by Jarod Meyer
A Guardian William recognized from Achilles’ elite shot forth. William flung a ball of light at him, but the man backhanded it away like William had thrown a pillow. The myrmidon caught up with him in seconds, assaulting him in a flurry of fists and kicks. William slowed his mind and was just able to parry each one. The myrmidon appeared to be caught off guard by his speed and agility.
William had been doing his best to abstain from drawing his weapon, but he realized that he couldn’t out fight this warrior without some assistance. The Guardian grappled him close, effectively shutting down his ability to strike. He felt a twisting, crushing pressure on his arm as the Guardian bore down on his bracer, compacting the metal. He would have to fight dirty to get to his sword. William knew taking out a man’s sight for a moment could cripple him. He moved his energy upwards, and a pulse flashed from his eyes, blinding his opponent just like he had learned from Meredox. He wriggled one arm free and it closed on the hilt of his sword. The blued-steel moved like liquid in his hand, and formed into a war hammer. The myrmidon kicked free, blindly jerking his right leg as he tried to avoid a counter attack. It was too late, however, for the head of the hammer smashed into his breastplate, caving it in. He fell away, plummeting to the ground like a meteorite.
When the others saw the myrmidon fall, they fell back. If William could beat Achilles’ best, then they didn’t stand a chance. He looked forward once again, and was taken aback at the sight of the approaching wall. It had looked large from a distance, but it was staggering now that he was closer.
The barrier separating Archonia and Dichonia was thousands of feet high. Each stone looked to be the size of a building. William flew towards the top. It took him a few moments to traverse the distance, his sense of awe at its sheer size almost taking his breath away.
The air was calm for a moment when he passed the threshold, like the positive energy of Archonia was dying away. Clear of the Archonian side of the wall, William looked back. His pursuers had stopped short, and proceeded to blast energy at him, but they did not follow.
William spiraled to the ground, and cursed aloud as he finally landed many moments later. It was not a graceful landing. His right leg buckled underneath him and he stumbled to a knee. The wounds, which had been stunted by the adrenaline of combat, began to surface.
His thigh pulsed angrily where the myrmidon had driven his elbow for leverage, the ligaments feeling strained or worse. He felt the back of his armor where air was streaming in. The metal was crumbling and a whole chunk was missing where the energy had struck him. Tender flesh was exposed to his touch.
His own brothers in arms had tried to destroy him, and without Meredox’s intense training and his general luck, they may well have. He winced and breathed through his teeth, but fought back the pain.
He stood slowly from the ground, black dirt, like ash, clinging to his armor. He brushed it away, and felt a shiver wrack his body. He exhaled, his breath billowing like a cloud of steam.
He looked up at a frozen wasteland. Sharp rocks and twisted hills stood before him.
“When hell freezes over,” he said, with a reserved chuckle.
William stifled his laughter and rubbed his hands together, looking around to gather his bearings. He spotted the gate of Scione many miles to the west. Somehow during his flight he had gotten off course. He was now on his own behind enemy lines.
He hadn’t made time to outfit himself with any survival tools, because he had been training day after day, seemingly without end.
It seemed relatively safe under the looming wall, but a wind howled against him, and the cold air seemed to get colder by the second. He would need refuge to work and recover.
He limped to a nearby rock formation that provided him some protection from the majority of the wind, and found a gnarled stump that he could sit on.
The cold now pierced his limbs. He could not focus on projecting anything with this biting chill. He let his energy trickle over his skin. This brought some warmth, but he would need more. He pushed outward and imagined himself bundled up in thick winter clothes. His grey energy shimmered under his plates, and thick quilted fabric began to form underneath the cold steel. His long black leather gloves grew thicker, fur beginning to coat the inside.
He soon realized that without thinking he was transforming his armor, adapting it to the surrounding habitat. He continued, now controlling the results easier. His long cape, scorched in his previous bout, billowed around him into a cloak. He wrapped it around himself and felt instant relief from the wind.
Now that things were much more tolerable he went to work on his map. With little effort he produced a good sized piece of paper and a stick of graphite. With his experience in making lifelike flowers, these things didn’t take long.
The difficult part was sketching out his map. He was not a natural artist, and he had to make his map from memory, drawing from his recollections of Meredox’s book.
He marked where he was, and tried to find the sun in the sky to tell what time it was. He was discouraged to find that the brilliant light from the Archonian sun was nowhere to be found in Dichonia. A seemingly impenetrable cloudbank coated the sky as far as he could see in every direction.
A map from memory would have to do. He would create more items as needed. For now he needed to find Achilles’ contact. Without further delay, William set off at a modest pace. Achilles and Meredox warned him not to draw attention to himself by flying around. This was discouraging, because he felt like a snail.
He walked for a few minutes, taking in the scenery. There was some vegetation, but it looked as if it was dead or dying. Occasionally he would spot a bush covered with brambles, or a tree, hollow and desiccated.
Another shiver shook him.
