Guardian’s Rage

We walk in silence for a time, getting used to the motion and saving Piia’s energy for the long hike. It’s difficult with the crisscrossing roots and thick shrubbery. I can hear the creatures of the forest, buzzing and squawking all around. I look up to find the source and notice every tree has different leaves. Not just across species but even on individual plants. The shape changes from branch to branch, also the green tone varies from leaf to leaf. The result is a mosaic display of colours that holds depth wherever your eyes go. The most spectacular part is the river of blue-green moss that contains little speckles of bioluminescent stars. I look through the tree line and see the forest’s veins of bioluminescence spreading across trunks and roots. The effect is psychedelic, like millions of glow worms commuting on set paths. I stop walking to truly observe the wondrous magic in this world, the green wisp aura has also begun to thicken with noticeable motes of lights drifting in the air.

“What do you see?” Piia asks with concern, she follows my eyes and scans the forest for danger.

“The light show, the forest is coming alive. This green aura throughout the forest is magical, we have nothing like this back home. Is it magic?” I say with a childish grin.

“That is Mother of course, as we head deeper into Silva. You notice her presence growing stronger.” She says with a proud smile.

“You mean these glowing trails in the moss and the lights dancing in the air?”

“Yes, you will see. Her beauty is entrancing. We should continue further, Mother can not protect us on the outskirts of her domain.” With an eagerness to see more, we set off again.

After a time of travel, I start to ponder, not just my new environment but also my situation. So humans all serve one God called Order. And we have spirit in this world that can be collected after death and absorbed through prayer. Having sampled the Elixir of one of their Gods, I can confidently say they’re more than spiritual symbols used to guide our morals and control our actions. That was real power I drank in the shimmering liquid like energy from the sun had been syphoned and distilled for my consumption. How does it all work, I wonder? We don’t have Spirit in my world, is it the magic of Silva that ensures all living beings have one from birth?

“Piia, this soul energy that we saw earlier. The light you saw passing into my body. Is it found in everything living? Or is it only found in people affiliated with Order?” I hope my questions don’t irritate the exhausted Satyr.

Piia’s breathing heavily from the effort of walking. Even with my help, you can see she’s beginning to wane.

“We call it Spirit, it’s found in most forms of life. Usually, each living being falls into one of the God's domains. This is not decided by belief alone, just the nature of life.” Piia explains through struggling breaths.

“So there is more than one God. Do Satyrs have their own?" I ask, happy to finally start understanding.

"Our God is Mother, she tends to all that live naturally together. Beings that both take and give to their surroundings to form balance. Her domain is all land outside of the fabricated settlements. Mother is both generous and harsh, as the natural cycles tend to be." Piia starts to visibly slow with every word.

“And is Mother the source of your Spirit?”

“No, Satyrs and nature’s creatures under Mother’s gaze do not have Spirit. We know we have our souls, meaning that we are no less than Man.” She says with pride.

“Does that mean you can not empower?” I blemish, realising my questions might come across as insulting.

Piia stops and points her free hand at a patch of contesting plants, battling a war so slow our eyes would never comprehend the brutality of their situation.

“Empowerment is like sunlight to these vines and stragglers. They will murder their neighbour for a tiny morsel and claim it is their right as followers of the sun.” Bending down slowly, she grinds her teeth until she’s on her knees, Piia lifts the warring plants to reveal an ecosystem living in the roots and darkness.

“Life goes on without the light or empowerment. We see it as a blessing for if Satyr had Spirit the hunting of our kind would have begun long ago.” She was panting heavily now.

“I see what you mean, I am glad as well. Otherwise, we might not have met.” I smile at her with genuine appreciation. She returns the gestures with a faint and tired smile.

“I think we should take a break from travelling, we should also look for water as I haven’t seen a single stream or river.” My throat was dry and a dehydrated headache was on the horizon.

Looking around, I realised we had entered a peaceful clearing, a good spot to pitch a tent and read a book. Two blue bird-like animals shoot through an opening opposite and bank hard into the trees upon seeing us. It was difficult to make out any clear features except four wings, two on either side like dragonflies have.

I help Piia shift herself against a tree trunk. She reaches over to a nearby bush and pulls several thick, circular leaves off the shrub. She hands me two while eating the others she forages. I wonder if only Satyrs can eat these, what if they’re poisonous to humans?

“Trust me, Shepherd.” She says with a grin. I cringe at the idea of that catching on.

I place one in my mouth, ready to spit it out at the first sign of a bad taste. But then the leaf dissolves on my tongue, leaving a cool mouth of water.

