Chapter 4: The Forest Guardian
Balthazar couldn’t get his bearings as he felt himself be throttled around, feeling his bones pop with how tightly he was squeezed, branches and overgrowth scratching his face as he swung through the foliage, green taking up his entire field of view. From the yelling, he could hear the others being grabbed too, and then suddenly, the rapid swinging stopped. His heart pounded in his head, the world still spinning, right up until he saw the thing that had captured him. Its giant body was like a strange humanoid plant, easily twelve feet in height. Its core parts and the head being woodlike in their texture, almost a tree trunk in and of itself. Its limbs were less arms and legs so much as masses of intertwined roots and vines in a similar shape. The creature held Balthazar up to its head. It had no apparent face, save for a pair of faintly glowing green lights where the eyes ought to be, and Balthazar could make out a large red flower blooming from the back of its head. He tried struggling, but the monster’s grip was so tight that he couldn’t work up the power or leverage to move. The previously finger-like vines solidified into wood, restricting any motion further. He heard some strange rumbling noise from it, clearly observing him with caution.
“Ahhh! Help! Alice, Prince Atma, anybody!” Balthazar turned slightly, seeing Miles in the creature’s other arm. The rumbling noise got louder, as it pulled him close. “Balthazar!”
“Quiet Miles, I’d rather not piss this thing off!”
“You’re kidding me, right? Can you cast anything?”
Balthazar tried getting his bearings again. Magicians usually cast using their hands to guide their magic, and his were nearly flush with his body. His left hand was between a gap in the woody vines, enough where he would probably get something going. Certainly, he could certainly cast magic without using his hands, but he needed the fine control right now, or he’d be just as likely to kill himself as escape. He noticed then, how high above the ground the creature held them. Its leg vines wrapped around the trees to suspend it far above the ground, like a spider hanging from a string. A fall from their height wouldn’t kill them, but it would certainly break something, incapacitating them enough for the creature to simply grab them up weaker than before. It seemed to recognize that Balthazar realized this, as he shook his head in response to Miles, gesturing his head down.
Miles shut up, before turning his head to see three other similar creatures drop from the trees, with the others held firmly in their hands. They stomped through the forest, heading north, deeper into the forest center. “Balthazar, look!” The creature jostled him again, this time, shutting up Miles.
They had to be a pack of some sort, the creatures, if they were moving together the way they were, and taking them alive was no doubt of some importance. As the creature descended from the trees, hitting the ground with an impressive thud, Balthazar tried combing his memories of having to study the bestiaries to try and identify the thing. Miles would probably have a much easier time with it. “Any clue on this thing?” He kept his voice hushed, as the two swung back and forth in the creature’s arms, the creature thudding through the forest.
Miles shot another look at the beast, before turning back to Balthazar and nodding. “I think it’s a Dryad. Not quite a Spirit or Elemental, more like a sentient plant. Very territorial, very violent.”
“We’re going to get out of this.” Balthazar’s mind zipped through defensive techniques Locke had taught him in case he got into an up close brawl. The hand Miles was in hadn’t hardened, perhaps because it viewed him as less of a threat. Could he work with that?
‘It’s harder for someone to grab and take you if you let yourself go limp than if your body is rigid, it becomes and awkward weight,’ Locke’s words echoed. Not quite what he was looking for. ‘If someone grabs you, you’ll have a harder time breaking free depending on how you struggle. Fight against the thumb, and you’ll break through better than going against their fingers.’ Balthazar knew their structure was fundamentally different from a Dryad’s, with it being made up of vines, but surely a similar idea followed if Miles struggled against the thumblike vine. What about him though? What was the best thing he could do for himself? Fire magic would certainly hurt the Dryad, and he was highly proficient in it. Lightning magic was precise enough, but tended to pierce rather than cut. Earth? Darkness? Powerful, but not good matchups for the situation. His mind turned to the Light Magic elements. Ice could certainly freeze the hand, but then what? Water wouldn’t do a thing to the plant. Wind Magic could cut, but needed a more range of motion, otherwise, he doubted a strong gust of wind would do him much. Light was an element he was rather lacking in, so he immediately discounted it. He tried his right arm, to see what he could do. Not much, but his hand was still on the hilt of the sword Locke had given him. It might take a few steps, but he had the base of an idea.
