“When I was a boy, I used to love the idea of being born into the Guard Families. We were the protectors of Kings and Queens for many generations. The wall that stood between the world and the people of Regnus.”
Regnus is changing. The quiet night has passed, and working on a barrier wall to protect the King and kingdom is underway. Its sole purpose is to protect the fearful King from the unknown creatures. A quick measure against an unseen and unknown force. A formidable antagonist, capable of wiping clean the slate of guardians meant to shield the kingdom. Regnus is fervent in its state of change. The only thing that's fallen to a sadder state since the quiet night is the tall and gloomy tower of the King’s Castle. Curtains are draped over each tall pane of stained glass, parted only to let in a few strands of sunlight to illuminate the great, but bleak, halls inside.
Apart from the Elite guard, who man the boundaries and part for scouting missions, stand the patrol garrison- lower nobility that is stationed inside the castle. They are trusted to walk the kingdom town, police its inhabitants and keep safe the aging villagers who have no sons or daughters to protect them should the case arise. Their families and the remaining families of the Elite, are all that remain to keep watchful protection of Regnus and keep heed of the King's shaky fortifications.
King Maloin sits down a long and narrow hall, alone at his throne topping a staircase. He is slumped over to his side, clutching the arm of his seat as if to grasp at survival from a drowning icy depth. Maloin shutters as he plays over and over his horror, stuck in a loop of re-living the loss of his friends and family, the latter proving to be his true prison.
“That crown suits you ill, boy!”
“You'll fall them all!
“What could you do!?”
The voices taunt him relentlessly.
At that moment, a crashing door wakes him from his discomfort.
“Wha-!”
Maloin shoots up, letting his eyes adjust down the hall. The sunlight slowly fills the long decorated pathway of armor and fancy draped fabrics over windows, standing as tall as houses and painted in a myriad of color.
“I said, what're you going to do?”
D'tera stomps her way up to the throne and asks again, angrier than the first.
“The kingdom has lost its best defense, and now looks to you to keep it safe.”
Maloin lets this realization hit him, and he slumps again to let out a hot breath of shame.
“I’ve had time to think, and I know what I have to do, but I know the people will not like it. I've thought long about what has to be done, it's just that the action I take will also cause worry and distrust.”
The King’s head buries in doubt.
D'tera turns look out the window, paces quietly over to it and as somber as this monolith of a warrior could be, she gazes down at a few families waiting around the palace gates.
“If you don't make a distrustful and worrying choice there won't be people to feel any such way about you. You need to make tough calls...no matter the cost”
Saying this, D'tera grips a wrapped mass she holds at her sides.
King Maloin sighs again, deep and as long to let out everything in his lungs, sounding annoyed nearing the end of it.
“Gather the families and the remaining patrol guards, I’ll make the announcement then.”
D’tera leaves the castle with haste, still tightly gripping the package she carries. She heads towards a sorrowful greeting, nonetheless determined.
D’tera strides slowly through the town, letting the eyes of everyone rain hatred and fear on her. The people of Regnus are themselves aware that the Elite are weak cowards, that they’ve done nothing but make targets out of the Kingdom. They know this in their hearts. Regnus is cursing the defeat of Diagis and the loss of his men. A word for the enemy has begun to float, whispered through the alleys and in the quiet of people’s homes, a warning of ability and strength.
“Cythril” now haunts the quick memories of Regnus.
As she walks through the town she ponders what to say, how she will break the news. Not all families have been given the report of the attack just yet, the official news hasn’t broken, but rumors spread like wildfire. Diagis’ family is looked at with sorrowful contempt.
D’tera reaches the edge of town, the household of Father Diagis, Mother Matrelus, Oldest Son Vientus, and Youngest Boy Vicadum. With a heaviest of heart, the weight keeps her in place stood outside their door, watching the wisping flame cast the shadows of a running Vicadum, reminded of the speed and haste she had to pull out of herself.
The flames suddenly chase her into her memory of the quiet night.
Diagis storms towards the Cythril as D’tera drags King Maloin to safety, both hands firmly gripping his sword, growling back at its villainous roar. He clashes his sword against its hidden teeth. The sheer mastery of the sword allows Diagis to utilize his senses to detect perfectly the creature he faces. His eyes tell him it’s nowhere to be found, but his skin warns him of the mass in front of him, his ears guide him to the distance of its breath and cry. Diagis is at no disadvantage in this one on one.
