by Reja Emran
As he stopped, Xia continued the conversation feeling more at ease than before due to the affable nature of Cyrillon. She related the situation of the world at present; the way people lived and the various rulers and wars which had been fought. She especially mentioned the various weapons such as tanks, missiles and bombs which horrified Cyrillon to a certain extent. Xia spoke of inventions such as airplanes and cars which amazed Cyrillon as the people of the Medieval Ages could not conceive such modern devices which could make travel easier. However the Elentian was not particularly keen on indulging in the way of modern life for he felt it was harsh and dull especially when Xia told him of the fading moral values in her time beyond the Magic Plains.
The two were so absorbed in their discussion that they didn’t realize that it was already mid-day and the sun shone at its zenith. At the end of the conversation, Ching had come in and gazed in astonishment at the beautiful horse that now was lapping the clear spring water. Cyrillon stood up and greeted Ching and the two engaged in a brief chat as Xia warily approached Khazdul and laid her hand on its coat. The horse did not move and let the tender hands of the Annoxonum stroke it.
She then turned around to stand with her grandfather as he talked to Cyrillon and the latter noticing her, repeated his earlier request to Ching. “Master Ching, I hope to engage the Annoxonum in small mêlée if that is alright.”
Ching nodded with a thin smile at Xia who had taken out the dagger she always kept with her, tucked underneath the cord she wore round her hip. Cyrillon unsheathed his sword, the beautiful blade glimmering at the edge as he sliced against the air as if testing it. After a few seconds, the Elentian nodded to Xia and she ran towards him, the dagger poised at a deadly position. He easily sidestepped the attack and ducked under the second lash Xia nearly gave him.
Cyrillon then crashed his sword against her dagger and the two were striking blades in harmony as they circled the perimeter and Cyrillon kept barking out improvements to her from which intensified her skill. After a long hour, Xia fell to the floor panting and beads of perspiration tickled down the side of her face and she looked at Cyrillon who just grinned and lent her a hand to lift her from the ground. She glanced at him in contempt for he did not look at all tired. Instead he seemed rejuvenated by the small fight they had.
“How are you not weary? I fight for a while and my muscles start burning with exhaustion.” Xia looked at him expectantly as she tucked the dagger back into her belt.
“I have been trained for years Annoxonum while you have crammed everything in a few months. I only wonder your strength in the near future. Already you rival many of the swordsmen I know of and in the future you will probably exceed our combined talent.”
“You flatter me but I am not that good,” replied Xia blushing slightly at the praise and she noticed Ching walking towards them with a beam on his face.
“Wonderful my child!” he exclaimed, wrapping Xia in a bear hug and then he smiled at the man before him with admiration. “Cyrillon, your skills are unparallel. I have not seen such swordsmanship for a long time now and I was greatly pleased with this mêlée. My granddaughter needs improvement but I can see that she can put up a strong fight if ever endangered. Thank you Cyrillon.”
“It was my pleasure Master Ching. I just hope we can practice every day I am here for I can teach her much. She-” Cyrillon broke off as an abrupt screech sliced through the peaceful air and Kerfina speeded down and threw a scroll which he caught. Cyrillon opened the scroll, removing the green ribbon and his motion was watched by the other two present.
His face then was tainted with anxiety and he immediately hoisted himself on Khazdul who shared the same trepidation as his master. With swiftness the man attached his weapons on the horse’s girdle and slipped his sword in its worn scabbard.
“What’s wrong?” asked Ching.
“Where are you going?” questioned Xia with alarm.
“The Guardian needs aid as she is alone in wilderness near danger. Time is short.” answered Cyrillon, drawing his hood over his head which overshadowed his face except for the vigilant glint in his eyes. “Fair winds!”
With that he galloped into the forest, disappearing in the lurking shadows where the presence of danger was always felt and leaving behind two bewildered humans.
“Goodbye.” whispered Xia feeling the hot rush of air which Cyrillon left in his wake and then turning to Ching, “Grandpa will he be alright?”
“Yes Xia,” replied the old man stroking his long beard, “He is a warrior and an exceptional man. Now we can just hope he reaches Aniah in time.”
