Lake in the Mountains

Word Count: 5,772

As a child, I remembered watching the armored soldiers return from their campaigns carrying treasures beyond imagination. The sound of their horns signaling their return always drew me running out to the marble balcony. It was incredibly awe inspiring to watch the giant wooden doors slowly open until the men came through them marching in unison, their armor shining bright in the sun. Although they always entered the city with the recently won treasures covered under heavy drapes, I always hoped I would get a glimpse of what they were carrying one day. 

Once the last of the soldiers entered our majestic mountain city, the cranks would then begin to turn the other way and the colossal doors would slowly swing closed. Two teams of horses were required to operate the city gate, which became every bit as impenetrable as the sky-blue granite walls for which it was a portal. The soldiers did not march very far before they stopped and set their burden on the ground. There they would stand at the ready until the gate was closed, and the first locking bar was in place. When that massive passage was open, it was the only time our great city was vulnerable. 

The treasures were taken to a processing area where it was sorted and sent to various areas of the city. Precious metals were melted down and reforged into what the people of the city wanted or needed. Gemstones were used in artwork, jewelry and the like, while harder gems were used to create extremely effective cutting utensils. Anything that could not be reused, such as wooden idols, was burned once any precious stones and metals were removed. The ashes would then be taken to the far end of the lake where it was at its deepest and poured in as a sacrifice to the spirit of the lake. 

Seven smaller cities within a ten-day travel range surrounded Argon. These cities provided our shining city with the food necessary to sustain such a large population while being paid handsomely for their agricultural products. At the same time, they enjoyed the security of having the army of Argon within only a few days march. No other kingdom dared to threaten Argon, and that immunity spread to its neighbors. 

The power and success that came to the city of Argon was solely due to the discovery of how to mold and shape marastine into the desired form. The strange metal, which appeared almost to be crystal filled with tiny flakes of gold and silver, was only ever found in the form of artifacts from some long-lost civilization. It was fashioned into armor that could not be penetrated by any known weapon. Weapons made from the marastine retained a keen, razor-sharp edge indefinitely. The metal absorbed heat while always remaining at a cool temperature. 

Equipped with such armor and weapons, the army of Argon conquered one land after another. Nothing could stop our forces. Kingdoms who surrendered and pledged their loyalty to Argon were given quarter, their lives and buildings spared. Those kingdoms who chose to resist were crushed under the strength of our mighty warriors. 

Precious metals such as gold, platinum and marastine decorated the buildings and statues of the city making it shine as a warning to the world to not dare attempt marching on Argon. Every building in the city was constructed from marble stone blocks mined from the southern tip of the mountain range. The light-blue granite walls almost blended in with the sky on a sunny day. It truly was a place fit for the gods. 

I was excited and ready when the birth month of my ninth year arrived, and I was conscripted into the military. All young men began their military training when they reached their ninth year. Many, including myself, began training and preparing for our military service years before then. I could not wait to wear that glorious armor and wield one of those gleaming weapons as my own. That would not happen until the birth month of my fifteenth year. Until then I would spend almost all of my time training, learning to master the weapon of my choosing. 

For my first year, I participated in rigorous physical exercise and unarmed combat. It was a few months into my second year before I began training in melee combat. I proudly trained vigorously with a multitude of weapons working to find the one that would suit me the best. We continued daily training with various implements of war until the winter of my third year of training arrived. 

Being large for my age, and anticipating growing much larger, I selected the bardiche as the weapon upon which I would focus the remainder of my training. It was a weapon that required both hands to utilize properly, so I would be unable to carry a shield. The long shaft of the weapon and oversized blade would allow me to defend myself from those who might try to stand against us. 

I was under the impression our training would begin with our marastine arms, but we started with crude wood and iron weapons instead. These were much heavier than the gleaming weapons Argon’s warriors carried, and the armor was so heavy it made staying standing erect and balancing quite difficult. The armor we wore during our daily workout routines was not too cumbersome, but this iron armor was much heavier than I ever expected it to be. 

