“Fire!” sixteen men yelled. The ground
shook, and the great sound of a cannon overtook the frosty field, overwhelming
the chaotic shouts of red and blue coated men as their swords and muskets
clashed and fired. Hot iron turned cold as it whipped through the harsh air. In
an arc, the cannonball collided into several trees, sending splinters of wood
flying. With a ferocious whack, it smacked into the ground. It burrowed deep
into the packed snow, breaking the frozen ground and causing a shockwave to be felt miles away.
“Captain Warren, the reds have taken
control of the river.” Sweat ran off the
soldier’s face, highlighting the man’s urgent expression. “They’re
coming up the hill!”
“Try to hold them off. I’ll head back
to the town to search for more troops; we need more men if we want to defeat
them,” Warren said. He turned his back to the soldier and then rode off
to the center of the town on horseback.
He rode his horse as fast as possible for about twenty minutes
before reaching the town. The town was no different from the fields; it was
completely empty, and the overbearing snow hung over the fascia of the modest
shuttered houses. Riding through the cobbled streets, he saw no indications of
life. The deafening silence was
outlandish to Warren, who had grown up
there.
He began knocking at each door,
awaiting a response, but not one was to be heard. He figured the women and children must have been hiding in the cellars,
afraid of a foray by the reds. All men were probably on the
battlefield already, besides the ones too feeble or young.
When Warren reached the last house he
was willing to try, he dismounted his horse and walked up the cracked stone
steps. On the chipped wooden door there was a stone-carved knocker in the shape
of a bearded man. How unusual, he thought to himself. He gave it a
knock, and one of the knocker’s eyes fell out, bounced down the stairs, and
began rolling on the cobbled street
where it eventually came to a standstill. Normally he would have tried
to fix it and apologize, but there was no time. Seeing that there were no extra
people that could help in the battle, he decided to ride back and accompany
just the few men that were left.
As he exited the town gate, the sun was
hanging low in the sky, broken
up by the tops of the empty white trees. It was getting dark quick, and Warren
could barely see the way. Using his instinct, he tried to pick out familiar
landmarks to lead the way.
Eventually Warren came to a field surrounded
by dense forest on all four sides. The grass’s long blades extended up to his
legs, scratching and pulling at his wool pants as he rode through the
frostbitten field. Coming over the edge of a hill, he gained vision of the tree
line and his eyes met a soft glowing light that seemed to warm the cold air at
the left edge of the forest. Warren took notice of this strange light, and
veered his horse left towards the light, thinking it must have been one of his
men holding a lantern to guide him back safely.
Once he was much closer to the light,
he noticed it wasn’t just a light; it was a woman with a glowing luminesce. He
quietly shushed his horse, slowing it down, and began walking to meet this
unusual woman. He figured she might have been one of the villagers that ran away. When Warren was just about
ten feet away, the woman turned her back and began running. She was clothed in
a pale green dress that ran down to her feet and matched the pines of the
forest of which she ran through. He hurried his horse to try to catch up to the
woman, but it was too late, she vanished through the trees.
Warren was bound on catching up to this
woman; he sped up his horse and regained
sight. He followed her on horseback as she continued to run. She ran
along the twisting and curving path, which ultimately lead to a specific
location. Her bare feet trampled through the thick snow. Her skin appeared so
cold and white it was difficult to discern where the snow ended and her skin
began.
This carried on for about a mile, until he and the woman came upon a
clearing in the forest. Now the moon was high in the sky, and the winter night
was silent besides the unforgiving wind blowing through the trees. There was a
small pool of water in the center of the clearing, and the woman stood at the
brim, waiting. Oddly enough, the pond wasn’t frozen--it was steaming. Steam billowed
out from surface of the water, covering most of the clearing.
Captain Warren dismounted his horse and
put his horse’s reins down silently. He cautiously walked up to the woman, her hair and evergreen dress flowing
in the wind. Was she a phantasm?
He gazed down at the frosty brim of the pool and saw where the heat had melted
the snow away. The porous moon reflected off the surface of the water, making
it appear silver. She turned around to face him as he walked up to her.
