This story is based on the summer even that recently happened on . I have also drawn inspiration from the Chronicles of Siala triology.
Who am I, you ask? I am a thief, a burglar, a criminal. Down in Sleepywood, that is. I'm still a thief up here in Dreamland, but I've been called up here by the Dreams as they have a...Commission for me, I guess you could say. Because I am no ordinary thief, oh no. I am a master thief, getting paid well for the services I undertake; I am not a petty pickpocket stealing purses in market crowds. I am much more sophisticated, much more exact. The Dreams, exiled from their long-time castle, have asked me to steal as many vials of good Dream Sand from the Sand Pile as I can, in exchange for generous pay and a lifetime free from nightmares.
Who am I, you ask? I am Strider, master thief and bane of the Nightmares rule.
Everything was quiet. As in, the quiet of danger, the silence that comes just before a demon appears from the shadows, wraps his icy cold grip around your chest and crushes the life from you. The silence before the storm.
Checking that the coast was clear, I crouched low and moved forwards, each single foot step carefully measured and placed on the surreal ground with caution. Now was not the time to rush and alert those ugly Nightmares that I was here. The glistening blue crystals of the Sand Pile shimmered ahead of me, but the vast amount to the right was tainted black with dark thoughts and hellish actions. I veered away from there.
Upon arriving, I carefully drew several glass vials from under my thick fur cloak and filled them with the pristine Dream Sand. This was the fifth time I ventured here, over the border and into the heart of the Nightmare's new kingdom. Each time more of the precious Sand was tainted. Before long, there would be no reason to keep coming, and my job would be done. The Commission would be completed and I could go back to my peaceful life in Sleepywood.
With every vial full to the brim, I slipped away and headed back to the Dream's castle. Before long, I stood before the rulers, King James and Queen Marissa. I presented the vials without a word and just as I was turning to leave, a throng of civilians entered the great Meeting Chamber. Oh, I haven't told you what it looks like, have I? How rude of me. It is large, larger than the Sleepywood town hall about five times. The ceiling is arched, with long, clear vertical windows from ceiling to floor every few yards along one wall and wide windows in the ceiling, filling the room with shafts of golden light. The walls themselves are a beautiful pattern of silver, ivory and platinum, and the floor is smooth, reflective marble. At the far end from the great oaken doors are two thrones of gold with curling fronds shaped to interweave and tangle together. The King and Queen wear crowns of stars on their heads, and dress in fine silken robes.
The King and Queen of the Dreams are truly a sight to behold. King James stands nearly six feet tall, with trimmed ginger hair and deep brown eyes. He is a good and kind ruler, with a head for strategy and ruthless battle skills. His queen and wife, Queen Marissa, is a head shorter than him, a true beauty with defined cheekbones, doe-like blue eyes and long locks of flaxen blonde hair that cascade down her back; she is, however, most often seen with her hair in a delicate style above her head. They are fair and just, good rulers. They have no heir to the throne, but it is rumoured that the Queen is with child.
Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the group of people who entered the Meeting Hall. There must have been a hundred of them, ranging in colours, and all carrying crude weapons of wood and flint. King James stood graciously to welcome them, arms spread wide and deep booming baritone forming warm words of greeting.
"Welcome, my friends. It is good to see that Sleepywood refuses to bend to the will of the Nightmares."
But I was not listening. A sweet, rosy scent had surrounded me, and I turned my head to see the golden optics of my long-time friend, Skylark. We'd known each other since children, and had faced many dangers together, although she obeyed the law. She herself was pretty but plain, fair-skinned with deep golden eyes. I myself stand five foot eleven inches, and she five foot five inches.
"What are you doing here?" I hissed harshly, the palm of my hand resting on the hilt of my sword. She grinned; cheeky little upstart.
"You think I'm going down without a fight?" She retorted, eyes blazing. "I'm not letting those apes walk over me, and neither is the rest of Sleepywood. We've joined forces with the Dreams and we're going to show those Nightmares just what we can do!"
Just then, a young scout, no older then seventeen, burst into the room. He was a gangly youth, with a shaggy mop of blond hair that hung over his eyes and bright green eyes. Panting heavily, he bowed hurriedly to his King and Queen.