Combat training in iron armor did not begin until six months after it was issued to us. Until that time arrived, we performed exercises, went on long hikes through the mountains and performed drills. To me the most difficult part of this training for me was getting back on my feet after being knocked prone. It was a struggle, but I was determined to master this skill if I had to train with every bit of down time I had. 

My strength increased by the day it seemed, and after many months of intense practice and training, I did something that astonished my superiors. When the two men barreled me in the chest with the relatively small battering ram to knock me to the ground, I maintained my footing. I was just as shocked as they were. I never saw anyone take that ram to their armored chest and not be thrown to the ground. 

Soon after that I was taken out of the normal training program and was instead placed in a training program for Argon’s elite forces. My iron armor was taken away, and I was fitted with a customized suit of marastine field-plate. I was also given a weapon worthy of my growing might. Having become so accustomed to the iron weapon and armor, this new equipment felt virtually weightless. This armor did not even weigh as much as the leather armor in which we trained. 

I continued to grow in stature and in skill. My new training took on new aspects such as mountain climbing carrying my armor and weapon on my back, traveling through mountains streams so as not to leave a trail, and close quarter combat. The latter was difficult because of the size of my weapon. In total my bardiche was more than four feet in length including the spike at the butt end. It was difficult, but not impossible. Soon I became quite adept at dominating the space inside of tunnels and narrow hallways. 

When graduation finally came, I graduated as unit commander for the new elite unit. I had twenty-five specially trained soldiers directly underneath me. My hope always was to excel in training, but I never imagined I would be the commander of the most recent elite unit. 

I saw my parents for the first time in six years at the end of the ceremony. They were so proud of me and the strong man I became. I only had a week to spend with them before I had to report for duty. It was a pleasant surprise to find out I had a baby sister born with the same birth month as me. We were all overjoyed as my sister took her first steps in the week I was home. It made me feel good. Keeping her protected and providing her with a good life was what my service was all about. That was what I thought at first anyway. 

My first mission was expected to take eight to ten weeks to complete. We were going to provide the local government, loyal to Argon, from constant bands of raiders terrorizing the region. This city paid its dues to Argon, so as promised, Argon sent them much needed military support. Five units composed of 26 men in each unit and my unit of myself and thirteen men handpicked for this mission set out early in the morning. 

This time I was the brave soldier in the gleaming armor and the large polearm gripped tightly in my hands as the children watched us march beyond the boundaries of the magnificent gate. I marched proudly with my unit as my parents and young sister watched from the stone balcony. Ever since I could remember, I could not wait until it was my turn to march from the city to bring back to it the riches of the world. 

Our expedition took us through the southern edge of the mountains, which was a ten-day march on its own. Once we reached the base of the mountains, we traveled past one of the cities that provided Argon with food. It was smaller than I expected it to be. It paled in comparison to the majestic city in which I was raised. I knew other cities were not as wealthy as Argon, but I did not think they lived in such old and dilapidated structures as I now gazed upon. 

We marched for most of the day, every day for another two weeks before reaching our destination. This city of Drawnbrass was no more than a collection of a gross of buildings at the absolute most. Most of the people were dressed in rags and stared at us as we marched to the city office. I stood with the rest of the soldiers as our commander went inside to announce our arrival and receive a briefing on the current situation. He would apprise me and the other sub-commanders of the condition in the region so we could begin discussing our strategy. 

The expedition commander informed us armed bandits attacked several transports making off with anything from gold to fermented drink. These raids were beginning to have a devastating effect on the population of the city and those living in the surrounding countryside and forest. Using maps of the area provided to us from the city officials, we began to devise our plot to crush the band of raiders and ease the burden of the local population. 

Our blond hair and tan skin clearly set us apart from the locals with their red hair and freckled skin, so attempting to use a decoy transport to draw them out would not work unless we had some of the locals assist. The worry was if we told any of the locals of our intent, they may get word back to the bandits. We decided to keep the reason for this visit a secret, and after a few hours we departed carrying a sack full of mundane items we received from the city office. 

