Guardian of the Mountain

by David Dalglish

  Mathis stood, placing Mira behind him as he grabbed his own sword.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I want to know what’s going on,” Jerek said. “About her, and about what you fought.”

  Mira peered around Mathis’s leg. Her father’s blood had smeared across her dress, and seeing her look up at him with those black eyes sent a shiver up his spine. Mathis held his free arm before her, keeping her safely back.

  “Tell me what you saw,” Mathis said. “How could she have helped that…thing?”

  Jerek bit his lip, trying to remember everything.

  “You were sleeping,” he said. “Dan’s fidgeting woke me up. She walked out to the fire, which was nice and healthy. She tilted her head, like she was listening to something. Then, and I’m not making this up, she lifted her hands and started whispering. Just like that, the fire went out. I heard a roar from the mountain immediately after, like it was just waiting for her. Waiting for the fire to die.”

  “Flowers asked me to,” Mira said.

  “Shush,” said Mathis, pushing her further behind him.

  “I think I’d rather she talk,” Jerek insisted. Mathis glanced back to her, then sighed.

  “Fine,” he said. “But give me a moment for fuck’s sake. My brother’s dead, and I need to do something about these cuts.”

  “Make it quick,” Jerek said, returning to the fire and tossing in some extra wood to keep it burning strong. He watched Mathis tear an extra shirt into long strips of cloth, then wrap them about his chest and head to stem the bleeding. They were soaked with blood, but the wounds appeared fairly shallow. Jerek’s foot tapped the ground faster and faster as his nervousness grew. He didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know how great their risk truly was. Gold, all that gold, suddenly in danger. His wealth, his fortune, his future…

  “What will you do with him?” he asked, nodding toward Russ’s tent.

  In answer, Mathis collapsed it atop the body, making a thick covering. He stood, his arms behind him and his head bowed. Jerek rolled his eyes. He never understood the religious types. Money was a lot more dependable than prayer.

  “Come on, Mira,” Mathis said when he was done. She took his hand, and then the two sat down beside the fire, Mira in his lap.

  “Let’s start with finding out who this…Flowers is,” Jerek said. “She mentioned that name to me before, back when Russ first got attacked.”

  Mira shifted uncomfortably, a tiny frown tugging on her bottom lip.

  “You need to answer,” Mathis said

  “Flowers is my friend,” Mira said. “He’s real pretty. He said he wanted to play with me, but he couldn’t. He doesn’t like the light. So he asked real nice, really nice daddy. So I put out the fire.”

  “Shit,” Jerek muttered.

  “Is Flowers an elf?” Mathis asked. “Does he look old, with white hair and wrinkles?”

  Mira shook her head.

  “I told you, he’s pretty! He told me to call him Flowers, because that’s what he’s made of.”

  “Flowers?” asked Jerek. “Seriously? That what cut you up so bad, Mathis? A bunch of fucking flowers?”

  Mathis scooted his daughter off his lap.

  “Go sleep in the tent,” he told her.

  “But he’s snoring,” she whined.

  “Do it anyway.”

  Mira went to Jerek’s tent, moping the whole way there. Mathis waited until she was inside to begin talking.

  “I’m sure you can imagine how difficult it’s been raising her,” he said, punctuating his sentence with a sigh. “My wife, she…she died giving birth to her. It was terrible. And then Mira had these black eyes, scared the shit out of the midwife. Something is off about her, I don’t know what. She knows things she shouldn’t know, like she can look into my head and see everything I’m hiding. She’ll talk to people I can’t see, and every now and then, she’ll…”

  He waved a hand toward the fire.

  “Every now and then she’ll do something she shouldn’t be able to do.”

  “She’s talking with the creature,” Jerek said. “Is that really possible?”

  “I don’t know,” Mathis said. “What else do we have to go on?”

  Jerek shrugged. He rubbed his eyes, feeling horribly tired. The clouds remained thick above them, so he didn’t have the slightest clue when dawn would arrive.

  “What about that creature?” he asked. He nodded at the bandages wrapped around Mathis’s chest and forehead. “I was too busy getting the fire relit. What did you see?”

