Sir Brenzen's eyes snapped open, the sound of the alarm signal filling his ears. After a moment of waking up, dread filled him: this was no ordinary alarm. This alarm signal had been set up during the first years of the fortress, but there had never been a reason to use it.
The bloodkin had arrived.
He rolled over and grabbed his pick from where it lay by his bed. With practiced motions, he shouldered his breastplate, pulled on his greaves, and equipped himself with the rest of his armor. He ran to the gates of the fortress, hoping deep down that this was just a false alarm.
As he ran, the shouts of civilians filled his ears as they raced in a panic towards the vault. Cries of alarm from the militia as they saw the force that opposed them. Finally, Sir Brenzen pushed his way to the lookout post, and despair set in more firmly.
He gazed out over a vast sea of pale, emaciated dwarves, each and every one of them armed to the teeth with weapons. There seemed to be no end to their numbers, no end to their armies. He turned to rally the militia to see them backing away, then one by one turn and sprint for the depths of the fortress, shouting to the civilians to follow them if they wanted to live. Soon, Sir Brenzen stood alone , watching the horde move towards Demongate faster than any dwarf should have been able to. He moved to the barracks to head them off, when suddenly all sound ceased. His own arms and legs refused to move. The wind ceased to blow. It seemed as though the whole world had stopped in its tracks.
"The great Sir Brenzen," a soft voice said, "at last, we meet each other. Your efforts at Demongate are legend, do you know?"
Sir Brenzen tried to respond, tried to speak, but his mouth would not move, his tongue would not form the words.
"And so here you are. Trying to fight against impossible odds, to save your friends. A noble effort, to be sure, but a futile one. The hordes will overwhelm you, will destroy everything you know and love. And they will not stop here. They will overwhelm the entire continent, erasing from existance all memory of the dwarves, the elves, the goblins, and the humans. All of them, forgotten to history. And only you can stop this."
Confusion flashed through Sir Brenzen, and he heard the voice chuckle. "In order to save others, sometimes it is necessary to sacrifice oneself. I'm sure your order taught you that. Would you not sacrifice yourself to save the world?"
"Let me help you. Embrace the magic you have so long avoided. You were born with a great propensity for magic: use it. With my help, you could destroy this army, destroy all those who would threaten the world, your order. All you must do is swear allegiance to me, and to those I swore allegiance to."
Sir Brenzen's mind recoiled in revulsion, thought his frozen body could not do the same, and the voice chuckled again.
"Do you have any idea the lies your order have told you, knight. The things they have hidden from you. The great mysteries they refuse to unlock. Do you know why you have been promoted so fast through the ranks, why nothing has been able to hurt you in battle, ever?"
"You were born to magic, knight. The knights of St. Zane knew this, and that is why they sought you out. They sought to dampen your powers, to control them, so that you would not unveil their hypocrisy, all the lies they have told. In battle, you are untouchable, because nothing can match your power. The training the knights have given you allow you to channel that power into combat skill, until no mortal can best you in the field of battle."
"You are wondering who I am, knight? I was once much like you. I was born to magic, but never told what I could do, never allowed to explore my abilities. My powers waned, until, one day, I found something that enlightened me. Something that showed me how everything I thought I knew was merely a lie, a fabrication made up by the false ones. And that day, I became a champion of the world."
"Consider my offer, knight. Think long and hard on it. And remember the consequences that will befall the world should you refuse."
Suddenly, the world came back into motion again. The shrieks and howls of the bloodkin outside coming closer and closer, the screams of fleeing civilians. Sir Brenzen made ready to battle the horde, praying to the saints, the chosen of Armok. Suddenly, the bloodkin burst through the door, and something tapped his shoulder. He whirled around, moving to defend himself...
Sir Brenzen snapped awake, feeling someone grabbing his wrist. He opened his eyes to see that his hand was inches from hitting Brother Cornelius.
"I am sorry brother. I was not aware of what I almost did."
"There is no problem, brother. I came to inform you that I am stepping down, and that by popular vote you are to be the new overseer of Demongate."
Brother Cornelius released Sir Brenzen's wrist and left the room, leaving Sir Brenzen to his morning prayers.
All throughout his morning prayers, Sir Brenzen was troubled by the dream. It had felt so much realer than a dream, as if someone was truly speaking to him. He said the last rites of the morning and stood, walking to his door and throwing it open. He needed to discuss the dream with Tarmid: perhaps the scribe could help him understand what it meant.
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Topic: Demongate: Wrapping up the Loose Ends. (Read 698921 times)