“You did what?!”
Gavan’s anger resonated throughout the living hall of his house. All Iris could do was sit at the end of the table and bear her father’s anger. Seated at the table were four other elders, fathers of the longest family lines in the village including Obo’e, the village scholar. Everyone present could only hang their heads in shame, confusion, and fear. Between them, the sword Iris pulled from Arylos’s chest lay on the table.
“Yokubo cornered me,” Iris said, her voice soft, “I tried to–”
“I don’t give a shit about Yokubo!” Gavan cut off. “As far as I’m concerned, he deserved his fate. But you. You broke the seal binding a creature that my ancestors bound at the cost of their lives.”
Iris bowed her head. Normally, she would retaliate, her life depended on it, it was self defence. Not this time. She saw first hand what Arylos did, and he was just awoken. He may be more powerful than the glimpse she just had.
“And now he’s wandering in the forest,” Gavan added, “free to do as he pleases and aware that the bloodline that bound him still lives.”
The elders present could only groan. They knew what this meant; Arylos would feed and become stronger and try coming back for revenge.
“Then why not tell people?” Iris questioned, “if he’s that dangerous, shouldn’t the people know so they don’t do anything stupid? So that this wouldn’t happen?”
Gavan rubbed the stress from his face. “I left Arylos’s existence hidden specifically because of this.” Gavan said, processing the scope of just how much trouble awaits them. “I did not want random people looking for him and accidentally waking him.”
“Then who is he?” Iris pushed. “What is he?”
Gavan and the elders sat in silence before Obo’e spoke. “No one knows for certain,” he began, “the records we do have list him as some kind of creature dating back to the Dragon Wars, possibly earlier. The references I can find list him as some dark god in some cultures, but those are speculative.”
Gavan jumped in, “Our ancestors were moving into this area when they encountered him in that hall you found him in. He and our ancestors battled before my ancestor plunged this sword in his chest, seemingly putting him down for good.” Gavan’s hand ran along the hilt of the sword. “However, once that was done, the area became haunted. A shadow stalks the area, whispers in the wind, a growl in the night.”
“When they discovered that,” one of the elders jumped in, “they destroyed all records of the creature’s existence and outlawed anyone who dared approach the ruins.”
Iris thought to herself for a moment, taking all of this in. This seemed like some strange dream. A monster from the Dragon Wars was imprisoned in the woods she travelled so much. Did this mean that one day, she would have discovered Arylos anyway?
Iris opened her mouth to speak, interested to learn more, but was cut off by a series of loud booms coming from outside. One after another, solid impacts that shook the ground, ten in total. Everyone present, Iris and Gavan included, looked at each other and jumped from their chairs, grabbing their weapons and preparing for the worst.
As the group left the building, they were greeted by nine soldiers, adorned in glistening gold and silver armour that shines even in the dark night with dark purple cloaks, their helms covering their face save for a blue glow from slots where the eyes would be. Insignias of three gold interlaced triangles decorated their breastplates and silver longswords on their hips and black longbows on their backs.
Before them stood a tall woman, adorned in gold armour lined with brown and red feathers. Tattoos covered her pale skin where exposed. She carried a gold spear with feathers attached to the blade and wore a gold mask of a woman’s face with hands covering the eyes, and topped with a headdress of red feathers. Upon her back rests two large metal clockwork wings lined with wings of steel blades and black feathers.
The woman dug her spear into the ground and removed her mask, revealing a woman with short jet black hair and eyes, a petite jawline and scarlet lips. The woman was a picture of alluring beauty.
“Greetings!” she called out, her voice booming like a horn, “I apologise for disturbing you all on this fine evening. My name is Eir, although I’m afraid my name may hold little significance to you.”
Eir. Iris knew the name well. One of the nine Valkyrja from one of the many houses of Kaiyuimian religion. A Templarian, they’re called. Eir in particular was named the “Spear of Justice”.
“I am in search of someone,” Eir continued, “a being that endangers your people and mine. I am to believe you are acquainted with this creature.”
Arylos, the name entered Iris’s mind. They’re searching for him, but why? Obo’e said that Arylos was a dark god to some cultures. Does that make him the friend of these Templarians? Or foe? Judging from the ten fully armed soldiers present, counting Eir, he may be more of a foe than anything else.
