The Guardians' Blade

Serraria slowly started to stir, eyes fluttering open. She was in a large room, with other wounded. Standing at the foot of her bed was Sir Krammer, flanked by Boar and Alixa on either side smiling down at her. With them were the Rangers and Lady Dovelin who was holding her hand.

“Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty,” stated Soryn. “We were wondering how long it was going to be before you’d wake up again.”

Serraria lifted her free hand to rub her eyes and asked in a sleep-husky voice, “How long have I been out?”

“A week,” answered Soryn with a rueful chuckle as he folded arms over his chest. “You were found comatose atop one of the towers. We figured you must have got hit, but Lady Dovelin here said you were just plain exhausted.” He shrugged his shoulders.

Serraria nodded. She smiled and murmured, “She was right ... yes, I was … exhausted. All that fighting that seemed to have no end in sight.”

Soryn grinned, than waved a hand. “Well, we will be waiting for you tomorrow. In the meantime, get a little more rest, eh?” He winked before he turned and took his leave, followed by Boar and Alixa who both smiled at her.

“Well, kid seems you did well out there,” stated Kain as he stepped up to the bed. “It’s gonna be a shame when you gotta leave.” He smiled and sat on the edge of the bed looking at the girl, patting her hand. “But whenever you come back we’ll be waiting for you.”

“You mean that?” Serraria’s eyes widened. She beamed brightly at the Omarian Ranger.

“Hell, yes.” Tarn leaned on Kain. He grinned broadly down at the girl. “You’ve got the makings of a Ranger, all those stunts you pulled.”

“What he means is, you’d be welcome to join us,” stated Ryu from where he stood to the right of the bed. “It’s not every day we have someone who can talk to Kings and Dragons when they aren’t in the mood to co-operate with us.”

Millianyia smiled gently as she slapped Ryu on the back of the head playfully. She looked at the girl lying in the bed. “Never think you’re alone. When you make friends, they are friends forever.”

Serraria giggled softly, but nodded, sensing that through the mirth there was an edge of seriousness behind the Silvarian’s words. She looked over towards Storm and Grong where they stood and smiled at them. Storm smiled as she spoke. “We look forward to when you’re up on your feet again. I have some tricks to teach you with the bow.”

Grong chuckled as he added, “And I have some more things to teach you too, little one.” He tilted his head slightly, managing to keep his tail close to him so as not to trip anyone up. “We’ll be waiting for you.” Then the rangers took their leave, all but Lady Dovelin who remained sitting on the bed next to the girl in a patient manner.

Serraria felt as if her heart was going to burst. Going home was going to be very hard after all of that. She would definitely want to come back and see all of these people again. She became aware that Lady Dovelin was quietly watching her and frowned slightly as she glanced up at her. “Is there something the matter, Lady?” she asked quietly after a moment.

“It’s hard keeping a secret from so many friends,” the Peacekeeper said after a moment, holding up a hand when Serraria began to interrupt. “Your actions speak louder than words, dear child. The others have mostly overlooked it as a freak of circumstances and just plain good luck. But questions are brewing about just who you are, and in time when things calm down they will ask the particular question that you have been avoiding.”

“Who I am?”

“Yes.” Dovelin nodded and patted the girl child’s hand in a gentle manner. “I know who you are.” She rose then slowly to her feet and moved to stand at the foot of the bed, turning to look at the girl who was now staring at her intently. “I know of your kind, and I have to wonder what exactly you are doing here.”

Serraria felt color touch her cheeks. She looked down at her hands, as she wasn’t sure at first what to say in response to Lady Dovelin. After a moment she slowly looked up again at the pale Lady and spoke quietly. “I am an advance scout for my race, a Shar’tah Kilmarrah.” She licked her lips before continuing. “My people are aware that there is a dark menace here, and I had to research the races, to see if they were capable of corruption and if they could stand up against it.”

Dovelin smiled a little at the girl, her hands folded before her as she stood at the foot of the bed. “That would explain your abilities, and the fact that you saved Nar’tash’s life.” She motioned to a silent still figure lying in the bed next to her.

Serraria struggled to sit up, peering over at the strange Dark Krysalith. She pushed the covers back to slip out of her bed, and on bare feet she padded over to where Nar’tash lay, noting the strange runes that looked like they had been burnt into the other girl’s face. When she touched the girl’s face, Serraria jerked her hand back as if she had been burnt, and looked over at Dovelin who had followed her. “Her skin is so cold it almost hurts. I can’t detect if she’s alive or not.” Serraria said. “Is she alive?”

“Yes and no.” Dovelin smiled sadly.

Serraria looked confused. “What do you mean: yes and no?” She faced the Pale Lady. “Explain,” she demanded.

Dovelin moved to where Serraria stood and gently tucked Nar’tash arm beneath the covers of the blanket. Then looked at the girl child and said softly, “She is a Dark Krysalith, of an enclave that go by the name of Dry’hidra. A long time ago their race was involved in a terrible accident when a Necromancer miscast a spell. Since then they have been caught between life and death. They have no heartbeat, their body is seemingly dead and yet they live and breathe like the rest of us. They are marked with these sigils in their flesh, a punishment from the Warlords of the north because they refused to serve them like the rest of their dark kin in Dryn.” Dovelin paused a moment before moving over towards Serraria’s bed, drawing back the covers and motioning for the girl to get back into bed as she continued. “They cannot sleep, and when they do rest they must meditate in the dead lands.”

“Dead lands?” Serraria blinked as she climbed back into her bed. “What are the dead lands?”

