The Flames of Thotus: Dreams

The days flew by and Termus found himself more and more worried. What was war actually like? Books can explain the strategy and everyone knew the tales and songs that were written about the heroes of war, but what could be said about the battlefield? Surely it couldn’t be all glory and triumph.

He hoisted up his pack onto the wagon, his brother nowhere to be seen. He wore just his underclothes as he was told. Apparently, the journey to Nagire would be long indeed. Three weeks if he remembered correctly. Three weeks of sitting in a wagon, eating dried meat chunks and twiddling his thumbs. He didn’t want to be wearing his bulky armor and sweating a river the whole time. He sighed out loud as he turned around and scanned the various wagons, looking for his brother.

Crowds of soldiers were packing their belongings and gear onto their wagon, the horses being fed one last meal before they headed out. Gnove had to be here somewhere…and there he was. Talking with a group of infantry men, all sitting in their basic brown clothes and leather armor, loosely sewn together with thin string. Gnove was wearing his officer garments, but sat on the end of an open wagon, laughing with the rest of them. Termus badly wanted to let him be but he knew there was more preparing to be done. He picked up the remaining pieces of his armor and threw it thoughtlessly into the wagon before walking across the dirt street.

“Gnove,” he called. “You need to get the rest of your stuff together.”

Gnove hardly noticed him as he picked up a few dice and rolled them. The men laughed and cheered, and Gnove threw his hands up in the air, yelling.

“Third time’s the win,” he said, nudging the man next to him.

Before Termus could reach the other side of the street, the patter of horse hooves rumbled closer and almost knocked him over. The great white beast stopped, the man sitting atop it grimacing. “Get back to your wagon, boy. Lest you get trampled.”

He recognized that voice. It was Old Man Cram. What was he doing here?

Cram paced his horse back and forth along the street, watching over everyone as they packed up. “Gather ‘round, you sorry sons of bitches,” he yelled.

The hum of chatter from everyone quieted and as a crowd began forming around the horse. “You lot will be marching off in thirty minutes, so hurry your arses up. It’s a long march through the mountains and there’s only one road so best be on the lookout for the Mountain Tribes. All of you need to stay with the wagons. The Tribes of the Banshee Mountains would love to pick you off, one by one. Lure you into the rocks and kill ya for your steel.”

Gnove had stood up and started walking over to the wagon again, his eyes fixated on Cram.

“They don’t take too kindly to us up north. So watch your arses. We have three weeks to march to Nagire and not a second longer. You lot better be ready for anything. Commander Maisie will be taking charge from now on and if I get a word that any of you disobeyed her orders, your body will be tossed from the highest lookout at headquarters. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir,” the soldiers said.

__________

Termus helped Gnove with the rest of his bags and hoisted him up onto the wagon. It was rustic, creaky and old but it had an antique looked that he almost admired, its dark brown tarp covered it from rain as well. Not all of the soldiers around him were as lucky. He surely didn’t feel safe riding on it, but it was the best he was going to get, he guessed.

Gnove reached his hand out to help him up on the wagon. “You’d think for us being officers and all that we’d get a nice wagon. Something…I don’t know…smoother? This damn wood is going to cut me a million times before we reach the city.”

Termus smirked. “Better watch out. I’ve heard that’s the most dangerous part of war is the splinters.”

Gnove rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back before Termus could grab it. “Fine,” he said, smiling.

He was pulling himself up onto the wagon and taking his seat when a voice bellowed through the street, causing everyone to turn in curiosity. “All of you are under my wing now.”

A great golden-haired stallion rode in on the streets after Cram had taken his leave. Atop it, a stunning beauty to behold. Her golden brown hair danced brilliantly behind her as the wind ebbed between its locks. No older than thirty, her body was radiating from head to feet. Although Termus couldn’t get a closer look at her face, he could tell from where he sat that it was soft and flawless. Not a blemish, a scar, not a single thing that was displeasing to the eye.