Xia nodded and then with a sigh, she retreated to the cave wondering what other surprises the future would bring. Maybe next time a troll will visit us, she grinned but her smile faded a little as she realized that Cyrillon would have greatly improved her combat but the current situation needed him more.
Ching draped an arm on Xia’s shoulders and kissed her on the forehead, whispering an apology for his coolness towards her after the loss of firestone. “I am sorry my child. I acted like an old fool.”
“No Grandpa, we are both to blame. I will not let the firestone escape again if I ever find it. I promise that I will live up to your expectations. I am sorry for everything.” Xia hugged Ching, her head snuggled in his soft robes and tears fell down her cheeks as the storm of emotions flooded out.
“I hope that day never comes when you have to put your life in danger. I can only pray.” He stroked her head and a tear fell from his eyes for his love for his granddaughter was immeasurable and he lived in constant fear of the day she would part.
Together they stood in the embrace under the morning hues not sure of where this life would lead them.
***
Aniah sat behind a tree, all the while intently gazing at the cave for any spur of movement. Her night had been spent awake and now sleep was threatening to take over but with her incredible will power, the Guardian pushed the feeling to a desolate corner of her mind. She yawned.
Aniah sharpened her curved sword which had been granted to her by the competent hands of the Elentians of Tyrendale and her thoughts were too preoccupied with the firestone to notice the changes in her surroundings and the danger they brought.
In the flash of a second, a cold blade was at her neck, digging in deep and with a slightly increased pressure it could tear the very tissues of her skin. A thick cloak flapped by her side and then an icy whisper came. “We meet again Guardian.”
Upon hearing this Aniah was bewildered and she rapidly stood up, raising her weapon at the hooded figure that had lowered it’s own to a harmless level. Cursing herself for not paying attention to the sounds, she turned her attention to the cloaked figure.
“Who are you?” demanded Aniah in a whisper. With a menacing, raspy laugh the figure threw down its heavy cloak and the revelation of its body left Aniah aghast.
“Fiera” said Aniah, her voice low but the tone held despise as she said this name, forgotten through the tides of time.
“You remember Aniah.” Fiera wore a small smile that played across her darkly painted lips. “At least someone does.”
Aniah grimaced as she studied this creature, once a Fire Guardian who had long ago wandered astray and submerged into the darkest of evils. Her long purple-black hair streaked crimson whipped across her smooth face and the ruby irises of her black eyes flashed viciously. Her slim form was clothed in a dress of deep violet, interlaced with silver thread and in her other hand she grasped an ornate dagger tipped with a dark olive substance.
“Fiera, look what have you done to yourself,” said Aniah, her gaze lingering on Fiera’s hollow eyes, her soulless eyes.
A raspy, scornful laugh left Fiera’s lips, “I have deteriorated and lost my innocent beauty but the gain was worth it. I now am endowed with innumerable powers and apparently you have grown too soft. In your youth you would have instantly killed me but now…now you are weak, a weak Guardian, what an interesting noti
on.”
Aniah’s hazel eyes bore into Fiera’s, her black cape swishing behind and her body tensed under the maroon attire she was clothed in. “Time changes a person and I am not one who can slaughter my own like you have tried on many occasions Fiera,” she spat angrily.
Fiera’s eyes narrowed and the red irises burnt with a fiercer intensity, ignited by the fuels of anger. “Then change now Aniah. Together, you and I can rule the world. Think of the possibilities and I am so graciously offering a partner-ship to you. Will you not accept this? Your life is wasted here helping these insignificant creatures while you wait for the restoration. Look at me, I do not the powers of the Guardian yet I have paved my own ways to acquire what none have dared to even grasp. Dark power Aniah, from the very pits of hell…”
“You disgust me,” replied Aniah, her voice choked with repulsion at this vile woman greedy for power and sovereignty over all the magic wielders. “Even if you put me on the edge of your blade, I will not accept this offer. I have not fallen yet nor will I misuse my powers unlike you.”
