by Cory Mccoy
“These are not happy ghosts that he would make.” He replied “Now get into bed and sleep child.”
“Night Lord Commander.” came a chorus of voices from the other thirty or so templar wards that shared her nursery.
Combat training was the highlight of Sinnelia's days. She saw her closest friend less and less as his training with the Lord Master increased. She was an exceptional sword fighter, choosing o fight with two gladius and light armor. Like all of the templars she was extraordinarily fast and strong. Much to her chargrin, no one had ever bested Roley in single combat, even with their advantages.
“I think its time you learned what it feels like to lose.” She taunted Roley, barely glancing his blows away.
“You say that at least once a month.”
“And eventually, it's bound to happen. So why not today?” She asked, suddenly springing into the air and flipping over Roley. She came down softly, her right hand raised high ready to strike the death blow. She was sure she had him this time.
“So close, love.” Roley said, looking over his shoulder with the tip of his saber resting under her breast. “Had I not crouched, you would have impaled yourself and saved me the work.”
“Damnit” she exclaimed, not entirely angry. She took a step back, playfully knocking Roley's blade away before spinning both blades and sheething them on her back.
“Every time.” He laughed.
“Every single time.” She replied, hitting him as she walked out of the fighting area. “Who's next, c'mon Roley has to kill you all before he goes on his little holiday.”
Roley made a small bow, catching her eye as she walked off to wash her face. They were so close, yet had never truly felt like siblings.
“Why not even it up and take on two or three at once?” Lord Commander Le Ronea joked as he waked into the massive, bamboo floored gymnasium.
“With pleasure, Lord Commander.” Roley said grabbing a second sword. “Come on, you heard your leader, three of you up here at once.”
“We'd better call Master Anglusk,” Sinnelia joked.
“It wouldnt do them any good.” Roley said as he lunged toward the first combatant. The teenage boy moved to block, Roley swiftly swung his sword around and disarmed him. The boy fell over backward startled by his ferocity.
The second moved to attack as he turned. Roley dipped low and kicked her feet out from under her before focusing on the third who was wielding a massive battle axe.
“You ought to be fun.” Roley said with a smirk.
“Im not dead yet!” came a voice from behind him. Roley quickly spun aside and let her lunge right under the big templar's falling axe blade.
“Well you certainly are now” Roley said, blocking the axe with both swords so as to save the girl some harm.
“Sorry” the templar said, swinging his axe again at Roley with no hesitation.
“Come on, really get into it.” Roley said, side stepping each subsequent swing. The boy swung and swung, slowing down as he went. After what seemed like an eternity of embarrassment for the boy, Roley darted a sword right between his forearms. The templar panicked and dropped the axe altogether rather than potentially lose an arm. As soon as his arms moved apart Roley slammed a boot into his chest, slamming him onto the ground.
“That's just ungentlemanly” he exclaimed, knowing he had lost.
“A man ceases to be a gentleman, or a lady, the moment they step onto the battlefield.” Le Ronea said patting the boy on the back. “Remember, courage along can never be enough to win the day. Learn everything you can from Roley because one day all of you will be beyond any lesson we can teach you.”
“But Lord Commander,” He said slightly indignantly “We're told from the moment we arrive here that we are better than other men. How can it be true when an entire group of us can't take one normal man who isnt even a magi?”
“Stronger, faster, nigh invulnerable yes.” Le Ronea said addressing the class. “Better, no. No man is born inherently better than any other. We must all strive to become the best. Roley is one of the finest swordsman i've ever seen and it is not because he was born with a blade in his hand.”
“Then why is it Lord Commander?” The young man insisted.
“Because Master Roley has seen the veracity of our enemy.” Le Ronea continued. “He knows all too well the kinds of men we will face on the battle-field. Because of this, and the faults you perceive him to have, he knows that he must become better than his enemies in order to win.”
“How does that help us?” He asked, much more humbly than before.
“It means that you all must push yourself.” Le Ronea told him, glancing at Roley as he said it. “It means that you must be fearless and leave your limitations behind. We are not normal men, any of us, we are The Guardian's of the Deepest Light and we are all that stands in the way of Karath the tyrant. We are the greatest warriors this world has ever seen and one day we will take back our kingdom and free it's people, but first all of you must strive to be the very best. Is that understood?”
“Yes Lord Master.” the group of twenty templars in their late teens and twenties replied.
“You are dismissed for the day.” Roley said, “Malick will be instructing you in my stead.”
“Have you made a decision on who will be your companions?”
“Obviously he's taking me papa.” Sinneila said hugging the Lord Commander.
“It seems I have no choice.” Roley responded. “I've also been meaning to ask Mongaka, I recall him telling me he was reared near Malcria.