“All of us who are alive are only aware of the living realms. But there is the dead plane. It co-exists right along with us, where spirits are to be found. We cannot see them, but her kind can. For us the Living realm is our reality, where we live, breathe, eat, and sleep. We pass over into the dead plane when we die and then go on from there to be one with the creator. For her people, the dead planes are her reality; it is where they live, breathe, eat and rest. They can come over into the living realms through gateways and are able to spend certain periods of time among the living before they must return to the dead planes.” Dovelin gently explained.

Serraria scratched the back of her neck as she tried to take all of this in. “I see …” she mumbled and glanced over to where Nar’tash lay. “She’ll need to return to the dead planes then, to fully recover.”

Lady Dovelin nodded. “We are waiting on some of her kin to arrive and take her.”

Serraria nodded slightly before closing her eyes and allowing sleep to take over again. Her dreams were a mixture of Dark Krysalith walking in shadows and the battle being re-fought over the Keep but with a different outcome, where the Wolf King won. She saw his burning eyes, and heard his voice as he held a gloved hand out to her.

“Come my pet, let us rule this world, you and I. You have so much potential. Let all tremble in fear with the power we will control between us!”

Amidst black pouring smoke and flames, she got a glimpse of his features. He was young and very handsome, but the smile upon his lips spoke of cruelty which caused Serraria to jerk awake breathing hard and very afraid of what this dream might mean.

Dargoth grinned lightly as he started out at the stars that sparkled like diamonds in the night sky. He had for the briefest of moments touched the mind of the young dragon child in the dreamscape. He had felt her fear before she had ripped herself away and awake. She was strong but she was still young which meant she could be molded into something better. He could just imagine the pain it would cause the Queen of the Shar’tah if she heard that one of her young Scouts had been turned and now enslaved especially someone who was considered a part of the family. He now knew for certain she was there. He had witnessed her save someone from falling to their death. That to him cemented the issue. He turned his head sharply when he saw riders come into camp bearing the imperial banners. His stomach twisted as he knew that meant his Father was inspecting his venture. Dargoth let out a low growl before straightening his tunic and walked out to meet him. He fell to a knee once he reached to great horse that his Father sat astride upon. “Father you did not have….”

“Word has come to me of your work here my son. It seems that you have managed to over-run a Guardian Fortress and have in your grip one of the mountain passes. You have over-shadowed your sister who for years tried to cross the mountains to take the southlands for us.” There was the creak of leather, and then the soft thud of boots hitting the ground as the Emperor dismounted and turned. He reached out a gloved hand to rest it upon Dargoth’s shoulder. “You have indeed earned the title of Wolf King. And all this land is now yours. I have heard tell that the Guardian’s plan to retake the Fortress but I am more than sure you can keep a hold of it, to be a thorn in their side. And show them that we will continue to rip from their grips all that they hope to accomplish.”

“Yes father.” Dargoth was feeling a little stunned at the amount of praise he was receiving. He was gaining the recognition he had been craving. A slow little smirk stole over thin lips as he dared to look up and watched his father study the encampment.

“Why is it that you are retreating?” The Emperor turned to give Dargoth the fullness of his red gaze. There was something dangerous threatening in those red depths. As if he was about to retract all the good things he had just spoken in regards to his son.

“I have located the Dragon child father. She is currently at the pass. If I had pressed forward with my attack, she might have been lost in the fighting.” He quickly rose to his feet and led the way to his pavilion. Sweeping inside, he strode up to the long table that held various maps and tolm’s scattered all over its surface. He reached out for the old book that had held his attention for these many days and turned to a particular page. Setting that on the table, then he reached for a tolm, unraveling it and pointed at a list of names. It was the genealogy of a certain family. He looked over to his Father and spoke softly. “I have reports of her doing extradinary things. I believe that we can use her against the Queen and we can use her to take the southlands for ourselves.”

The Emperor cast his gaze over the documentation that his son had laid out for him to peruse. He sensed that his son did not lie and that he was certain he had found what he was looking for. But was it worth the loss of the pass. He weighed this heavily in his mind and decided to let his son proceed with his plan. “Very well boy, but when you do hold her as your prisoner. Bring her to me, I would like to look into her eyes and see what she is made off before she is broken and remolded into one of our own.”

Dargoth inclined his head, and clasped a fist to his chest in response to his father’s words. “As you wish Father.” He drawled out softly. He kept his head down as he heard his father turn and take his leave. Only once the towering figure of armor had gone did Dargoth move. With a low growl he swept what was directly in front of him off the table and onto the floor. Than grabbing a chair, flung it away from him as he paced back and forth. He stopped when he saw Calypso watching him and stormed towards her than pointed a finger in her face. “Tell me that I become Emperor in the near future.”

Calypso blinked wild eyes before she took up her bones and shook them in her fist before throwing them onto the ground. She made soft humming noises as she smoothed hands slowly over the bones with her eyes closed before speaking. “The Emperor dies by Skydancer’s hand, and you will always be known as the Wolf King. Eternal war will be between you and your brothers. Only your sister will wear the crown as she is smarter and more deceitful than any of you. She holds the stone of power that will command all Black Shar’tah to do her will.”

That was not the response he had been looking for. He struck her hard with a growl sending her sprawling on the ground before swinging around to stalk back to the table and pressed hands down on the surface as he muttered curses under his breath. He would not allow the Emperor to take what was his, the Dragon child would be molded into what he wanted, not what his Father desired. He would have to change the future, and plot his father’s death and that of his sister. To ensure he was the one with the crown in the end.