We backtracked for a full day before we stopped. Our plan was to have some of us return as travelers passing through in hopes of drawing out the bandits. Once we accomplished that task, we would track them back to their hideout and await the return of the rest of our forces. With our forces recombined, we would put an end to the bandits. 

First, we had to obtain a wagon. There was a farm house another half-day of backtracking away, so we sent a group of ten men to go purchase a wagon from that family. They were instructed to say we needed it to help some of the wounded return to Argon. The commander gave them ten gold coins, but he instructed them to begin the offer with only two coins. Ten coins was an outrageous price to pay for a wagon, but the group had to make them believe they were headed away from Drawnbrass. 

When dawn came the next day, the main body of our forces marched back to meet up with the men tasked with obtaining a wagon. Only two hours into our march, we met up with the others. They purchased the wagon and two horses for a total of seven gold coins. 

It only made sense to send in men from the elite unit as reinforcements would be half of a day behind. As commander of the elite unit, I took charge of this mission and picked five other men to join me. It was a tarped wagon, so four men and our weapons had enough room to fit comfortably. The other two of us sat at the front of the wagon, our eyes constantly on the watch for any movement. 

Early the next day we passed Drawnbrass and headed down the road said to be most terrorized by bandits. I was armed only with a dagger since my bardiche was much too large to conceal from view. I had seated next to me the best swordsman in the entire expedition. The two of us only wore our basic clothing covered with robes, so we had to remain unarmored. The four men in the back of the wagon were armored and ready to attack should melee ensue. 

Wearing hooded robes to hide our identity as Argonites, we returned through Drawnbrass in the wagon we purchased and headed down what should be the most dangerous route. We were nearly an hour past Drawnbrass when six robbers jumped out of the bushes to rob us. One wielded a sword, and one wielded a bow, but the rest of them were armed with meager farming tools. I noticed one affixed a hook on the back of a rake. That was a wise idea. Such an implement could be used to drag armored men off their horses quite easily. 

We pleaded with them not to hurt us, and we turned over our purses just as they demanded. I begged them to please not hurt my daughter in the back. I explained to them she was sick with a pox, and we were trying to get her to a physician. This was enough to dissuade them from wanting to go rummaging through the back of our wagon. They took our two purses full of coins and left. 

The attack was nothing like the city officials in Drawnbrass described. They were not well-armed, and they did not appear to have the discipline and coordination as a group to call them well-trained. These so-called bandits took only the money we tossed to them and left. None of them made any truly aggressive moves. These were ragtag farmers. This was no armed and trained militia. I did not understand why soldiers of our caliber were brought in to deal with hungry peasants. 

Despite my feelings on the situation, I had my orders to carry out. I was a soldier, and I did not get to make up my own orders. We gave the six thieves an hour to get ahead of us, then our best tracker, our most stealthy man and I set off after them. Tracking them was not difficult. It seemed them men simply ran off into the forest making no attempt to keep their tracks hidden. At one point the paths converged into what was already a well-worn trail in the forest. 

Their flight clearly took them to a small cluster of farmhouses along with several barns nearby. I had my two men stay hidden and I carefully made my way to a barn in whose windows several lamps could be seen. Using my training, I quietly crept up to the barn as I kept myself hidden by the multitude of objects and haystacks between me and it. No one was guarding the barn or any of the other buildings for that matter. I saw no one watching for intruders, and I easily made my way to the barn window without being seen. 

I was somewhat taken aback by what I saw transpiring inside the building. It appeared the building was transformed into a crude temple. The men who took our purses were handing coins to everyone inside. They were nothing but simple farm folk dressed in tattered clothing and appearing quite malnourished. As the men distributed one coin to each person present, the man at what could scarcely be called an alter prayed to their god for forgiveness for the bad thing they had to do so they could feed their families. 

