Thud—
Thud—
Thud—
Heavy sounds pounded against the giant door ahead. What exactly was behind the door remained a mystery. All he knew was that the door was about to give way, soon to be smashed by the tremendous force outside.
Garlande found himself in constraints, clad in silvery fish-scale armor. Shiny steel vambraces covered his arms and a pure white silk scarf was wrapped around his neck.
A helmet obscured his vision, allowing only a tiny sliver of light...
The cumbersome outfit made every movement a struggle.
Yet his hands firmly gripped a spear, facing the massive door. They trembled from clutching too hard for too long. His body was nearly stiff from waiting.
He remembered nothing more, only knowing he must defend this door!
Beside him stood many strangers, fully armed yet completely unfamiliar. Dressed simply like peasants, some held long spears while others grasped farming tools. They stood shuddering, eyes filled with rage and despair.
Thud—
With the final blow, the door cracked open!
Beyond the gap, enemy eyes peered through!
Garlande jerked awake, breaking out in cold sweat. He sat up abruptly. Having slept in a cramped tent, his limbs felt numb. The two girls still slept soundly as it was deep in the night.
This was a recurring nightmare that had plagued him for years, since he was aware enough to remember. It came whenever exhaustion took over, always the same scene. As he grew older, the details became clearer.
What was behind that door about to collapse? What could it symbolize?
Sleep eluded Garlande. He lay awake for a long time as early spring still carried a chill.
"I have an old padded jacket for Gwyneth. Don't let him freeze to death..." he thought, quietly climbing up to dig out the old coat and exiting the tent.
In the dark of night, the small tent stood lonely. The boundless prairie had scarce trees, just grass as far as the eye could see.
Gwyneth had dug a burrow in a sheep pen corner and was sleeping there, cuddling a lamb for warmth. Garlande draped the coat over him. The man grunted but did not wake.
Stolen story; please report.
"How could there be someone like this in the world? He's the first I've met," the boy murmured to himself.
His ranch dwelled on the remote prairie. Further northwest, the grass grew more sparse, bordering a barren thicket of brambles. Without grazing value, people avoided the area.
Garlande gazed up at the dazzling starry sky. Unable to sleep on such a beautiful night, a walk sounded nice. He saddled his gray horse and set off northwest, soon leaving home behind.
Some matters he never confessed even to the sympathetic Guinevere, for they seemed too peculiar, more intuitions than concrete experiences.
Since becoming self-aware, Garlande had felt watched from behind. Not the loving gaze of parents, yet not ill-intended either. It was tranquil, serene, bereft of emotional fluctuations.
The feeling intensified when alone, so strong he almost discerned the watcher's breath.
But the eyes always evaded discovery. Abrupt turns, sneaking behind himself, searching high and low - nothing surfaced. All factual evidence refuted his imagination, yet the visceral perception was indistinguishable from reality.
He kept it secret. "I'd likely be deemed neurotic or overly anxious," he reasoned.
Lately the eyes weighed stronger, jolting him awake with his name called.
"Who are you!" Garlande shouted at the open sky.
Only the cries of wild beasts answered across the prairie.
After tiring his voice, frustrations seemed to dissipate. Dismounting, the boy caught his breath at the bramble edge where gravel and sand stretched. Without water, plants couldn't grow, only thorny black vines.
Nightly walks made the area familiar. Further down the winding path sat an abandoned temple.
Leading his horse inside, Garlande soon reached gigantic stone doors of the ruined temple. A square courtyard at the entrance was encircled by carved pillars of foreign deities, bathed in moonlight. Though weathered, the vivid figures captivated.
Some depicted beautiful women, others animals. Several lay beheaded.
His nomadic tribe never built such structures. They predated the prairie settlements, crafted ages ago by the "Ancients". Their fate and beliefs remained a mystery.
His tribe worshipped the Beast Lord, a white stag embodiment of the sacred hunt that sustained life. Sacrificial offerings preceded hunts, giving thanks afterwards.
"How ironic," Garlande unconsciously stroked his own grey-white hair.
Their shaman communed with the Beast Lord as his servant, unable to speak directly to tribesmen. Gifts appeased the shaman to intercede for prosperity.
Saji's minor rite preceded their hunt. But the shaman always rejected Garlande's offerings without explanation, only accepting superior tokens. Saji often consoled him after.
"Friend, even foreign tribes have shamans and Beast Lords. With an outsider's aid, perhaps theirs would guide me," he asked his horse, dubbed Greymane.
Though sacrilegious to ponder, he wondered if tribes worshipped the same or distinct Beast Lords. A forbidden question he never voiced.
His northern father resembled the castle soldiers, but Garlande knew nothing of the man.
"The Beast Lord surely knows. If he sees distant prey, he must know of other tribes' ceremonies too...with experience, even foreign shamans and lords could accomplish the same."
"Right, Greymane?"
The mute horse simply snorted.
Their current shaman was once a man mentored by elders. To become the Beast Lord's servant, he sacrificed part of his body, fusing with an avian familiar into a hybrid.
The crow-headed shaman lost speech. His neck swiveled bird-like and he cawed.
Reputedly clairvoyant, he swore never to directly reveal glimpsed futures, only hinting through cryptic gestures. Also, once a shaman, forever unable - no way back to humanity.
"How frightening..." Garlande would never trade body and speech for any ability.
The chief's family maintained the shaman's closest ties, privy to guidance. Saji also befriended the birdman. His brother was Garlande's sole remaining connection to the tribe. Without Saji, he'd be outcast forever...