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ever have of his mother was over.  He let the darkness consume him then, his subconscious taking over, and fell into a deep restful sleep.

*****
    Garret too found himself dreaming, an all too real dream.  He stood upon a plain wearing brightly polished armor.  In his hand, the sword Jack had made him only now it was different.  Now he held it familiarly, like he had been carrying it for years.  Ahead of him lay bodies, heaped into piles, burning.  The ground around him was stained with blood, gore lay across the land.  Dismembered body parts, peoples’ entrails, a scalp here, and an ear there, it was a vision of death.  Yet behind him, the plains teemed with life, hundreds of lives maybe thousands.  A force to be reckoned with was gathered of the bravest, most courageous men the world had ever seen.  Some of the most powerful fighters ever to be amassed. They stood for a purpose, they stood for him, with him, awaiting his command.  Across the plain there stood another great force. A mass of black armor, crimson pennants, hulking Trolls, twisted Orcs, massive Ogres, and unnaturally strong humans stood to oppose them.  Their blades dripping with blood, they stood in no formation, each creature edging the invisible line that held them at bay.  At their head, central to this inhuman army stood a man.  He was a ghastly sight, covered in gore his armor seemed to be made of blood.  Spikes jutted from his armor from every joint, his helm fashioned in the likeness of a ravenous wolf.  In one hand he held a blackened evil sword consumed in unnatural power, in the other a staff of bleached bone, stained red from human blood.  His eyes, even from this distance could be clearly seen.  Two crimson orbs danced behind his skull mask, taking in the force across the plane moving from one extreme end to the other.  The eyes darted from foe to foe until they came to rest on Garret.  They met gazes, both refusing to blink, both refusing to give anything that the other might take for weakness.  Looking into those eyes, even at this distance, made Garret feel sick to his stomach.  Something had to be done about this aberration.  Something would be done.  Garret raised his sword above his head, looking over his shoulder to his comrades.  He let the sword swing down in front of him to point at his enemy, and with this unspoken command he yelled at the top of his lungs.
    “For Valdadore!”
    The plains echoed his battle cry as a thousand voices joined his own and rumbled the very earth beneath them.  “For Valdadore!”
    The image shifted then, as both armies charged one another.  First the grass went from blood smeared green to black, and then the sky went black as well.  All traces of light were lost, and with it, all sound.  The image faded from Garret’s mind leaving him in darkness.  Leaving him to ponder the horrible sights he had witnessed.  Leaving him alone in his mind, in the dark comfort that was his subconscious, to get some needed rest.
     
    Both brothers slept restfully within their own beds, within their own minds.  Neither would again dream this night.  Both would remember their dreams though, all too well would they remember them.  Perhaps one day, they would understand the meaning, if dreams held any meaning at all.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 2
Foreboding farewells & friendly faces
     
     
    Both of the twins awoke to the knock at their door, and both in turn mumbled some sort of reply.  The door cracked open a bit and James poked his large head around the door.
    “Get moving boys, if you want to get in a good day of travel today you need to be ready by sunrise.”  James stated.  Removing his head from the door he closed it gently, turned and walked back down the hall, his head hung low, and shoulders slumping.  Today was not going to be a good day.
    The twins quickly rose from their beds; Garret lit a lantern, and placed it in the window sill.  Whether it was nervousness or anxiousness that