There Termus sat, on his seat in the wagon, staring breathlessly as this beauty rode through the street. Time seemingly stopped around him. And then it happened. As if right out of a dream, she looked over at him. Not his wagon, not the man next to him. Out of all the soldiers there, she was looking directly at HIM. He didn’t quite know how long he’d been holding his breath but he didn’t dare stop now.

She rode slowly up to his wagon, never taking those large, soft eyes off of him. This couldn’t be real, could it? Then she stopped. Right in front of him. His palms were slippery, his mouth dry. He had never known exactly what to say to a woman, but there were so many things he wanted to say to her now. She leaned in, scanning him up and down with her soft, blue eyes.

“You’re Frank’s orphan bitch, aren’t you?”

Orphan bitch? What? Termus tilted his head in confusion.

“Frank and I go way back,” she said. “He said he picked up a couple of maggot orphans and pulled some strings and now BAM, you’re magically an officer.”

Termus’ dreams crashed and shattered before him as time picked back up again. Who was this lady? So blunt, so…offensive.

“Well, I guess I’m stuck with you. Make sure you don’t disappoint me, kid.” She pulled the reigns of her horse and spun around toward the rest of the soldiers. “I am Commander Maisie. You will be taking your orders from me until we reach Nagire. Make sure you get a good look before you leave, it may well be the last time you ever see this rat-hole of a city.”

Gnove turned to the other officers in the wagon. “I think she’s starting to like us,” he said, sniggering.

What if they don’t come back here? What if they never see this place again? Gnove doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, but Termus can’t stop thinking about it. It's only a training session, he kept telling himself.

All the horses were reigned and ready to leave. The commanders were doing their final rounds to make sure everyone was prepared.

“Termus, Gnove!” a voice called from behind them. The boys both turned their heads and looked out among the sea of soldiers. Bodies were being pushed aside as a behemoth of a man was powering toward them.

Gnove stood up abruptly and yelled out. “Dunham!”

What is Dunham doing here? He hadn’t heard from him in days, ever since they got the news about his father. Nonetheless, Termus couldn’t have been happier. They both stood up and carefully walked to the edge of the wagon, awkwardly stepping across legs and feet to get there. Dunham clasped both of his giant hands on the wagon so hard, it felt like it could tip backward. He looked a lot more composed, to Termus’ relief.

“What’re you doing here?” Termus said.

“I couldn’t leave ya without saying me farewells,” he said loudly. “Well, that and I’m gonna visit me father right after I see ya’s off.”

“Visit your father?” Gnove said, sitting down on the edge of the wagon. “I thought he was…well…you know.”

“He means he’s going to visit his body…” Termus said.

“Listen carefully,” Dunham said, leaning in closer and quieting his voice to a hush. “Something’s not right about the way he died. I need to look into a few things meself here and then I’m off to Archbaldt. But I’ll be back home soon and I’ll probably need your help when I am. You know what that means, don’t ye?”

Termus shrugged.

Dunham looked around, scanning the soldiers as if he was checking to see who was listening. “I don’t want to see your bodies dragged back ‘ere in boxes, neither.”

Gnove let out a scoff and smirked. “We won’t.”

“I’m serious. Y’all need to make it back here…alive. All these commanders and officers, they don’t give a damn about any of ya. Their strategies, their plans. Do you think the life of any soldier matters to them? Didn’t matter when me father died. Not one of them is doing a damn thing about it…just…” he paused, looking grimly back at Termus. “Take care of yeselves.”

Termus smiled faintly back at him. “Always do. Good luck, my friend.”

And just like that, he was gone, disappeared back into the crowd of soldiers and out of sight. Duham was right. He would need their help finding out who killed his father. He doesn’t have the brains, as much as it pains Termus to admit. Whoever did it, it goes far beyond just a tavern killing.

