The Guardians: Book One of the Restoration Series (39 page)

Flare sunk to his knees in anguish.

The giant chieftain turned at Flare’s shout. His stomach shook as he laughed from deep inside his belly. “First you send a woman to fight me, and now you send an elf? Is there not a man among you?” Turning the chieftain raised his club above his head; his troops responded with cheering.
“Death to the humans.
Victory is ours!” The remaining giants were gathered just inside the gates, watching their leader.

Tears were running down his face, but Flare didn’t even notice. He could see only two things.
The body of his lover lying broken in the dirt, and the monster that had taken her life.

Climbing to his feet; Flare drew his sword. He strode forward with the tears still on his face. He didn't even realize there were tears, nor would he have cared. “You have killed the only woman that ever meant anything to me.” He said quietly. He spoke so quietly, that the only one who clearly heard what was said was Antol-delgath.

The giant was clearly unimpressed. “Do you think that you can kill me little elf? I think that the woman had a better chance than you.” A hideous grin split his face.

Flare could feel nothing. Even death seemed insignificant. He could feel the beating of his own heart as he gripped his sword with both hands. A calm serenity descended on him. With something resembling joy he realized that he couldn’t lose. Win the battle and he would avenge his lover. Lose the battle and he would join his lover, at least he hoped he would.

He moved toward the giant slowly circling to the right as he got closer. At the same time, the giant circled to
Flare’s
left. They seemed to be judging each other’s ability.

The giant lunged forward and swung his club in a ferocious horizontal swing.

Flare’s elven reflexes were the only thing that saved him. He dropped to the ground, landing on his stomach. He immediately rolled over coming to his feet. He gripped his sword with both hands and swung it in a horizontal swing mimicking the giant’s.

The giant was caught off guard, and barely managed to deflect the sword with his club. The sword clanged against one of the metal spikes that protruded through the club's end.

Antol-delgath was enraged by Flare’s near miss. He raised the club over his head and slammed it on the spot where Flare had been standing mere moments before, but Flare dodged to the right just before the club struck.

Landing hard on his right side, Flare rolled over; jumping to his feet. The giant was still lifting the hefty club, and Flare jabbed forward with his sword. The giant was unprepared, and Flare’s jab cut his exposed left arm just below the elbow.

The giant bellowed in pain. The cut was deep and nasty. Already, a stream of deep red blood was running down his arm.

“First blood belongs to me,” Flare said.

“Doesn't matter,” the giant answered. “The woman had first blood also. You see what it got her.” The giant spat in the direction of Murleen’s body. “Care to join her?”

“Yes,” Flare answered softly, “but not today.”

The giant grunted, and swung his club at Flare again. This time, however, the swing was much more controlled. He didn’t want to get off-balance again.

Flare jumped back, and swung his sword at the club. He was trying to deflect it, just to make contact.

CLANG! Flare's sword bounced off of the spikes, and the club sailed past him.

The giant reversed his motion and swung his club in the opposite direction, hoping to catch Flare jabbing. Flare was not fooled, and backed up again out of the way of the club.

The giant, showing surprising quickness, raised the club over his head and jumping forward, brought the club down where Flare had been standing. The club maid a tremendous sound as it impacted into the ground.

Flare dodged quickly to the left of the club, and before the swing was even complete he charged the giant, hoping to catch him off guard.

The giant was surprised, and Flare slammed his sword straight at the giant’s belly. The sword ricocheted off of the giant’s armor, and slid downward slicing the outside part of his thigh.

Once again blood ran freely, but this time Flare did not get away unscathed.

Even as the giant screamed, he swung his club upward from the ground to his right. The club slammed into Flare knocking him to the ground and sending his sword flying. Flare had been too close to the giant to get hit by the fat part of the club, but he was still knocked senseless.

Flare lay on the ground, trying to catch his breath. The giant was between him and the defenders, and Flare’s sword was on the far side of the giant.

The giant, although wounded, was mocking the defenders. “See! There is no one who can stand against Antol-delgath.” He shouted at the defenders, as he pounded himself on the chest.

The giant walked back over to Flare, and said, “Say hello to the girl.” The giant then kicked Flare in the stomach.

Flare curled up in pain from the giant’s kick.

The giant seemed to be enjoying tormenting both Flare and the crowd. He turned back to the crowd and shouted something else at them. Flare didn’t hear him, because all he could hear was the thudding in his ears. The pain in his stomach was intense.