D’tera has dragged King Maloin to the edge of the forest, ensuring his safety by throwing him towards the Tower guards.
“Take His Highness to the deepest room the castle has, arrange for twenty men to stand outside and keep watch of him, I’ll return shortly with Captain Diagis and we’ll make sense of this attack!”
D’tera has no time to think, only to make the harsh order to lock her King up for his safety and to return to a battlefield with an unknown enemy. Time is short.
Dashing through brush and wicked forest, D’tera takes hold of her heavy double-edged buster sword and swings to her front, slashing down the trees in her way for many meters off.
Arriving at the field, she quickly views the scars of the battle held here. The ground where Diagis must’ve been knelt down at the weight of his foe against his sword, an indent of a huge mass being forced down just as Diagis was, gathering he must’ve jumped up to slash at it. All these tell-tale signs, yet no Diagis or Creature to be seen.
“DIAGIS!”
She calls out desperately, waiting impatiently for an answer.
She hears nothing back, only the wind and trees. D’tera begins to search swiftly the surrounding area, unleashing a fury of attacks on the low bushes, swinging wildly to reveal a possible clue or to her fear, a body. In a mash of gust and dust, D’tera kicks up a rock and it peters over behind an untouched bush, waking a groggy Diagis.
“Ah, who’s throwing rocks?”
A slurring Diagis asks.
D’tera races over, laying her sword beside Diagis and quickly checks over his chest and head for any severe damage, noting the heavy flow of blood left on and around him.
“Can’t a guy sleep? Just had kind of a big fight back there if you didn’t notice?”
He lets his head fall back to the ground.
“Shut up Diagis, I‘m trying to see where he got you.”
D’tera scans over his torso to find where the blood is coming from, but as she reaches a little lower Diagis grabs her hand and tells her to stop.
“Please...I know I’m dead, I-”
Diagis inhales sharply and his eyes scatter around the sky, tears brim at his eyelids.
“I knew I only had to hold on long enough.”
D’tera is angry and confused.
“Dead? What do you...-”
Diagis’ strength gives out on him and he’s unable to stop her from feeling lower and noticing the extent of the damage. D’tera feels the wet of the red all over, eyes widening at the site of his state. Diagis is grasping at life.
In fighting the Cythril, Diagis made many great attacks to take the beast down, the fight went as D’tera saw it in the scars. He would jump meters high to bring the Cythril down to its knees, indenting the ground with his forceful swing.
The fight took them away to a misty plain, a mistake in the Cythrils movement, because this allowed Diagis to be able to visualize the being more than his senses could before. The mist drapes around the Cythril, it stood tall but crawled at the height of just above a normal man, able to move faster that way. Through wild swings in the fogged air, the shape of clawed hands the size of an arm-shield take shape. Being easier to see now, Diagis leads one of its swings into the ground, planting its fist firmly.
Diagis takes this opportunity to get onto the back of the Cythril and hit what must be a vital point at the nape of its neck. Raising his sword above his head, he prepares to swiftly end the monster once and for all, but the creature suddenly and violently rips its way out of the ground, lifting Diagis into the air from its back. He flies and falls into the nearby water, standing fast as he lets the mists wash over him, taking the moment to reconvene his thoughts and actions. A quick meditation allows his sense to lead him towards being able to take this Cythril down. Hearing the splashing of the water a few meters away, he knows that the Cythril has dived into the pond and will be moving underwater from this point, the ideal time to strike it is just before it can reach him.
Diagis stops his movement completely, allowing him to feel the waving waters against his legs, detecting any immediate movement around him. Suddenly, behind him, he can sense the Cythrils swimming strokes move against his stance, pushing intensely, faster and faster. Diagis places his sword at his side and readies it for a slash, keeping forward and away from the Cythril, giving the enemy the false hope of an opening. The Cythril leaps out of the water, its claw raised to the moon, ready to rip Diagis in twain, swinging quickly to meet his flesh, when just then Diagis has already counter-moved and rained down on his face is the red of the Cythrils’ innards.
