Tribal Affiliation

I had a lucid dream. I accurately recorded my dream an presented it in the form of a short story. All of the details, quotes, and emotions were directly taken from my dream.

Tribal Affiliation: A Dream

Dreamt by Scott Gryspeerdt

Thursday, December 12, 2013

The night was dark and violet colored stormclouds moved swiftly across a coal black sky. The frequent and monstrous flashes of lightning lit the battlefield, casting strobing silhouettes of bloodshed. The long and arduous struggle had worked the ground into a pile of bodies. Mud covered everything. There was no strategy for the remaining warriors. Nobody yelled to “advance” or “hold the formation” for there was no discernible formation among them. The isolated skirmishes were locked in fights to the death, with little to differentiate friend from foe - so much mud. The earth finally swallowed the entire mass of them and hardened over in the suddenly striking sunlight. The world was still for a moment. The crust of dried mud began to crack in the heat. The arid breeze turned the field to sand -- the ground was cursed. I thought of how displeased my father was going to be at this failure, my failure. Five hundred warriors under my command had met their demise among nine hundred enemies, claimed by the earth. I crawled back to the tribe with sand in my hair.

The wood fireplace filled the main room of the longhouse with a maple aroma. I could feel the warm air filling my lungs as I breathed the scent in slowly through my nose. Nine men sat around the oval table with their backs to the fireplace. I approached them from the open side of the table. Even the large moose head hanging above the mantle seemed displeased to see me. The elders of the tribe, one of whom was my father, demanded an explanation for the events that had happened on the field of battle. My lack of comprehension translated into a lack of words.

“The earth was cursed,” I began to say before realizing I had confused consequences with causality.

“Justify your actions,” demanded a square jawed elder sitting in the far left seat.

“The men; they were angry - “

“Well this is war!” an elder interjected prematurely.

“ - Almost rage filled --  Locked in primitive bloodlust,” I stammered on in fragments, having difficulty coming up with words. The intensity of the situation threw my mind into shock and my heart grieved for the losses that felt all too real. Five hundred souls were dead -- that’s the word -- dead. And though I was able to crawl out of the sand, the concept of fatality was vivid, and disconcerting.

“What exactly happened? Three hundred foot soldiers, one hundred archers, and one hundred horsemen under your command were marched into battle and have not returned. We need a specific account of the events,” The Chief Elder calmly pressed on from his position of power at the center of the table. This prompted me to calm down and collect my wits to deliver the narrative. I can’t remember the exact words I chose to explain myself, if I used words at all; it felt more like a whirlwind of images passing before me. I stressed the mass of opposing forces and the earth’s involvement in swallowing the field with its muddy jowls. The table of elders appeared noticeably shaken by the account of how nature had claimed the field of battle. After what seemed like hours to deliver even just a meager explanation, I was dismissed.

I was lying on the dirt floor in my single room wigwam. The smoke from the small fire was escaping through a hole in the roof. My brother entered the moose hide flap door without knocking, or perhaps I was unable to hear his knock.

“Scott, come on man, get up off the dirt,” He coaxed politely.

“You,” I snapped back in a deep tone, “You told me there would be three hundred of them, but there were three times that many. I sent some of our best men to the void.” The word void echoed in my mind and may have ruined the aggressive tone I was trying to deliver with my words.

“The earth swallowed them all, Kashian and Malgethnite alike. If you think the outcome would have changed had you marched against three hundred, you are mistaken,” My brother offered in defense.

“You said three hundred; I saw nine hundred. How do you explain yourself?” I felt like the the elders at the round table who were questioning me just recently. I was battle worn and exhausted, and could tell my brother felt a sense of responsibility for what I endured.  

“My source assured me of three hundred.”

“Who is your source?”

“You know I can’t give that up. It would jeopardize their safety and they could still--”

“Damnit, Rich! They could still what? They could still be useful to us? I won’t trust a word of intelligence they feed you. And f**k their safety! I don’t even know how I was able to survive and crawl out of that sand. You better talk before I drag your a*s to father--.”

“To father? What would he do? I provided the elders with the intelligence I learned from a trusted source --”

“Bullshit, trusted source”

“-- and you led the men into battle. The elders aren’t even concerned with the conventional war at the moment. They are having a meeting to discuss the meaning of the earth’s involvement. I just came by to make sure you were holding up after the event, I know it must have been exhausting spiritually.”

“Oh,“ I eased out of my aggression, knowing the elder’s focus was not on my shortcoming. I began contemplating his choice of word -- spiritually. I suppose I was spiritually exhausted from it all. “I’m sorry, I guess I am spiritually exhausted from it all,” I repeated my thoughts to him, “I think I’m just going to sleep it off.”

