Land of Winds - the Guardian Part Three, Fantasy Fiction

Welcome to part 3 - Thank you for following our hero as he tries to make sense of what has happened and what is in store for him.

For those of you who would like to start at the beginning, I have included a link, as well as one for the previous episode.

Land of Winds - the Guardian, Part One
Land of Winds - the Guardian, Part Two

Seome huddled under the blanket, shivering, taking stock of his situation. Wondering for the hundredth time just what in Torim's Name was going on, and where he fit into all of it. Try as he might, he could not think why this had happened to him. The morning he and his friends had gone riding had begun the same as always…

“Have yer finished all yer chores yet? Did yer give Foster the extra straw like I told yer to? And did yer fill the washin kettle agin?” Mathilde questioned.

Seome's aunt always asked the same questions every morning. He helped himself to a large bowl of porridge.

“Yes'm. Jonith and Roegar and me are going riding after breakfast. I done everything you wanted. Can I go?” Seome asked between mouthfuls.

“Only if you take yer Uncle his noon meal and promise not ta tire Foster too bad. Your Uncle needs him to plough that field before dark.”

“I promise!” Seome swallowed the last spoonful and scrambled for the door.

“Don't yer be all day…yer has ta practice yer letters…Father Malcolme's be testin' yer soon.”

“Yes'm Aunt.” Seome snatched the basket of food from his aunt, planted a hasty kiss on her weathered cheek, and bolted for the stable.

It felt good to be out riding with his friends on a day like this. The air was alive with the sights and smell of spring. The trees were starting to bud. Bright green shoots and purple-headed flowers were poking through the winter grass everywhere. The morning sun was warm on their shoulders and Jonith and Roegar were jostling one another good-naturedly each trying to pass the other. Seome, not to be outdone, joined their play. Soon all three were galloping headlong towards Canyon Rapids, whooping and hollering at the top of their lungs.

They arrived breathless, still laughing and calling each other names as they clambered down off their horses to sprawl inert on the ground. After a time, Jonith sat up, flipping a stone in his brother’s direction.

“Ho, wyrm-waste…fancy a 'skinny'?” Roegar propped himself up on one elbow and eyed his brother.

“Yer be volunteerin' to test the waters?” he quipped.

“Naw, we got us a tester!” Jonith cast a sly glance at Seome. The brothers leapt on him, spawning a rough and tumble-wrestling match. Seome managed to fight off Jonith, but Roegar tackled him from behind sending the pair sprawling.

“Wyrmbreath! Two against one aint fair!” Jonith laughed at Seome and jumped back in. The three boys happily mugged each other until their stomach’s loud growls distracted them, reminding them to eat.

Grabbing their packs, the boys trudged down a path to the river and collapsed in the shade, hungrily attacking the bread and cheese Roegar brought. Licking the last crumbs from his fingers, Seome sighed contentedly and gazed around the canyon.

The trail they had taken snaked off to his right, climbing at least a hundred feet from the riverbank to the top. The water rushed through a narrow gap twenty yards upstream, carving a treacherous path between boulders and rocks, spilling over in places to form eddies, with deep pools that fish and fishermen alike, love to frequent. “Too bad, we didn’t bring our poles,” he thought.

One such pool caught Seome's attention. The water frothed and churned as if a school of hungry fish were feeding. Seome nudged Jonith, pointing.

“Huh,” Jonith mumbled, around a hunk of cheese. “We should have brought our poles...,” he said echoing Seome’s thoughts. They watched as the water continued to bubble and foam. Another basin erupted, followed quickly by another until the whole stream was churning.

“That can’t be fish,” Roegar pointed out. “Nothin's jumpin'. Look… it's startin' to steam!”

It was in fact beginning to steam, roiling up in thick dense clouds, blocking out the sun.

Alarmed, Jonith scrambled to his feet. “Let's get outa here,” he yelled and bolted for the trail, Seome and Roegar hot on his heels. The steam had become so thick they could hardly make out each other as they ran.

“Where's the horses?” Roegar demanded, a note of panic rising in his voice.

“Over this way!”

“Which way? I can't see nothin' in this fog!” hollered Jonith. Seome tripped and sprawled face first in the dirt. One of the boys fell over him with a muffled thud.

“Torim's Hells!” wheezed Seome. “Get off!”