  Mathis winced, as if the pain of his wounds had reignited.

  “It was like fighting a shadow. I could see it, just barely, because it was darker than the night. It looked like a man, only more slender.”

  He curled one hand, then placed his other about a foot away.

  “It had claws this long,” he said. “And these teeth, enormous teeth just grinning at me…”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered.

  “I don’t want to fight it again,” he said.

  “So what do we do?” asked Jerek. “If Mira’s right, the thing doesn’t like light. It waited until our fire died, and it seemed to have fled when I got it burning again. Perhaps we can keep mining, just make sure we have torches nearby, perhaps two separate campfires overnight…”

  “Are you out of your mind?” asked Mathis. “I’m leaving. We’ve got enough ore to make a nice pile of coin. I can buy a strip of land somewhere, nothing big, but it’s better than dying here in this god-forsaken forest.”

  “We can’t just abandon all that gold!”

  Mathis stood.

  “We can,” he said. “And if you’re smart, you’ll come with me. You want to return with an army to kill that thing, you go right ahead. But my daughter and I are leaving.”

  He grabbed a branch and lit one end in the fire. Like a torch, he carried it over to his tent and set it aflame.

  “What are you doing?” asked Jerek.

  “We don’t have time to bury him,” Mathis said. “It’ll take almost two days to get out of the forest. But I’m not going to leave him here. I don’t know if it will or not, but I’m not letting that thing eat him.”

  Slowly the body burned. Jerek sat beside his own fire, and as waves of smoke blew against his face he wondered how things had gone so terribly wrong.

  *

  Come the rise of the sun, they packed their things. They said little to one another, just quick questions or muttered comments. Jerek loaded Dan’s pack with every scrap of ore he could carry, and then a little more. Dan winced at the weight.

  “It’s kind of heavy,” he said.

  “I know,” Jerek said. “But you’re strong. You’re an ox. You’ll carry it all, right? Keep it safe?”

  Dan nodded.

  “Yeah, yeah, I will.”

  Jerek packed the rest of the supplies in his own pack: food, waterskins, and torches. He left their creature comforts, such as their blankets and tents, behind. They could always buy more. He crammed the rest of the pack with more ore. Mathis put a modest amount in his own.

  “I’ll need to carry Mira much of the way,” he explained. “She’ll never keep up otherwise.”

  “I’ll give you a little of what Dan’s got when we make it out,” Jerek promised, not sure if he meant it or not. He probably did.

  After one last meal, they trudged deep into the forest, putting their backs to the mountain. Passage was far from pleasant. Whatever semblance of path they had followed in was gone. Bushes seemed to block every way they chose. Branches scratched at their faces. Mathis cut through with his sword whenever things grew too difficult. Sometimes Mira walked at his side, sometimes he carried her in his free arm. Dan brought up the rear, huffing and puffing as he walked.

  “Hold up,” Mathis said, raising a hand to stop them. They were at a thick line of brush, but beyond them they heard the sound of rushing water. He put Mira down, then slowly pushed through to the other sid
e.

  “Stay with her,” Jerek said to Dan before following.

  The old elf waited on the opposite side of the stream. He sat on a log with his arms crossed, as if he’d just waken from a nap. His eyes lingered on the water, though he no doubt knew they approached by the sad sigh he made.

  “I warned you both,” he said. His voice was weary and weak. “Yet still you ventured into the mountain. You have no idea what is buried within that sacred rock, what danger you put our world in with your reckless digging.”

  Mathis approached the edge of the water and pointed with his sword.

  “You killed Russ,” he said.

  “Not I,” Evermoon said, finally looking up. “The guardian killed him, and he’ll kill you as well, all of you. Unless I send it back, which I can, but first you must accept my proposal.”

  “We’re not interested,” Mathis said, his voice nearly a snarl.

  “Speak for yourself,” Jerek said. “What is it you want, elf?”

  Evermoon pointed past them, to the line of brush where Mira’s head peeked through, spying on them.

