Piercing The Darkness (Guardian Series)

by JW Baccaro

  “A little dizzy, but I’ll live. The question is are you all right?”

  "Good as ever. Ha, never in a thousand years did I think that would have worked! You were right, I shouldn't have doubted."

  "Oh my boy, there's so much uncharted territory of power in you you've yet to discover. Now let's get out of here. I have a few jolts left to blast an opening through the rocks blocking our escape. Step aside." Pointing a finger, he fired a flashy yellow bolt at the blockade, smoke and dust rising. "The passage is clear."

  Then of a sudden, like a never-ending night terror, a bubbling roiled among the lake with great ripples spreading far across.

  Overhearing this, both Mirabel and Darshun turned around sharply. "How can this be?" Darshun panicked.

  Out stormed Melgothris, ascending like the rising sun, enraged and still possessing energy. He soared to them, eyes glowing red like two stars ready to explode, his mouth hanging open, smoke drifting from his nostrils. A final arson of flames was about to come.

  “To the tunnel!” Darshun shouted.

  Mirabel knew they wouldn’t make it. There remained only one option. Concentrating every scrap of energy left within, he held out his sword, loosening the grip, empowered the blade with electricity and shot it off on a lightning bolt, riding the current directly through the Dragon's severely damaged scales and into its heart.

  Power shot from of his eyes, nostrils and mouth, melting his face. The lifeless body of Melgothris crashed hard into the wall above their escape and tumbled off to the side. The weight of the monster split much of the wall apart and it began to crumble. With what had to have been Mirabel's absolute final surge of energy, he pushed Darshun forward into the tunnel and the collapsing rocks separated them from one another.

  After debris and dust settled, Darshun opened his eyes. It wasn’t entirely dark, for within the mound of rubble there were a few gaps that allowed in some light. Darshun, however, remained alone. “Father?” he called out, getting no response. Then he saw a hand, Mirabel’s hand sticking out of the fallen rocks. “Father!” he shouted, rushing to him and began lifting the rocks off his body. But lifting the final stone sank his heart, for Mirabel had cuts, gashes and bruises all over; blood not only trickled from his mouth, his head rested in a pool of it. Seeing his eyes open, Darshun got on his knees beside him. “Can you move?”

  “No—my body—it's crushed.”

  “Then, I will carry you!”

  “Wait, not—just yet.”

  “But I must!”

  “You will carry me soon enough.”

  Darshun did not like the sound of that. “Father, what are you saying?”

  “Son, there is nothing you can do for me now, you know that,” he said then coughed out a mass of blood, spraying a little onto Darshun

  “Oh, father,” Darshun whimpered, tears filling his eyes.

  “My time on this earth is over. I have taught you everything I know and you have used those skills wisely. I have seen it through the years, even now. I am very proud of you.”

  “Listen to me; you are not going to die!” He held the silver necklace in his palms, praying for Abidan’s healing.

  Nothing happened.

  “Don’t bother. Finally, after what seems like a thousand years, he is calling me home.”

  “No! I refuse to believe that! You’re supposed to survive this war; above all you must live. ‘Mirabel the Great’ can’t be taken like this. I won’t have it. You hear me? I will not allow it!”

  Though it hurt to do so, Mirabel chuckled. “I’ve been true to my word, I vowed to protect you with my life, and I have—a most honorable way to die my son, giving up one's life for another.”

  Ignoring such words, Darshun believed to have an idea on how to save him. “Listen, remember when Uncle Seth died, you said he used his life force as a final act of power. Tell me how to do that, let me give you some of my energy; at least enough so there’s time to get you back to help.”

  "I cannot teach such a thing. Given the right moment, that gift comes naturally. But neither would I take such an essence, there is no ‘borrowing’ among one’s life force. To give that away is to give your life away. My life has already been given for you…"

  Seeing his color fade, hearing the growing weakness in his voice, and after listening to such words—Darshun began to weep, feeling like a child all over again. “Oh father, I can’t let you die. I just can’t. You’ve been by my side all my life. I—I need you.”