“So be it. You have chosen your own fate…once again you have not used your senses…once again acted like your blood is pure while mine is foul. I can’t stand this anymore,” said Fiera with malevolence, “Prepare Aniah…you will die…if not mortally at least I will give you enough pain to make you weak, to make you suffer. Suffer as I once did.”
“That was your own choice. Try what you must Fiera, I will end you first,” vowed Aniah, taking a step back, preparing for combat with this fallen Guardian her eyes glazed with fury.
The two women stood in enmity, eyeing each other with a sharp glare and Aniah felt the crusty airborne leaves pushing her forward, as if egging her into the mêlée. Fiera, with visible restlessness, sprung forward and did a cartwheel kick sending Aniah twisting through the air and on the ground in an instant.
But the latter could not be defeated with ease. Getting up, she lashed her sword at Fiera, grazing her arm. On second attempt, she blocked a deadly move of Fiera which was aimed at her neck and the two raged with velocity, as the battle heated and swords clashed violently mingling with the sounds of distress.
“You’ve grown skillful.” Fiera recoiled as Aniah sliced her waist faintly and dodged the lunge for her shoulder, “But you still have a long way to go Aniah.”
The high kick took Aniah by surprise and she glanced at Fiera angrily, furious at being taken off her guard. In retaliation, she ran forward speedily, her sword grazing Fiera’s sleeve and blood trickled from the long gash. Giving a smile to the Fallen Guardian, Aniah raised her elbow and it smashed against Fiera’s chin leaving the latter groaning with pain as she clutched the bruise. “It is such a rare sight to see a Guardian cry with pain,” Aniah said, her tone heavy with sarcasm but the remark was met with a grin from the other woman and in the blink of an eye she threw herself on the ground and pulled Aniah’s legs from beneath her.
Aniah immediately blocked the lunge with the dagger using her sword and kicking Fiera in the gut, she jumped up hastily bring her sword against the moving dagger to halt its threatening motion. Both were breathing raggedly but the outcome of the conflict was unpredictable as each was equally matched in this clash of weapons.
Fiera smiled as she panted for breath, “At least I will not regret this fight we had Aniah. I enjoy your retaliation to my attacks despite your lack of skill.”
“No one is more stubborn than you Fiera. I have wounded you and yet you belittle my swordsmanship.” Aniah rolled forward as she whispered a quick enchantment to sharpen the blade of her sword and then sped past Fiera, her sword at a deadly angle. Fiera barely dodged the attack but before she could recollect herself, Aniah came back with the same move and the sword met bone with a sickening collision.
After several minutes of this vicious conflict, Aniah managed to wound Fiera acutely who now dropped to the ground choking, with her gashes severely bleeding. “Are you already giving up Fiera?”
Raising her flaming eyes to Aniah, Fiera mustered all her strength and plunged her dagger into Aniah’s abdomen, till only the hilt remained visible. Aniah staggered backward and her spine slammed against a tree trunk as she stared at the dagger. With trembling hands, she removed the weapon and flung it at Fiera and felt the warm blood from her wound ooze against her cold fingers.
The dagger’s blade embedded itself in Fiera’s arm and she emitted painful moans as an intolerable sting bolted down her limb. On the other end, Aniah struggled to move as blood was trickling down her piercing wound but her efforts were hindered by Fiera who had removed the dagger and had plunged it into Aniah’s former injury releasing another fountain of dark blood. The Guardian screamed softly, her mind spinning out of control and only hatred grew in her eyes, which sparkled with azure light revealing the powers of her core which now surfaced but barely scratched the surface as if imprisoned.
“It is tipped with the deadliest poison and gradually it will kill you,” whispered Fiera before removing the razor blade and then clutching Aniah’s hair, she closed in and whispered a cruel farewell, before flinging her on a rock. “Now you feel the suffering, now you feel death but it will not claim you even though you wish it Aniah. It is the curse of the Guardians and soon you will come to hate it as I do.”
Aniah’s vision blurred, the power retreating and hot tears seared her cheeks as excruciating pain shot up her body. She hated to admit it but Fiera was right, she really wished that death would claim her as it would all mortals at this hour to end the pain but she was cursed. “You will never get away safely.” With that curse, Aniah’s head dropped to the side and her eyelids closed, sending her into unconsciousness.
