The Guardians of Celesk

Chapter 6 : Exile

Incensed by the ever-approaching presence of death, Garwyn kept a determined pace. The scents and sounds of a bastion of bewildered animals were nipping at her very presence. Their mindless stampeding hit a crescendo as they broke every twig that hovered underfoot, their sweat seemed to hit the ground in warm globules with a hint of steam emanating off of them. In reality they were miles away but with the adrenaline of battle and the lingering sense of impending doom, Garywn's senses were heightened beyond normal. She had ordered the remaining infantry and all of the Golden Blade to disembark and separate, along with the few remaining Guardians. At this very moment, she really wished she wasn't alone. Garwyn was slowing down, exhausted. Their scent was growing stronger as they continued to chase her down.

With the Ethereal falls sealed with a wall of rocks behind them, the pilgrimage left the northern slopes of the sanctuary under cover of darkness. After travelling for half the night, they could see the smoke hovering behind them and billowing into sky in the distance as the dawn finally broke and they'd reached safety. They had hoped that the enemy were too preoccupied with victory and their new home before they could be pursued. But their new hope could be as transparent as the river they walked along.

The beasts continued their pursuit. Garwyn tried to run in different directions, at alternate angles and used various streams to try and hide her scent. She was trudging through a shallow riverbank when the first of the beasts had caught up with her. It lurched at her leg but was met with a sharp blow on its head by the crest of her staff, knocking it down into the water. Another venomous beast launched towards her chest just as Garwyn upended her staff and fired a large shaft of ice into its chest, forcing the creature to splash into the water. More beasts continued to gain and swarm around her, as she crept to the edge of the river, staring over the precipice of another large fall enveloped by sheer cliffs. A strange voice filtered through the air and hung over the vapour steaming over the top of the waterfall. She eagerly listened as she watched as the beasts formed a pack and sprinted in her direction, maddened by the loss of their pack. As she was about to be enveloped, she leapt over the edge in helplessness, taking a few beasts with her. The rest sniffed the air and let out a howl before running back to their master's calls. The disappointment hung over them as their tails dipped into the water. They lamented their lost brethren and the chance at a good meal as it plunged over the cliff into the surging swell below.

The hours of trekking through the wilderness had taken its toll on the group. The steep hill Yordu had guided them up was becoming even steeper every moment and they knew that they were at a high altitude by the heaviness in their breath as well as the frosty wisps of vapour. When they reached the summit, Yordu looked for a clearing and following the knowing whistle of a few Greymays – petite birds that would guide the friendly – they found themselves yet again admiring a wondrous spectacle. Not even the most talented of bards could inscribe the view from the summit of the mountain.

They could see Mes-Celezk in all its glory: The sanctuary sitting atop the hill was an amber teardrop that rippled out vast smoke and debris in contrast to the calm and opulent veins of rivers and fine greenery encircling it. This was a living, breathing symbol of both sides of the way, with the destruction of Varasz at its heart enveloped by a beautiful and organic scope of Erto-en. This was at the heart of their existence, but within the beauty of their surroundings, as they peered over the snow-flecked misty mountaintops was the ever-spiralling sense of loss. While the Guardians paused for a moment to meditate, the others took a moment to honour the loss of their loved ones. Their world had changed forever. Through a field of tears, they spied Yordu emitting a word over the edge and into the expanse of white before he sighed. For a moment, he shook his head. Bohina asked "No response?"

He sighed again, "No."

Garwyn accepted her death. She was falling at a rapid pace down the cliff-face, watching as gallons of water hit the surface in a roaring torrent. Normally a dive into water could be pleasant, but from this height the surface would break like ice beneath her and shatter every bone in her body and burst apart her internal organs. As she plunged over the edge, these were her last thoughts before an acute pain surged through her.

-It was the jolting pulse of a massive arm grabbing her from within the waterfall. The impact knocked the wind out of her and in desperation she felt a gargantuan limb wrestle her to safety through a gap in the surging falls.

She was surprised to see a lumbering scaly and fleshy behemoth of a creature lifting her off the rocks and back into a dark cavern. It was grumbling at her in a strange dialect in a very loud tone that echoed across the cavern. As she stared at the creature, she could see a satchel draped across its shoulder and a large set of trousers held together by a shiny belt. Strapped to the back of the belt was a large curved sword that had enough wear and tear to remind her that this being had seen a fair share of combat. In the middle of its next raucous sentence, it was cut off suddenly-

"Can you please be quiet? They haven't all left yet. And put the Guardian down."

The creature did as he asked. Garwyn was still trying to take stock of her surroundings.

"Don't look so shocked. Haven't you met a Yetel before? I know, the accent is hard to understand at times but you get used to it.

She meets the scaly mess of a thing/

The wall cracks in two and –

she is the divided one."

Garwyn still has no idea what to make of her pair of rescuers.

"We need to get back to the band..." He looks Garwyn up and down. "At some point sorceress, you'll need to change clothes. You stand out like a Treol among dwarves." He stopped to repeat the Treol among Dwarves remark but in song.

Garwyn adjusts her robes for a moment before quizzing them. "Forgive my silence. You may call me Garwyn if you wish. Whom may I ask are my brave helpers?"

He turned to his Yetel friend. "And they say that the bards are the charmers. Lady Garwyn you are looking at Manser Lucern, entertainer for hire, part bard, part scribe, all actor, no charm but gifted in verbosities... and this scaly giant is my hired muscle, Halthar."

"Hired muscle? But this is a world of peace."

"Pfft, not in the last century, Lady. I don't know if you keep your ear to the wind or whatever, but we're at war here."

"Until just recently there hasn't been any type of conflict."

"Maybe around Mes- Celesk with all the guardians with their heads straight up their kaibuss..." The Yetel laughed at this comment before Lucern continued "But out here in the big green yonder, there's plenty of bloodshed... Look we can argue about this now, discussing the politics of Celesk and continue to fight off the beasts, or we can find shelter and an honest to erto bed."

Before Garwyn could really take account of the bard's news, they shifted off through the caverns, the whole time watchful for another pack of hungry predators as they pushed through to the other side of the mountain. She noticed an amazing feature of the Yetel's: It was now brandishing the sword, a flaming torch and still had another two arms free. She had heard talk of these four-armed creatures but had never witnessed one face to face before. Despite its scaly disposition she found Halthar was quite gentle, and his skin quite soft when he hoisted her down. She wondered what else 'The Sanctuary' had 'sheltered' her from.

They trusted Yordu immensely. Still, Bohina had to ask "Do you know where we're headed?"

"There's a small town down the next pass."

"I knew I could sense something."

"Well that's vague...I could smell it. A great smoking piece of meat, and I also remember the mead.." He couldn't help but lick his lips as he continued to walk under a wave of nostalgia.