“Ahh good,” Le Ronea said. “It is wise of you to request a Felinra consort.”
“I agree,” he replied “Especially since the High Council has decided that the abductions are a blatant act of war.”
“We have dark days ahead of us,” Le Ronea said distantly. “I love you both as if you were my own, but if I end up with a new ward as a result of this trip, i'll kill you both with my barehands.”
Chapter Five
A Grand Holiday
Mongaka was considered large, even for a race that normally stood around seven feet tall. His glistening coat was mostly black with a few white patches on his hands, feet, and chest. As one of the assistant liaisons of the Felinra Council his job was to ensure that the Felinra of the Last Shore were able to coexist harmoniously with the Guardians.
When the Guardians first began searching for a location to resettle over a century before, Le Ronea scoured the country as the Lord Master diligently worked to secure peaceful passage with the Felinra governors. Eventually the last shore was chosen for the new encampment.
The beach stretched further than one could comprehend, behind it the land rose steeply into the hills creating a wall around the continent itself. The Last Shore was the name given to the area around the bay that the Elder Races had used when they set sail to Agmoria. Most of the buildings were run down and decrepit, but local Felinra had taken up in many of the more opulent domiciles.
After a period of initial caution, they accepted their new neighbors and many more began moving to the bay in order to provide services to these wealthy new inhabitants. As a gesture of good will the High Council had gifted the guardians with an enormous Keep situated at the center of the bay. Massive white spires rose hundreds of feet into the air on each corner of the pentagonal fortress. The main gate stood toward the foothills, directly under the Grand Spire which was a hundred feet higher than the others in order to gain a vantage point into the land. Against the shore, the back wall spilled over into the water, allowing a secure port nearly five miles long.
As construction of the Keep toiled on, hundreds of smaller buildings began popping up. By the time the keep was finished, some twenty years later, a sprawling city had sprung up on both side encompassing the entire bay. The Last Shore had become a vast metropolis, home to over a million Felinra and Elder Races alike.
The prisons in
the keep relied on guards with crystals like Le Ronea's. They were built with no doors and only the smallest of windows. Guards would teleport the prisoners into the cells and slide food through small openings. They were indeed impregnable. Unlike the rulers of Agmoria, the Guardians did not torture their prisoners, they simply allowed them no option to escape and all were given a fair trial by Felinra justices. The Felinra would always preside because it was their land and their laws that must be adhered to, even in the Guardian's stronghold.
Mongaka knew the Felinra lands well, he often travelled to the capital city to parley on behalf of the Felinra citizens of the Last Shore. Roley was sure he would accompany them on their journey, Mongaka could not say no to the prospect of an adventure. Especially one in which Roley was involved. As one of the Guardian's best fighters, Roley was almost always sent with scouting parties
when bandits would sack nearby villages. Mongaka was a fierce fighter and often insisted on being the party's liaison.
“Anything to get me away from these blathering bureaucrats.” Mongaka said, his voice deep and raspy. He was still young and vital, the growl flowing through his mouth without meaning to.
“I knew you'd be game.” Roley said with a wry grin. “Besides we might even get ambushed a few times.”
“One can only hope.” Mongaka replied, resting his hand upon the hilt of his enormous battle-axe. “Are you read to be battle tested, my lady?”
“Probably not, Roley never lets anyone win.” Senneilia said.
“Well then, that will make your first victory even sweeter.” Mongaka told her, he then slung the axe around his back. The span was so massive that it peeked out on either side of his already formidable frame.
“How do you manage to not kill yourself with that thing?” Roley said, chuckling at the sight.
“Well if you can manage to beat Felinra and even Wards in combat, Im sure I can find a way not to slice my own whiskers off.”
“Fair enough,” Roley said, he then gave his own weapons an odd sort of look almost as if they disappointed him. “Which path shall we take?”
“The most direct route is through the High Pass.” He said, “It will be difficult for you. You may have more trouble scrambling through than the lady and I.”
“He's just going to take that as a challenge, you know.”
“Indeed.” Roley replied, “I really am terrible with those kinds of things.”
“I would have been disheartened had you refused.” Mongaka said, clapping roley soundly on his shoulder. “We'll leave now, we have two hours before first light.”
“Why do we need the horses if we're taking the High Pass?” Senneilia asked.
“The stable master is coming as far as the stone gate,” Roley told her. “He'll take them back, but I honestly think he just doesnt want us to get the poor beasts killed like last time.”
“You didn't let me come remember?” Selleinia said, jumping on her horse and kicking it into a full gallop.
“I suppose we should follow her.” Roley told Mongaka nonchalantly.