"Catch your breath, dear boy." The Queen said gently, but the boy shook his head and proclaimed loudly,
"The Nightmares are on their way, battle drums blooming and banner raised high! They claim this is the final battle!"
The sharp breeze tugged at my hood, threatening to pull it down. The cold air froze in my lungs and the misty exhale of many rose in spirals above our heads. In the distance, the thunder of battle drums heralded the approach of the oncoming army. It pounded against my ear fur but I stood stock still; I had fought before, and survived. This would be no different. My throat clicked dryly as I swallowed.
Next to me stood many archers, with quivers full to bursting with long arrows. The heads of these arrows were steel and back pointing so they could not be removed. The thick wood that made up the arrow was strong, and eagle feathers on the end helped them to fly straight. I had been given a quiver full of these, and chain mail to protect me, just like the rest. My sword rested at my hip, and I had refused to part with my trusty bow. We were the first line of defence, the first battle line.
Behind me stood the rest. I could see Skylark. She'd refused most armour apart from the intimidating bird shoulder plates with massive wings and light chain mail. She too had a sword. Idiot. She needs more than that to protect her.
Out of the gloom came the Nightmare army. Skeletal, hellish, all clad in black bat armour. At their head, a tall, thickly muscles man with dark hair and sunken black eyes and an equally dark woman with black hair cut in a choppy style around her chin. King James faced his back to them, addressing us.
"Our time has come! The Nightmares think they can defeat us and rule all of Dreamland! Let's show them what we are made of! Let them break their teeth on our shields, let them hear the ring of our swords! Today, no one of our number dies! Glory awaits you! Kill them the same way they kill us! No mercy!" He roared, and the Dream army whooped in response, chanting.
The Nightmare army advanced at a run over the clear ground. I knocked and arrow into place.
"Archers! Arch five fingers upwards!" A centurion barked as the enemy rushed closer, aiming to get past the wooden stakes we'd placed before us. I pulled the bowstring taut.
"Together, fire!"
A rain of arrows descended on the enemy. Those who hadn't raised their shield fell. Those who we missed continued, but the arrows had led to confusion and many fell onto the stakes, impaling themselves gruesomely. I knocked another arrow into position.
"Four fingers! Correction for wind half a finger left! Fire!" The snap of bowstrings and we caught the second wave. But a few of the first wave still remained. Crossbow men rushed forwards from the ranks behind us. They settled in the gaps between each man and bolts cleared our view.
"Arch seven fingers! Fire!" More hail of arrows. In the time it took for us to be ready, the final wave was close. The arrows rained vertically and hit their mark, but too many were left alive.
"Three paces back! Swordsmen, down on one knee! Bowmen, arch six fingers! Crossbow men, choose your target! Fire!" Now safely behind the swordsmen, I shot blow after blow. With the enemy drawing closer, now was not the time for orders. I ignored the centurion. When I ran out of arrows, I shoved the bow over my shoulder and drew my sword. Someone passed me a shield and I joined the swordsmen.
"Stand firm! Lock shields! Spears at the ready! Maintain formation! Lower swords! Stand fiiirm!" I stuck my sword out through a gap. Skylark did the same next to me.
Impact. Pushing. Groaning. Yells. Jeers. And then all hell broke loose.
Back to back with Skylark, I cut down the enemy, twisting, turning, circling, thrusting, slashing. Twice, Skylark protected by back. All track of time was lost. I faced a foe whom I could not see the face of due to his massive helmet. His sword whistled through the air aiming for my arm. Luckily, it wasn't chopped off. I went on the attack, thrusting. I was stronger than my opponent and I drove my sword through his soft stomach. Blood splattered my face and clothes.
And then it stopped. The last of the Nightmares fled on limping limbs. Those with spare arrows stopped a few. I became aware of the deep cut in my arm, the blood on my face, the fiery pain in my leg and the grime covering me. King James announced our victory.
"We did it! Strider, we did it!" Skylark yelled, wrapping her slender arms around my neck. Her lips met mine and my eyes closed. When they opened, I don't think I've ever seen anything just as beautiful. Sure, she was covered in grime and gore, but her eyes were lit up with the light of victory and her scent smothered me.
"So we did."