  “Carry on my teachings and I shall always be with you; not just the teaching of our Nasharin race, but the simple things Abidan has bestowed upon us. Gifts such as love, friendship, loyalty and trust.” Focusing the remainder of strength, he spoke with what would be his last words, “Darshun, many years ago, when my wife and son were killed, I lost all will to live. For years I was hollow inside, bitter, dead; a rotten tree among a frozen wasteland." His lips rose to a smile. "Then you came along, like the rising sun of spring, restoring life within my spirit. Though you are not of my blood, I enjoyed raising you, teaching you, engaging in conversation, fighting together in battles, and lastly—dying for you, Guardian of Earth.” He gripped Darshun’s hand tight, as if to say farewell. “A father’s bond with his child runs ever so deep, ever so powerful that the most utter darkness can never separate it.”

  “Nor a child’s love for his father.” Darshun placed his hand onto Mirabel’s.

  “Then, until we meet again, goodbye my son, my friend—my—Guardian…” His grip loosened, and his eyes became still. Mirabel Luthais, or as many knew him, "Mirabel the Great" was gone.

  Darshun then wept more bitterly than he could have ever imagined.

  CHAPTER TWO

  DARSHUN'S LAST NIGHT

  Darshun stayed beside his father’s body a long while, keeping his eyes open so he could continue staring into them. Yes, an odd thing to do, but it made him feel as though part of Mirabel's spirit still hung around, keeping Darshun company one final time before departing into the Heavens. Realizing the truth, Darshun knew better, and after a time, he closed his lids.

  Rubbing Mirabel's brow, remembering each and every last moment spent with him, it was a long while before he decided to get up and leave, and—difficult. For never before has he been on his own, truly on his own. Oh sure, there were times when he'd been separated from Mirabel. However, this time there would never again be a reunion, not until death took him. When would that be? A thousand years? That is, after all, the lifespan his prophecy foretells, being he survives this war.

  It would be a long thousand years too, losing all his Loreladian friends, along with Kaylis and Nayland, even Olchemy would eventually depart, all except her, Kelarin! She is an Elf and life sets no timetable on the elvish race. The one thing to look forward to, if anyone could bring healing and comfort to his wounded soul, it will be her, his Angel. How he longed to hold her hand again and listen to her beautiful voice. It brought a smile to his lips and he wiped at his tear stained cheeks.

  Finally, ready to abandon the accursed mountain, he gazed down to Mirabel. "Father, I promise not to leave your remains in this mountain to rot. I shall carry you out of here; bury you in the ground, so that your Nasharin body may rest in peace properly." He picked him up, draping the body across his arms and began his way through the tunnel and out of the mountain.

  He may have enjoyed the fresh air, shining sun, snow covered valleys and hillsides better were it not for this recent tragedy. No, stepping out of that hideous mountain and into the light didn't matter, not at this moment. What did surprise him were Baruch and the others, along with Captain Mythaen, the Loreladians, the elvish Lord Caelestias, and a high number of elves—which later he found out that half of them were of the Eldeno clan—standing among one of the valleys, waiting for him.

  They did not speak; they did not approach, but lowered their heads.

  Darshun walked by with a lifeless Mirabel.

  Being outside now also meant his Nasharin strength had returne
d. He felt energized, with power flowing through every vein, almost like he’d been healed magically. He looked for a place to bury his father. The valley? No, bad enough Mirabel had to be entombed among this dark land; since this was the case, Darshun preferred somewhere out of the hollow, snow-covered canyon. After glancing around a little while longer, he decided it would be in highest of the rocky hills, where a large view of Syngothra could most likely be seen, and Mirabel would able to watch the remainder of the war, as Darshun liked to think. Suddenly, Darshun's thoughts were disrupted by footsteps behind. He turned around, meeting the High Wizard.

  “I am sorry,” Olchemy solemnly greeted.

  Darshun saw how many others had also made their way close to him, though few could look him in the eye. “He did not die in vain."

  "I know."

  "We all know," Minevara murmured, caressing a hand down his cheek, wishing to give him a nice tight hug, but Darshun wouldn't put down the body.

  "I will bury him atop of that hill." He pointed to the one he'd chosen. "I prefer to do it alone, you all may pay your respects once I'm gone, or when the war is over, one way or another." He glanced to Captain Mythaen, then over to Caelestias. "Before I depart, please tell me why you have come?"