She stroked his cheek, and somehow she told
him everything in one simple motion. He knew why she was there, where she was
from, and who she was. Even though she appeared human, she told him she was a Sophos
from a powerful kingdom in the mountains named, Mons Terra. Stone
and ice daemons had gained control of
her homeland over a thousand years ago, killing most Sophos and
enslaving the rest. One stone daemon named Malumo overtook the capitol
city, killing the king and taking the throne. He led the empire into the
ground, leaving everybody poor besides himself. Some of the Sophos tried
to stop him, and they came very close. He turned everyone to stone, including
himself, to prevent death. Now he and his fallen kingdom sit, waiting for the
end of time. The forgotten people need someone to save them, and finally defeat
the Mountain King who lies waiting in his decrepit hall. A jewel lay at the
bottom of the pool. Warren remembered the last thing she said: You must crush it and its brother to kill Malumo,
and return the kingdom to peace.
She looked at Warren again and smiled. Not a regular
smile—like spotting an old friend from afar, but a pained smile; a smile that could illuminate the darkest
night with a glimmer of hope. He observed her face, and greenish blue
eyes stared back.
The mysterious woman leapt into the
steaming pool and dove down. She completely disappeared from view. Warren
stared at the silvery placid water, waiting for the woman to return for air.
She never did. He began to worry she was drowning, and so he leapt in the water
to go after her.
He closed his eyes and braced for
impact against the silvery surface. With a heavy splash his body hit the water,
and he began to swim around below. He opened his eyes to look for the woman,
but she was nowhere to be seen. Swimming down closer to the bottom, he saw a
sparkle and reached out to grab it.
Warren
looked down at his hand and saw he was holding a jewel like no other. It was
cut in a sphere that had a diamond crust with a ruby red core. A foreign sun
sparkled in the diamond, and a deep blue sky came into view up ahead.
Warren stood in the middle
of a forest, surrounded by giant trees
that had a reddish mud color to the bark. At the tops of the trees, long limbs
stretched out, holding green leaves. How
did I get here? Where am I?
He walked for what seemed like ages,
then got bored and decided to run. As he was charging through the forest, he
noticed a short tree stump running alongside him. He stopped and looked at the
tree stump as it carried on for a bit then stopped and pretended nothing
happened. Warren walked up to the stump and managed to pick it up.
“Hey! You put me down you pox-ridden,
maggot-infested breast!” A voice screamed from inside the stump. The stump
turned around in his hands and an archaic face was revealed. Warren dropped the
stump in surprise.
“Excuse me, where am I? ...and what are
you?” Warren asked, kneeling down to the stump’s height.
“What am I? Did you grow up in Verdoon
or something? The stump asked, getting increasingly agitated.
“Well? Are you some sort of marauder or something? I noticed
you following me,” Warren challenged.
“How dare you accuse me of being such a
miscreant! I happen to be the queen’s guard and a noble phloeittus! My
name is Crabapple,” the stump proclaimed, acting like a braggart as he held his
little stubby arms up. Captain Warren looked around the forest and saw no
queen.
“What queen?” he asked. In return, the
stump looked at him with as much hatred as little stump could produce.
“The queen,” he voiced with superiority
as he raised his bark eyebrows and loudly cleared his throat, “Queen Willow,
over there,” he said, pointing to a large willow tree surrounded by a multitude
of others, looking rather out of place. Warren heard a horn blow, and the large
tree turned around, revealing a charming wooden face placed on a tree. Just
like the stump, bark made up her facial features.
“Bow to the queen!” said another stump,
bouncing over to his friend.
“Yes, yes! Bow to the queen!” Crabapple
loudly agreed. In that moment, the
forest came alive and all the trees turned to face Warren and the stump. Then
in one slow, ubiquitous creaking movement, all the trees bent towards the queen
in the center. A few seconds later, they returned to their upright position.
“Hello, traveler,” the queen began. “What
brings you here to these ancient woods?”
