Chapter one: A Hiding Place

The horn blows. The sound is rough; almost grotesque. Rows of men cover the land like ants; numerous and weak. They are adorned in shining armor, but no amount of polish can hide the fear on their faces. The sound of thousands of footsteps all in sync bring order. Two armies face each other marching ever closer. The armies look almost identical, only the colors of the flags indicate that blood will be shed today. Just before the armies meet a mighty roar resounds causing the heart to shake. A beast appears. It’s scales so black one cannot tell if they are real; almost like the depths of the Dark Trench. It’s wings spread out as if to turn the morning sky to night. An oppressive atmosphere spreads as it’s body eclipses the sun. In response a pure and clear cry echoes from the opposite direction; piercing the heart and soul. From behind a mountain rises a golden fire in the shape of a bird.

“JOHN WAKE UP!” A voice filled the small room as a young man flew out of his bed.

“What’s wrong uncle! Are the fields on fire, is Mary gonna have that calf!” John quickly jump up from the floor. He was a young lad just fifteen winters, according to his uncle. An honest look on his face, and a slim but solid frame.

“What’s wrong is that the sun is almost up, and you’re still in your bed.” John quickly jumped off the floor, grabbing his clothes as he ran towards the door.

There were only two people at the breakfast table today, and a good thing to since there wasn’t much room left. John looked down at the gruel and old bread on his plate. “Uncle I think we should have some of the eggs with breakfast.”

“The eggs are for selling John. How many times have I told you that?”

John thought for a moment before responding to the rhetorical question. “Umm, a lot?”

“Then stop asking! Finish your meal and meet me outside for practice.”

John stood outside the small house holding a wooden sword. He faced his uncle who looked like a mountain with a grudge. He was a massive man with a sturdy frame.If it wasn't for his long white beard he could be mistaken for a man in the prime of life.

John carefully circled his uncle, looking for an opening. John rushed forward, but immediately jumped back. Sweat poured down his face as he regained his balance. “Hmm, your senses are certainly improving.” the average observer would have only noticed the boy moving erratically, but upon closer inspection a small trickle of blood could be seen on his cheek.

“Uncle how do you move so fast?”

“Haha, years of practice my boy. Now come at me, or should I come at you?” The boy lunged forward again; stopping for just an instant as he felt a breeze flow by his face. He continued forward his blade within an inch of his uncle's neck. John suddenly tried to jump back, but he was tossed to the side by the flat of his uncle's blade. after flying a fair distance, John rolled a few times before regaining his footing.

“Well boy you can predict my sword, but you still need to learn how best to deal with each motion. For instance, if you had shifted your sword towards mine you could have forced it up while ducking down. You may have even had a chance to strike afterwards.”

“Uncle, even if I know where your sword will go, I can't move fast enough to react.”

“Boy there are two types of swordsmen in this world. There are those like me who focus on speed and strength, and there are those like your father who hone their skills to incredible heights. Certainly both have their advantages, but generally the latter are better. It is much easier to train in strength and speed. As long as one keeps pushing forward they can generally reach the same level as me, but I never once was able to come close to your father. It is only because so few possess the talent to truly understand the sword, like you and your father, that people like myself exist.”

“But Uncle, I’m not my father. What if I don’t have his talent?”

“Doubting me now are you. I have wielded a sword for a very long time, although I may not have the same ability your father did I can still judge you boy. Now that’s enough whining out of you, let’s see if you have enough time to backtalk while you dodge my sword!”

The sun was high in the sky by the time the Old man was finished with the boy. “Practice your breathing then take care of your chores, we’re going hunting tonight.”

John was instantly elated. “Really!” John was really good at hunting, it was one of the few things were he could outdo his uncle. His uncle may be able to move faster than him, but John was far better at tracking and archery.

“Yes. Now hurry it up John!” The breathing technique John's uncle taught him was fairly simple, and after a short while he felt refreshed and light.

The farm wasn’t too big so John was able to finish his chores within a few hours. Once he was done he grabbed his bow and headed outside. Though the bow was simple, it was a sturdy set his uncle had given him years ago. “Uncle, will we be heading towards the river, or will we head towards the base of the mountain?”

“We'll head to the mountain this time. We can pick some of those berries you found.”

John stared into the distance as they began to walk towards the mountain. Their little farm was situated just a little ways from a forest that stretched the entire base of this mountain. This mountain was called the Dark Trench. It was steep going up and stretched as far as the eye could see to the east and west. John had never been to the top, but his uncle had described it to him. Apparently the top was flat and over a mile across. It’s name sake, a crevice that ran through the entire mountain, was right in the middle. It was a few hundred feet across at most points, and went to the depths of the world. Many monsters were known to live in it’s depths.

“Uncle do you think we might run into some goblins today?”

“Not likely. I spoke to some mercenaries last week; they had just gotten back from the crevice. The army apparently put out a quest for a proper investigation of the population within the third level. The groups that went only found a few stragglers.” There is a small path going down into the crevice, carved by the hands of men. This path had several caves going off into the depths. The third level was around three-thousand feet below the surface, and happened to be a known gathering place for goblins.

“I hope I can go on the next expedition. I would slay thousands of those filthy goblins!”

“Stop dreaming boy. When goblins come they come by the millions. Each soldier would have to kill ten thousand, and that isn’t the only danger. You must also be careful of the elites. If you’re lucky it’ll just be some hobgoblins. If you are unlucky it could be a lich or something even darker. No matter what you can be sure something stronger is pulling the strings during a goblin flood.

“Why would a lich be leading goblins?”

“Well John, liches are incredible smart and vicious. Since goblins are very simple they are easy to manipulate. It is very normal for a much stronger creature to trick them, and make use of their numbers. Anyways don’t let your young blood rush towards your head. Even the strongest warrior can die in a war. Now let’s pick up the pace.”

“Yes Uncle.”