  "Because you're walking into an ambush," Caelestias said, and then explained the situation to him.

  Darshun didn't seem to care, nor did he seem concerned or frightened. What bothered him was the news of Kelarin being taking prisoner by Damacoles, one he'd almost entirely forgotten about. There was no asking why she’d been taken, it stood obvious; with pureness of heart, a humble and innocent spirit, and being of elvish descent, she was the one sacrifice Abaddon had been waiting for! "Kelarin’s going to die, isn’t she Olchemy?"

  Taking a moment to answer, the Wizard then replied, "You know that answer already."

  “Yes, it seems everyone I love is taken from me." He sighed. "My whole life is a test, a mere game for the Light to watch over."

  “Oh, my brother, please do not lose faith at this hour,” Minevara urged, stroking the back of Darshun's head ever so gently.

  He met her concerned eyes, and smiled. “I am not, dear sister. I know what I have to do and I promise I will do all that is within my power to accomplish this task. Tell me Olchemy, where is the entrance to the Unholy Altar? We cannot be far from it now.”

  “Beyond this valley lies another forest, twice as dense from which we have already traveled, however much shorter. Then a long frozen field that ends at Castle Astaroth. Mt. Blackshrine dwells just past the castle, stretching perpendicular to it. But the entrance leading to the altar is among the section of rock parallel to Astaroth, having two Gargoyles standing watch over it. Now, listen carefully, in order to avoid the ambush of the Dark Army you must take the long way and venture the furthest east you can, passing around this valley and the dense forest while the Elves and Men distract the enemies. There may still be some heathens lying in wait around the entrance, hopefully a minor few posing no difficulty. Keep that in mind just in case. Overall, with the confusion we'll strike, you should be able to slip in unnoticed."

  "You keep saying 'you,' as if he is going alone," Nayland interjected. "But the five of us are still attending, right?"

  Olchemy glanced to Darshun, then back to Nayland. "Of course. I misspoke."

  For some reason, Nayland didn’t look convinced; though he left well enough alone, for now.

  "The army of distraction will leave at first light," Caelestias announced.

  "Indeed," Captain Mythaen responded. "All of us are ready to go."

  The Wizard then spoke, "Tomorrow night is the eve of Saruinkai, when the Spell of Destruction will be cast. This is our last chance for victory." Looking to Darshun, stern-eyed, he stated the obvious, "This is it my friend. This is what you have come all this way for."

  "I know…" Darshun let out a sigh. "And for the remainder of tonight, I wish to be alone to ponder, prepare myself for the coming dawn. I will venture back down here first light and we shall make our journey together." Giving his arms a break, he hung Mirabel's body over his left shoulder. "Until that time comes…” He glanced at the others. "…farewell, my friends."

  "Wait!" Minevara said—whimpered. She leaned over and gave him a long kiss on the cheek, and then kissed Mirabel's forehead, the body already cold.

  Darshun smiled. "Goodbye." He headed into the long walk up the largest of the rocky hills, and many of the wisest answered in response the same thing, but among their thoughts. "Goodbye Darshun."

  Climbing to the top of the hill with the weight of his father's body over his shoulder wasn't difficult, for he had done much harder tasks before. There wasn't much to the hill; many large boulders lay around, some crystallized with ice; there were few trees and the snow appeared to be compacted tight because Darshun's feet wouldn't sink in, barely a mark. Neither did he slip, for the tread on his boots given by the Dwarves indeed came in handy. Finally reaching the top, greeted by a chilling wind, he gently set Mirabel down and turned around.

  The view was—magnificent! He could see snowfields, valleys, the Demon Stone and Northern Mountains, the frozen river, forests—even thousands of acres of the great forest him and his companions already ventured through and abandoned just days ago! Mirabel was with him then.

  Yes, if there was a spot in Syngothra worthy enough to hold the body of the greatest warrior earth had ever seen, it would be here. Anticipating the ground being awfully frozen Darshun got an idea. He transformed, releasing the least amount of energy possible, where only a slight glow stood out. He knew the flash from transforming might act like a beckon to those in the far distance. There wasn't a doubt the army of Light below had seen, but what about enemies? All except maybe the Goblins had been called to Castle Astaroth, and strangely, even from this height, Astaroth could not be seen, for a heavy stagnant mist lingered in the air further north.

