Gods and Guardians

Chapter 3: Damian vs. the Riter

Cadmus, the Instructor, possessed a wiry stature, standing tall at about 8 aces, yet his frame accentuated his height unnecessarily. As a member of the Mystic Order, one might doubt if he had seen war, but his eyes told a different story. As the campers filed before him, they cringed under the weight of his presence. The Mystics bore no hair on their scalps, nor did they sport mustaches. Facial hair was reserved for their cheeks and chin. Though Cadmus's beard was just beginning to gray, his powerful presence remained uncompromised, a true testament to his Islander heritage.

The campers formed ten files, each nearly a hundred strong, all young men aspiring for circumcision. Cadmus paced menacingly between the lines, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You all aim to transcend boyhood into manhood, which is a noble ambition. But!" Cadmus's voice boomed, echoing through the assembled crowd. "Manhood is not for everyone. Not all of you will make it..."

Damian's eyes met Cadmus's subjugating gaze, but he quickly averted his gaze, unable to hold the Instructor's penetrating stare.

***

The riter dropped into a crouch, baring her bloody fangs. Chubby and shapeless, with an untidy ubiquity of black and white hair touching the earth, she presented a fearsome sight. A snake-like tail loomed furtively behind her as she tossed her hair from her eyes and let out a menacing growl, the sheer majesty of which was commensurate with her 150 kilograms.

Damian's numbness dissipated in an instant as he tasted death in his heart. Unprepared for the encounter, he found his mind going blank. Instinctively, he began spinning his meager weapon just before the riter spat into his eyes, partially blinding him.

The riter leapt after her prey in a perfect spring.

***

"We are surrounded by enemies," Cadmus declared. "From the north, east, west, and south, and in every province in-between, our adversaries lie in wait, biding their time to strike and annihilate us.

"Do you comprehend the gravity of our situation? No, you do not. We have shielded you, much like your parents, from the horrors of the world. But we cannot shield you forever. You cannot remain boys forever. One day, you must become men. The fate of the Islands will rest in your hands. Will you merely defend our legacy, or will you endeavor to expand it, to encompass the entire world?

"But to achieve that, you must first survive..."

***

The pain searing through his blinded eye couldn't overpower his primal instinct to survive. Damian instinctively dove to the right, slipping between two slender saplings. His left eye throbbed with agony, a fiery torment. Thankfully, his frantic spinning of the shaft had mitigated the full force of the riter's venom.

With lightning speed, the riter landed and swiftly seized one of the saplings with her tail, effortlessly uprooting it and shattering the earth. As Damian scrambled to his feet in terror, she swung the young tree at him, the impact slamming into his chest and sending him tumbling headlong into a thick bush several yards away. Before he could recover, she hurled the tree at him again as he struggled to rise.

He managed to dock, barely.

Then he saw the full length of the riter's tail as she sprang anew. The legends were true. It had a seven-yards-long massive tail.

He took to his heels, bending between the trees in a race without destination, without end. All along, his weapon remained clenched tightly in his hand. Instinct told him that if he had any chance at all, it would be in the scimitar.