Diagis has opened the Cythril wide, the pond darkens with the blood of the monster and its body begins to sink below the surface, falling deeper than the height it reaches Diagis. The pond swallows the Cythril up and Diagis is left to ponder his victory. As he relieves his lungs of breath, the surface of the pond is tensed and suddenly burst through. The Cythril rises from the depths and rushes Diagis, prompting him to react strictly with raising his sword in the direction of the coming attack.
The Cythril is impaled on the sword of its own violent volition, a final throw into the fight against the human, giving every last bit of energy it has. As it bleeds a small lake into the pond waters, it thrashes vehemently on the blade, attempting to remove the sword from its gut by sheer will; it fails and can only do what it can to attack the sword itself. It can muster a dull and short-term solution for its pain. It begins to wreak havoc on the sword and hand of Diagis, throwing fist after fist to make him let go. Diagis endures the pain, as he assumes the beast has to let go and fade into death soon, but not soon enough to save Diagis’ bones from the terrible breaking being caused. Diagis’ hands are pulp in between the furious fists of the Cythril, barely able to close completely around the blade.
In finality, the sword gives away, the hilt and hand are destroyed, and the blade is made into shards- shimmering in the night as each piece reflects a sliver of the moon. Diagis’ blade is still stuck in the Cythril, definitively it succumbs to the blow.
Diagis is allowed a moment of peace, taking in the fight, the pain of his injuries, and the condition of his sword, disappointed by all. He walks over to the corpse, still hot from the blood, he watches the steaming crimson body of the Cythril lose its form, slowly, as if it’s melting away in the waters.
Before it can completely fall underneath, he reaches for his sword and tugs at it, liberating it from the Cythril’s body, and a twitch warns Diagis. From within the water, a force launches Diagis across the skirt of land, streaking the grass as red as the waters itself, he can feel nothing of his lower half. His legs are nowhere to be seen, the air stripped of his lungs and torso, the light in his eyes dim, he has no choice but to be wintry embraced by death.
Diagis lies there on the ground, growing colder underneath the hot wash of blood and warm misty air, sleep comes naturally. After a short rest, he is nudged by brushing bush, and a moment later is fully woken by a rock. Wincing at the pain and mere annoyance of waking from rest, he calls out in a way he knows won't cause anyone close by to be fearful. Diagis is always thinking of others.
D'tera finds him and notices his missing legs, quickly dragging him by his torn cape over into some light, pulling further and further away from the pond and mist. Diagis grabs above his head to his taught cape and tells D'tera to stop.
"D'tera please, I fear my time is running short and I won't spend my last moments being dragged across the ground."
Diagis tries to hold onto the cape tightly.
D'tera nearly doesn't listen to his plea, then Diagis stabs his sword into the ground to stop her.
“Listen… please”
He begs.
“Diagis, I won’t hear it, I’m taking you home to your kids and Wife. They’ll be waiting for your return.”
She assures the tired Diagis.
“They will be waiting, D’tera... and it leaves my heart in shambles to know I can’t see them again.”
Diagis laments his coming death.
“DON’T!”
She can only muster this defiance.
“D’tera, you have to take this!”
Diagis thrusts what’s left of his sword towards her, holding it up with all the power left in his body, his broken hands clasp a broken blade.
D’tera whimpers a sigh, relieving her grip on him and laying him down. Holding his shaking cold hands, she makes her promise to him.
“Your family will get this. I’ll do everything in my power to make them understand your sacrifice. Your family will know that you died a Hero's passing.”
“Thank you...if your words don’t suffice... please… give them these…”
D’tera now stands cold outside the door of her passed friend, holding her promised delivery in Diagis’ cape, not knowing how to bring such tragedy to the front door of an unsuspecting family. Her hands as heavy as her heart, she lets her balled fist fall to the wooden door and can only wince as she listens to the pattering footsteps of an expectant son.
Vicadum wildly swings the door open, and as swiftly as the happiness of having his returning father home came, so leaves the light in his eyes as his head falls down to view a bloody and tattered cape.
***
Author Note
Hi! I recently started uploading to Tapas and am looking forward to seeing myself a bit more involved in the community!
Numen Strife is a fun project I've been working on for a few years now.
Chapter 2 here ran up to 14,000+ words and it's cutting a bit close to Tapas' upload limit, so hopefully I can continue uploading complete chaptrs to the platform- but, if I find that they cut off at a certain point (as I know some of my chapters get longer in words and characters) than I'll post links!!!
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