“The lady would give you hell if you didn't, my friend.” Mongaka replied as they climbed onto their own horses and started off.
“Do let her get a small lead,” Roley said, “We mustn't let the stable master be left without some excitement.”
“Very well,” Mongaka said, yanking hard on a bell as they passed the gate. “Come along, Marceaux. We have things to do that only the fiercest warriors can accomplish!”
“Oh, bother.” He yelled groggily as he ran to his own horse, “You're just having a damned stroll through the countryside.”
Chapter Six
A Foreboding Warning
Senneilia rode hard, leaving nearly an hour between her and the others. She knew that it would agitate the Stable Master, but he was such a sweet old man and wouldn't stay mad for long.
“I couldn't have had my breakfast before you flew away, young lady?” He asked, his breath raspy when he finally caught up to her.
“Where are your companions, Master Marceux?” She asked, with a sweet smile. She was fond of Marceux, he had taught nearly all of the wards to ride. His stature and seemingly poor health masked the fact that, like so many others of the Guardians, he too was a magi. “Did you force that poor dear to chase me down?”
“No, no Senny.” He said, riding along side her. They had now slowed to a brisk trot. “I only use my ring to ease their anxiety when we break them. I just don't have it in me to hurt these horses, they too are like my children.”
“I see.” Senneilia said, relaxing a bit and adjusting herself to ride side-saddle. “So you've been keeping the fastest thoroughbreds for yourself?”
“Even the very old sometimes enjoy a bit of adrenaline.” He told her, “I can't help but worry about you on this trip.”
“As do I,” she said staring across the sand that was quickly fading into rolling grasslands. “but I worry for vastly different reasons. I fear that I might shy away from my enemy when the attacks are meant to do me harm.”
Further the small hills rose and rose until they began jutting into the air hiding the great trees beyond them. Behind the hills lay a dense jungle with ancient arbors that grew hundreds of feet tall. The arid jungle inhabited a steep valley a hundred miles across and spanning around nearly half of the continent. In ancient times, amazing growth occurred after the first rending. A storm of fiery death that not even the most ancient of the elder races could remember. The seed of intelligent life was planted upon Dagonia during these forgotten times. As the elder races began to gain the crudest of awareness, the lands around them grew massively. As did the creatures who inhabited them.
“By the gods,” Mongaka exclaimed as they forced their horses into a hard gallop once they had sighted their friends. “You'd think he gave us pack mules.”
“I'm reasonably sure he did, my friend.” Roley said, spurring his mount on. “H'yeah, faster donkey, faster!”
“If he beats us, I'll have you for dinner.” Mongaka threatened his steed.
“That's just vile.” Roley said giving him a look rife with faux disgust.
“Why aren't you running, you foul beast?” Mongaka yelled as his horse slowed to a leisurely trot. Roley's did as well when he got close.
“That's a filthy trick old man!” Roley yelled, throwing his fist into the air. Marceaux and Senneilia were less than a hundred yards away and laughing hysterically at the two of them. “Do what you will with my oversized pet for a companion, but leave my noble steed out of this.”
“I think I might just have you for dinner.” Mongaka growled playfully.
“I'd make an excellent roast.”
“Most likely because all of the fat layered upon your head.”
“What in the heavens are you two girls squabbling about?” Senneilia asked, walking her horse over to give Roley a quick kiss.
“Women troubles.” Mongaka told her, barely keeping a straight face.
“You Felinra look so adorable when you scrunch your nose like that.” She said, much to Mongaka's dismay. “How is your lovely wife?”
“Oh, she despises me now more than ever.” He told her, hopping off his horse to stretch. He contorted his body much like the average panther would when straightening out.
“Any woman with a dozen children would.” She said, giving Roley a quick glance.
“I wouldn't want more than a battalion or so.” He said, attempting to playfully agitate her.
“Just remember, there might come a day when I could rip you limb from limb.” She said punching him playfully.
“Doubtful.” he said, kicking the horse hard and riding away.
“Should we catch him?” Marceaux asked.
“Oh heavens no,” Mongaka said, “She'll have his head if we do.”
“Does that mean he'd have me for his wife?” She asked with a wide smile, seemingly obl
ivious to much else.
“Women.” Mongaka and Marceaux chimed and rode off after Roley.
“This is as far as I can take you, young warriors.” Marceaux told them, his mood slightly soured with anxiety as they reach the gates of the High Pass.
“You have nothing to fear, Master Marceaux.” Mongaka said, firmly grasping his fore-arm in the traditional Felinra hand shake.
“It pains me to say that I have everything to fear.” He said grimly.
“What makes you say that Marceaux?” Senneilia asked, her eyes glassy.
