Wake up!

Toren bolted upright in bed. “Honey, did you say something?” he whispered. As he looked to his left, he found Maria fast asleep. The young man swung his feet over the side of the bed, looking around. There was a dim light coming through the window from the street below, but otherwise no other light or sound.

I swear I heard something, he mused. Toren stood up and walked to the bedroom door. He tried to open it quietly, but it squeaked as it normally did. Fortunately, it did not wake his wife up. He proceeded down the hall, to the boys’ bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, so he poked his head in to look. They were both sound asleep in their respective beds.

Continuing down the hall, he came to the final room, his daughter’s. It was closed, so Toren again tried to open it as silently as possible. She was snoring lightly, clearly in a deep slumber. Toren pulled the door to touch the frame, but did not close it afraid he might make a sound. He turned back toward the large bedroom to return to bed.

Come to me.

Toren froze. He definitely heard something. He looked around, futilely, hoping to find the source.

There is not much time.

A headache began to creep into the man’s mind. He massaged his temples trying to get rid of it.

Across the street.

Ok, this is definitely in my head, he realized. He went to the hallway window, the only one facing the front. Looking across the street, he saw a faint glow in the first floor window. This would ordinarily not surprise him, as the blacksmith worked all hours of the day, but the glow was purple.

Rooted in place, trying to make sense of what was going on, Toren looked up and down the street. The window was not the best vantage point to observe from and he found nothing of use. Well, I suppose it cannot hurt to at least go take a look.

The young man grabbed a light jacket, slipped on some boots, and walked outside. Now that he had a clear view, he again looked around. The horizon was starting to light up as he looked down the street, which Toren assumed meant morning would be here soon. The glow from the blacksmith’s window was still there, a little brighter than before.

He quickly closed the distance to the window, where the curtains were parted ever so slightly. Looking in, Toren could not determine what was causing the glow, but it was to the left and near the door.

He knocked lightly and waited. After a half minute, he tried again. The familiar click of the door unlocking, followed by an ominous creek as it opened, came immediately. No one was behind the door, but a warmth flowed outwards, one an ordinary fire could not carry.

On the weapon rack a longsword blade glowed in a pale purple light. Toren had never seen anything like it, and approached cautiously. He reached out slowly for the hilt, feeling that warmth radiating from the blade.

“Toren?”

Snapped out of his trance, Toren quickly found the source of the voice. Moril, the dwarf blacksmith, was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Though tall for a dwarf, standing nearly four and a half feet, he was still a foot and a half shorter than Toren.

“What’s going on?” The much older man sounded confused, but not accusatory. He absentmindedly stroked his lengthy grey beard.

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As Toren was getting ready to respond, a scream came from outside. After a quick glance back to Moril, Toren turned to leave and find the source of the cry.

Take me with you!

The young man paused once again. He swiveled back to the sword on the rack.

Moril was moving quickly for an older dwarf, as he already grabbed his flail and blew past Toren. “Let’s go!”

You will need me.

Toren had no doubt now, the weapon was the source of the voice he heard. That or he had gone completely insane. These days, each seemed just as likely. Again, he paused, contemplating grabbing the weapon.

Another scream came, followed by shouting. Toren turned away, ignoring the voice in his head. He thought he could feel the disappointment of the strange sword as he plunged into the night.

Moril was a few paces ahead of him, but he caught up quickly. They could see the flickering glow of torch lights up the street. Toren realized he was wrong earlier, as the horizon was covered by people wielding torches, weapons, and shields.

An invasion. No doubt the start of a second war in Toren’s brief thirty years.

A woman on horseback rode up. She was favoring her left shoulder and crying for help. As the horse cantered over, Toren could make out an arrow protruding from her back. Blood stained her clothing, but from the looks of it she must have been struck in the last couple minutes.

“I got this, go get your family,” Moril insisted.

Needing no other incentive, Toren ran back to his home. He threw open the door, “Maria!” he yelled, “Grab the kids, we have to go!” The young man took the stairs two at a time, finding his wife with the boys already moving. “Head downstairs, I’ll be right there.” He rushed to his daughter’s door, bursting it open as he barreled through the barely open door.

She was still sleeping, so Toren scooped her up with her head draped over his left arm and legs hanging over his right. “Wake up, sweetie!” he implored her, shaking her awake as he moved.

“What’s going on?” Her soft voice conveyed here tired state.

“We have to go, I’ll explain on the way.” Toren made it downstairs as the boys and Maria were grabbing jackets.

A man appeared in the doorway, sword in one hand and a torch in the other. “Where do you think you all are going?” The man advanced slowly, lifting his blade while keeping his eyes on Toren.

Toren put his daughter down, getting between the man and his family. “Go out the back,” he whispered as he passed his wife.

The man turned his head in an attempt to call to someone outside.Toren did not give him that chance, rushing toward the invader. The man was unprepared for the desperate attack, not raising the sword in time. The two fell to the ground on the threshold of the door, with the torch falling just inside the house. They wrestled over the weapon, with Toren silently cursing himself for not grabbing the sword from earlier. This invader had marginal training, and would have been quick work if Toren had a weapon of his own.

While grasping for the sword, Toren elbowed the man in the face. It did not do much, but had the desired effect. The man used one hand to try and block the next blow, allowing Toren to free the weapon from the other's grasp. Unfortunately, it also slipped from his own hands, landing on the stone path outside the home.

Toren proceeded to wrestle the man into submission, getting behind him and choking him out. The whole fight lasted less than thirty seconds, but the man would awaken soon.

He heard a commotion in the back, as Maria urged the children, “Go back up front.” Toren heard banging on the back door, as someone was trying to kick it down.

“Let’s go,” he said, ushering them outside. They began moving, but stopped almost immediately.

“Toren!” Maria yelled.

He spun around, knowing there was someone coming his way. A sword swiped out, cutting across Toren’s chest. The pain seared as blood began to flow, but it was superficial as he was already moving back. Again, he wished he had the longsword.

The new man was arrogant, aggressively attacking by closing the distance. Toren ducked under a slash of the sword, then grabbed the man’s arm as he tried to make a backhanded swipe. He rolled the weapon away using the man’s own arm as he moved in, kneeing him in the stomach. He followed that up with an elbow to the back. The man collapsed on the ground as Toren knocked him out with a kick to the temple, leaving a gash above the man’s right eye that would certainly scar.

“No!” he heard Maria cry.

Then everything went black.