The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

Chapter 5. Omens

The war cries were deafening in Termus' ears, his vision still blurry as he unsheathed his sword. The dream just moments before had not fully left his mind, and his senses were still fluctuating rapidly. Gnove helped him stabilize himself against the back of the cart. All around him were grey and black painted men, a tipped wagon lay, destroyed, just behind his own. Its tarp was torn to shreds and weapons wedged themselves deep within the wood, disfiguring the lumber into splinters and jagged pieces. He managed to finally stand to his feet, albeit very sloppily as he collected himself.

"Wait, what's happening again?" He asked, unwrapping his arm from his brother's shoulders.

"Get ahold of yourself!" Gnove squeezed on both his arms and shook him. "Some fucking mountain tribe ambushed us."

They were a mountain tribe? Termus couldn't think straight, his brain still slow to process the information around him. Why did his Cold Day have to happen right before an ambush? He thought.

"I need to go find Polly! He might be in trouble." his brother said, wiping blood from his cheek and darting off before Termus could say another word. A rush of composure washed over him as he squeezed the hilt of his sword and looked out from the road. I need to focus, he thought.

The sky was pitch black and overcast, covering that familiar yellow glow from the Ring. He couldn't see a thing past the road but darkness, the faint silhouette of jagged trees peering back at him. What would be the best thing to do? He asked himself. It would be stupid to rush out there with this obnoxiously bright cloak on, they could easily surround me and I wouldn't even notice...At least not with that paint they're wearing. Dammit all.

He couldn't think straight. He could feel the lack of sleep getting to his head. It didn't matter that it was only one dream, one night, it was always enough to make him feel as if he lost weeks of sleep at a time. He had read about sleep deprivation in his books plenty of times, and he knew the signs of it all too well. In fact, he was reading one of them in a library in Handil once, while this really cute maiden sat across from him, allowing their eyes to meet every few seconds, only to smile coyly and tuck her head back into her book. Wait, what the hell was he thinking about again? "Shit," he said aloud. "Get ahold of yourself."

"Yai-ya-yai-yaaaaa!" a feral voice shrieked.

Termus had no time to react before he was knocked clean off of his feet and pinned viciously to the ground, the bloodthirsty eyes of a madman staring back at him. His gritted teeth were sharp nails, his breath smelling like that of a predator's after a fresh kill. Why didn't he have a weapon? The man opened his mouth, breath of decay seeped out as the grotesque orifice grew wider and wider. Is he unhinging his jaw?

He struggled to break free, thrashing his knees upward to force the beast off of him. With only one of his hands free, he definitely wouldn't be able to budge his assailant. The savage yanked him by the hair, pulling his head to one side. What the hell is he doing? Uttering some guttural, incomprehensible words, the man lunged forward and sunk all of his pointed teeth into Termus' collar bone, biting down with an audible crunch.

He screamed out in seething torment. He could feel his bone shift in his body, every nerve pulsating, as the man grinded every fang back and forth against his collar. Termus gritted his teeth to fight the pain and used his free hand to grab that smooth silver handle that lay in his pocket. He pulled it out and tried to aim it upward.

BANG! The gun fired, immediately flying from his hand and onto the ground from the force. The man twitched for a second then fell limp, heavily sinking the teeth further into his collar.

"RAAAAAHHH!!!" Termus yelled as he mustered just enough force to dislodge the jaw from his neck and tried to shove the body off of him. It was heavy, he noticed. He felt the sweaty paint rubbing off on him as the man slid off of him and crashed the ground with a thud. Now free from the assailant, he scrambled backwards a few feet, leaning his back and shoulders against the wagon wheel, eyes wide with fear and adrenaline.