__________

They headed out right on time, the sun sitting high in the sky. It was Termus’ first time venturing far away from the city walls. Leaving the northern gates of the city gave him a rush of excitement that he hadn’t felt since he was pilfering pockets as a boy. The caravan moved slower than he’d expected, but it gave him the time to take in the sights. As they left the city and headed north up the Banshee road, he could start seeing the white tops of the mountains in the distance. They were tremendous beasts jetting from the ground, reaching higher than Termus had ever seen before. The snow covered the tips of them, and the clouds wisped around the middles. It was said that they were over a thousand feet high. The shadow they casted looked to have span for thousands of miles along the plains. It was almost foreboding to look at but Termus felt safe with the caravan behind him.

It was a short distance from the city to the beginning of the mountains but the journey from there wasn’t going to be an easy one. Termus had read one time that the mountains were filled with perils beyond counting, even sticking to the road. The mountain tribes were the least of their worries. Sure, they’d be scattered about waiting to ambush anyone traveling but the real danger was the road itself. He had read that boulders would fall and block the way, that the steep mountainside would sometimes swallow wagons whole, ice so thick that one wrong step and the horses would slide right off the edge of the cliffs.

Termus had mainly kept to himself for the first few hours, but Gnove had been talking and getting to know every other officer, laughing and joking with them. It would be a good way to pass the time, Termus thought. But he had too much on his mind to be able to relax.

“Hi, I’m Polly!” a squeaky voice said in his ear. He turned his gaze from the mountains and saw a stout, freckle-faced boy sitting next to him, no older than Gnove. His officer clothes three times too large for his small, gaunt body. He smiled from ear to ear, a brown cap covering his head.

Termus met the boys hand with his own, and was shaken vigorously. “Nice to meet you, Polly. I’m Termus.”

“I know! You’re brother told me all about you,” he said, still holding on to Termus’ hand.

Termus laughed. “Oh, did he now?”

“Oh yeah! My pops told me you guys were coming too. Frank’s prodigies, he said. We’re the three youngest officers here. Isn’t this exciting? Heading into war, making names for ourselves.”

The boy was talking so fast that Termus could barely follow. He didn’t know how to respond so he just sat there smiling, forcing his hand out of Polly’s.

“Gnove said that we were heading into the battlefield. Right in the heart of the city. This is going to be so much fun!”

“Wait…what? No, we’re not going into the city. We’re officers in training. We’re going to be staying at the command post.”

Polly shook his head back and forth so quickly, it looked like the damned thing was going to roll off of his shoulders. “There’s no glory for us there, just boring talking and planning and watching. We aren’t going to be carving ourselves in the history books there. Father always said to make sure people remember you before you die.”

“My brother told you this…? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, he said I could be his personal squire if I fancy.”

He looked over at Gnove, sitting toward the front of the wagon, intensely chewing on a dried piece of meat with the other men. “He sure as hell doesn’t need a squire, but if that’s what you want…”

Who was this boy? What was the Legion thinking, bringing someone like this to an open battlefield? And what the hell was Gnove talking about? Does he think this is a joke?

"Polly, wait here a second."

Termus stood up and shuffled past a few of the officers, barely keeping his balance while the wagon paddled and sputtered across the rugged road. He motioned politely to the man next to Gnove, and squeezed his way in between the two. Gnove had not even noticed, still intently stuffing his face with some strange smelling beef, all the while laughing at a conversation to his left. Between the loud rabble and the puttering of the wagon wheels, he could barely hear himself speak.

"Gnove," he said. Nothing.

"GNOVE!" he said again, nudging his elbow deep into his brother's ribcage.

"YOWWWWW!" Gnove yelled, barely audible over the deafening background noise. He spun his head around like an owl, biting his bottom lip. "Term, what in the living hell did you do that for?"

Finally got your attention, huh, dumbass? he thought.

"What the hell are you doing going around telling people that we're going to be on the front lines?"