  He felt safe performing this action. Holding both palms a little above the section of land he chose, he cast fire, continuously shooting the flames, melting the snow and ice around a six, maybe seven-foot parameter, and doing so for a long, long while. Finally the ground was thawed, at least enough to begin the digging. He got down onto his knees and began to dig through the steaming dirt, getting much of it under his fingernails. After about five feet he stopped, took his father's body and gently placed it into the shallow grave, then filled it back in with the dirt. It was done—Mirabel Luthais had been—buried.

  ~~****~~

  Night had come. Darshun was sitting at the highest peak, where the edge dropped almost straight down. Because of the starry sky and full moon, pouring down their light, reflecting off the snow, landscapes had come alive with passion. It became difficult to imagine being in such accursed territory. The breeze seemed mild, carrying warmth as if one's spirit drifted with it, and a light snow fell.

  Unexpectedly, there were footsteps approaching. For a second or two, he almost reached to his sword, but saw the figure with long dark hair and matching eyes. "Good evening Nayland."

  Reaching the top and walking over to his side he answered, "Good evening Darshun. I hope not to be disrupting your solitude."

  “Not at all. I could use some company, for now."

  Nayland took out his pipe and pouch, holding the last of his tobacco. "I have another."

  "Another pipe?"

  "Aye. Care to join me?"

  "Why not."

  Stuffing it with the tobacco, he passed it to Darshun, also giving him a small black-powdered stick and a thumb size piece of wood.

  Darshun slashed the stick across the wood to spark a flame.

  They lit up together and sat back and relaxed, watching the scenery of the night, along with the smoke from their pipes drifting up. To be honest, for the first time smoking, Darshun enjoyed the warm smooth taste, streaming over his tongue as he blew. The only thing missing now was a nice hot cup of tea, or coffee.

  It remained difficult to know just what Nayland truly want
ed, for silence endured the first few minutes. Was he just here to share a smoke with Darshun, or something else? Whatever, it was nice to be alongside him; especially knowing he too was Nasharin, because after Mirabel's death the existence of his people felt lonelier than ever.

  Finally Darshun spoke, "I've been sitting up here, pondering the beauties of this…Seventh Realm. For instance, the solid power of mountains, the vast oceans; beautiful flowers clustering such luscious green fields; and the birds that soar through the sky—all the abundant creatures this world holds, including you and I. How magnificent, at the same time ordinary, how complex and yet simple it all is, simple and fragile. I've always held nature in high respects, but it wasn’t until my quest began that my eyes were truly opened, witnessing the artistic work of existence. On top of that, the freeness it flows."

  "I know what you mean,” Nayland agreed. “I too, cherish such things in high regard and am thankful to be alive."

  "And yet, what is the meaning of life? What is the world's purpose, even for her creatures? If entities are to die anyway, then what is the real purpose?"

  With Mirabel having been recently taken from this Realm, Nayland seemed to understand what was on his mind. "Death isn't all bad; the world recourses itself on it. In a way, death also brings new life, enchanting the ground with our bodies' riches, and gives room for new creatures. But for those like your father, well Darshun, I'd say death is not the enemy, rather, a friend who introduces such warriors to a better life."

  "Interesting, and such things I've heard from Mirabel. Still, how does that answer purpose?"

  Hesitating at least a minute, he answered, "You know, when I was very young, admittedly, I wondered such things but shook them off with arrogance. I lived for myself, controlled my own fate, my own destiny. Which in a sense is partially true, in this world of, as you put it, 'freeness.' On the other hand, all of us at one given time are touched by the grace of the Light, awakening our soul, calling out our darkness so we may serve, if possible, the better life, for the good of not only ourselves during our journey here, but also for the earth. What do we live for you ask? We live to help one another, to be there for one another in our everyday struggles, to protect the awe and wonder the Seventh Realm has to offer, while at the same time knowing that a higher power beyond our will is in control. It guides us in our travels, protecting us from harms way, no matter how difficult the path becomes. That may seem simple, but perhaps that’s all we need to know."