Fiera, though lethally injured, chuckled as she perceived Aniah as near death as a Guardian could be. She turned to escape but before her plan could be executed, a sharp arrow entered her throat, piercing her jugular vein. In the last moments of her life, Fiera glanced at her murderer and saw a tall, broad shouldered man standing atop the small hill with a bow and quiver. Then her consciousness flickered away and her body heavily fell to the ground, a few feet away from Aniah.
Cyrillon’s face was drawn in with worry as he approached Aniah, studying her wound gravely and then glancing at the poisoned dagger, his anxiety increased manifold. Khazdul was fuming and his ebony tail swished angrily when he witnessed the state of his adored Aniah. If Cyrillon had not blocked him the stallion would have stamped on the woman who committed the crime. Flipping to the other Guardian, Cyrillon budged Fiera’s body, letting it tumble down the slope into the river and along with it he hurled the poisoned dagger. She was not dead, but at least would be out of range till the Council could be notified.
The man rushed to Aniah before her condition was exacerbated by the lack of treatment. Gently lifting her now frail body into his arms, Cyrillon carried her down hill leaving Khazdul to monitor the vicinity for additional hazards.
***
Aria leaned against the window and gazed down as provision of water and food had been arranged for her troops. She watched the goblins carrying large platters of food to the sprites and throwing carcasses of humans to the vultures. Axhelius was seated besides her and he too stared at the grounds outside the castle walls with no expression at all.
“Are you alright Aria?” he asked, stretching his hind paws and blinking his glassy, feral eyes.
Sighing, Aria’s gaze shifted to the King who was standing at a distance speaking to his demon commander, Iguana. “I do not know why he is doing all this. I’m suspicious but at the same time I can’t help trusting him.”
Axhelius glanced at Aria’s face and saw the peculiar change since her cobalt eyes had lost their sparkle and her face’s rosy flush had drained to a pale colour. “Get to know him better.” Axhelius personally was not very interested in Aria’s problems, he never had been. But yet he showed a flicker of concern in his features just to satisfy the sorceress.
“I’ll try.”
Axhelius shook his dark head and trotted to curl up in front of the hearth where a warm fire was crackling. He had been denied the luxury of warmth for long and now he would not let it elude him no matter what.
“Do you trust him Axhelius?” questioned Aria quietly. She didn’t understand the Demonic Lords and Axhelius perhaps had more knowledge of them. He had been acquainted with the two Lords during the Battle of Blood; the battle between the Onis and the Kappis, two opposing tribes of demons who had a war for ages. It was the battle in which numerous were slaughtered and it broke out only due to an assassination of a Kappi leader by the Onis. Vien belonged to the Onis and he had formed a pact with the Kappi leader for a ceasefire but this had been severed by the two tribes in several ways. But still some wary neutrality existed between the two Lords; it was the neutrality which was becoming weaker by day. She hoped Axhelius could tell her something more substantial besides the history of demons.
“Most probably” replied Axhelius, “He has been helpful and has virtuously returned your throne; a rare deed for one who is despised by so many.”
Aria nodded and elapsed into a silent, dreary mood. Axhelius stretched out in front a roaring fire in the hearth and closing his eyes wearily, he murmured a soft goodnight.
***
Cyrillon washed Aniah’s wound and swabbed the blood stains with a small trail of apparently clean cloth that he had recovered from the Fire Guardian’s possessions. After placing a crushed herb inside the depression, he swathed her injury with a strip of dark cloth of a cloak. Scooping fresh water in a hollow stone, Cyrillon dissolved the remaining herb in until a wine-red syrupy liquid was formed. He grimaced at the foul stench of the liquid.
Aniah began to rouse and her eyes fluttered open. Silencing her before she could speak, Cyrillon lifted the stone to her lips, coaxing her to drink the medicine. With his help she gulped the liquid and he wet a side of his black cape and wiped it over Aniah’s pale face, cleaning the remaining traces of blood. He smiled at the expression of disgust at the medicine and she licked her lips furiously to get rid of the medicinal syrup.