It was a tera-spawn, the same bat-like creatures he had faced at mount Olympus. William grabbed it by the back of what he thought was its head, it was definitely where the teeth were, and tossed it away. He flicked his wrist and cut it in two as it dove back in.
A few more flew at him, and he cut them to pieces like flies. He pressed forward, his boots sinking into what looked like black snow. He walked for a while longer, keeping a wary eye out for more tera-spawn. He eventually came to the conclusion that the beasts had been attracted to his energy. According to Meredox’s book, they liked heat.
His slow trek continued, and it wasn’t long before he came upon formations he recognized from Meredox’s account. Large fissures dotted the landscape. He stepped to the edge and peered down into one of the gaping holes. It looked to be easily a mile or so long, and perhaps fifty feet across. An ominous, orange glow emanated from the crack.
He could faintly hear screams echoing up from the depths, and he winced, quickly backing away. Meredox described these all too well. These “cracks of the underworld,” as he named them were furnaces filled with the souls of evil people. Reapers, as the Justicar called them, would bring these souls to Dichonia against their will, and toss them, flailing into the depths. They would suffer in the wretched, fiery darkness, transforming into mindless shells that hungered for all eternity.
William had killed some evil men during his last moments on Earth, and unfortunately, he also bore witness to their rebirth. He remembered their wraith-like forms, shadows floating around the dark alleyway. Their red slits for eyes, and the razor-sharp teeth. If Gabriel hadn’t killed them, a reaper would have claimed them, and thrown them down here.
William began to think of what would have happened to him if Gabe hadn’t found him. He quickly shook those thoughts away and traversed the gap in a single bound, landing deftly on the other side.
He looked down at his feet, taking note of a road. He could tell only because it was hard, the ground impacted over many millennia of travel. William turned left and began to walk. It would be important for him to keep his bearings. He produced his hand drawn map and quickly marked his progression. His fingers fumbled to put away the paper and graphite. They were stiff from the cold even through th
e thick gloves. The wind blew across his face and the cold bit his cheeks.
He now headed southeast along the road, hoping beyond hope that he was on course. The open road, William knew, could be more or less dangerous than the open wilderness. Being a heavily traveled pathway he was more likely to run into demons.
William pushed forward, keeping a keen eye out for movement. He hadn’t spent so much time alone since coming to Archonia and suddenly realized how quiet it was. Loneliness started to sink in and a realization hit him. There would be no friends to come to his rescue. There would be no one to watch his back. He was completely, and utterly, alone.
The quiet made his mind wander. He thought back to Meredox’s ancient tome. It was full of frightening creatures, some capable of invading a person’s mind and projecting false images. He wondered if he would be able to tell if his mind was being attacked.
William looked up at the sky. It was covered in dark, churning clouds. He didn’t know if it was ash, or this land was cursed to endure constant storms.
The terrain began to grow rough. Rocks and cliffs overshadowed the pathway, providing excellent points for ambushes. William pushed slowly forward, walking for what felt like hours. Soon the road began to run parallel to a great fissure in the ground. The bitter cold let up as the ground dropped away, the furnaces at the bottom of these pits providing some much needed relief from the chill.
Part of him was surprised that he hadn’t been attacked again. He considered two probabilities. One could be that he was keeping a low profile, and successfully evading detection on a heavily used road. This was highly unlikely. The other option was that something was scaring the lesser demons away.
You’re being followed. Idiot!
He didn’t turn around right away, as to not alert any potential attackers. Instead, he kept his pace and analyzed the situation, and it was not ideal. The road was curving around a great fissure in the ground. To his right was a sheer cliff, and to his left a great abyss, glowing orange.
It was entirely possible that the followers had been waiting for terrain like this. It would be ideal for a trap. He needed to face them sooner, rather than putting himself firmly into their trap.
He planted his feet and turned quickly, unsheathing Gungnir. He prayed his gambit would work.
“I know you’re there. What do you want?” he shouted.
A cackle split the silence. It was a chilling, broken noise. Seven figures emerged from the rocks behind him. William looked upon the creatures with interest. He had been too busy slaughtering demons during the battle for Mt. Olympus to really take in what they looked like.
Gnarled and mangled, some were skinny, like they were starving to death but couldn’t die. One was hulking, and loomed as big as Brock. The others were an assortment of misshapen sizes, all donned in crude armor. They were all armed as well, wielding weapons as twisted and decrepit as themselves.
The seventh being emerged, and to William’s surprise, it was a woman. Her chocolate skin was speckled with ash and soot. Her eyes flickered like gold. They were unlike any eyes William had ever seen. Her expression was grim.
“Look what we have here, my lady. A little boy has lost his way,” said a, squat demon with a sickle.
The woman must have been the leader, especially if he was referring to her as “my lady”. She remained perfectly still, her gaze locked on William. He did the same, gauging the situation.
The brute of a demon shouted, “You. No. Touch. Her.” It stepped forward, but the squat demon threw a rock and hit the giant in the head.
“Calm yourself. He is just a curious, little boy. Isn’t he, my lady?”
