The Last Guardian Part 1 ( Niau's Picture Challenge )

Reads: 353  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 14

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
~~~ In the past it was metropolis like no other. Neither its people, be it ordinary or Elders ever experienced anything similar to bloodshed unleashed upon them in one single night. It changes their lives. Before being forced to flee into another world they know nothing about, the Stone of Four Elements is bestowed to the Last human offspring in the long line of Guardians.They did not do much, as there was never truly a threat big enough to act, but new Guardian will have to do what no one in line has done before… ~~~
© JelicaWriter 9.2010.

~~~~~~~~~~~
For Niau's picture challenge I decided to write short story in three parts. I'm aware there may be mistakes but I hope they don't distract you too much when reading. If you have any suggestions, advice regarding this, please I'd value it beyond words.

Submitted: September 29, 2010

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 29, 2010

A A A

A A A


~ Part 1 ~

Winter’s ice still pressed the shadows of the remote, protected landscape that surrounded the valley. Spheres of warmth diminished in the west, leaving a crimson reflection of fading day that would soon be replaced by indigo night; a dash of wind sliced the air open, as if summer was nothing more than a dream. At the far end of the plain, a river, concealed under a thin, frail layer of frost, coursed in its bed through unseen tributaries, bordered by ankle-high grass. But the picture of cool dusk was disrupted when the entire valley, including everything around, trembled.

The soil began shuddering with a vigor that sent tiny pebbles bouncing a few inches off of it. Brittle, moldy trees buckled down, throwing out the small creatures that inhabited the void space within the wood. Anyone would have gained the impression that within Earth’s core an army of hell was trying to break loose. Then the earthquake reduced to a mere tremble, only to end finally with a line severing the ground, not far from the river. As if by the invisible hands of a giant, the line grew into a crevice, stretching in length and width, revealing a scene from which many would cover their mouths in sheer bewilderment. The image of Pandemonium.

Within the crevice, orbs of fire devoured everything they could grasp; people had breathed their last breaths once the unbearable heat had caught up with them, sucking the life away painfully. Explosions; collapsing architecture, which had been considered the best any craftsmanship could offer; moans distressingly plain and fear-provoking—this was the truth for those inside the hole. It was a reality they all now tried to break away from. From the depths of the hole, a marble viaduct stretched upwards, landing heavily upon the grass. Without any fence, it was wide enough for ten broad-shouldered men to stand abreast. Of course, it did not take too long before the bridge was overrun by refugees pouring out of the horror in the direction of what they thought was an idyllic reflection of a new, promising world. Everyone walked rapidly, despite the wounds that had been inflicted upon their flesh. All wanted to abandon the madness that had drained all blood from their faces and made their leg muscles hurt from the effort they put into running. On their backs, several wore their dearest possessions, those they cherished above all else, be it a sack of jewels or their offspring, clutched in their firm embrace. Each man, woman and child was not dressed properly for harsh weather conditions but it mattered little to them. Cold sweat formed round their faces and slid down their spines. Around their moving legs, dogs, skinny and fat, followed the tide, barking.

The second group to cross over the threshold between the two worlds was that of the warriors. Equipped with armor, swords, bows and arrows, they came after the commoners. For the most part, many hid the restlessness behind forcefully packed facial expressions. Their posture was parallel to the people who weren’t utterly convinced whether surviving a conflict was a good thing. Furthermore, they had the unchanged common throbbing in their hearts, which expanded into the depths of their souls; both soldiers and commoners had been lamenting for a homeland they would not see ever again.

The third to follow was a being; crimson scales coated muscles on a lengthy body. One powerful beat of its wings, which were encrusted in a thin layer against the wind’s direction, was enough for it to soar up high above those who walked below. Between the head and rest of its body, a rider was perched, looking into the distance, seeing the entire territory from that altitude. He saw what lay behind, forests, plains, mountains, where on their lofty ridges death walked indiscernible, and the shore of a naked ocean. Then he returned to scanning what was left to go like a sharp eyed hawk. The rider was young; he was a month older than twenty summers. However, his external appearance gave the impression that he was much older and more ominous; in the night he would blend in with the environment. Lean, with shoulder length black hair and all in black, he resembled a night shadow.

The very last group consisted of men in robes of different colors. The young man knew the group’s identity. They stood at the start of the bridge in union, combating with wraiths inside the hole. As he watched, some fell, losing their lives as easily as a candle flame was quenched. A few turned away to flee, carrying books. What could not be carried, such as significant scrolls, they had absorbed within them. At the end of the bridge, they turn to observe the tragedy unfolding at its base.

Those who stayed in their current positions did not spare a glance at the fugitives, but stared at what they struggled to bring under control. Pronouncing in loud voice, they conjured a powerful spell, magic of incomparable power. The ones at the top of the viaduct joined their voices with the choir, and all those who heard it dared to hope things might turn out better. The bridge started to crumble, from inside the hole upwards. A flow of fearsome hate spilled through the fissure. People’s legs became weak at the mere sound. As the hole and bridge began to vanish from sight, one fierce rush of anger stormed out in a form that conjured many screams from the depths of people’s lungs. For some, the terror was so great that their throats went dry, making them yield to the ground as if being wiped out. A giant head with a set of spikes descending from the top snapped at the Elders with its sword-sharp, bloodstained teeth. Caught off guard, two tripped over their own legs, stumbling backwards. Then, realizing the hole was lessening, the creature growled. In it, one could take notice of all the misery and blood thirst a human could conceive.

“Flee, you worthless mortals,” it spat, eyeing each of them individually, “But it won’t do you much good. The power of the elements is still on the other side of the universe. Here. I will seize the power and all lower breeds will be smothered! You may win the battle for your lives, but the battle for the universe you will lose.”

Then it withdrew inside the hole. With a flick of a finger from the Elders, invisible needles sewed up the gap between the known and unknown world. Seconds passed and the fugitives did not move, voiceless as if they still feared it might open yet again. Then gradually each of them began to move away. People formed groups and moved on to inhabit this new unfamiliar terrain.

The rider directed the being to the ground, where its serpent-clawed feet touched the earth, leaving a mark. He slipped off its neck and rushed at the Elders, all of whom were engaged in an argument. The rider guessed the subject of it even before he was near enough to hear the name that crossed their lips.

“My lord!” he shouted sternly. The Elders paused to glance backwards. All of them looked at him curiously, but only one stepped out of the group. A sympathetically plump Elder in blood red robes sauntered towards him; grey hair and a beard covered almost the entirety of the man’s head, and his usually vibrant electric blue eyes showed signs of exhaustion. He spoke: “What is it that you want to know, James?

“You can observe the future, Oh Great One,” James dutifully replied. “I yearn to know what will happen to the guardian.”

Compassionately the Elder laid a hand on James’s shoulder and pulled him into a close, strong embrace. The Elder’s lips were an inch from his ears.

“Death,” he whispered. “Should the creature track her down, the corpse of the last of the ancient line of guardians will rest in the belly of the monster. Our world will crumble to ashes. We will be safe in this world, as there is no one left who is acquainted with the magic of the gateway. If she survives, by some miracle, she will in due time find a way to her own people, and… you.”


© Copyright 2019 JelicaWriter. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments:

Comments

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

avatar

Author
Reply

More Fantasy Short Stories