This was definitely not what I was told was occurring during the briefing before leaving Argon. I expected to face organized forces outnumbering our own, but instead I found hungry peasants trying to make sure their families had something to eat. During his prayer, the man pleaded with their god to have the people of Drawnbrass ease off on the heavy taxes imposed upon the farmers. Without those crushing taxes, he said, there would be no need to resort to the lives of thieves simply to survive. 

Making my way back to the two men waiting for me in the forest, I informed them of what I observed. They both had the same reaction as me. They both expected a small army, not a bunch of hungry farmers. Carefully, we made our way back to the other four waiting with the wagon. I explained to them what I saw and instructed two of them to take the wagon and return to the main force to inform them of our discovery. I gave them orders to instruct the other units to halt their march as the threat was not what we were told it was. 

The remaining four of us stayed hidden as we watched for any further activity from the thieves. Morning came and we saw nothing more of the ragtag bandits. I was a bit shocked when the rest of our forces arrived at our location. With no more need to stay concealed, myself and the others came out of our hiding place and joined the main group. 

I immediately approached the expedition commander and told him my men should have informed him there was no genuine threat to Drawnbrass. The commander said my men did indeed inform him of the specifics of the situation, but that nothing in our objective changed. Our orders were to locate the criminals plaguing Drawnbrass, and that was what we were going to do. 

Despite my protests, the commander began instructing the other units to flank the cluster of buildings and attack on his command. Again I objected to what would be nothing but a slaughter of simple people who were only trying to survive. The commander had orders to locate and neutralize the threat, and I had my orders to obey the expedition commander. 

I provided the commander with the intelligence we gathered and even went so far as to lead him and his unit to the hamlet. Once there I informed him my unit’s part of the mission was over. We located the thieves, and the specialized skills of my unit would not be necessary for the final part of the mission. Needless to say the expedition commander was not happy about this, but as commander of the elite unit I was well within my power to make such a judgement. 

At the expedition commander’s signal, the other five units converged on the small congregation of homes. This was not the glorious conquest I was always told was the goal and pride of the army of Argon. This was the senseless slaughter of helpless people. The people of the hamlet had absolutely no chance against the armored soldiers of Argon, and the slaughter was over in less than ten minutes. 

When the unit commander finally came out of the barn, he was leading a group of men carrying two poles with a tapestry stretched between them. This was the usual method we used for transporting items, but there were no items of value inside that barn for us to take. The group got closer, and I could see they took all of the wooden idols inside the makeshift temple. The only time the armies of Argon took items of religious value was when they were adorned with gold and jewels. 

Wooden idols held no value to us, so I did not understand why we were taking them. The expedition commander was already very upset my unit did not take part in the slaughter of those hungry farmers, so I did not press him on the issue. I wished I did, but despite my strong feelings against his actions, I kept my mouth closed. 

I was happy when we reached the watch towers jutting out of the mountains on either side of the road and heard that so familiar sound of the horns informing the gate we were returning from our mission. When the expedition commander had the items pilfered from the farmers covered with blankets, it made me wonder what those soldiers were actually carrying all this time. 

Were they really bringing nothing but gold and riches, or did some of them also return with worthless wooden artifacts? Was that why they always returned with everything covered? 

The items were taken to the sorting center despite the fact none of them contained anything of value to Argon. It was almost as if the expedition commander was trying to hide what he did outside of Drawnbrass. I could not help but wonder how often this same scenario played out right in front of everyone. 

Was this really the army I was so anxious to join? 

It made me feel ill to think that I idolized these soldiers all this time thinking they were fighting in battles to rid the world of evil. Now it seemed our armies were the evil that plagued the surrounding lands. Believing in what Argon stood for was easy while I lived virtually my entire life behind its protective walls. After seeing the world outside of my home city, I began to have serious doubts in the city’s leadership. 

There was no reason for us to take and destroy those wooden idols. It was not bad enough that we went in and slaughtered those helpless people, we had to destroy the idols of their gods as well. The only reason I could see for doing this was to eradicate the memory of their gods from history. We had no right to perform such a blasphemous act. The gods were there, and it was not up to the soldiers of Argon to decide which ones were to be forgotten. 