“What do you want?” William asked, impatiently.
“What does we want? What does you doing here?” demanded the decrepit creature.
“I’m looking for a fallen Archonian named Luxor,” William said.
The dark-skinned woman shouted, “Kill!”
William reacted and Gungnir flew, snapping towards the dark-skinned woman. The weapon extended like a whip from his hand, forming into a chain with a spiked ball on the end. One of the lesser demons shouted and jumped in the way, the spiked ball impaling him.
With a flick of his wrist, William sent the demon flying over the cliff behind him. Unfortunately, the remaining demons were much faster than he expected. They were on him in an instant. Three of the smaller creatures grabbed him, and with strength not befitting their size, held him firm. The brute, which was carrying a large gnarled club, lifted it above his head and roared.
There was only a split second to react, and William let loose an energy blast from his eyes. The club splintered into a thousand pieces, the shrapnel peppering the area. The Brute shrieked as pieces of sharp wood tore through his flesh. William felt a piece lodge steadfast into his cheek. The demons holding William recoiled from the blast. He took advantage, whipping the creature holding his left arm against the cliff face opposite the abyss. The two remaining demons began to flail, scratching and clawing at him wildly. Their weapons were strong, but not like projections, and thankfully couldn’t breach his armor.
The woman with the spear now attacked. William reacted, swiftly spinning and allowing her spear to impale one of her minions. He felt it go limp as it fell away, and spun around, connecting a high kick to the back of the woman’s head. Unlike the feeble demons her body was solid, and William knew immediately that this was a fallen Archonian, and would be much stronger than the other rabble. Still his foot did damage, and she flew face first into the rock.
The brute staggered back at him in frenzy. With a twist, William flung the remaining minion into the brute, forcing him to shield his face. In that split second, William ducked underneath a wild haymaker, Gungnir morphing back into sword form. He buried the blade into the brute’s abdomen. The giant went rigid, his body trying to reject the cold metal. William pulled it free, and with a deft spin, decapitated the creature.
The remaining three demons surrounded William, pointing their weapons at him and shouting in a growling, unintelligible language. William waited for one of them to attack, and parried the blow. Then spinning, he sent a blast of energy towards the demon behind him. The energy ball was larger than the creature itself, and struck, leaving nothing but a pile of smoldering ash. With no enemies to his back, William dispatched the remaining beasts with ease. After his victory he jerked loose the wooden shard that was lodged into his cheek with a grunt and spit out the blood that had pooled in his mouth.
“Impressive! You are stronger than I expected,” the woman said.
William turned slowly. He closed the gap between them in a heartbeat, grabbing her by the throat.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you right now,” William said, his face crinkling with rage.
“It is not yet my time to meet the creators. Besides, I have been tasked with guiding you through this wasteland. My name is Tamara,” she replied, cautiously.
William didn’t loosen his grip, but at the same time, Tamara didn’t show any outward signs of discomfort.
She must be old, he guessed, at least a couple of hundred years.
“Achilles sent me. I am your contact. The passphrase is, ‘Garden of Medina’,” she said, trying to wrench free from his grip.
“The password is all well and good, but why the hell did you try to kill me?” William asked, accusingly.
“You fool. If I am going to risk everything for you I need to know for certain that you are strong,” she said.
William released her, deciding that her decision was wise. He respected that. He hadn’t stopped to think that she was most likely a double agent, and that he may blow her cover.
“So, what now?” William asked.
“You could start by introducing yourself,” Tamara said.
“I apologize. My name is William,” he replied, his eyes darting around for potential threats.
“Do not apologize, your response was appropriate. You need to be ruthless here, or they will k
now. Your goal is deception, and I will help you. You are already headstrong, which is good,” she said.
“Where do we go now?” he demanded, his irritation clipping his tone.
“There will be a storm tonight, so we need to seek cover. My home is not far from here. Take this,” she said, handing William her spear. “I am your property now.”
William’s mouth fell open, and when he didn’t accept the proffered weapon, she took another step forward.
“Take it. The forsaken ones must believe that you have defeated me,” she finished.
William finally accepted the spear. Tamara turned and bent down, retrieving the brute’s decapitated head from the ground. She tied the head to her belt by the scraggly hair and began to walk down the road.
“I did beat you,” William smirked.
Tamara half-turned and cast him a nasty look.
He chuckled. Dichonia isn’t nearly as bad as everyone made it out to be, he thought. Then the biting cold hit him again.
“We will arrive in my village soon. If any of the forsaken challenge you, kill them,” she stated.
“Okay. By the way, what is with the head?” William inquired.
“We are your trophies. You will need them to establish your reputation here,” she responded without turning around.
They walked for a little longer, before William heard a rumble in the sky. He hadn’t seen a thunderstorm in a long time. Not since he was on Earth. The rain in Archonia was always a pleasant shower to cleanse the world. Tamara looked up at the sky and increased her speed.
“Are you afraid of a little rain?”
“It would be wise to avoid the storm. Rain here is acidic. It will be painful,” she said.