Two Masters (epic progression fantasy)

Chapter 5: The Wanderer

Revin and Blackfire strolled up a shallow slope in the Cracks, one of their favorite places to seek solitude. One could only handle so many chittering monks. His bruises had mostly healed, and he was happy to take a break from studying to wander again.

It was a strange, dark landscape made of broken hills, cliffs, and crevasses. To Revin's right, there was a sheer drop, the crevasse a plummeting and narrowing split. Across the crevasse sat another cliff and hill. The Cracks looked like a dark, grey mountain but broken into a dozen pieces long ago. Each piece was, in turn, slowly crumbling over time.

The elevation never got too high, and the jutting stone made the area very secluded. And it just felt so... different from the rest of the island. Mountain springs and beautiful forests were good to look at, but the island was covered in them. When he was here, among the dark stones, he felt like he was free, finally gone from the island and the expectations of those around him.

Most of the monks did their best to ignore it. Its strangeness was their detractor and his enticement. The dark grey mineral that made up most of the Cracks was unique to this area. The mineral had a... relaxing aroma. No wonder the monks used it in their tea.

He pondered if those quiet monks used too much. Maybe that's why they're so content. He did wonder, if that were the case, why was he so... unsatisfied?

Revin wondered if he would find a good master in the west. His mother's words still haunted him. "There are no perfect men, and power attracts the selfish." But, ever since his father had so adamantly forbidden speaking of it, Revin couldn't stop wondering about the lands east. Apart from the references to terrifying monsters and rampant wickedness, there was little mention of them in Hiriv writings, holy or otherwise.

Thunder boomed in the distance, shaking Revin out of his musings. The sky was clear. Blackfire's keen ears heard it coming from the south.

"Come on," Revin said, "let's check it out."

They descended far faster than they'd climbed, following the dark crevasse until they returned to the pines. The cracking of trees echoed, followed by a thunderous roar.

Blackfire whined and gingerly stepped backward. The hairs on the back of Revin's neck stood up. What could make such a noise? A great beast burst through the trees. Revin shouted and tumbled to the ground.

It was as tall as a man and a half, and looked like a lizard... It had a long but thick mouth with rows of sharp teeth. Two short, bony horns stuck out of its head, and feathers ran in a narrow line down its back. A lizard with feathers? It was shorter than the serpent, but thicker, and it bore two muscular clawed arms and a pair of massive legs. Revin's jaw hung slack in awe.

Running next to it was a woman carrying two contraptions. They looked like flutes with a wooden handle jutting from beneath and a loop for her index finger. One issued smoke and the other pointed at the trees. She wore the robes of a Hiriv monk, and her matted gray hair clung to her sweaty forehead. She looked like she'd been running for a while.

Four large and heavily armored men burst through the edge of the trees, scattering bark, branches and pine needles. Their spherical helmets had glowing turquoise eyes, but no nose or mouth. Each carried a blade or a spear. They had to be seven feet tall, their arms thicker than Revin's legs.

The monk and the lizard looked upon their attackers. The monk was shorter, but the lizard was half a man taller. The armored men attacked. Three headed towards the lizard and one went in for the monk. The monk lowered her contraption, pulled a lever with her index finger, and thunder boomed again.

Revin covered his ears too late. Something small struck the man, tearing the metal, and a large puff of white smoke shot out of the contraption. The man continued stepping forward, terrifying, inevitable. The woman pocketed her contraptions and drew her sword. It bore a straight blade a couple of feet long, with a short handle that fit her one hand.