The Sworn Defender

by The Ranger

  The Norva had a long and complicated history, as could be expected of any nation that possessed more than a handful of citizens and had endured longer than a few decades. The country was cut into different provinces, each yielding different products and trades. The region that Khora and Kassandra were born within belonged to the warrior class and also served as a proving ground for aspiring weaponsmiths and armorers. While it was quite apparent that some districts accrued more wealth and luxuries than others, all children of the Norva were given equal attention in matters of formal education. It was only after they had proven their understanding of 'essential knowledge' that they were allowed to begin specializations for their class.

  Khora had chosen to apprentice under a man named Adibane, an occasional associate of her mother. It was often through him that Kassandra found good work, and it was with him that Khora found herself protecting a merchant ship while it crossed the sea. An excellent lesson in forming contracts with traders, she had reasoned back then. Unfortunately, the lesson never ended.

  While the ship was not set upon by pirates or enemies of the Norva, none of them had predicted the arrival of the storm that cracked their vessel in half and sent Khora across the waves clinging to debris.

  This singular incident fated her arrival in Azra and led to everything she had done since then. She almost wanted to laugh as she reminisced on her life here and wondered how Izadora might have looked if she learned Khora had thrown a spear at an Ancient. It was in the rectoress' class on culture and belief that she was advised to place her faith only in the Norvan Council and in the almighty Ancients. She had nearly forgotten herself while wandering her memories, yet what stood before her shook her free.

  "No…" Khora gasped.

  She stood there, her jaw hanging loose, as she took in the sight in front of her. Thick vines seemed to have sprouted from the walls and swatted at whoever, or whatever, had been traversing this path. Among the mess of displaced dirt and stones, a gleam caught Khora's attention. It was the shimmer of a familiar blade, still clutched tightly by its ornate scabbard.

  She approached the weapon and picked it up gingerly, holding the regal sword in front of her. Initially, Khora had been absorbed by its brilliance, but that effect no longer had a hold over her. It was instead bitter gratitude that filled her heart as she inspected the blade in her hands.

  She had finally acquired the advantage she would need to succeed in these dark circumstances and remembered the advice given to her by both Kassandra and Izadora.

  She took a long breath and closed her eyes.

  "In this, my time of need, I pray for aid. May the Hand of the Ancie-" Khora began.

  She winced as the memory of Tala flashed across her mind. The image of the nature spirit's glaring eyes pierced Khora's resolve. Her hands trembled as she steadied herself and thought of what she could say.

  The prayer she had been drawn to was one she had known since childhood. However, she knew she could no longer pray to the Ancients; Tala made certain of that. She was reluctant to alter this hymn, but there was little choice to be found.

  "In this, my time of need, I pray for aid. May the dragon Izkar—" she started, her mind drifting to the vibrant eyes that dwelled in her dream. "—guide me, and lend me the strength I need to prevail against the darkness that surrounds me. I beg this of you, Fate-Maker. Please."

  She opened her eyes, wondering if her prayer would land upon the ears of anything at all.

  "Khora."

  Her eyes darted ahead, where she saw Aven standing. She held herself back and observed his movements carefully.

  "How do I know you're… you?" she paused.

  Aven shrugged.

  "Ask me something," he suggested.

  Khora pondered for a moment but found her question quickly enough.

  "How did we first meet?" she prodded.

  "I tried to shake your hand, but you thought I was trying to grope you. You punched me in the jaw," he replied. "Edmund couldn't stop laughing."

  Khora nodded and walked towards him.

  "How did you know I wasn't a pretender?" she questioned.

  "I just knew," he revealed. "Have you seen anyone else?"

  She shook her head.

  "Just you and a skinchanger that took a liking to Eren's face," she sighed, pointing back the way she had come. "It's down this passage, so we'd best get moving before it begins a pursuit."

  Aven's eyes widened for a moment.

  "Khora, I'm not sure that's a good idea. I didn't find anyone on my way here. This path— i-it's probably not going to lead anywhere useful."

