It took almost all the cart drivers to convince the sobbing woman to get on the carts, each giving her pitying looks and somber apologies as they guided her into the cart with Davus, Blake and Syrus. After a short wait Markus returned from his scouting mission, shaking his head to indicate he had found nothing. James directed the cart drivers in turning around and driving back into their own cart tracks, explaining how they would circle back around after covering their tracks. Hopefully any followers would not think to check the decrepit old path towards the silent forest.
They cut back around and headed northward towards the dusty trail, too small to be called a road, it barely fit the carts. The men looked nervous, but ready, with their swords at their waists and wooden shields - little more than boards nailed together - attached to their arms. Syrus could see the eyes of the cart driver behind them shifting nervously, occasionally peeking over his shoulder at the rolling hills and knee high grass behind them. Their fear was infectious, and the seriousness of the situation was obvious to Syrus, though he felt strangely aloof, detached even. Like it was someone else in his situation, with himself merely a bystander, he felt no fear at all. He analyzed his surroundings just as carefully as all the other guards, yet he felt no different from any other point in their journey.
Syrus turned to look at James, who was crossing the road back and forth in front of the caravan, hoping to avoid any arrows that might come flying his way. He looked like a real warrior, confident but alert with his armor donned and his bow at the ready, a second, white feathertree arrow nocked. He had explained what he wanted from the guards, and what they could expect, all he had left to do was act the part and inspire some confidence into men who had likely never had to fight for their lives before.
If they were to be attacked, his first arrow would hopefully save them from the most likely initial attack, a barrage of arrows, directly after which Markus’s arrow would hopefully take out several bandits. Then, four of the guards, hand-picked by James, would rush forward in the confusion, staying close with shields up, and hopefully take out as many of the bandits as they could before they could rally from the attack. The boys, Davus, and the woman, who still hadn’t given them her name, would be in the second cart. They all rode in grim silence, somewhat confident in their plan, but still nervous. The grassy hills went by for hours, with James pushing the cart drivers well past when they would normally stop. None complained, even with the horses huffing and working up a lather, until eventually they called a halt, with cart driver and caravan guard alike letting out an anxious breath, shoulders dropping as they released tensions they had held all day.
They set camp that night just before the road reached the forest, turning to follow its edge. Instead of following it they rode into the surrounding hills. With luck, any would-be followers would not see their tracks leave the road in the dark, and they would be hidden inside a bowl between three hills. James had set a guard of three men at a time to pull watch that night, and not one of them commented. Syrus, Blake, and Davus took part with the cart drivers in order to allow the guards to get a few more hours of sleep, with one person always placed within view of the woman, who had silently taken a bedroll offered by one of the guards before promptly retreating from the men, sleeping by herself near the horses.
No attack came that night, and a silent caravan packed up it’s gear next to the equally silent forest, The lack of noise making the smallest noises seem louder than possible, the sleepless eyes of many shifting toward any odd sound as they prepared to march. The woman, who had finally consented to speak again, introduced herself as Shara, before clamming up again and refusing to speak. She was curled up in the cart, knees held to her chest with her head against them. Syrus thought he could still see her shake occasionally, and once thought he heard her give a muffled sob, but he did not press her or try to comfort her. What would he, a nine year old boy, say to a woman that had gone through what she had? He knew of nothing that could help, so he didn’t try. The others seemed to come to this conclusion as well, as they left her well enough alone. They had travelled for four hours, until they were just thinking about reaching into their travel packs for lunch, when they first knew that something was off.
The Silent Forest well lived up to its nickname, tall cedar and pine trees standing uncommonly straight, with no branches to speak of until they had reached nearly forty steppes in height, with an odd lack of bushes, undergrowth or fallen branches that would accompany a normal forest. It was eerie, eventually driving Syrus to ask James in a near whisper why a forest so incredibly large appeared to contain no life. He grimaced, looking around before leaning down to speak quietly from his horse. “There's an old myth about some kind of creature that guards the forest. Legend has it, a devil named Onipushta guards the forest. Now I won’t tell you what to believe, boy.” He turned his head from the road to look at Syrus, his face deadly serious. “But I will tell you that almost ten years ago, our army forced a Simerian retreat into the forest. Almost three thousand Simerians rode their horses into the forest, and they never came out. If you have to run, you better think long and hard before you run into there, Syrus.” He reached over to pat Syrus solidly on the shoulder, “we won’t be going inside, however, so don’t think too hard about it.” He kicked his horse and trotted towards the front of the caravan, leaving Syrus to consider his new outlook on the now more ominous looking trees.
