by D. C. Payson
“Do you see it?” asked Thezdan, pointing to the flashing dot. “It’s moving fast. We won’t make the bridge in time. We’re going to have to hide.”
Scylld offered a brief, low rumble in acknowledgement. Thezdan hopped down from Scylld’s hand and looked around for cover, but saw none.
“Do you see anything? Any cover? Shelter?” he asked with rising urgency.
Scylld rumbled again and began walking toward a shadowy space nearby, a bit closer to the road than their course had been taking them. Thezdan followed behind, placing a hand against Scylld to guide him as he kept his eyes on the rapidly approaching patrol. When Scylld stopped, Thezdan turned around. Before him was an old, collapsed house, its thatched roof having long ago rotted away and its interior space overgrown with vegetation. He kicked in the old door, the force of the strike separating the wood from the hinges.
“Only fight if we’re found,” Thezdan said, standing in the open doorway. “But if you hear me yell, then we fight for our lives.” He moved inside and tossed the polearm to the ground, then he crouched against the near wall to wait out the Reapers. Scylld remained outside, rolled into a ball against a collapsed region of the wall; from afar, he would be nearly indistinguishable from the stones.
Thezdan craned his neck to watch as the light came closer. Before long, he could see it in detail, a cone of brilliant white tinged with occasional streams of reds and blues shining across the landscape, fully illuminating whatever it fell on. As the light crossed back and forth, it occasionally revealed the patrol itself. From these brief moments, Thezdan was able to make out that it had at least three members: two men riding large, galloping, black borum, and a third riding behind in a chariot who controlled the searchlight. They were all well-armed, bearing large swords, heavy, bladed armor, and wide-brimmed helmets that spread nearly to their shoulders.
Thezdan continued watching as they drew nearer. Their faces were invisible, hidden behind dark masks. For a moment, he thought he saw something when the lead rider looked over in his direction. Then it flashed again, this time clear as day in the low dusk light: the red glow from his dream, emanating from the Reaper’s eyes. Thezdan whipped himself away from the doorway, breathing hard where he sat.
He clenched his teeth and reached down to grip his sword, the sound of borum hoofbeats growing louder around him. The patrol was dangerously close now. He sat motionless as the ambient light around him increased, a sure sign that the Reapers were searching the nearby terrain. Then the light shot through the open doorway, shining brightly against the back wall. Thezdan closed his eyes and held his breath. The light seemed to be lingering, the hoofbeats of the borum slowing …
Goddess, receive me!
Just as his eyes sprang open, the light disappeared from the room. Thezdan’s head spun, his heart pounding as he held his breath a second longer. When it became clear that the Reapers were continuing down the road, he let the air slowly drain out of him, his head falling back against the old, stone wall.
Once he could no longer hear the borum, Thezdan peered out of the doorway again and watched the patrol on its westward path. A minute later, all that he could see of them was the beam of the spotlight crisscrossing the landscape. He grabbed the polearm from the floor and made his way out of the house. Scylld heard him exit and rose from the ground nearby.
“They’re heading toward the river,” Thezdan said. “They’ll probably turn north at the bridge. We should be safe if we follow, so long as we keep our distance.”
Scylld turned around and presented his upturned palm for Thezdan to sit in again.
Thezdan paused, his mind grappling with the danger they faced. It was surely significant, much more so than he had realized when he had committed to the journey just hours before. Then he thought about Julia and the Whispers that had told him that she was in trouble. Any tentativeness he felt disappeared.
“Let’s go, Scylld,” he said, climbing up into the Ogar’s hand.
As the Ogar began walking again, Thezdan looked up briefly at the twin moons tracing their joint path across the night sky, the larger, gray moon, Aras, trailing the smaller, brighter, delicately blue Fremma. It was something he had glimpsed thousands of times in his life, but tonight was different; tonight, the moons reminded him of his destiny as a Guardian. The constancy of the heavens—he as Aras, Julia as Fremma—a connection he felt at his core.
“Rem sikk einheryan, vom err Eo,” Thezdan whispered in the tongue of his ancestors. He asked them to guide him, to help him come into his heritage so that he could hear the Whispers fully. They would lead him to her.