“Sorry” muttered Roegar “didn't see yer!” They clambered up, trying to peer through the fog.

“Jonith, where are you?” Roegar called.

“Over here.”

They stumbled towards his voice, as fast as they could, hanging on to each other so that neither one would be lost.

“Is it getting' hot? Seome, are yer getting hot?” Roegar clutched at Seome. “I can't hardly breathe.”

“Yeah” he gasped, “I can't breathe good either.” They blundered into Jonith and collapsed in a jumble of arms and legs.

“Jonith…Jonith…that you?”

“Who else would it be?” snapped Jonith. “Git yer foot outa my ear!”

“Sorry!”

“Never mind now!” They managed to extract themselves, and staggered to their feet.

A thunderous roar froze them in their tracks. Paralyzed with fear, the boys stared in horror as the mist parted and a monstrous creature more terrible than their worst nightmares appeared in front of them. It was as big as a barn, with clawed feet the size of a man’s forearm. Its body was covered in thick hard scales, with sharp tusk-like ridges growing out of its shoulders, marching down the middle of its back to end in a mace like knot at the tip of its tail that whipped back and forth, as it lumbered closer. The creature's three heads snaked and twisted at the ends of its long serpentine necks. Curved horns protruded above their eye sockets and it had bat like wings extending from the sides of its heads, its gaping maws revealing identical sets of razor sharp fangs.

Seome’s mind screamed at him to run but his feet were rooted in place. Two of the heads attacked simultaneously, savage teeth ripping Jonith and his brother to pieces in the blink of an eye, their screams echoing in Seome's ears even as the third head descended towards him. He could feel it’s hot fetid breath on his face, and his heart froze in his chest as death open its mouth to devour him.

“Not that one!”

Death stopped a hairsbreadth away, its jaws snapping shut, and swivelled around to face the speaker. A ball of flame materialized in the air at the creatures shoulder. It swelled and pulsed, sending tendrils of light winding around Seome, immobilizing him. The ball wavered and grew, becoming a huge skull-shaped visage. Flames surrounded the skull, flickering in the empty eye sockets, licking at the edges of its mouth and a giant taloned hand reached out to Seome.

“I have need of this one,” the voice boomed. The hand seized the terrified boy, talons biting into his skin as it pulled him down into a spinning vortex.

The world spun faster and faster and Seome felt like he was being flayed alive. Pain laced through his body, each wave worse than the one before. He could hear screams and realised they belonged to him. He felt himself spiralling deeper, then blissfully, nothing.

Seome felt the tears well up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks. Nothing in his young life had prepared him for what had happened, and the horror of it washed over him in waves. His friends dead, himself in the hands of a stranger in some godforsaken place.

“Where in Torim’s Hell was he?” His muscles were starting to cramp and he fidgeted, trying to shift his position to ease his aching body.

“Quit squirming,” his rescuer urged. “We are almost home, but there are spies everywhere.” Seome stopped moving and wondered again, where they were. He was beginning to question whether he had been rescued or taken prisoner again.

When the skiff finally stopped and he was allowed to crawl out from under the blanket, Seome discovered that 'home' was an immense forest.

The trees were enormous. It would take four people, arms outstretched, to encircle one of these giants. He had little time to appreciate their splendour. His guide was already moving through the undergrowth.

“Wait,” Seome yelled as he stumbled after him. “I didn't thank you for gettin’ me outa there,” he panted. The stranger kept walking.

“Where are we?”

“Wildenwood.”

“Wildenwood?”

Seome stopped dead. “Are the stories true?”

“Depends on the story.”

“They say the trees eat people.”

“That one could be true.”

Startled, Seome licked his lips. “Yer funnin' me arn'cha!”

“Am I?”

Seome peered through the gloom at his rescuer. He could see nothing of the man except his cloak. The hood was drawn forward, shielding his face. He was no taller than Seome, and about the same build. There was no sign of the weapon Seome had glimpsed earlier, but he was sure the stranger still carried it.

He suddenly remembered where he was. Starting after the guide, Seome glanced around nervously.

“Where are we going?”

“To meet the others.”

“What others?” He asked, but his companion didn't answer. Scared, Seome hurried after him. He didn't want to be left behind in this strange place…in the dark.

© Enelle Lamb 2004, all rights reserved

Part Four