Narrative Flux - Story

The morning sun, slowly sifted through the tall grass, the slivers of golden light settling upon the tawny head of the sleeping man hidden in the reeds. He slept soundly stirring only when a beam of light struck his closed eye, but remained dead to the world otherwise. He would have continued to slumber through the morning, nestled in the soft grass if the ground had not began to quake. It began to tremble ever so slightly at first, hardly enough to disturb the man, but the consistency of the vibration got his attention. He forced his eyes to open, vibrant irises, as green as spring squinted in the light while he stretched lazily, then with a sleepy yawn the man rose to a sitting position and peeked over the grass that had been his bed.

The dales to the north were as they had been the previous evening, a picturesque scene untouched by the hands of Men; the rowan trees swaying in the warm summer breeze. He turned and looked behind him, alerted by the sounds that skipped across the small lake, and marching along the not so distant shoreline opposite him, an army marched off to war.

Staying hidden, the young man observed the foot soldiers as they trudged through the sand soil, the clanging of their armor disrupting the tranquility of an otherwise perfect morning. He recognized their colors and crouched lower in the grass. These were not their lands and whether the young man was a spy or no, the soldiers would surely kill him just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

The army traveled east, toward the great forest of Eshring where beyond it's dark and mysterious groves stood the castle of the duke. Their presence in the duchy, confirmed the rumors the young man had heard four days ago, that duke Tannidol had refused to recognize the rule of the new king. Two days henceforth blood would spill, if not sooner when they passed through the untrodden forest they sought to use as their route.

Lying back, the young man patiently awaited, the army to pass by. As he watched the golden clouds above him move slowly across the deep blue sky, he made a game of deciphering the various ranks of the army by their sounds. When he heard the crunch of heavy wheels across the ground accompanied by the sounds of cracking whips he knew that the tail of the army was passing by. The ballista's and other war machines always brought up the rear and only when they were but a distant noise did he sit up again to check to see if all was clear.

Not a soul was in sight and so the young man, reached down and picked up the red colored jacket that he had slept upon and shook off the grass. An elaborate insignia adorned the back of the surcoat, embroidered into the heavy material, and other militaristic badges decorated the left arm. He then procured his long sword, which he strapped onto his back and buckled his holster from which hung an ornate, black and silver pistol over his right hip. Across the other dangled the ammunition, eight small bolts that were loaded into the two shot, spring driven weapon; a ranged weapon popular in those places where armor was not commonly worn.

He slowly rose, still aware that there may be stragglers bringing up the rear and when he was content that he was alone prepared himself to make a decision that would most likely forever change the course of his life.