One of the men in the village drew his sword and charged the Valkyrie, screaming to steel his nerves. However, Eir only smiled. With a swift movement of her wings, she launched herself at blinding speed, a vortex of air in her wake, and struck the man in the gut with so much force he was sent flying back and crashed into one of the buildings behind him. Eir landed as gracefully as she flew and chuckled before turning to Gavan and the rest.
“Before I was so rudely interrupted,” she began, walking towards Gavan, “I was wondering if you people may be able to help me in this little errand I’ve been sent on.”
“He has left this place,” Gavan replied, “we do not know where. Only one of our number saw him and he never set foot in this village.”
“Oh?” Eir responded, more interested than disappointed, “That’s a shame. You all were the best lead I had to run off.” The other soldiers in unison took out black, almost metallic, bows from their backs and drew back on the strings, a blue arrow of lightning forming on the strings.
“A real shame because I was ordered not to leave anyone alive,” Eir continued, putting her mask back on and lifting her spear, “including witnesses.”
As one, the soldiers let loose their bows and bolts of lightning rained down on the villagers, lighting buildings ablaze and killing those struck by the bolts directly. Screams filled the air and various villagers came forward, armed with what they could, and took on the soldiers.
Iris looked on as each soldier cut down villagers, cleaving them in two with their silver swords, thinning out masses with their enchanted bows. Iris drew her sword as her father drew the blue and silver sword from its sheath. The enchanted sword glowed with a brilliant blue light and hummed with power, yet had not rejected Gavan.
Gavan lunged himself towards Eir and she parried his strike with ease. “Oh? Helion’s blade has found a new master?” Eir said, entertained by what she had witnessed. She returned a blow fierce enough to force Gavan back and the two clashed, Iris witnessing her father’s fighting skills against a Templarian for the first time, and he was holding his own.
Iris wanted to help her father, but could already hear him scold her; “I got this, focus on the villagers.” She went off to find those not involved in the fighting.
What felt like hours passed as Iris continued her routine. Find someone, get them on their feet and run west into the woods where they can get shelter, run back and repeat. She had done this eight times now and the villagers to evacuate were thinning out. Yet she had not seen her mother in her searches.
She ran back one more time to search for the next group but realised why the numbers were dwindling. The ten Templarian soldiers were practically untouched while many of the villagers lay dead at their feet. Instead, the soldiers were more interested in taking bets on the fight between Eir and Gavan.
Iris prayed that her mother already made it out and snuck behind the group and took shelter behind a ruined house so she could watch the fight.
Eir was laughing and fit as a horse, her armour only slightly damaged. Gavan, however, was a different story. He was barely standing, bruised and bloody, his clothing torn, the sword’s glow now wavering like his stance. He fully exhausted any strength he had. He readied himself for another round and the two clashed again, the sound of steel ringing through the air.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Gavan raised his sword for another strike, but before he could bring it down, Eir ducked and pierced Gavan’s gut with her spear. Iris watched in horror as Eir kicked Gavan off of her spear and he and his sword fell to the ground.
Iris screamed and ran towards the valkyrie, dropping her short sword and picking up her father’s sword and it glowed with a blue light as the voice from before spoke again.
Previous rejected user detected. A current incarnate still lives. Advise–
Shut the hell up! Iris spat back to the sword’s voice. Here’s how this is going down; there won’t be whatever bloodline you’re looking for if you don’t help me. So help me kill her and we’ll sort out the details later.
The sword was silent for a moment. Understood, it replied and the sword came roaring to life with a blue light bright enough to blind the unprepared. With a howl, she brought the sword down on the valkyrie faster than she could react. Out of pure instinct and anger, she unleashed everything she had on Eir. No form, no technique; just an animalistic desire to see Eir suffer.
Eir could do little against the raging woman. She could not parry, she could barely block, all she could do was take the frenzied strikes. One of the Templarian soldiers readied a bolt of lightning and fired, yet in a graceful motion, blocked the bolt with the sword and the sword absorbed the energy and brought it down on Eir’s head, splitting the valkyrie’s mask and skull underneath open. Eir froze in place before the sword was removed and she fell in a crumpled mess to the ground.