“Miles, when I take action, you need to struggle against the vine that’s like a thumb, it’s your best chance of escape. Do not let your body go rigid, or you’re easier for it to hold onto.” Balthazar looked around. They needed some sort of cover, or they were done for, the trees would hardly count with the Dryad chasing them. He saw something white sticking out among the overgrowth and soil. It wasn’t much to go off of, but it was their best shot. The Dryad carrying them was lagging behind slightly, they might be able to scramble away if they moved now. Balthazar placed his free hand on the finger of the Dryad, and nodded to Miles. Focusing, a wave of cold flowed from his hand, shooting into the Dryad’s hand, as crystalline ice shot up its arm, the freeze doing relatively little to the woody parts of the arm, but to the sections still as vines, they were made brittle, cracking slightly as the Dryad tried bringing Balthazar up to its face, its arms ready to snap off if it moved more. Balthazar shivered, trying to keep control so his ice magic didn’t creep onto him and freeze him too, he focused now on the sword in his other hand, waiting for his next opening.
Miles flailed and struggled while the Dryad was distracted with Balthazar, enough so that he rolled free, and tumbled to the ground. He groaned as he got back to his feet, and stood nearly paralyzed as the Dryad turned back to him. “Balthazar?”
It was the opening he was waiting for. Balthazar, tightly gripped the sword in its hilt with his other hand, using it as an extension of his hand. It burst through its sheath and the wooden hand with a blade larger than what Locke had given him, glowing with a hot scarlet aura. Balthazar had to pour all his focus into the blade so it wouldn’t cook him, with the blade being still at his hip. Crack. There, the heat shift cracked the wooden hand, giving him just enough movement to swing the blade, even just a little. It was all he needed, the magical blade cracking and cutting through the Dryad’s hand, chaining up the rest of its frozen arm, shattering the limb. Enchantment magic, the reason Balthazar had taken up learning the sword from Locke. He flicked the blade, turning off the fire enchantment as he fell, landing next to Miles, who helped get him back on his feet. The Dryad made an agonized rumbling sound, the glow of its eyes becoming more intense, as it reached out to the two.
Miles made an upward arc with the swing of his hand, spikes erupting from the earth to pierce the beast, not doing much in the way of damage, but pinning it in place. “Torch it!”
Balthazar swiped his hand through the air making a snap as he did, and the Dryad erupted into a massive burst of flame. It flailed wildly, swinging at trees, the fire spreading to them, though quickly dying out. “Run! We can’t stick around if the others come back to help!” Balthazar made another snapping motion, and the flames burst once more, intensifying the Dryad’s panicked swinging.
“Run where?!” Miles’ eyes darted back and forth looking for any place they could escape to.
Balthazar gestured to follow, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him, Miles hot on his tail. They heard thudding behind them, but didn’t dare look back. “There, on the right, there’s some white rocks, towards there!” Balthazar wanted to scream as he noticed that he was starting to trip again, but he caught himself as he was falling forward. He darted between trees, leapt over stray overgrowth, making for the mysterious white pillar of stone. Between im and it, a fallen tree was in his way, not so large as the massive redwoods around them, but thick enough of an obstacle to pose a threat. Balthazar jumped, not making it over, but landing near the top where he could crawl or roll over it. Miles hadn’t made the jump at the right time, and was trying to climb up, having a bit of trouble, not being in the same physical condition as Balthazar. Balthazar reached his hand out, his eyes falling upon the still burning, still charging Dryad still after them.
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“I don’t need your help, Balthazar!”
“I’m trying to save your life!” Balthazar forcible grabbed Miles’ hand, who pushed off the log, giving them enough momentum to roll over to the other side. They groaned from landing on each other, stumbling back up to their feet as the Dryad got closer and closer. Balthazar looked around briefly, noticing more of the white stone around him, covered in mosses from years of disuse, but it wasn’t a natural formation, this was the remains of an old structure of some sort. “There, an opening!” Balthazar dragged Miles along, as he felt the hot swipe of the Dryad’s hand behind him, narrowly missing them. There, towards the center of the rubble, there was still an entrance going underground slightly. Balthazar hoped it was solid enough to keep them safe, at least for a little bit. They nearly fell down the stairs of the entrance, their forward momentum the only thing keeping them from falling straight away, but as they hit the bottom, they hit the ground after missing a step. They crawled away from the entrance, the Dryad slamming into it, and attempting to reach in with its remaining arm, shifting it once more into vines to attempt to drag them out. Balthazar snapped his finger once more,as he rolled to face them, torching them, and charring them black. They reeled back, but the stomping in the area told them that the creature hadn’t given up yet.