He was eyeing the shadows in the forest with a new sense of unease when he first heard it. At first he was convinced that it was his imagination, but before long he couldn’t ignore it. The forest, so silent up until now, was releasing a steady, dull, thump, thump noise from within it, somewhere ahead of them. Syrus could see the horse's ears flicker, indicating they had heard it too, but Blake did not appear to notice it next to him, nor did James or any of the other guards. “James!” he called out in a loud whisper, the man tensed up, looking back at Syrus over his shoulder, “Something is up ahead!” James immediately turned back to scan the area ahead of them, he saw nothing, but, perhaps trusting Syrus, or maybe his instincts, held up his fist, then circled it, signaling the cart drivers to stop and form a defensive circle.
James had told him to trust his gut, to warn him if ever he thought something was off, and now was the time. Something was wrong, he could feel it, the very air itself seemed to be different, now that they were stopped.
James rode to Syrus, leaning down to whisper “what is it?” Syrus shook his head, “I don’t know, some kind of thumping, listen and watch the horses.” James did exactly that, watching as the horses tossed their heads and flicked their ears, nickering softly. They had heard what the others seemingly could not, and James would not ignore it. “Swords and shields out, prepare to defend the carts” he said it just loudly enough for the others to hear, and they pulled their swords out softly and quietly, forming a perimeter around the carts. “Stay in this defensive position and fight from where you are, don’t leave that spot unless you need to dodge an arrow, and for the love of Yggis, if they come, don’t let them through without a fight.”
James grabbed Markus, traded arrows with him, and then took his spot in the defensive wall, closest to where Syrus had pointed into the forest. Syrus, Markus and James were the only three with bows in hand instead of swords, and James called Markus over beside him to switch arrows and receive whispered orders, barely audible from the center cart.“Markus, you’re our best tracker, and I need someone sneaky. I need you to stalk along the wood line, keeping low, and try to spot whatever is up ahead, take it slow, keep it quiet, we’ll wait as long as it takes. If they spot you, just fire this arrow in their general direction and run, you don’t even need to land it near them, it will protect you and you’ll have no problem getting back, just run and start yelling.” Markus’s face turned paler than ever, his hands shook as he gave a rough salute, fist to his heart, then he set off into the wood line without a word.
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They didn’t have to wait long, only fifteen minutes later, Syrus heard the pitch of the thump noise change, followed by a heavy, groaning noise, and then a great CRASH that everyone else no doubt heard as well. This was immediately followed by a voice, garbled but distinctly male, somewhere in the forest ahead, yelling in a panicked voice. “LIGHT IT! LIGHT THE TWISTED FIRE!” Almost immediately Markus came hurtling out of the trees, yelling, “Tree!” He stumbled and nearly fell, picking himself up in a panic as he sprinted in a mad dash towards the carts, screaming “THEY CUT THE TREE! GUARDIAN!” The men, Syrus, James, all the guards, stared at Markus for a moment in confusion, before connecting the sound with what Markus had just said. One of the cart drivers moaned in fear and fell down on all fours, others began to tremble, Syrus heard Konnor curse and start praying to Yggis under his breath. Guards stepped back from their positions, their faces crumpling as they realized what they faced.
James was the pivot point, right when it seemed men would turn and run he yelled out, his voice pitched to carry over a battlefield. “STEADY!” A few men twitched in shock when he yelled, all pretension at staying quiet gone in favor of keeping the men emplaced. “Stay strong men!” He shouted again, his days as a soldier clearly showing. The men around him seemed unable to ignore commands yelled with confidence. “It’s only a beast! You can’t run from it, but you can kill it! Stand strong and protect each other!” The men were momentarily emboldened, but fear went through them like a wave as they heard muffled yells and high pitched screams coming from the woods. A huge snarl from some wicked beast filled the forest, followed by a large cracking sound as another tree fell. Syrus saw the knees of more than a few of the men grow weak, though Markus, who had joined the line next to James, was standing firm.
Syrus too felt no fear, even as he listened to men scream and die horribly in the forest. All too soon it was over, a large yowl filling the air after the screams quieted. There was pain mixed with intense anger and rage hidden within that yowl, and the moment Syrus heard it, he felt a strange, tingling sensation inside his head, almost as if he was itchy, but in a place it would be impossible to scratch. He resisted the temptation to take one sweaty hand off his bow to feel his forehead, but still the sensation lingered, worse, it was getting stronger. It continued to increase in strength until it was maddeningly distracting, he almost missed James speaking to Markus, telling him to let it get close and release the arrow the second the guardian leapt for them. Markus nodded, but again Syrus lost focus as a shiver of pain wracked his head, almost causing him to drop his arrow clumsily into the cart. It was like he had suddenly received cuts across his body, impacts that came from nowhere seemed to hit him, and he felt a pain that was not his own enter him. He couldn’t explain where it came from or what it was, but it was frightening, he was being hurt by something he could not see, his mind was acting in a way it never had before, almost as if he could feel something invading his body. He fought to regain his sense of self, gathering his mind and finally achieving the level of focus that James had taught him would come to those who were about to fight. He suddenly felt numb, detached from the pain, calm. His recovery was just in time, as a large crashing sound of trees being split erupted from the forest, and with it came the Guardian.
