your job will be to keep track of your squad members during the journey and make sure they do not stray too far out of formation. We will spend the afternoon and the entire day tomorrow training everyone on the basics of formation on the march. After everyone has seen the captain we will call the squad leaders to this tent to receive the names of their squad mates. You are then to organize your squad in accordance to the area assigned to your squad number in three rows of five with you in front and center, there you will wait for further orders. Questions?”
         “When will we get to fight sir?”
         “We hope to get at least a months training out of you once we reach Carse. If we can afford more time we will train for up to six months, though the chances of that are slim. Your squad will be number 99. You will be positioned at the rear. Check the map for you exact position. You may as well stay close to the tent as we should see the last of the late comers arriving in the next hour.”
         Owen discovered after the brief meeting in the clerk’s tent that most of the battalion leaders were men in their forties and fifties who were leaders in their trades and thus it was assumed they demanded some sort of respect. He also found out each of his brothers had been given a squad to command and it seemed all the squad commanders were young men who had some kind of training or who had family that served with the regulars. Alex, Owen’s youngest sibling, was leading squad twenty-seven. Allan, who was next in line after Owen, was leading squad thirty-two.
         Owen and his men had been standing around for at least half an hour in assigned formation chatting with each other about crafts and girls seemingly oblivious to the fact that they were going to war. Of course they were the reserves. They were only there just in case, no matter what the fool clerk said, or so the local men believed. Being mostly from small towns they put little stock in anything that was not fact. The goblin horde was most likely not even half of what the rumours claimed it was and our allies to the south would surely provide a legion to aid their fellows if only to protect the source of iron that provided tools and weapons for their own needs. Owen knew differently though. They were going to fight and it infuriated him that these people would not acknowledge it. He also was not the least bit impressed at how he was so far from his brothers and at the very rear. Then all of a sudden the hills that crowned the horizon to the north and west seemed to darken. A few people remarked about the oddity until a low rumbling accompanied the growing darkness that was enveloping the land at a swift pace. Now even to the south-east the darkness could be seen advancing on the legion of reserves. Then someone from the front yelled, “Goblins!” and sure enough as they got closer a giant bubbling mass of what seemed like the twice the rumoured goblin horde could be seen rushing towards them at an alarming rate. The line of goblins stretched all along the north front down the east and to the ninety-seventh squads to the south. Not only that but as they came closer and closer you could hear the inhuman screeching of the host at the sight of their prey. Now they were one hundred yards away from the untrained army and the end of the goblin army was not even visible. A terrible, bitter fear gripped Owen as he realized somehow the Goblins had not marched on the capital but avoided it completely and by some cruel jest of fate had come across the fifteen hundred tradesmen and farmers who minutes ago could not even believe they would use their swords as more than over-sized dinner knives and were now about be slaughtered. Owen froze up, his body would not move but his mind ran through every possible scenario he could think of and every single one ended up with him and everyone present being hacked into gory bits by creatures would probably feast upon the dead and wounded alike all the while howling with glee. Even as the goblin mass crashed the frontlines Owen pictured jagged yellow teeth dripping with saliva ripping into his exposed flesh in a frenzy while rusty scimitars tore through his flesh with agonizing intensity. He had never been more frightened of anything in his life. Then all of a sudden he was face to face with a creature half a head shorter than him; who resembled a rotting yellow human with cataract infused eyes and greyish black teeth protruding out of holes in both upper and lower lips which were curled back in a snarl raising a wicked great-sword for a the killing blow and training kicked in. Fear was pushed back into the deep recesses of his mind, and he had one purpose: to kill anything that would seek to steal his young life. He stepped to the side drawing his sword and bringing it down hard severing a grotesque hand clutching the goblin’s sword. The goblin screamed in pain and then went silent as Owen’s blade plunged through the eye socket of the creature lodging firmly in the back of its demented skull. Owen tugged on his sword trying to free it for the next attacker would it would not budge. He quickly grabbed the alien weapon that had almost spelt his doom and turned to view the battlefield. All thoughts of glory in battle were lost at the sight that greeted him. He heard a cry for help from his right and turned to see a squad mate go down under three goblin blades and before they could remove them from his fallen comrade he felled the closest by ramming his sword deep into the beast’s heart. His edge tore open the second’s neck and a blackish, purple ooze coated Owen as he drove the tip of his sword up through the third’s jaw into his brain. A quick glance showed Owen that the army’s number was depleted by as much as half and plummeting quickly. Maybe if they could get to town they could warn the women and children and use the familiar setting to give them a chance to escape.
“Retreat! We must retreat! This battle is lost! To the town we need to warn the women!” Owen yelled as he made his way westward through the allied army desperately trying to bring as many with him as he could.  He could see the west flank breaking towards the city and soon what was left of the east flank was fighting a running battle towards town.
         Running flat out towards town and without a direct enemy to fight Owen had time to wonder what had happened to his brothers. Just as he started to worry he saw Allan running ahead and to his left but where was Alex? Alex had not had as much training as the older two and Owen was worried he might have fallen in the battle. His legs were tiring and he was still a mile away from the abandoned inn that marked the town’s border. He looked behind him and saw Alex with two goblins right on his ass. The thought of leaving his brother to die was heartbreaking but if he stopped the goblins would have two brothers instead of one. Then all of sudden Alex burst pass Owen and then Allan who was the best runner of the three. Surprised and filled with an energy at knowing his brother would live at least a little while longer Owen quickened his pace and the three outdistanced the goblins for the time being and made it to the abandoned inn.
         The old inn was falling apart but people were hiding in closets and under beds. Though he knew that the goblins would find them Owen could not convince them to flee. They were rank with fear. Maybe he could use old floor boards to create a false back to the closets giving the terrified people a semblance of chance? Owen dismissed the idea immediately, there was no time. There had to be a better way. Then he remembered that top floor was entered by going through one door then through a coat lobby then another door. Maybe if he put men in the lobby and men at the second door they could reduce the goblin’s advantage by forcing them to come through the door one at time. It was their best hope but he’d have to see if his plan would work for himself so he went to scout out the top floor.  Once on the top floor Owen was dismayed to see five ladders leaning against the old balcony with goblins nearing the top and a goblin already up looking around for a victim. He slew the goblin as he passed with a slash to the back of its neck and proceeded to kick down the nearest ladders. On the first ladder was a monster resembling a goblin but he it was huge and instead of the sickly yellow skin it was a greenish-grey. Owen tried to plunge his sword into its skull but it grated against think bone to slide down into the creature’s eye socket killing it. He knocked down the ladder the thing had been on and went for the next. To his dismay there was another of the things but this one was not as far up as the other. As Owen tried to kick down the ladder the thing grabbed his leg and wouldn’t let go. A precarious balancing act ensued with Owen trying to retain his leg while knocking over the ladder. Eventually Owen won. He knew they had to keep running and find a better hiding spot if they were to survive though by now Owen knew they would mostly likely die. He went downstairs and found his brother’s with his sister and told them to they had to run for the shore. As they ran through the town they saw death and destruction all around but kept running towards the shore. Once at the shore lined with boulders the brothesr used to crawl under as kids Owen had an idea. What if they could get under the rocks maybe the goblins would not think to check the less obvious spot. They crawled under and then from another way saw people scrambling under the rocks being chased by goblins. Well that’s that Owen thought just as roof cave in crushing the people and the goblins damming up one entrance then another cave in and the entrance they entered from was sealed. Though they might die they could most likely wait out the day, dig a small tunnel continue through rocks and hopefully make they way north along the west coast to Carse.