  "Better than running back to the monster I left behind," she refuted.

  Aven sighed and nodded.

  "Well, you should take this, then," he murmured. "One of the skinchangers had it, wrapped in linen."

  He pulled something from his pocket and handed it to her. Khora smiled when it came into view.

  "I wasn't sure I'd see this again," she muttered.

  She happily took her dagger from him, but her smile faded when she saw his palm. It was red and welted.

  "What happened to your hand?" she poked.

  Aven pulled it back and spared it a stray glance.

  "I think it was scraped when they dragged us here, but I'm not sure," he told her."

  "With luck, that will be the worst injury we see today," she hoped. "Let's go."

  The pair moved as quickly and as quietly as possible, careful not to trip over any exposed roots or stones. She held the front, sword at the ready, while Aven kept his attention on their rear. Khora had been occupying herself with thoughts of strategy as they sneaked around but found herself interrupted as Aven tapped on her shoulder.

  "I meant to ask, how did you get free?" he poked.

  "The roots they tied me in were weak and brittle. It didn't take much effort to free myself from them," she explained.

  He nodded, content with the answer. Khora had begun to move forward when she stopped and brought her gaze back to him for a moment.

  "And you?" she questioned.

  He seemed nervous for a moment before shrugging and meeting her eyes.

  "These creatures put me in a sort of… trance, I think I would call it," he began. "I was dreaming, dreaming that I was sitting by a stream fishing. I was alone when this… young boy — a child, really — approached me. He told me that… that there was something I needed to do."

  The young man grew quiet then, almost as if his thoughts were far and away.

  "And then?" Khora questioned, eyes on his as they turned to stare back at her.

  "Well, I woke up," he continued, scratching at his neck. "One of the skinchangers was dragging me through the dirt, so I took your blade back and killed it. Then I made my way to you. Strange, huh?"

  "Your dream?" she questioned.

  "Yes," he murmured, eyes watching their surroundings. "The things our mind can create when we're in danger… it's amazing how strange it all is."

  "Strange," she repeated, though that was not the word that rested on her tongue.

  "Even stranger, I think, is all this," Aven sighed, pointing at the dirt passage they tread through. "I don't know why these shapeshifters decided to bring us back alive. It's… not something I would have thought their kind might do."

  "The illusion that bewitched us on the road," she recalled. "That should not have been possible for skinchangers. None of this should be possible for skinchangers. I'm beginning to feel certain they are not alone here, and I fear whatever monster may have aligned itself with them."

  Khora stopped as a foul odor wafted by.

  "Do you smell that?" she muttered.

  There was a turn ahead, and she spotted a small splatter of blood near its edge.

  "Ready yourself; we might have trouble ahead," she whispered.

  "Wait," Aven called out, trying to reach for her. "Hold back a moment…"

  She turned to face him and saw concern grow along his brow.

  "I know what's
ahead. I saw it when I came this way. It's gruesome, Khora," he warned.

  He walked ahead of her and motioned for her to follow him into the hall. She did as much but quickly froze in her tracks.

  "Did yo— did you see what did this?" she asked, a shiver shooting down her spine.

  Khora counted almost seven skinchangers ahead of them; they were dismembered and destroyed. At least she believed there were seven of them— it was challenging to make an accurate estimate with their 'pieces' spread across the ground and their innards strewn across the walls.

  "No, I… I didn't watch this unfold," he replied, a slight reluctance holding his tongue. "Who knows what sort of things are down here."

  There were deep gashes in the earthen walls and floor— plainly the mark of whatever beast slew the shapeshifters. She was as grateful to the mysterious attacker as she was intimidated by it; had they been set upon by the number of skinchangers that laid here, she was not sure they would have survived.

  Khora turned her head towards one of the dead monsters that rested on the ground. There was something strange gripped in its hand. She knelt near it and raised the appendage closer to her eyes. It held a tuft of hair: thick, black fur that felt coarse to the touch.