“I followed a Sophos into a
pool. I thought she drowned so I jumped in to save her, but I ended up here.
She said I needed to save her people from a stone daemon,” Warren said, perplexed.
Several trees gasped. The queen tilted back and breathed a long sigh of relief.
“I knew it was coming soon, but I never
thought you’d come while I was still alive,” The queen said, “The sprites have
been singing songs about you forever, prophesying about a man wearing a tricorn
hat who’d come to save the humans from the dreaded rule of King Malumo,”
said the queen. Warren was amazed.
“Of course, we’ll help you any way we
can, but now traveler, you must sleep.” The queen said, and called over to
Crabapple.
Crabapple led him down a mossy
staircase obscured by a huge rock, and into a small room consisting of roots.
He immediately lay down on the bed.
Even through the thick ceiling, Warren
heard the harmonious forest breathe in synchronicity. Leaves whistled as the
wind carried them away. Warren had never felt a night so alive before. He
imagined how virtuous the forest must have been before the rule of the mountain
king, if it felt so alive now.
Up above, the sprites appeared and began
singing a melancholy song:
Quiet forest breathes its last,
Autumn sun shimmers like brass,
Ho! The mighty captain is here,
The darkness shall soon disappear
Through the red trees,
An awake savior we see,
Sleep, hero, thou need rest,
If thou truly wishes for thine best.
This
carried on for several verses as Warren fell into a deeply needed sleep. He
dreamt he was on a peaceful green plateau. Suddenly mountains rose to surround
him and the dark clouds that filled the sky. In the blink of an eye, he was in
a cave, and above the archway was inscribed: Mons Terra. A booming laughter filled the dark stone hall. His
dream came to an abrupt end when he was woken by the harried Crabapple.
“Wake up you bumbling cur! The queen
wants to see you immediately!”
Warren got out of his mossy bed and was
directed back aboveground where the queen waited. His chipped sword and a large
acorn were on another stump in front of the queen.
“If you are to reach Mons Terra by dusk, you must leave now.
I took the liberty of fixing up your sword. I’m sorry I’m not much more help
than this,” she said as she looked down.
“Your highness, you did more than
enough. Thank you very much,” Warren said, and took a long bow.
“Ah, one more thing.” She looked down
at the acorn. “This acorn can take you wherever you please, just hold it in
your hands and think of your destination,” said the queen. Warren said thank
you again, and placed his sword in his sheath. Then he picked up the acorn, bid
everyone his adieus—even Crabapple, then closed his eyes and thought of the Mons Terra from his dream.
Sharp bluish mountains punctured white
monstrous clouds, shadowing the beautifully detailed rivers that carved through
deep chasms and valleys, masking the green fauna with the empty black
obscuration.
Again, Captain Warren was in a new
land. Why am I still surprised after traveling through a bloody portal?
He thought to himself and smiled in contentment. Warren stood on a gravel road
where dead bushes and scrub grew. He continued down the road, which led to an
old stone stronghold carved out of the largest mountain.
He finally came to the entrance of the
castle. A large wrought-iron portcullis, at least one hundred feet tall,
penetrated the ground. Luckily for Warren, part of the portcullis was rusted,
and with a kick, he easily fit through.
Now he was in a huge foyer with a
fountain in the center. On the far edge of the wall, past the fountain, there
was a huge stone dragon which appeared to roar with ferocity at the ceiling. The
air smelled musty and the stone-brick floor had more cracks than it did grout.
Warren’s legs were beginning to tire from the long walk, but he continued to
edge on. At the far left of the foyer, there was a tall pair of French doors.
Above the doors read: MONTE AULA REGIS. The doors themselves were painted white,
but they had aged to a greyish peeled color.
He put his hand on the knob, but it
fell to the floor and clattered, sending an echo around the room. He then tried
pushing the door, and it opened. Sunlight streamed into a dusty throne room.
Red faded tapestries were hung above the giant mountain king who sat in his
stolen throne. The mountain king’s statue had a large crack that ran across it.