If I thought it would accomplish anything, I would go to the high commander with my report. I did not think he would listen either. In fact, I was quite sure he would not hesitate to have me killed if he thought I was going to expose to the citizens what the army was really doing. I found it impossible to believe that atrocities such as occurred on my first expedition could go unnoticed by the one man in charge of the entire army of Argon. 

Never feeling so conflicted in my life, I went to one of the altars on the shore of the crystal lake in the center of Argon. Asking the Spirit of the Lake for guidance was the only thing I could think of to do. I never actually prayed to the Spirit of the Lake before, so I was not sure if it would listen to my words or not. Either way, I had to try. I could not continue to stand by as innocent people were being slaughtered and their gods systematically erased from the memory of mankind. I could not betray my city either. No matter how much I disagreed with the officials, I swore an oath to stand and defend the city and its allies. 

Stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place, I hoped the Spirit of the Lake could provide clarity. On my way I observed a team carrying a covered load out of the sorting facility, and I was sure it was no doubt the wooden idols the expedition commander had the soldiers steal, no doubt on their way to be burned. I was absolutely appalled that they were going to destroy what may be the only representations of those gods, cursing those gods to be lost to the obscurity of man’s past. 

I reached the lake and found an altar that did not yet have anyone praying at its base. I got on my knees and bowed my head. I never did this before, so I was not sure how to do it. After considering it for a few minutes, I simply began to talk. I told the Spirit of the Lake what happened and how it made me feel. Regularly checking to see there was no one close or approaching me, I continued with my prayer. I asked the Spirit of the Lake to give me guidance on how I should handle the situation. 

I waited once I ran out of things to say, unsure of what was supposed to happen next. I continued to wait, and nothing happened. The gods were notoriously unreliable in terms of listening to the prayers of their followers, so I had no reason to believe the Spirit of the Lake would be any different. 

Finally returning to my quarters, I removed my armor and hung it on the stand in the corner. That glorious, impenetrable armor that was a recognized symbol of the city of Argon, and what did it protect. It made trained soldiers invulnerable against the rakes and pitchforks of starving peasants. Making a half-successful attempt to put those thoughts out of my mind, I laid in my small bed and tried to get some sleep. 

I was plagued with nightmares all through the night. I stood on the shore of the lake watching boat after boat filled with the ashes of burned idols. They carried the ashes to the far side of the lake and dumped the ashes into the water. Ghostly spectres swirled around each ship until the ashes were deposited into the water. At this point, the ethereal forms themselves sank into the water. 

I do not know how, probably because it was a dream, I could feel the Spirit of the Lake grow angrier each time the souls of the idols absorbed into it. 

As I stood on the shore and observed the surreal scene playing out in front of me, I watched the last of the boats unloading the spirits of those needlessly destroyed idols. The boats were not returning to shore, but rather sailing up the hill and into the sky. Suddenly the water began to heave as if something underneath was trying to break free. The surface began to boil as a giant, oozing black mass rose from the center of the lake. 

The darkness began to spread across the water and up the shores on all sides. It continued to creep up the hills until it reached the walls of the city. Engulfing everything in its path as it made its advance, for some reason the black sludge left me untouched. 

I could hear the people of the city screaming as the dark slime enveloped their bodies melting them away almost instantly. Horns sounded from all directions warning the population of the deadly threat, and people fled to the massive doors. They were too late, and the flowing darkness consumed them all. 

As appalled by the whole thing as I was, I continued to stand there doing nothing. Once the flowing ooze reached the height of the city walls, it stopped its advance and began to retreat back into the once crystal-clear waters of the lake. When the water once again settled to be smooth as glass, I awoke from the terrifying dream. 

My first reaction was to jump up and run to the small window in my quarters, lean out and take a good look at the lake. A shudder passed through my body as I saw a crew loading ashes into a boat. It was only one boat, and not a whole string of them as in my dream, but it still brought that strange image clearly back to mind. I wanted to run down to the pier and tell the men to stop, but I know that would only make me appear crazy. 