When Thezdan caught the faint sounds of the river in the distance, he knew the forest—and with it, safety—was only minutes away.
He turned around and pulled himself up to look over Scylld’s shoulder, spotting the dark backdrop of the trees ahead. They had made it.
Call to me, Julia … tell me where you are.
He spotted a faraway flash, which he tried to rationalize as moonlight reflecting off of water droplets from the river. Then he saw the telltale cone of light spreading out along the north road.
“Down!” he cried.
Scylld stooped down amid the deep grasses. Their bodies poked out slightly, but it was unlikely that the Reapers would be able to see them from this distance.
“They must be by the bridge!” said Thezdan. He looked around and saw that there was no available cover nearby. “Stay low. Let’s see where they go.”
Scylld and Thezdan remained in the grass, watching the Night Reaper spotlight cross the terrain. Then it switched off.
“Can you see them, Scylld?” Thezdan asked, confused.
Two grunts: no.
Nervous seconds faded into minutes as Thezdan waited for some sign of the Night Reapers. Then the light returned and scanned the landscape in front of the bridge again. To his horror, Thezdan realized that the Night Reapers would not be moving along after all.
They’re guarding the bridge!
“Scylld, they’re not moving!” Thezdan said. He glanced east and felt a surge of adrenaline run through his breast; there was another light in the distance approaching them through the fields.
He jumped down from Scylld’s palm. “Another patrol, behind!”
He looked around for anything in the nearby terrain that he could use to his advantage, but he saw nothing. He was growing frantic now. Discovery by one patrol would mean discovery by both, and he knew that his chances of survival in such an encounter would be slim. Breathing hard, he looked back at the bridge and realized that they only had one option.
“Scylld, we’re going to have to fight at the bridge,” he said. “At next pass, run west!”
Thezdan remained low until the moment the faraway light crossed them again, then he rose and sprinted toward the bridge. He bounded over the uneven ground, holding the polearm at his side as his eyes carefully tracked the path of the Reaper beam. Thezdan could hear the loud crashing steps of Scylld keeping pace with him behind, which he could only hope would not draw the Reaper’s attention. As the light neared their position again, Thezdan slid forward, his momentum carrying him several yards farther into the grass. Scylld rolled into a ball next to him, and they lay still as the light passed overhead.
Only a few hundred yards now separated them from the Reapers by the bridge. Thezdan rose to a squat and crept forward. When it appeared as though the spotlight was clear and moving away from him, he stood and ran again, closing to within fifty yards before sliding down once more. Scylld had not kept pace this time, instead moving forward slowly, quietly. Thezdan lay on his side until he heard the sounds of Scylld’s footsteps nearby. He peeked up in the grass and whispered in Scylld’s direction, “Scylld! Here!”
The Ogar heard his call and came over to where he waited.
“Are you ready?” Thezdan asked.
Scylld offered a quiet rumble.
“Place a snare here, and make sure it’s dens
e,” Thezdan instructed.
Scylld waited until the Night Reaper light switched off, then he rose to his knees, placed his hands against the ground, and began to hum. A vine in front of him began to grow, covering the ground in a thick, low-lying tangle; soon it was large enough to suit its purpose, and Thezdan tapped Scylld on his side.
“Good enough, Scylld.”
Scylld stopped humming and sat up.
Thezdan pointed at a spot close by. “Get set over there. I’ll try to lure the Reapers this way. The lead rider is mine. You surprise the second when he gets here. The chariot will probably lag; we’ll deal with it last.”
Scylld acknowledged the plan and quickly moved over to the spot Thezdan had identified. He rolled into a ball and waited.
Thezdan sat behind the tangle watching the shadowy figures ahead. He checked over his shoulder. The other patrol was now less than a full rest away. The moment of truth had arrived. He had to act now.
He placed the polearm he had been carrying on the ground a few feet behind the tangle, its blade facing toward the bridge. He then took one last deep breath.
“Goddess, guide my blade or receive my body,” he whispered into the night.
Ready, Thezdan faced the bridge and rose to his full height. He drew his sword and held it high over his head. “I am Eodan of the Guardian Clan!” he shouted defiantly. “I do not fear the night!”