Miles was the first back to his feet, still backing away from the entrance. “Why isn’t that thing charcoal yet? I thought you specialized in fire magic!”
Balthazar didn’t bother yelling back, as much as he wanted to. He tried containing his voice as best as he could, but his frustration was palpable. “If I went any hotter or more intense with the fire, we could have burned down the whole forest, Miles. A living plant doesn’t exactly burn too easily, and something that big takes a while to cook, plant or not. I kind of thought our Valedictorian would realize that.”
“Oh please, you’re only here because Prince Atma took pity on you.”
Balthazar punched him before the thought had fully crossed his mind. “What is your problem with me, Miles?!” Balthazar lost himself to an anger he hadn’t realized was slowly building. “I saved your life more than once, and you still feel the need to talk shit like this? You’re not some infallible mage, Miles!”
Miles looked at Balthazar with horror on his face, like a child being scolded for the first time. He tried standing his ground, but the pain in his cheek from where he’d been hit served as a reminder that he had little ground to stand on. “Gee Balthazar, where do I begin?”
“No, none of that, I am directly asking you, Miles, what is your problem with me?”
“Well gee, Balthazar,” he started, sarcastically though his tone shifted to a serious anger, “I hate you so much. I have the talent and skills to be the best, I’ve done better in the Academia than you. I come from a more prominent family than yours, and my parents also work in the Council. So why am I always the one in your shadow?!” He spit blood onto Balthazar’s boot. “It’s always you, Balthazar, I can outcast you, and put what you do to shame, but no, we get people who think ‘oh Balthazar’s so cool.’ No matter what I do, you’re the one people flock to. And it’s because of you that the girl I like won’t even look in my direction! I finally get a shot with this trip, to prove myself above you, and then you come along, and you even ruin my shot with her!”
There was a quiet rage on Balthazar’s face, he’d regained his composure in Miles’ rant. His voice was calm and stern. “Please Miles, you drive people away yourself. You’re so focused on your own ego that you didn’t bother noticing the people who supported you along the way. You have exactly what I have, Miles, you just don’t like me having it too.” He turned away to head further into the ruins. “There’s no special trick about any of it. I live my life happy with who I am. And it’s no secret Miles, Alice doesn’t like you. But that’s all you.” There was silence as he walked away, Miles frozen in place, not having a word to say.
Balthazar lit a small flame, letting it rest in his palm, as he surveyed the tunnel. It didn't go much deeper, he found, and any branching rooms collapsed from time. There were old runes, barely legible, in old Arcadian script. Still, it felt rather natural to read, as he traced his fingers over it, this was some sort of old laboratory. From what he could tell, the place was easily 200 years old, more than likely far older. Doors were caved in, and at the end of the hall, a pile of rocks, a sandstone like brown, lay cluttered in a massive pile, nearly up to the ceiling.
He felt a stinging pain in his side, turning down to realize that he had burned himself in his escape, a red mark in the shape of the blade he had enchanted, singing through his clothes. As his adrenaline wore off, he could feel it more and more. He groaned, and leaned against a large pile of rubble. Healing magic wasn’t his forte, but he needed to fix himself up, or he wouldn’t make it much further. He took a deep breath, and rummaged through his satchel, still thankfully at his side, finding an old spellbook. Most of it was irrelevant, things he had mastered long ago, but he appreciated the reference when it came to healing. Based off of light element magic, his worst affinity. Of course it was. He took a deep breath, trying to remember how Alice had tutored him.
‘The key is finding the rhythm of your own heart, and a gentle hand, whether your heart is pounding, or fading, healing magic works best in tempo with your body’s flow.’ He exchanged the flame in his palm for a soft light, gently guiding it to his side where his sheath had been. It stung horribly, but he tried keeping his mind centered. Ba-dump, ba-bump, ba-bump. The pain eased, but his mouth filled with the taste of metal. “Yeah, that’s working.” He couldn’t do much about his clothes, as he returned his focus to his condition. A hole in the side of his clothes would be annoying, but wasn’t a pressing issue. His pants were staying on, and that was enough. He inspected the sword Locke had given him. “Well, I kept you safe, but of course the scabbard can’t say the same.” He sighed.