It was only a dream, but was it really? 

Never in my life have I had a dream so extremely vivid that I could remember in full after waking. I did not think it could be a coincidence that I went down to the lake to pray only hours before having such a disturbing dream. Not one time in my life did I ever go down to the lake to pray, and the one time I did I seem to have had some prophetic vision. Nearly in a panic, I tried to figure out what I should do. I could think of nothing. 

I knew I could not get anyone to listen to me if I tried to explain my dream to them. If someone came to me and tried to get me to leave the city because they had a bad dream, I would probably have them put somewhere they could be safe from themselves. That would probably be the same reaction if I ran through the streets yelling for people to flee the city because the Spirit of the Lake was angry. 

Being the commander of an elite fighting unit, I was aware of secret tunnels exiting the city of which most others were unaware. I knew of many tunnels, but only a few people in the city knew of all of them. I did not want to abandon my city, but there must be some reason the black oozing mass did not wrap around me and melt me as it did the others. 

Could the Spirit of the Lake be giving me a chance to flee an impending doom? Why did it choose me to warn out of all the people in the city? 

Surely there had to be people more worthy of survival than me. If I fled the city, and my dream turned out to be nothing more than a dream, I could be brought up on charges of treason and desertion. If my dream was indeed a warning from the Spirit of the Lake, then I believed staying here would mean my death along with everyone else. 

Anxiety caused my hands to tremble the longer I took to make up my mind. My mind and my heart were both telling me to listen to the dream the Spirit of the Lake sent me. The gods may not list to everyone’s prayers all the time, but maybe our god listened to me this time. Finally, I could take it no longer and I got myself dressed in my gleaming armor. Taking my bardiche from where it hung on the wall, I headed for one of the nearby hidden tunnels. 

Being careful not be seen, I slipped through a narrow alleyway and into a small cubby. There located on the ground was a switch disguised as a crack in one of the foundation stones. Pulling the lever, the back wall of the cubby opened up to reveal a tunnel hidden between the tenements. Taking one last look around, I slipped into the hidden passage and shut the door behind me. 

I followed the corridor as it winded through the adjoined buildings until it finally joined with a natural cavern in the stone of the mountain. That was where I was when I heard the screaming begin. Horns blew throughout the city, drowning out the cries of the people as they tried to flee the fury of the lake. Knowing there was nothing I could do to help anyone, I increased my pace and got away from the city as fast as I could. The screams of the doomed souls inside the city echoed through my head over and over even after I exited the tunnel and could no longer hear them. 

I was not sure if I could not hear them because of the city’s walls, or if I could not hear anyone because they were all dead, as in my dream. I wondered when I could go back in, if I could ever go back into the city of Argon. After leaving everyone behind, I did not know if I had any right to reenter the city. 

As I stood there in a state of shock, I watched as a small flock of birds flew over the pristine granite city walls. They made it perhaps fifty feet past the wall when they suddenly began to fall right out of the sky. It was like the air of Argon became poisonous. Not even birds flying over the city could survive. 

In its wrath, the Spirit of the Lake made the very air of Argon toxic to life. I knew at this point I would not be able to reenter the city any time soon, if I was ever able to reenter. The reality of the situation still had not caught up with me as it all seemed so impossible. Argon, the city that remained a shining beacon in the mountains for centuries, was wiped out in less than twenty minutes. 

I do not know why the Spirit of the Lake spared my life. Perhaps it was because I questioned the acts and motives of the city’s rulership. Perhaps it was because I refused to allow my unit to be a part of the slaughter of those poor people past Drawnbrass. Whatever its reason was for warning me, the Spirit of the Lake left me as the sole survivor of the once majestic city of Argon. With all of its riches now guarded by air that even kills birds soaring above the city, no one would ever again look upon that majestic city surrounding that crystal lake in the mountains. 

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