Iris turned to the group of soldiers and two of them came forward, ready to cut her down. Without thinking, she turned to dodge both of their blades before cutting them down in the same motion and they fell to the ground, lifeless.
Wait, thought Iris, I don’t remember being able to do any of this.
Notice: I have taken temporary control of your body to assist you.
You did what?! Iris retorted. Why did you do that?
You asked me to, the sword responded, I believe you said “help me kill her and we’ll sort out the details later”. I aided you and you have not been available to sort out these details. Fair exchange for using me without permission.
Iris felt the sarcastic nature of the sword, but it was right. Upon seeing three of their fellow soldiers cut down by a mortal, the remaining soldiers retreated to the forest. Iris sighed in relief and turned to her groaning father.
Warning, the sword warned, the Templarians in question are still a threat. Templarian biology prevents–
Iris had enough and dropped the sword to the ground and rushed to her father’s side as Gavan pushed himself up.
“Leave me, girl!” Gavan called out, “I’m alright; I just need to catch my breath.”
Iris examined Gavan’s wound. A deep gaping hole in his stomach yet it was filled in and tied with cloth stripped from Gavan’s sleeve; an impromptu fix to slow the bleeding. She hated to admit, but he’ll be fine, at least for now.
“Where is everyone who got away?” Gavan asked, concerned.
“I led them into the forest,” Iris answered, “that should give them some cover so they can get away. There’s no villages in that direction but following them should be challenging.”
Gavan nodded, reassured. “Good girl,” he said while lifting himself to his feet, “that should buy us enough time.” He reached down and collected the silver sword. “I will try to rejoin the villagers and lead them north. Hopefully, those soldiers will think twice before approaching us.”
Gavan looked around at the burning village, much of it beyond repair. He then turned to Iris. “Get some help from the neighbouring villages,” he instructed her, “we will need food and housing for the survivors. We’ll meet in Kajisho and go from there.”
Iris nodded, “be careful”, she added before setting off in a dead sprint eastwards. Gavan collected himself and his sword and began to head to the forest after taking one last glance at the slain valkyrie.
Once Gavan was out of sight, Eir’s body began to glow with a strange orange light and her fingers twitched.
[https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/962352685615558656/962352773301682196/my_demons_separator.png]
“Gah!” Arylos nearly spat out the tea he was drinking, “this is what they call tea? And they say this is Kaiyumi’s golden era.”
Arylos set the cup of tea back down on the table, disgusted that he fought for Kaiyumi 2,500 years ago just for the descendants of that era to make horrible tea. He hoped they would have learned better.
After leaving Iris, Arylos headed for Kajisho, a city that was barely a village during the time of the Dragon Wars, a hub for refugees and started off taking scrap metals and fashioning weapons for the resistance. He decided to take a balcony seat at a local inn and take in the sights over a cup of tea. Seeing it now grown into a full fledged city with stone walls, lavish buildings, and a bustling population walking through the streets filled Arylos with pride; the idea that in the face of the end of their world, they fought on and survived on scraps and built a thriving nation.
Then why is the tea so bad?! Arylos berated in his mind. The idea that Kaiyumi grew both economically and culturally should mean a city like this should have decent tea. At least the food was not so bad; roasted boar thigh lightly seasoned with spices, rosemary, thyme, and moist with butter that formed a nice coating on the skin.
Arylos took time to admire the buildings, tall and made from fine woods stained in dark rich colours, lined against a cobblestone street teeming with people and carriages. Vendors sell their wares on the sides of the streets to passersby and children laughing, begging their parents to buy them treats from the vendors.
Arylos reflected internally. The Dragon Wars had ended. He is no longer needed on Templarius. He has no friends or family and no one he knows who survived the Dragon Wars. For a first, Arylos had no attachments, no tasks to fulfil, no duties to complete. Free from the bindings the Nashonarus put on him, but not free from his mortal body.
Arylos looked to the dark night sky, quiet and cloudy. Almost peaceful against the lights and noise of the city. Even this late, the city rarely sleeps. Arylos wondered to himself what it would be like to walk amongst them. Maybe, this cursed body is a blessing in disguise; a chance to experience peace for the first time in his long life. A chance to drink deep into the life of man, live a life free from prejudice and worship, where he would not live as a creature, but a man. Ancient Kaiyumae rejected the slavery of the dragons for the ability to live free, a belief Arylos shared and fought for them. But could he now reap those benefits?