The spotlight switched on immediately, filling his eyes with blinding, white light. The air erupted with the tumult of approaching battle, the mix of thundering borum hoofs and horn blasts signaling that a new victim had been found.
Thezdan dropped his sword but held his position, challenging the Reapers to come get him. Closer and closer the borum came, the outlines of their riders coming into view as they passed between the light source and where Thezdan stood. They held their massive swords aloft, ready to mete out a swift execution.
Thezdan counted down until the critical moment arrived, the Reapers only seconds from striking.
“Now, Scylld!” he shouted as he dropped to one knee and tilted the polearm up from the ground.
The lead Reaper’s borum crashed into the tangle, its front legs buckling under the force of its body’s momentum. The borum let out a whinnying groan as it fell forward, hurdling the Reaper toward Thezdan. Thezdan braced the polearm with all his strength; a moment later, the Reaper let out an otherworldly screech as the polearm’s blade sank into its breast. Thezdan quickly pivoted and sent the impaled soldier tumbling to the ground. Reaching behind him, he grasped the hilt of his sword and lunged away from the second Reaper, tumbling into a backward roll. He sprang back to his feet in time to watch Scylld grab hold of the rear legs of the second Reaper’s borum and toss it like a child’s doll toward the road. The Reaper came unseated and fell to the earth nearby.
Thezdan looked over at the bright, white light of the rapidly approaching chariot. “Scylld, get the chariot!” he bellowed. “I’ll finish the other one!”
Scylld grunted loudly and turned toward the chariot-borne Reaper.
Thezdan ran to where he had seen the second Reaper fall, hoping that he could find it dazed in the grass. He heard a loud sound as the chariot overturned, its light veering away. Thezdan shot a glance over his shoulder and saw Scylld rushing to engage the dismounted charioteer. Looking forward again, he could see by the spotlight’s penumbras the black figure of the second Reaper rising. It turned to face him, the sinister, red glow of its eyes inspiring a second surge of adrenaline that ran through his body like lightning.
“By my blade you fall!” Thezdan shouted as he raised his sword and charged.
The Night Reaper answered Thezdan’s aggression with a soulless shriek from behind its mask, the sound so brutally piercing that Thezdan felt like glass was shattering inside his mind. Unbowed, Thezdan focused and swung his blade toward the narrow opening between the long, sloping sides of the Reaper’s helmet and the body armor beneath. The Reaper deftly avoided the blow, ducking underneath the sword’s path and whipping a leg into Thezdan’s shins. Thezdan was caught off-guard but instinctively allowed his legs to fly free under him as he rolled forward and out of the fall. He rose quickly and turned, seeing the Reaper reach down into the grass to recover its sword.
Thezdan dropped into a defensive stance. The Reaper lunged with a strong, thrusting attack that Thezdan parried, then it raised its sword and feinted a follow-up strike. Thezdan quickly switched stances to avoid the blow, realizing too late that he’d been fooled. The Reaper sliced upward toward his wrist with a cut designed for sudden, brutal dismemberment; it was only a reflexive, last-moment bend away that saved his hand. Thezdan let out a pained growl as the Reaper’s sword cut into his forearm. He looked across his sword at the Reaper. It seemed to be anticipating his techniques, his movements, and his defenses.
It’s fighting … like a Guardian.
“What are you?” Thezdan yelled as he stared down the ghoul.
The Reaper hissed beneath its mask, slowly pacing around him. Thezdan sprang forward and sliced at the Reaper with a swift cross-cut, carefully watching its movements in response. The Reaper redirected the strike and switched its stance, countering with a series of thrusts and swings of his own. The strikes were strong and precise, though, for Thezdan, predictable. When a brief opening presented itself, Thezdan delivered a strong kick to the Reaper’s side, pushing it away from him. He no longer doubted what he was seeing: the Reaper was undoubtedly using Guardian techniques.
How do you beat a Guardian? Thezdan asked himself, racking his mind for the answer.