  She looked back up at Aven and stared into his glittering green eyes. She wondered how he seemed so unmoved by this grisly sight.

  "Do you have any clue what this is, Aven?" she asked. "This… I recognize it. This looks just like-" she tried to explain.

  Before she could finish speaking, a deep rumbling swept across their feet. Something was happening, she realized.

  They shared a brief glance as the vibrations continued to shake their surroundings.

  "That can't be good," he grumbled.

  Khora rose to her feet, a slight ache in her left leg.

  "Let's forget about caution for a moment," she suggested. "We have to find the others before something happens to them."

  Aven nodded, and they dashed down the corridor towards the source of the quakes that shook the earth.

  Chapter Eight

  Richard

  Richard's eyes fluttered open as another wave of agony jolted through the whole of his being. He was suspended nearly twenty feet up, bound to the earthen wall of a giant pit. This place seemed unaffected by the weather outside it, as he could see it was still snowing just beyond the pit's ridge. He was thankful for the fresh air and the slight sunshine on his face— all the other aspects of his circumstances were torture.

  It seemed like he had been in this position for an eternity as spiked vines slithered and entangled him. The pain scattered his focus, preventing him from gathering the strength to call upon Tala's gift. Even his voice was muffled while his throat was held tightly in place and nearly asphyxiated.

  "I believe that this is now the longest you've remained conscious."

  Richard forced himself to scan his surroundings and found the source of the voice.

  In the center of the pit — encircled by dozens of colorful flowers, shrubs, and vines — there sat a thing. He would be hard-pressed to call it a person, but there was a resemblance in its shape. It looked how an average person might if they had been tied to two carts that sped off in opposite directions— all stretched and lanky and awkward. Its body seemed to be made of wood and held together by blades of grass that cascaded and locked around each loose piece. The creature had a human enough face, albeit formed by weathered bark, yet it was encased in a giant deer skull, resting between the open jaws. It sat in a makeshift throne that seemed ghastly at first sight; it was built with stray stones and mud, with moss scattered across its surface, and — what appeared to be — bones jutting out from the earthly mass at various points. It looked like it had been formed to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

  "You're quite a special thing, I've come to learn," the being mused. "I sense an elder strength in your veins, one I myself haven't dealt with… since time immemorial."

  Richard struggled against the vines, flailing as they sliced his skin and tightened their grip.

  "Oh, how rude. I must introduce myself," the creature smiled, a crack forming in the bark of its face.

  It stood up, allowing him to witness the extent of its form. At around eight feet, the creature stood tall and seemed to wear a billowing grass and flower cape that shimmered in the light.

  "I am Torfir, what you might call a Spriggan Lord," he bowed. "I am also the claimant to this forest… and all within it."

  Richard's eyes widened as the monster's words set in. Spriggans were one such beast that he had learned of as a child. They were great guardians of forests and commonly forces that kept the mortal races from encroaching on untamed land. Most were simple defenders, protecting the life that resided in their domain from hostile parties. However, some, like those Captain Finnegan liked to tell tales of, sought nothing more than blood and destruction.

  "Ah, good," Torfir grinned. "I see the terror of recognition spark in your eyes— you do know of my kind. That means I won't have to explain much to you."

  Richard watched as a skinchanger approached the spriggan and knelt before it. He heard the creature whisper something unintelligible and saw as Torfir shook his head, motioning for it to leave.

  "Dull creatures, but well-meaning," he sighed, casually waving his arm. "You see, from the days of the Primordial Epoch and on, this forest was my own. I slew any who dared to defy me, and I took great care in carving out my home. Until nearly a millennia ago, I was challenged by this… foolhardy sorcerer. His prowess was… quite unexpected, and he forced me to take shelter beneath the earth. Ridiculous, I know."

  Torfir sat down in his earthen throne, and Richard thought he could hear the slight crack of bones as he did so.