An eye was missing from the slot in his head, and its twin happened to look
just like the jewel in his pocket. Lines of people ran on each side of the
throne: some were people, and some were trolls. Three witch-like trolls sat in
a corner, cowering over their dusty black cauldron.
He noticed behind a column a stone
statue holding his finger up to his mouth. For a moment, Warren thought it was
him who the statue was shushing, but he looked to his right and there was a
twin statue, staring back. He held a large golden mallet in his hand.
Besides the two men hiding behind the
columns, there was one other stone person he recognized in the bottom left
corner of the room.
He remembered her saying that the jewel
and its brother must be crushed to kill the mountain king. He walked over to
the man being shushed, and grabbed his golden mallet out from his hand. Then,
he placed the eye in his pocket on the ground in the center of the room. He
looked at the eye and gave it the hardest whack he could possibly manage. It
vaporized into a cloud of purple dust.
Echoing throughout the room was a loud
crackling sound. The hard stone surfaces of each statue clattered off with
ease, and clothing and skin were discovered underneath. A wild clamor filled
the room, and there was silence once everyone noticed there was a human dressed
in odd clothing in the middle of the room with a golden mallet in his hand. The
stone king gazed dangerously at Warren.
“Sire, sire!” a troll began. The troll
looked to be his personal servant and he spoke with sharp pointed teeth that
caused a sibilant effect on his speech, “There’s a human! A human in the
throne room!”
“I see,” said the Mountain King with a
huge booming voice. “Whatever shall we do?”
From the audience, three witch-trolls
proclaimed, “Boil him, mash him, stick him in a stew!” The court reveled.
Malumo continued to look forebodingly at the human in the middle of the room as
he stroked his long grey beard.
“Bring him down to the dungeons, we can
feed him to the gargaros down there,”
Malumo said, calling for his guards.
“No wait!” Warren protested, “I challenge
you to a duel. I bet you can’t win one-eyed.”
“Hogwash! I could win against you
blind!” challenged Malumo.
“Then go ahead,” Warren said. Malumo
accepted his offer and told his court to clear the floor. He popped out his eye
with an unpleasant smack and placed it on a table next to the three witches.
Then the two men drew their swords and began to duel.
They attacked for a while, each man
avoiding a deadly blow by a few inches. Warren thrust his sword into the king’s
chest, spilling no blood. Malumo looked down at the injury and with his bare
hands, he pulled the sword out. Warren was disgusted, he’d some nasty stuff in
the war, but he’d never seen a man pull a sword out of his chest. Then he
remembered about the second eye: Right, he
put it on the table next to those witches… It’s not there anymore!
The king’s sword missed Warren’s ear by
just a few inches as it flew by his head. He tried to fight his way over to the
table to nonchalantly search for the eye. Now that he was near the table and
the witches, he could get a closer look at the floor, and it was nowhere to be
seen. Where had that damned jewel go?
What am I going to do? Maybe it rolled to the edge of the room.
Once again he fought his way to the
other edge of his room, dodging his opponent's attacks. Suddenly, when he was
looking away from the Malumo, for the eye, his sword fell out of his grip. It
was sliding, creating an unbearable metal-on-stone sound. The king was about to
decapitate Warren when he heard a crushing sound and a purple light filled the
room.
Warren looked into the king’s eyes and
he saw fear and vulnerability. Then with his bare hands, he clasped the sword
on both edges, and then drove it into the king’s heart, killing him instantly.
Warren stood up and looked at the dying king, then at person who smashed Malumo’s
second eye. It was the woman—the same woman who told him everything.
A wind swept through the kingdom and
the surrounding land, it cleaned up the castle, and turned every minion of
Malumo into a pile of moldering entrails.
The woman revealed herself to be the
daughter of the first king. Her name was Sophia. Now with the throne vacant,
she overtook the monarchy and became queen. The two fell in love, but they knew
they couldn’t stay together. She had a kingdom to run, and Warren had a battle
to return to. She gave him another magical acorn from her father’s personal
stash, and Captain Warren, our hero, safely returned home.