Gnove looked completely bewildered. "Who gave you that idea?"

"The little boy officer over there." Termus pointed down the wagon to Polly, staring eagerly back at them, a smile from ear to ear. The boy looked like he was going to bounce right out of the wagon from excitement...

"Bahahaha!" Gnove laughed, spitting chunks of half-chewed beef onto the floor. "I was just joking with the kid. He seemed so eager to get there, I couldn't help but get fired up with him." He paused, narrowing his eyes in thought. "It would be great though, wouldn’t it?"

"Wouldn't what be great...?" Termus said, dragging his words a bit, desperately hoping he wasn't going to say it. But he did...

"Being on the front lines, seeing the action, of course! That's how history is made."

Termus wanted to smack him so bad right now it pained his arm to keep it still. "This isn't a fucking game!" He blurted out, louder than he realized. He quieted a bit and continued. "Are you daft, Gnove? We're going into a war. I'm sure you're full of nothing but glory and piss, but this is where people die. This is where horrors are created. Barely any of the front-liners come back, and the ones that do are changed men, shells of who they used to be."

He was shaking so hard he couldn't focus his vision, nor his thoughts. He already had an answer to the question he asked himself before they left. He knew what war was like...he had always known. He just didn't want to admit it. Sure, there are the books that talk about the glory and the songs they sing about heroes of war. But there were also the real books. The ones that are about people that actually returned alive. I can't keep faking naivety anymore, he thought. Not while we're on the road to actually facing it.

"By the Gods, just relax," Gnove said, sighing exasperatedly. "I was only joking with him. Wars are a necessary evil and we have to embrace it. If it makes you happy, I'll just stop joking around altogether."

Termus was at a loss. "No...I know you just..."

"Nope, it's done. I'm already Gnove, the straight-faced wet blanket."

"Look, I'm sorry...I'm just jittery. I guess that's just how you handle it. I handle it...well...a bit differently," Termus said, head hung low.

"If by differently, you mean freak out and scare half the people around you, then yes, I agree." Gnove laughed and shoved his half-eaten beef stick in Termus' face. "Nothing says 'wars aren't cool' like dead cow on a stick. Eat up."

Termus couldn't help but smirk and grab the rest of his brother's food. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until it was already devoured. Maybe I'm just losing my nerve, he reassured himself. We're only going for field training.

__________

The days hobbled slowly by, the caravan passing beautiful peak after beautiful peak. The greenery grew significantly less up here, barely able to survive the cold temperature and thin air. The few patches that did grow had barely a shade of green in them, some crackling under their own dead weight, leaving nothing but tan patches of weeds. From the Handilian Plains, the mountains and cliffs had looked so sturdy, unbreakable even. But once here, they seemed all too fragile, their cracks and faults all too apparent from up close. The traces of previous avalanches grew more frequent the further they traveled through the mountain range.

On one cold night, as the caravan began entering a particularly narrow cliffside, footfalls and movement stirred between the rocks and pine trees. Painted faces grimaced, gripping their weapons quietly, creeping toward the caravan while Termus slept, beads of sweat dripping down his face...it would be a Cold Day indeed.

This time, he was standing knee-deep in piles of ashy waste, the dust so thick, his eyes began to burn. But he tasted nothing. Heaps of ashen-covered rocks lay about, dotting the otherwise flat, grey landscape. He could hear the bubbling of magma off in the distance, he could even see the flickers of embers dancing around in the air. So why does it feel so cold? Every other sense in his body told him he should be hot. But he wasn't.

He could hear voices coming from the piles of ash beneath him. "You're not him," they said. "You'll never be him. You're just a joke." He didn't recognize any of the voices but they all knew who he was. He felt so rejected. Why were they all so full of contempt? Why did they hate him?

When he opened his mouth to answer them, his voice didn't come out. Instead, another voice spoke. He wasn't able to control his own lips or voice but he spoke the words nonetheless. "Where did you all go? We were only trying to do what's best."