My brother left my quarters, though I didn’t notice how he left with my mind still foggy. I layed down on my bed just a few inches above the dirt floor. I could hear my small fire cracking and the rain outside through the leaves. The rain reminded me of the battle and I had no desire to be lost in sleep.

I was outside wandering the tribal encampment through the wigwams. Smoke rose from them all and disappeared in the clear starry sky. With each step I moved silently, like an invisible pair of eyes in the night. I came upon my brother’s place and pressed my ear to the bark wall. I couldn’t make out the words, but I could hear two voices in conversation. One, undoubtedly my brothers, was accompanied by an unfamiliar female voice. I burst through the entrance to meet two startled faces. She was an enemy -- a Malgethnite. Laying half naked beside my brother, the only indication of tribal affiliation was the green cloth braided into her long black hair, but that was clear enough.

“Guards!” I yelled at the top of my lungs, voice dripping with inflection of betrayal. “So this is your trusted source?” Turning to her, I spat an insult in her general direction that was of a tongue unfamiliar to me. She appeared thoroughly offended, so I assumed she could understand what I had said.

Richard jumped in, “Scott, calm down. I can explain, this is LaRain. She is --”

“Guards!” I yelled again as a defiant response to his pleads for tranquility. They showed up almost instantly. “Carry these two before the elders!”

I burst through the heavy wooden doors and stormed into the main room of the longhouse, again commanding attention, with the guards carrying my brother and LaRain right behind me. The elders all looked up from the mountain of old books and papers that lay strewn across the oval table.

“Father,” I cried out, “These two are responsible for the lost souls.” The imagery of the orphans and widows flashed in my mind again, and I felt relief from casting the blame elsewhere. Through the lack of response, I didn’t feel the elders truly understood the extent of the case absolving me of guilt. “Our forces were overpowered because of the muddled intelligence these two provided.” I thought it was all pretty clear. “He is literally in bed with the enemy. Does anyone hear me?”

“Scott, we have greater issues to deal with,” Father began, “The elders and I believe the earth has been upset by a deep and powerful evil.”

“Long ago, a great wizard Gunther was led astray by lack of conviction and turned the land to ice and snow,” The Chief Elder spoke up gesturing at some ancient texts, “Even many generations after his demise we endure periods of harsh winter. We believe another wizard has risen, with a similar lack of conviction, set on turning the forest to a barren wasteland of sand and steam. If he succeeds the land our people call home will never be the same.”

“We’ve known about these two,” Father whispered to me regarding my brother and LaRain, “and we believe it is now more than ever that she could be helpful to us.”

I was taken aback. So many questions and emotions whirled in my head though never quite precipitated into a projectable sentence. I was angry for not being recognized, and troubled by the news I had heard. I felt an inexplicable emotion that manifested in my shoulders and made me concentrate on LaRain. I brought her before the elders to be held responsible, not to be regarded as a valuable asset.

“Unhand them,” a quiet elder said in his meager voice. The guards let go of my brother and LaRain. The elder continued, “LaRain, come take a look at this.” offering up a specific old leather bound book.

She seemed puzzled at first, then slightly nervous. After some time had passed she began to read from one of the pages. She spoke in a language that I could not understand the words to. Peering over her shoulder I could see runes and characters I was unfamiliar with lighting up on the page as she spoke. Her eyes, normally dull brown, shone a violet color and voice sounded twice as deep as before. The wooden boards on the floor began to creek intensely and the wind outside noticeably shook the longhouse.

“Wat does it say?” the square jawed elder yelled over the noise. His words interrupted LaRain’s reading and the earth fell silent. The page was no longer dancing with her incantations, and her eyes were dull brown again.

“We need to go to my homeland,” she said in a determined and monotone voice.

Wind rustled the trees twisted over the narrow forest road, allowing only isolated beams of sunlight to hit the path ahead. The soft silence was only broken by the sound of hoofs. Atop horses packed with food, books, and arms, the three of us rode onward towards the Malgethnitchk nation. The Malgethnites were a tribe ruled by an abusive leader, RaFlour. Our tribe had warred with them for several years in an attempt to liberate the oppressed citizens.

“She has been working with us to aide in the war efforts,” Richard began explaining to me, “She lost her parents to the twisted king and wants only to help us free her fellow citizens from bondage.”

“I worked as a personal healer for the generals and was able to relay the information I had learned to your brother,” LaRain explained to me, “However, they must have learned my treason and used me to deliver misinformation about the last battle. After I heard about the battle’s outcome, I fled to find security with your brother.”

“So why are we on our way back there? What grand welcome shall we receive as two enemy princes and a traitorous healer?” I inquired, with full cynicism flowing.