The idea sounded…nice.
Arylos finished his meal and left a few coins on the table to pay for the meal and left the inn, heading south down the road. He was interested in what kind of work the smiths here do. Maybe he could get work that way; he did forge his own sword afterall. The Kaiyumae here aren’t ready for that kind of weapon but making weapons more at their level was a simple task for him. A quiet life as a humble blacksmith. It was all coming together.
The sky then began to glow to the west. Arylos looked on as ten pillars of bright white light stretched from heaven to earth and struck the ground in a loud boom before fading. Arylos knew that light anywhere. Nageki was to the west and those lights were Templarians arriving to this world, possibly to search for him.
Arylos took off in a sprint, following the road as best as he could. He should just turn his back; only the girl saw him so the Templarians would find a dead end if they were searching for him. But what if that wouldn’t satisfy? What if they didn’t believe the villagers? Or what if it’s an unrelated issue and those poor souls are caught right in the middle of it? Why would the Templarians even come here?
Questions raced through Arylos’s mind as he struggled to find suitable answers for. The only real answer was that the Templarians sensed him and now someone of the Royal Houses wants Arylos dead, which wouldn’t be out of the question given his track record. So much for living life as a man, he had yet another struggle to overcome.
What would happen once he got there? Killing more Templarians would only bring more trouble than it’s worth. And why now? They never came after him during the Dragon Wars. Is it because it’s safe to do so now?
Arylos ran through every possible scenario as he continued running. He determined that at least going there and trying to help would be the best option. He could negotiate, or lead defence and restoration if they already attacked. Maybe surrendering to them would satisfy them. He didn’t know what awaited him, but he knew that his legs would not stop. Those people may have bound him, but they are no match against ten Templarians with the intent to kill. Arylos can’t just leave them.
As Arylos ran, he could see a shape in the distance; a shadow of a person running towards Arylos. As the two neared each other, he could tell it was a girl that was running. Not just a girl, the girl.
“Iris!” he called out to her, piecing together what happened.
Iris found Arylos and ran as fast as she could, collapsing to her knees when she finally got to Arylos, her breath laboured and body shaking. Arylos knelt down and tried to comfort the terrified girl on the verge of tears. “What happened?” he asked in as soft of a voice as he could.
Iris broke down, “I don’t know!” she exclaimed, “they suddenly appeared and started asking questions about you. When we told them we didn’t know, they attacked us.”
Arylos tried his best to soothe her as she explained to him what happened, from her getting as many villagers out as she could, her being unable to find her mother, her father’s injuries, and the three Templarians she killed including the valkyrie.
“You killed them?” Arylos asked, confused.
Iris nodded. “I used my father’s sword.” she added. “It told me that it would help me and that was the result.”
Arylos thought for a moment. Even with that sword, killing a Templarian is no easy feat for a mortal, much less three, even less two within the same instant.
“What colours did they fly?” Arylos asked, trying to get as much information as he could.
“What do you mean?” Iris responded.
“Their armour, any insignias, any colours or markers,” Arylos clarified, “anything that could identify them.”
Iris thought for a moment before responding. “They had three interlaced triangles on their breastplates and had purple cloaks. Does that help?”
Arylos nodded and stood up. “It does,” he responded, “tells me little about why they’re here, but I know who’s responsible.” Arylos put out his hand to help Iris up, “Come, we’re not done here, and I think it’s fair that some Templarian blood is spilt in exchange for that of your villagers’ blood.”
Iris smiled and took his hand, “so you’ll help?” she asked.
Arylos smiled, “absolutely, it’s the least I can do.”
Iris got up and dusted off her clothes. “Then I’m going too.”
Arylos turned to her, “I don’t think so,” he told her, “didn’t your father tell you to go get help?”
Iris shrugged. “I got all of the help we need, and I still have to find my mother.”
Arylos gave Iris a fanged smile, “Then you better keep up!” Arylos took off in a dead sprint that Iris could barely follow, yet she knew he was slowing himself down so she could keep up.