The voices whispered back. "Is this what was left of the flame? It's nothing but ash now. How can we forgive this?"

Termus' legs lifted off the ground and began ascending into the air. What's happening, he thought. Don't leave me, voices. I don't want to be alone. But their whispers faded as he soared higher, the grey, cloudy sky swirling around him. He could see everything from here. The ashy wastes, the river of bubbling lava below him, even the volcano that created it, all miniscule from this far away.

His body was being pulled away, toward the direction of a large desert, the sky growing clearer with every moment.

No, no...NO. Not there, he thought. Please, take me anywhere but there. I can't deal with the emptiness! He could feel the tears spiraling off his face as the winds carried him, a vortex of colors and emotion.

He crashed against the sand, feet first and immediately began walking. Every fiber of his being tried forcing himself to stop moving, to slow down, to do anything. But his legs continued to carry him. His back was weighted with that heavy satchel, lugging it behind him as he kept pace.

Please...no...

The sand picked up, pelting his face with dry bullets. Each grain grinded against his skin and spiraled away, laughing as they left. He felt like his face was burning under the intensity of the sun, the vistas in the distance swaying and swelling through the waves of heat.

He desperately squeezed his eyes closed. Please...no...

When he opened them again, there it was: the city in the desert. It swayed in the heat, but still stood firm, the walls half as tall as the buildings behind them.

Termus' mouth was forced open and the voice spoke again. "I'm home..."

Please...no....

The sky suddenly blackened, the sun, the stars, even the little planet in the sky immediately darkened and disappeared, shrouding everything he could see. The city, the sky, the ground, all gone. He could still feel the sand pelting his face and his feet sinking into the ground. Time had all but stopped as he waited in horror, knowing what was coming.

A purple spec glimmered off in the distance in front of him, fading in and out for a second. He felt his hand move up to his face to block out the sand. And then it happened. He felt it before he could see it. A heavy force, violently hurling him backwards, knocking him off his feet and into the sands beneath him. Then came the purple light. It flooded outward in a giant circle, illuminating the entire world around him. It engulfed the city completely, exploding outward and sending the clouds spiraling away from it, almost as if they were running in fear.

How he wished he could turn around and run in the opposite direction but his damn legs kept moving forward on their own as the voice called out. "My home...what happened to my home?!" His legs began running, the crashing feelings of dread slowly seeping over him as he ran. It was slipping away from him. The feelings of love. The feelings of happiness. Termus could do nothing but scream. He opened his mouth and this time, the voice did just that.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!"

My life is meaningless now...what's the point of living if I'm all alone? The winds of change were almost upon us...but the flames have faded and I was...left behind. Father, was it all worth it in the end? I hope you died as you lived...

Termus wasn't even sure who he was anymore. Whoever he was, he reached inside his satchel and pulled out the dagger. Its angled edges pressed desperately against his neck, he cried one more time.

"Now I will die as I lived...a coward."

He yanked the dagger as hard and fast as he could.

__________

"Get up," a voice said. "Get the hell up, you idiot."

Termus was awake...but he just laid there. His fingers felt numb and his hands were just as clammy as he remembered. Everything he could recall was so vivid. He grabbed his throat with his hand, rubbing it softly. It still felt like something was carving at it. His whole body was shaking and the dread was definitely back. He could feel it damper him down before he even sat up.

"Seriously, Term, you're scaring me," his brother said, shaking him back and forth. "There's no time for this right now. The mountain tribes are attacking. You need to get up!"

Termus abruptly sat up, using the back of the empty wagon to prop himself up and off the floor. Gnove was going on about something, but he couldn't focus on whatever he was saying. He grabbed his sword from under his seating area and clambered down off the wagon. The painted faces roared a fuzzy war cry in Termus' ear, but he didn't care. He would rather be fighting warmongers than have to see the second half of that dream again...