Miles sat near the entrance,just far enough where the creature wouldn’t get him if it came back. “What are we going to do?”
“I thought it was all about you.” Balthazar answered sarcastically, before quietly thinking. “We need to find the others. I think if we work together, we can kill the Dryad outside. The others can’t be far if it’s willing to hang around here, and the other Dryads haven’t come here yet. I think it means they think they can wait us out, with us on their doorstep.” Balthazar sighed. “Ideally, if we could free them, we’d be able to fight back, but I’m not entirely sure we could free them without fighting.”
“We don’t really have a choice, do we?”
“Not at all.” Balthazar sighed. “We should rest for now, make sure we’re ready to fight again. Then, we get up and get moving. We don’t have much ti-” Balthazar sprawled forward, hearing something rumble behind him. He panicked, thinking the Dryad had forced an entry behind him, and crawled back as Miles sprung to his feet, as the pile of rubble Balthazar had leaned against shook, parts of it crumbling away like dried mud. Slowly, a hulking humanoid form made of the stone Balthazar has dismissed as debris. Its body was angular, jagged, with thick, clublike forearms, made of more jagged stone. Its head was styled like an old gladiator helmet, though it had an imperfect beauty to it, in how it kept much of the natural shape of the rocks that made it up. Like the Dryads, it had no real face, instead, where the face of the gladiator would be, a pair of glowing red lights for eyes. It let off a low rumbling hum, as if to vocalize. Part of Balthazar wanted to attack, but another part stayed perfectly calm. It made no move to attack, standing by fairly idly.
There was a silent shock for a moment between the two Dark Mages, before Miles broke the silence. “Is that… a golem?” He stepped closer, not going past Balthazar. “That’s incredible, but, what’s a golem doing here?”
Balthazar shrugged. “You’re the earth mage, you tell me.”
“No, no. Golems aren’t inherently Earth magic, they’re more like an enchantment of pure magical energy. You can build them out of nearly anything as long as it’s not already alive. It’s an incredibly rare advanced art, though. Linia hasn’t had a Golem Master in well over a century. You’d have to visit the old cities of Arcadia and Arcana to find one.” Miles tilted his head in curiosity. “I don’t get how it turned on though.”
Balthazar got closer to the golem, inch by inch. “I just said to get up, and this thing just started moving, think that was it?”
“I doubt it. Golems only respond to their makers, and specifically programmed individuals. This thing has got to be ancient, it’s a miracle it still works at all.”
Balthazar shrugged. “Well, nothing for it. Sit down.”
The golem made another humming sound, before complying.
“I don’t believe it…” Miles got closer again. “This thing might be programmed to help anyone. Golem, stand up.” The golem made no motion and did not acknowledge Miles. “Or not? My best guess is that this is just a very confused golem, and time has done a number on it. Maybe you sound like its previous owner?”
“I guess.” Balthazar looked over the golem, as he stood next to it, inspecting it. “You got a name, big guy?”
The golem hummed again, and pointed to its chest with its stone fingers. There was a core implanted in the center of its chest, glowing with a dim light.
Balthazar leaned in, touching the core, and feeling old markings carved into it, these being in not Arcadian, but an old fashioned version of Linian rune work. “Faust. Mk. I.” Balthazar found it familiar in style to a Magician’s crest, Faust being the family name, and below would normally be a number corresponding to a tarot card.
The golem hummed again, more energetically.
“That thing has a lot of personality for a golem. Faust though? That’s an old name, hasn’t been used in years, as far as I know.”
Balthazar looked to the Golem’s eyes, who he found staring back at him intently. “Well, if Faust is who made you, I guess we can call you that.” The golem hummed as if to agree. Balthazar turned back to Miles. “I think we might have just found our solution.” A grin formed on Balthazar’s face, a plan coming together, he met eyes with their new companion again. “Alright then, Faust, we’re going to need your help, we’ve got people who need saving.”