The Sleeping Lords.

Chapter 2

                Fyn awoke abruptly in a cold sweat. During the ride home he had lost a lot of blood and was barely able to tell his mother what had happened to him and his sister. When he woke up, his mother was still dressing his wounds; she was focusing on his arm while his eldest brother stitched his leg back up. “Where is Elise?” Fyn said, sitting up, but before he could get up entirely his brother pushed him back down.

“You’re still hurt you fool. You get up now and the stitches might come off.” 

Fyn gritted his teeth and laid back down, he closed his eyes trying to block out the pain from the gash on his right arm, and the pain was so unbearable he passed out again.

                   In Fyns dream he saw a battle between two very different armies. One army was smaller, the armor of the soldiers were painted with mud, streaks of it flowed down to the boots of the soldiers and they all looked too ill trained to be soldiers, but they charged head-on towards the army that stood strong in front of them. This army was different from the other, they stood firm, prepared to take the charge of the soldiers head-on. Their armor was dark; engravings were of an ancient language, forgotten by time. Just before the army opposing them slammed into their defenses, the front lines of soldiers raised their spears and shields and took the charge head-on, knocking attackers down.

                   Within moments, cries of agony broke out through the battle. Fyn was closer now, closer than he should have been; dead smack in the middle of the fight. He ran towards the center of the soldiers with black armor, nobody could see him from what he could tell as he passed right through their defenses and into the walls of the castle they were defending. From inside he could see soldiers preparing a defense. They were different from the others fighting outside. They had the same black armor but there were streaks of red paint starting from their helmets to the center of their chest plates. Fyn knew they were protecting something or someone, and he wanted to find out whom. He made his way through the castle and stopped in front of a tall tower.

                   Before Fyn made his way inside, he heard a large crash behind him and when he turned, what he saw shocked him. Somehow, the soldiers with streaks of mud on their armor found a way to get past the soldiers guarding the gate and destroyed the wall. He saw a man in all white armor cutting through the crowd of soldiers and making his way towards the tower Fyn was in front of. When he got to the door of the tower, he stopped, turned, and addressed his men who weren’t fighting the soldiers in black.

“For freedom!” The man yelled firmly and raised his sword as his men yelled the same phrase. He turned and kicked the doors of the tower open and ran up the tower; Fyn and the soldiers followed. Once he made it to the door Fyn stood next to the man in white, for the first time in his life, he felt safe, even though it was impossible for him to be seen. The man kicked the door opened and raised his sword to a man standing by his desk, his face was turned from the man in white.

“I’ve come for you Oliver Whyte!” The man in white yelled as he drew close to the man.

“You should not have come here...” Oliver responded as he adjusted his posture.

“I came to destroy you, and your tyranny of this land! I came to free my people from the grasp of Eudes Garro!” The man in white retorted angrily.

“You should not have come here! Leave now!” Oliver yelled as he turned around. His eyes were as white as snow, and black, long veins stretched along his face. He raised his hand and a sphere of dark energy emerged from his palm. He launched it at the man in white and it slammed against his chest plate.

                   Fyn woke up in a cold sweat; he quickly sat up and then got up. He winced in pain as he removed some weight from his leg and limped towards the door. When he stepped outside he realized it was night out. The stars covered the sky with constellations as Fyn moved toward his family who were sitting by a campfire. When he approached his mother scolded him.