It leapt from the wood line, faster than Syrus had ever seen anything move. With the intensity of his concentration everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, but this beast was the exception. It moved in a zigzag, leaping fifteen steppes in a single jump, keeping low to the ground and stretching it’s deadly limbs to their fullest in a lithe display of incredible agility. It would be upon them in a mere three more jumps. The horses whinnied in fear and kicked at their restraints, they had been hobbled and could not move, but still they tried to buck and escape from their hobbles as they sensed death approaching.
Syrus saw the guardian in midair as it leapt towards the caravan with incredible speed, taking in the details he had been unable to see before. It was a silver fox/wolf hybrid, covered in what at first appeared to be fur, which he soon realized was a thick plumage of razor sharp metallic silver feathers that seemed to shine in the light. Its size was hidden by its speed and the fact that it kept low to the ground, but from what Syrus could tell it had to have been almost as large as James’s horse. Yggis! he thought to himself, it’s huge! It landed and leapt again, streaking through the air at a monstrous pace, Syrus could now see that the beast was wounded. An entire sword lay buried in its stomach, hilt jutting out crookedly from it’s chest, three arrows pierced it’s flank. An entire sword inside it and still it can move like this? Syrus was astounded. This was surely the symbol of Yggis’s rage. One of his trees, his divine gift to man, had been desecrated, and as all legends agreed, only death would follow.
It landed once more, only ten steppes away, it changed directions, leaping directly for Markus and James, who shouted “NOW MARKUS!” Markus didn’t hesitate, releasing his drawn bowstring and sending the white arrow right at the airborne guardian. The effect was immediate, a massive squall, a storm created from nothing, formed the second the arrow left the string, flying towards the guardian, already mere steppes from Markus. The beast was hit by a massive wall of wind, so strong that Syrus saw, in a detached sort of way, rocks being dislodged from the ground in front of Markus. The wind was like its own small hurricane, directed and focused in a corridor around where the arrow was aimed, the air around Syrussuddenly felt thinner, as if the whole atmosphere was directed towards smashing into the Guardian, sending it up and back, to crash into the ground a full thirty steppes away. Syrus, deep in his focused mind, somehow felt the strange sensation of the wall of wind hitting him full in the body, which he shrugged off as the beast arced through the air, flipping over to land on its back thirty steppes away.
James had been waiting for this moment, timing it perfectly, he loosed his red arrow. It was a superb shot, one only a veteran who had truly been in the thick of combat could have made. His arrow left the bow and followed right behind the wall of wind, aimed directly at where the Guardian would land. The beast hit the ground with a tremendous thump and yowled, but a split second later was drowned out as the arrow landed right next to it. The explosion was instantaneous, destruction on a scale Syrus had never before witnessed. As the magic arrow released its power, a huge WHUMP followed by an ear splitting crash, like thunder landing right next to him. He was blinded by a flash of light as the explosion hit the beast full in the side and sent it flying once more.
Syrus couldn’t believe that anything could be hit by an explosion like that and not be completely disintegrated, dirt rained down on them, smoke filled the air around the impact site. The Guardian screamed a howl of pain and climbed back onto its feet, one of its legs and part of its chest and shoulder missing. Great gouts of blood spouted from its missing limb. It hobbled a few steps and Syrus felt again, in the back of his mind, a pain like he had never felt. It was almost too much to bear, but rage quickly followed it and he was nearly consumed by it, almost overwhelming him. He felt a flash of fear as he beat down the emotions flowing through his mind. He shook his head clear of distractions and took aim, releasing his own arrow, which hit the creature in the shoulder, making a shrieking noise as it ricocheted off, drawing another line of blood along its feathery skin. It roared and leapt again, slower now but still almost too fast to follow. James dropped his bow, unsheathing his sword and yelling for Markus to back up and support him, he stepped into the leap, raising his shield and slamming his whole body into it as the creature's single front paw - the other leg disintegrated in the explosion, crashed into his shield. James lifted his sword in an upward stab the moment the massive clawed foot crashed into his shield, before the impact could send him flying, and he let loose an inhuman roar as he stabbed upwards, just under his shield, and deep into the throat of the beast. Both of them landed heavily on the ground, James buried under its great weight. Markus, ignoring James’s orders to fall back, rushed in and stabbed the beast once more in the side, burying his sword to the hilt right behind its shoulder blade, where the heart of most animals would normally be. Syrus witnessed this all happen in a split second, but saw no more, the moment after James stabbed the beast, an intense pain shot through his head, his vision went black, he felt the floor of the cart coming closer, and then everything was gone except pain.