"Incredible." I mutter while consuming the second leaf.

"Mother empowers in her own way." Piia beams.

“Sounds like -

A high pitch scream cuts through the air, crashing and snapping sounds follow in its wake. I quickly scan through the thick trunks of the forest. The noise is coming from ahead, so it can’t be the boys with reinforcements.

“Is that a stampede?”

“Ssshhh we need to hide.” Piia whispers as she crawls into a thick shrub. I quickly follow her. The noise of chaos is getting louder with snapping branches and groans. We just manage to fit together and sink low to the ground. A small gap offers us a view of the once peaceful clearing. The sounds crescendo when a group explodes into the area. Three strange individuals collapse on the ground sucking deep breaths of air. One is somewhat humanoid in shape, with dark magenta skin that’s cracked like an arid desert playa with an army's worth of scars covering every inch of its body like a cross-hatched art piece. Wearing a short-sleeved top of pink-grey leather, threaded down the middle, with a sword belt and matching trousers.

But the most strange thing was this creature's face. It had no nose, only two slits where a human’s nose would be. Two thick curling ram horns perch on top, decorated with dangling jewellery.

Most striking of all were its eyes, all four of them. Two pairs on either side of its face were jet black abysses you would lose yourself in. The strange magenta ram head was still struggling to catch its breath when one of its party members started to speak in a whisper.

“Omnia has abandoned us in this sage hell.” It spits the words out from a mouth of fangs and black blood. The other two creatures were the same species. Resembling small goblins or imps with the same varying shades of magenta fractured skin, without the assortment of scars. Their bodies mimic chimpanzee movements, using muscular arms to lope forward. Angular faces vigilantly search the area for danger with the same unusual two eye pairs. Long pointy ears twitch for any source of noise. The forest becomes a void of silence, threatening to betray my loud beating heart. Now that I have a full view of their bodies, I realise they are all nursing a gallery of wounds. Dark blood is weeping from all over, one of the imps is even missing an arm. Whatever they escaped from must have been a warzone to cause so much damage.

Maybe they count as lesser cattle that I can tame. Couldn’t fate have at least given me a crook to swing around?

All three monsters, now more comfortable in the clearing, were staring intently in the direction they’d just come from.

The notion rocks me. Monsters are real. I only hope I can wake from this nightmare before they see us. I feel Piia’s body shaking in terror at the sight of them. She slowly turns her head to me and mouths a word.

Daemons.

All plans of taming them have gone out the window, leaving my fragile doughy body in a household of vulnerability.

The sparse bush offers little protection from the three cosmic horrors before us. If they attack, I can’t abandon Piia to being eaten alive again. But It’s not going to be like my previous fight with the children. Bugger, why didn’t I keep the stone? Oh right, it was covered in dog brain.

“The castra is lost, we will retreat to the cohort and report.” Ramhead’s hushed words carry an air of authority in the party.

A curt nod from both imps is their only response to the order. The atrocities begin their retreat in the direction of our bush, their path will take them within inches of our presence.

Panic starts to seep in like fatigue during a long haul flight, unavoidable and relentless. I look around my limited vicinity for anything I can use as a weapon.

Not realising my body was holding back a branch under tension, it suddenly pings forward from the tiny movement. The whole bush shakes and all twelve eyes turn to our hiding spot.

The imps raise both arms into the air and mutter to themselves. The curved claws on their six-fingered hands slowly extend and darken to obsidian glass. Ram-head unsheathes a dirty shortsword that resembles a Greek soldier's xiphos.

The sight of daemonic claws floods my body with hysteria, like a drinking glass under a waterfall the panic overflows and spills out.

“AAAAHHHHHHH!” The scream escapes me.

“Silence it now.” Ramhead orders, then surprisingly about-turn to face away from me.

The green hue of the forest starts to thicken. Nodes of emerald appear in the air, floating fairy lights illuminating the last parts of this world I will ever see. At the sight of the thickening green aura, the imps stiffen and hesitate, looking to their commander as if to debate its order. Ram-head gestures one of the imps forward. It bounds at a rapid pace and leaps into the air, claws ready to catch us like prey.

Piia kicks out with her good leg, her hoof connects with the oncoming imp’s pointy jaw. All four eyes roll into the back of the imp’s head, it careens into the bush and lands splayed onto us.

The imps petite frame is surprisingly heavy and knocks the wind out of me.

I try to recover quickly and push the imp off, preparing for a follow up attack. As I heave to lift its limp body off us, I notice the imp’s head is twisted around and a long narrow tongue is hanging from its slack jaw. Piia’s powerful leg had killed the little Daemon bastard in one ferocious kick.