  “I want her,” he said. “She is different. You both know this to be true. Give her to me to raise, to teach. If not, the guardian will kill you all, and I will take her anyway.”

  Jerek looked to his partner, who stood frozen at the water’s edge.

  “She’s always been difficult to raise,” Jerek offered, his voice hesitant. “You said so yourself. Perhaps she’ll be better here.”

  “So she can be raised by an elf?” asked Mathis. “Alone in the forest, with nothing but a monster to keep her company? He won’t love her, not like I do.”

  Evermoon crossed his arms, and he didn’t bother with a lie.

  “I won’t, but I’ll teach her. Her power will soon spiral out of control otherwise. She’ll be a danger to everyone she knows and loves. Give her to me. There is no reason for you to throw away your lives.”

  Jerek stepped closer and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

  “Mathis…”

  Mathis shrugged him off.

  “Get out of here,” he told the elf. “Now, or I’ll cut your throat and leave you hanging so the stream runs red for miles.”

  Evermoon sighed.

  “So be it.”

  He turned and vanished behind a tree. Mathis sheathed his sword and returned to the line of brush, bumping his shoulder into Jerek as he passed.

  “Let’s grab a drink and a rest,” he told Mira as he picked her up. “Just a moment, all right honey?”

  Mira kissed his nose.

  “What’s wrong, daddy?” she asked.

  “Nothing, sweetie,” he said, rubbing his arm against his face. “Nothing.”

  *

  After a short break, they continued. Much as he hated to do it, Jerek removed some of the ore from Dan’s pack. The big man had started lagging behind, his face flushed red like a strawberry.

  “Sorry I can’t carry it all,” Dan said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Jerek assured him. “We’ll be coming back.”

  “I’ll still get my birdies, right?”

  Jerek tightened the straps to the pack and slapped him on the shoulder.

  “Sure thing,” he said.

  The rest of the day passed with a lot of huffing, sweating, and cursing. As the sun lowered, Mathis finally called them to a halt.

  “We need to stop,” he said. “Get out all your torches. We’re going to light this camp up like it’s the surface of the sun.”

  Instead of one big bonfire they built two smaller fires, one for each side of the camp. They had five torches, and they positioned them against the trunks of trees, some angled in the branches, others tied securely with bits of string. They lit all five. Beside the two fires, they stacked plenty of extra wood.

  “I don’t want to go looking for more after dark,” Jerek had explained, and Mathis agreed.

  At last their camp was secure.

  “Not too bad,” Jerek said, surveying the area. He wiped sweat from his brow. “Keeps the place a little hot, but I think I’ll manage, no blanket and all. Just keep an eye on that daughter of yours, all right?”

  “I’ll keep her at my side at all times,” he promised.

  Jerek cracked a grin as he lay down, Mathis once again taking the first shift.

  “Just don’t fall asleep this time, eh?”

  *

  Jerek awoke to someone shaking his shoulder. He lurched upward, feeling his heart race. Someone was saying something, but he wasn’t sure what as he reached for his sword.

  “Jerek!” the intruder hissed. He rubbed his eyes with his hand, then realized Mathis knelt beside him.

  “My turn?” he asked, suddenly feeling foolish.

  “The night’s been quiet,” Mathis replied. He held Mira in his arms, who was fast asleep. “I can’t keep my eyes open much longer.”

  Jerek got to his feet, his back aching from the rough undergrowth. He’d slept on a thick patch of grass, but every shift his body made seemed to have found a hidden twig or rock.

  “I’ve got you covered,” he said as he grabbed his sword from beside his makeshift bed and sheathed it. “Get some shuteye.”

  Mathis lay down in Jerek’s bed, Mira still in his arms, and tried to get comfortable.

  Good luck, thought Jerek.

  Mathis had set up a broken log as a stool beside one of the fires, so Jerek took his seat and rest his head on his hands. He wondered what he was supposed to be watching for. Something with big teeth and claws like swords? He remembered the scream Russ had made as the thing shredded him to pieces. Suddenly the fires didn’t seem so warm, the air quite so hot. He tossed another log onto each.