  "To cut things short, I awoke not long ago. It was a… jarring experience— finding these shapewalkers stirred from their slumber and nested in my home. Yet, I make the best of all matters and quickly brought them into my service. It was a simple decision, really," the spriggan explained. "Please forgive my rambling, but I haven't spoken to an intelligent creature in a very long time, and you don't seem to be in much of a hurry."

  Richard thrashed against his restraints as Torfir chuckled— an unnerving sound that resembled both the cracking of leaves and the whipping winds.

  "Oh, I couldn't resist; I'm sure you know that," he smirked. "Gods, it's been too long!"

  Torfir's head snapped to the side when a pack of skinchangers dragged out Edmund and Eren, both of which seemed unconscious and uninjured.

  "I never expected my children to acquire such exotic things as you and your companion— the rest are just pleasant additions!" Torfir laughed. "Although, I seem to have just noticed that two of our guests have scampered away."

  The Spriggan Lord set his gaze on something just beyond their sight and began patting his lap wildly. Richard wasn't sure what to expect and almost gasped as Ranger came into view. The dog's gait was altered and erratic, almost as if he were being moved by an unseen puppeteer. Ranger's eyes emanated a dull, green light as he hobbled along— a sure sign he was under the spriggan's influence. The large hound made its way to Torfir and hopped onto his lap, almost making the spriggan seem small for a moment.

  "This… this is probably the best thing you mortals have yet conceived. Taming the wolf and turning it into this, oh the genius of it all. Wolves are so willful and obstinate, but these things… controlling them is an afterthought. All the power, none of the resistance," Torfir said, combing his fingers through the dog's fur.

  He cast his eyes to his captives, lying a few feet away from him, and sighed.

  "Wake them," the monster muttered.

  A skinchanger approached Eren and kicked his gut, causing him to jolt awake. The monster then moved to Edmund and struck him as well. Eren tried to raise himself off the ground and turned to his captor.

  "Do that again, and I'll beat you sensele-" he began.

  Another of the monsters kicked his shoulder, forcing him back on
to the ground.

  "Let him speak," Torfir commanded. "Insolence is very much a trait I like to see in my catch."

  Eren raised his head and spat dirt out of his mouth.

  "You're the man in charge, eh?" he coughed.

  "Not a man, but yes," the spriggan lazily confirmed. "I am the… captain? The chief? Commander? I'll decide that later, but yes— I am the authority here."

  Eren eyed the skinchangers that surrounded him and turned to Edmund, who was just starting to stir.

  "How did you do that?" he asked. "The— the trick."

  Torfir's face stretched into an abominable grin as he sat forward.

  "Did you like that? Quite convincing, wasn't it?" he poked. "It took me centuries to learn how to ensnare the human mind, but it was all worth it."

  Edmund opened his eyes as Torfir reached for one of his own fingers and snapped it off. He squeezed it tightly in his palm and presented the remains to Eren and Edmund. It looked like fine charcoal dust, with specks of brown and green littered within it.

  "Any human intoxicated with my essence may fall under my influence," he revealed. "Potency varies, but none so far have been immune."

  The Spriggan Lord sprouted another finger, and Edmund shrank beneath the monster's gaze.

  "Y-you can talk," he whimpered.

  Torfir smiled wickedly.

  "Yes, that took me centuries to learn as well," he sneered. "At least… in a voice you can understand."

  Edmund huddled closer to Eren as the spriggan hissed his last words, but he quickly changed his mind when he spotted his dog on Torfir's lap.

  "R-Ranger?" Edmund sputtered. "G-ge-get over here."

  He inched closer and held his arms open, but the dog made no move in return.

  "My new pet has no recognition for old masters," Torfir taunted, clutching the dog closer to his chest.

  "What do you want from us?" Eren questioned, grasping Edmund and holding him back.

  "Oh, well, it's quite simple. You're my meal," the spriggan established. "Well, mine and my children's meal. I'm sure you knew that."

  The skinchangers slowly approached the captives, their fangs bared and slimy, but Torfir raised his hand. They froze in place as their master rose to speak.