A furious hiss escapes Ram-head. “You will beg for death when I’m done with you.” The monster extends its arm towards us. Running from shoulder to elbow is a serious wound, it must have been sustained before our encounter, inky blood pours like a river delta across its arm and drips freely. Wetting the blade of its shortsword in the oil like blood. Ram-head then waves its free hand over the blade, forming its fingers into a strange shape, until the edge of the blade glows as if a blacksmith had just pulled the metal from a forge.

Did that Satan-wannabe just do magic? So the symbols above the dead dog weren’t a hallucination. Now I’ve seen talking creatures, living Daemons and actual magic, twice. I was right, it’s a fantasy world. There’s no question about it.

The one armed imp seems hesitant, probably due to its injury and how quickly the other imp fell. It seems content with watching Ram-head take the lead, who starts charging me. Red blade held high leaving neon streaks in the air, its four eyes locked onto mine with malicious intent, as it shrieks a blood curling warcry.

Before it can close the short distance between us, the wall of vegetation at the edge of the clearing explodes. A goliath of brown fur collides with Ram-head midcharge, sweeping the Daemon off its feet and into a thick tree trunk, causing a dozen leaves to float down with a hefty thud.

The remaining imp squeals “Opio!” The fear is clear in its tone, but surprisingly the imp attacks with no hope of surviving.

The colossus animal, moving more rapidly than should be physically possible, stands and twists itself towards the one armed imp. Like a redwood tree falling on a caterpillar, the mass of fur and claws obliterates the imp.

A warm wet sensation covers my face and arms.

In a half dazed state, I brush my cheek and look down at the substance on my fingers. Midnight black goop with flecks of purple is all that remains of the imp.

A mighty roar causes me to tear my eyes away from the mess and back to the creature. It’s a gigantic bear.

Similar in size to a polar bear but with the thickness of a grizzly. Except this bear has four arms, two on either side (seems to be this fantasy world's theme). From the top of its head down to a stubby tail, is a striped crest of maroon red fur with bone spikes sticking out the centre. Random patches of emerald moss were growing within its thick hair, large clumps covered its mighty shoulders, and Mother’s twinkling lights were flecked within the damp matter.

I look directly into the beast’s small red eyes and see a rage. A rage for all living things. A rage so unrelenting it could pulverise mountains and destroy kingdoms. Or at the very least turn me into a puddle of blood and flesh.

The bear rises from the crater it created from the imp, a fresh coating of black blood covers the majority of its arms and torso. With jerking movements, it turns and focuses on our meagre bush.

“Mother have mercy.” Yelps Piia.

I’m petrified in place, unable to taste my last breaths.

Suddenly Ram-head leaps from behind, landing the glowing shortsword in the nape of the bear’s neck.

Bellowing a deep moan, the mountain of fur collapses to the forest floor with a crash.

Silence and peace follow for a moment.

A very brief moment, before the Daemon barks a wet laugh with glee.

“Even Guardians fall before Chaos.” It gurgles while rising again to full height. Half its face is missing, replaced with three raw trenches left behind by the bear's assault. With only two eyes remaining on one side, it turns towards us.

“And Order will follow.” It advances.

Stumbling and wincing with agony the Daemon crosses the clearing, and I don’t react.

I don’t react when it grabs my ankle and drags me from my pathetic sanctuary.

I don’t react when it lifts a clawed hand above my head, its face twisting into a makeshift smirk. I force my body, with all the energy I can muster, to do something.

My feeble attempt at defence is placing one arm meekly between myself and the Daemon.

The claws fly slow and true, lacerating my forearm. The pain shrieks like a siren in my being. Adrenaline accelerates through my bloodstream as my heart races like a crackhead about to overdose.

The Daemon claws cocking back for another attack. I look away from my demise and see its other arm ends in a stump at the elbow. I close my eyes to the horror befalling me, hoping I will just wake up. Please just wake up.

The Daemon wails in anger as Piia’s horned head collides with its decimated body. I open my eyes to see them rolling around like amateur fighters in the octagon. Piia just saved me from certain demise and I'm lying here, judging her fighting technique. I'm bloody pathetic.

Even with a tattered leg, she managed to charge the monster she fears. While I can barely move a muscle. I need to do better, I can be better. Witnessing Piia’s sacrifice and the pain in my forearm brings clarity to my dishevelled head.