“The book I was reading from was written in ancient Malgethnite. We’re taking it to a blind librarian in the city that will be able to explain everything to us more. Perhaps the case can be brought to RaFlour to join forces and destroy the evil that has plagued the earth,” LaRain went on, “It would be in the best interest of all tribes to unite, rather than fighting amongst ourselves as the world swallows us.”

My shoulders ached with the same inexplicable emotion as we trotted onward. Though we left before the sun had risen, It was low in the sky as we came upon the city. The large stone walled encampment lay across a valley on top of a small hill. We stayed behind the treeline as not to be spotted by guards in one of the five watchtowers surrounding the city.

“There is an entrance,” LaRain begain, “to an underground passage that comes up near the central square. It’s used to carry supplies in during a siege or to evacuate the royal family in dire times. We should be safe to enter the city unseen from there.”

My shoulders ached.

I could feel the warm damp air being exhaled upon me from the mouth of the cave, wide like the jaws of a beast. The dripping stalactite fangs made pools in the rock floor beneath my soiled boots. LaRain plunged down the throat goading the two of us to follow closely behind. With reluctance I joined my brother in following her into the depths. The pungent odor of spoiled raspberries filled my nose. With each step my boots collected more mucus which lay as carpet on the cave floor. The torches cast dancing shadows that played tricks on my mind the farther we strayed from the cave’s opening. As soon as the mouth was out of view, the distressed neighing of our horses echoed off the rock walls and startled me. With a small axe in one hand and a torch in the other, I followed my brother and LaRain cautiously. I could hear my pulse beating in my ears, making it difficult to stay alert.

“Ah, here we are,” LaRain finally spit out after what seemed like hours of following a single tunnel shaft, “This ladder leads up to a barn behind the blacksmith shop. The library is just across the square from there.”

I ascended the latter with haste, glad to leave the stench of rotting raspberries behind. Leaving the torches in the tunnel, we hid in the shadows of the stable and peered through the wood slat walls. I could see a candle lit in the the window of the library across the square, which provided me a small sense of comfort. I tucked my small axe into the folds of my coat and drew my sword, preparing to dispatch the odd guard, if we happen to be spotted. My brother and LaRain drew their swords as well. Staying low, we eased out through the creaking stable door and slinked across the street to the shadows of the library. Without knocking, LaRain pushed the door open for us to move through swiftly. We burst inside and were met with one dozen royal guards, fully armored, with loaded crossbows pointed at the three of us.

“Drop the swords!” King RaFlour himself demanded, standing with six guards on either side. The sound of two metal blades clammering to stillness on the stone floor rung through the library. The silence of the third blade made my shoulders ache with an inexplicable emotion -- perhaps despair, betrayal, regret, though none of them seemed to fit quite right.

“Did you bring me the book?” The king addressed LaRain, confirming the knots I felt paralyzing my stomach.

“It is exactly the text we had been seeking,” LaRain offered in a tone of reverence as she walked forward to hand the king his prize.

“Ah, yes. This will finally confirm what I only suspected was possible,” The king rambled victoriously as my veins filled with rage. “And as a bonus gift, I see you’ve brought me your love drunk puppet and his spiritually exhausted oaf of a brother. The Kashian won’t last a new moon with their last hope crushed bene--”

The king’s head was cleaved by a small axe, loosened from the folds of my coat and thrown in a single swift motion. The crossbow bolts flew before a drop of blood hit his green cape. My brother’s head was nailed to the door behind us. The sting of iron in my left leg made it difficult to jump out the window, knocking down the candle that once gave me comfort. I fell in a heap of shattered glass and blood on the cobblestone street, rolling into a staggered sprint to the stables. I craved the smell of rotting raspberries just one last time. LaRain yelled at the men; though her words and all other sound rang as ambient noise in my ears. Some men shot at me from the open window while others must have been dealing with my brother blocking the exit. The whistle of a crossbow bolt tore off my left ear as I ran. I shrieked in pain as I forced myself to limp faster. The width of the square seemed like miles. Another shriek was let out as I saw the sharp point of a bolt thrust its way out just below my right clavicle. I collapsed behind the creaking stable door and fell down the ladder. Grabbing one of the torches off the wall, I threw it left handed up into the hay filled stable. Another one tossed up. The stable above me was a ball of flames in just seconds. Taking the third torch I began to make my way out of the cave, limping on my projectile pierced left calf. My right arm was useless, crippled by the immeasurable pain of what must have been a pierced lung, filling with blood. I gasped shallowly with each painful step onward. I was nearly unconscious when I reached the mouth of the cave, and fell out on the ground as if the beast had vomited me himself. A sharp boot in my side rolled me onto me back.

“Your father will mourn the wasted potential of your life.”

I could see the violet glowing eyes as the earth dragged me under. I woke up.

Author's Note

My first story, based on a dream I had.