5 – The Dream

I haven’t dreamed in years, not since I became a Revenant. Of the rare times I chose to sleep during Novos’ campaigns, they were dark and dreamless nights. Part of me thought that I’d lost the ability to dream entirely, as part of my undeath.

So it was a surprise, some time into my first weeks in Tsukio, that I found myself in the midst of a dream.

No, a memory was perhaps a more accurate term.

It was from long ago, before the Wight. Before Novos had gained full control of the eastern part of Endres. I’d been tilling fields in the hot sun, my muscles burning with the kind of exertion I couldn’t feel anymore.

There had been chatter and laughter around me, because my friends and I had been working the field of an old friend that day. He’d been waylaid those past few days, dealing with the burial of his mother, and so the lads and I had decided to chip in with his harvest. That was what you did back home, you lent a hand.

“Damnation,” I had uttered, my voice cracked and hoarse. “When in blazes did a layabout like you plant so much grain? I can feel the Old Stranger breathing down my neck, I won’t last at this rate.”

My friend, Tekus, had grinned at me. “Found the time whenever I weren’t busy tending your sister’s garden.”

I snorted at him. “Smart arse.” And we’d all had a good laugh at that.

“Papa, papa!” The sweet, adorable voice was music to my ears, and I had turned to see my daughter jogging up the fields toward me. Casea, the only thing of worth I’d ever made in this world. Her crimson curls bobbed with very step, and her broad grin could have lit up the darkest night.

“Yes, monkey?” I’d asked, crouching to tussle her hair. I realised then that she’d been holding something behind her back, and she whipped her hands around to reveal a great hairy beast of a spider. I nearly jumped in shock and the six year old had cackled at me like a mad witch. I sighed, unable to stop myself from smiling while Casea set her hairy friend on the dirt to scuttle away.

“That girl of yours is a courageous one, Tarion!” Tekus had said, barking an excited laugh.

“Aye. That’s one word for it.” I had tussled her hair, smiling while she grinned at me. A beautiful smile, just like that of her mother.

Another of our friends, portly and bearded Grint, had let out a snort of laughter. “Sure that house ‘o yours is rife with bugs.”

“Believe me.” I had started to rise, grimacing at the familiar pops in my lower back. “You don’t know the half of-“

Horns had sounded across our village, blaring in a panic. All eyes had turned to the horizon, where a small crowd gathered to stare westward in shock. I had lifted my daughter without even thinking of it, holding her close while I squinted for a better look at the horizon.

Stolen story; please report.

Blue pennants of the Holy Kingdom flapped in the distance, held aloft by a myriad of cavalrymen. I had seen the golden stag of Rhonde only a few times in the past, but I knew at once what it was. Our village, small and insignificant, had not thrown its lot in with Novos. We were not really subjects of anyone at the time, loyal to nobody but each other.

And that had meant nothing to the ragged mad dogs that the Rhondian army had sent roving our way.

The dream became a nightmare, and flashes of smoke and fire tore my perspective through a myriad of horrible sights. The village of my home set ablaze, friends and family trampled by horses or run through by soldiers who were more like mad dogs than human beings.

I saw my wife, my dear Lydia, cut down by arrows as we tried to flee. “Go!” she’d shrieked with all the breath left in her lungs, her dark hair plastered to her face with her own blood.