Still on the ground, Piia snakes her arm around its neck and starts choking the Daemon. The fight is going her way until the Daemon sharply kicks her mangled lower leg. Piia’s body tenses up in pain, she releases the hold. The Daemon, seizing the opportunity, wriggles its lanky frame around and clambers on top. Using its knees to hold her arms down, it grips her soft neck with its remaining hand and squeezes.

“You are nothing to me slave!” it screams in her face, black blood leaking all over. Her arms clawing at its sides, trying to get any purchase. I tear my eyes away and search the area, how can I help? I can’t even help myself. The clearing was now unrecognisable from the quiet glen it once was, blood and body parts defiling the natural beauty.

“Your Guardians are nothing! Your God is NOTHING!” Piias eyes are bulging with the strain, her arms only managing soft hits now.

I look into the black ichor painting of the imps' remains and spot it. A long bayonet like claw. I crawl over and clench the fantasy shank, unbeknown to the satanic Daemon. Piia’s arms weakly flay out and spasm violently, before finally laying limp.

The Daemon releases its hold, panting from the strain of murder.

Sucking in air, it begins to turn its head to spot me with its only working eyes.

“Now to fin…”

I thrust the claw through the mangled eye socket. Sliding the sharp weapon deep into the Daemon's head. A wet cough escapes its lips as the body topples over and off Piia.

I crouch beside Piia and feel for a pulse. Her throat is a dark tapestry of Daemon fluids and bruising I can see through the light fur. Is that a faint pulse? I open her mouth and begin CPR, forcing air down her throat, then pumping her chest over and over again. I repeat the process, questioning my technique throughout and doubt slowly creeping in. This isn’t working. Why didn’t I take a first aid course or even watch a Youtube video?

Pumping and pumping, my arms weaken with fatigue. My lungs burn as I force more air down her throat and any hope I had begins to fade.

A gentle breeze stirs the clearing, green motes drifting everywhere. My periphery catches the stimuli, alert from the recent terror, I vigilantly search for danger while continuing to pump Piia’s chest. I see the current of air flowing through the green haze like water in a stream. It swirls and cascades towards Piia and down her throat, flooding her lungs.

She gasps for oxygen, arms weakly pushing me away as I see the terror in her eyes.

“Piia you’re okay, relax relax, it's Seth. We’re safe.” I try reassuring her as best I can.

Comprehension only settles in once she spots the Daemon, an imp claw still jutting out its head. Knowing she’s now safe, her body relaxes, settling into the bloody grass. She croaks a noise to me, her swollen throat barely letting the vibrations escape.

“I don’t understand Piia, what do you need?” She answers with a pointing finger, back towards our hiding bush. Then she points into her mouth and strokes down her neck.

“Water leaves, of course.” I shakingly stand like a newborn foal, I’m running on vapours after the fight. I grab handfuls of water leaves and bring my forage back to Piia.

“We should get away from this area, and find somewhere to rest.” I state while she drinks.

“Soooon.” She painfully croaks the word, water leaves must be helping a little.

“Try not to talk if you can help it.” She nods in agreement.

I look down at Ramhead, its body merely inches from hers. I will at least give her some space from that devil spawn. I briefly inspect his face for any movement, Daemons are built differently so I can’t be too cautious. It's dead and hopefully suffering in Hell. I see now the jewellery hanging from the horns are satanic symbols made from a tarnished grey metal.

Before I can grab the horns to pull its corpse away from Piia, a light rises from the Daemon’s body.

More symbols with varying colours. The symbols look very different this time, however, the colour schemes are the same with identical frequency timings.

This could only mean another opportunity for a class. Would this replace my crappy Shepherd class with a more powerful and useful one, offering abilities and strength that will allow me to survive this hellish fantasy world? I have to take the chance, that battle almost ended in both myself and Piia dying a bloody death. Taming lesser cattle isn’t going to stop a Daemon’s claws from cutting my heart out.

The vapours fueling me turn into a bonfire at the realisation I might get some actual magic. I need to think about this carefully. This time, I’m aiming for the red symbol. That way if I am too early, I'll still get purple and too late I'll hit gold. Come on magic, I watch the symbol cycle for ages. The rotation playing out in my brain, I’m calling the colours just as they show. My hand launches forward and touches a rune. A flash of rose gold blinds my sight, the world tilts again. I collapse on the ground, the racing energy too much for my withered brain and body to handle. My vision swims as runes appear before me.

Class Unlocke…

I collapse to the ground, landing on top of the Daemon’s body. As the blackness of unconsciousness takes hold I close my eyelids, settling into the darkness, before a bright light flashes and a strange sensation passes through me.

Fade to black.