  The night crawled, a droning collection of crickets, owls, the popping of the fires, and Dan’s rhythmic snoring. He felt sleep tug at his eyes, tempting him with its steady call.

  “Not gonna happen,” Jerek said, shifting positions and pinching his arms a few times. “Just hoping I fall asleep, aren’t you?”

  “Not you, just the others,” said the elf from directly behind him.

  Jerek fell off the stool. Cursing, he spun on his knees, grabbing his sword and flinging it before him in a desperate defense. The elf stood at the far edge of the camp, and the look on his face made Jerek feel like a foolish child.

  “What do you want?” he asked as he got back to his feet. He kept his sword at ready, just in case. Never knew what those tricky elves might do, he figured.

  “I’ve come in hopes you might see reason when your friend will not,” said Evermoon.

  “You mean Mira,” Jerek said. “Pretty sure you already got your answer, elf.”

  “Yes, but not from you,” said Evermoon. “You’re not attached. You have no emotions for that…thing.”

  Jerek was struck by the sheer animosity spoken in that final word.

  “She’s just a little girl,” he said. “Strange, perhaps, but that ain’t a crime. You don’t truly want her. I can see it in your wrinkled face.”

  “You have no idea what she is. She is a child of the Goddess, a daughter of Balance. She should have been born of elven blood, not tainted with human imperfections. What I desire doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility to teach her, to help her control the power that will soon rage through her veins.”

  He pointed to where Mathis and Mira slept.

  “Your lives are at stake, and theirs. Don’t be foolish. You have no reason to protect her. Bring the girl to me and I will send the guardian back to its mountain.”

  Jerek glanced at the sleeping couple, Mira wrapped safely in her father’s arms. With her eyes closed, she looked just like any other girl. Yet he remembered the way she’d spoken, her arms raised to the clouded sky. The fire had died without a moment’s hesitation. So young, so undisciplined…what might she be when she was older?

  He looked back and saw the coldness in the elf’s eyes.

  “I can’t,” he said. “Not to you. I won’t condemn her to such
a life. You won’t love her. I may not be the most sentimental of sorts, but even I know we’re nothing without that. Leave us be, elf. You’re not wanted here.”

  “Neither are you,” said Evermoon. “I will have her either way. You might have lived. No longer.”

  “We’ve got this place burning like the gates to the Abyss,” said Jerek. “What can your little pet do?”

  Evermoon chuckled, the sound gravelly and ill.

  “Nature is against you,” he said. “Can you sense it? Smell it in the air? Your doom is coming.”

  He faded into the forest, vanishing like the light of a lightning bug. Jerek shook his head, as if trying to shake away a lingering dream. Their doom was coming? What a load of shit. All five torches were burning strong, and they had two fires. Even if Mira tried to put one out, they’d have plenty of time to…

  Jerek stopped. The hairs on his neck stood on end. He did smell it. The earthy richness flooded his nostrils. The whole forest quieted, as if its night creatures also sensed the approach. Dread clawing his throat, Jerek looked to the sky. The clouded, angry sky. Lightning crackled, and then the thunder hit him like a fist.

  “Mathis!” he screamed as he ran across the camp. The heavens opened up, and down came a rain so thick the cold drops stung his skin. He fell to one knee, ready to shake Mathis awake, but he already was, his eyes wide with terror as he clutched his crying daughter.

  “What is…” he asked, the rest drowned out by another booming crack of thunder. The sound nearly stopped Jerek’s heart, so close was its proximity. Dan wailed above the storm, terrified by the sudden torrent.

  “We have to protect the fire!” screamed Jerek.

  “With what?” asked Mathis.

  Jerek looked around. Nothing. They had nothing. One by one the torches sputtered and died, unable to withstand such heavy rain. The first of the two fires dwindled into a pile of wet ash and smoke. As the light of the other faded, Mathis and Jerek stared, each hoping for some idea, some shred of sanity from the other.

  From the direction of the mountain, they heard the guardian roar.

  “We need to give her up,” Jerek said as the last fire died.

  “I won’t!” Mathis screamed.