The Reaper screamed and charged toward Thezdan. They collided in a dance of blades, trading slashing strikes and parries, lunges and ripostes. Then it suddenly appeared, in the blink of an eye, as Thezdan narrowly sidestepped one of the Reaper’s thrusting attacks: the opportunity he had been waiting for. Thezdan’s intuitive brain played out the sequence of strikes and counters his father had taught him in the training grounds of the Trebain years ago. He grabbed the Reaper’s wrist with his free hand, extending the Reaper forward as he spun to its rear. The Reaper responded with Guardian tactic, countering the motion by ducking lower and slicing toward Thezdan’s legs. Thezdan had seen it coming. Using his grip on the Reaper’s arm as a pivot point, he leapt upward into a side-flip, driving the point of his sword down into the ghoul’s exposed lower back. The force of the strike was so great that the blade drove through the Reaper’s lower abdomen and out the other side. The Reaper let out a deathly yell and fell to the ground, where it fought desperately to push out the protruding blade. A brilliant, red light flashed from its eyes, then a moment later it lay still on the road.
Thezdan picked up the Reaper’s sword and turned to join Scylld in his fight. He could see that the charioteer’s weapon had found its mark several times in Scylld’s arm, breaking off chunks of rock from the previously intact surface. The Reaper was even worse for wear, its helmet gone and a large piece missing from the front of its armor. Scylld stepped forward and swung a fist, which the Reaper dodged. The Reaper spotted Thezdan, but it was too late for it to avoid the true-flying sword from Thezdan’s hand. The weapon buried itself in the ghoul’s chest, and another otherworldly scream pierced the night air. Scylld silenced the Reaper with a crushing blow to its head.
“Scylld!” Thezdan shouted as he ran to the Ogar’s side. “Are you injured?”
Scylld shook his head and buzzed twice: no.
Thezdan checked over his shoulder. The other Reapers were no more than a minute away.
“Get over the bridge! I will meet you on the other side!”
Scylld waved for Thezdan to join him.
“I’ll come soon—I need to see something. Go!”
Thezdan ran back to the Reaper he had fought and yanked his sword free from its abdomen. He reached down and turned the ghoul over, pulling back the helmet and facemask to expose its face. Even in the very faint light, he could make out the ghostly, d
rawn features of his attacker, and it shocked him to his core.
Ennik!
It was his father’s brother, a beloved uncle from his childhood and as true a Guardian as he had ever known. Ennik had stood at Eobax’s side as the People’s Army had approached the Trebain, and Thezdan had always assumed that he had died in the fighting.
How could this be? Thezdan wondered. He felt an aching pit in his stomach amid the thousand conflicting thoughts and emotions that filled his mind. He looked up. The second Reaper patrol was much too close for him to waste even a single second more. His curiosity would have to wait.
Thezdan mustered what was left of his strength and picked up Ennik’s corpse, slinging it over his back. He ran toward the bridge. As he sprinted past the overturned chariot light, he struggled to make out the shapes of the terrain beyond. He did not have to struggle for long. The brilliant beam of the onrushing patrol’s spotlight suddenly illuminated him from behind, bringing the bridge into view. He lowered his head and ran faster, hearing the sound of thundering borum hooves closing on him quickly.
As his feet met the stones of the bridge, he closed his eyes, summoned the last of his strength, and tried to run faster. He was barely a quarter of the way across when he first heard hooves hit stone, and he knew he was in trouble.
“AAAHHHHHH!!!!” Thezdan screamed, urging his legs to carry him forward, just these last few steps, to deliver him from the Reapers.
Suddenly he heard whizzing sounds overhead, followed by a loud borum snort. He opened his eyes and saw Scylld standing at the end of the bridge, hurling large stones toward the Reapers. He kept running, but he could hear the Reapers starting to slow behind him. Near the end of the bridge, Thezdan heard the whistling sounds of at least a dozen Sylvan high up in the nearby trees. The borum hoofbeats stopped, then they began to move away, taking the light with them. Though surrounded by darkness, Thezdan knew exactly where he was. Several strides later, his feet met dirt and he collapsed, the corpse rolling forward off his shoulders and onto the ground. He let out one final scream, trying to expel all his fear, malice, and confusion. Then he closed his eyes and breathed.