Flare looked frantically for his sword, but it was too far out of his reach. Looking toward the gates, and the other giants, he spotted Murleen’s sword where she had dropped it. It was no more than four or five feet from him. He reached for it, but it was well out of reach.

Lying on the ground, panting, Flare didn’t have the energy to crawl toward the sword. He thought about giving up. It would end quickly if he just laid here. Soon, he would be reunited with Murleen, and this would all be behind him. He considered giving in, and dismissed the idea. He would die, but not without fighting.

He had to get that sword and quickly. Panting and with his stomach throbbing, he started crawling for the sword.

The giant had finished shouting at the defenders, and he was turning back toward him.

There was no way Flare would reach the sword in time. He reached for the sword, and at the same time he visualized the sword sliding across the sand to him. His skin prickled, and for just a moment time seemed to slow down almost to a stop. He could hear not only his own labored breathing, but that of the giant and the other warriors. His senses were magnified beyond his ability to understand. He could smell the sweat of the warriors, and hear their muffled whispers.

The thing that stood out to Flare was the sword. He could see it like he had never seen it before. From several feet away, he could see the tiniest speck of dirt sitting on the blade. He could see the lines in the leather, which was rapped around the handle. He even could see a tiny crack in the hilt of the sword. All of this happened in a flash.

One minute, the sword was four feet from him, and there was no chance of him reaching it. Then, in his mind’s eye, Flare saw the sword sliding across the ground to him. He wasn’t sure if he actually saw the sword slide or if he just imagined it, but the next thing he felt was the cold leather of the handle as it slid into his right hand. He sat up facing the giant.

The giant turned from the defenders with an evil smile on his face.
A smile that quickly disappeared when he saw Flare with a sword in his hand.

Flare acted quickly, before the giant had a chance to recover. He swung the sword and hit the giant on the outside of the giant’s right thigh. It was the same spot that he had cut the giant before.

The giant howled in agony and hopped away. The giant stood on his left leg, while he held his hand over the cut on his right leg.

Flare crawled behind him and in one swift motion he sliced the hamstring in the giant’s left leg. The giant collapsed onto his back.

A deathly quiet settled over the onlookers.

Flare staggered to his feet; looking down on the giant.

Sensing danger, the giant rolled over onto his stomach and tried to crawl away.

“For Murleen,” Flare whispered. He took a step closer to the giant, and he swung the sword with both hands, and hit the giant in the back of the neck. The swing completely decapitated the giant. The head rolled away, while the body poured blood and spasmed.

He stood for a moment looking at the giant. Thoughts of Murleen flowed through his mind. After several moments, Flare allowed himself to look at Murleen’s body. The pain felt like a stab to his heart. The pain was quickly replaced with an anger that was so intense that he could think of nothing else.

He turned back to the crowd of invaders. The giants were nearest, but there were a large number of goblins behind them. They were all quiet; staring in shock at the death of their leader.

“For Murleen.”
Flare whispered.

Swinging Murleen’s sword, Flare let out a heart stopping scream and charged the attackers.

Giants aren’t too bright, and they had just seen their ‘invincible’ leader killed. They simply turned and fled; trampling a lot of the goblins in the process.

The first attacker, that Flare reached, was a goblin. He didn’t even
slow
down, running the goblin through with Murleen’s sword as he pursued the giants through the gates.

Things quickly turned into a blur of slashing swords and bleeding monsters for Flare. He was completely consumed by the blood lust, consumed by the hate. All that mattered was killing and hurting as many of the attackers as he could. Injury and pain did not matter. His body did not matter. He cared for nothing but finding another victim.

Chapter 16

“Flare?!” A voice called.

The sound broke through Flare’s concentration. He was looking down at the body of a goblin. It looked like the goblin had been cut more than was necessary to kill him. He didn’t even remember having killed the goblin.

“Flare?!” The voice called again from behind him. It was Atock. “Are you injured?”

Flare looked down, and only then realizing that he was covered in blood.
“I don’t think I’m hurt.” He looked around at the carnage, “Atock, I don’t remember the fight.”

“It wasn’t a fight, it was a slaughter. You don’t remember anything?”

Flare just shook his head.

Atock looked concerned, but changed the subject instead. “We had better get back inside the fort and see to the gates. They won’t attack again until tomorrow, I think.”

Flare blinked in surprise, “Back to the fort,” he repeated in confusion. Only then did he notice that they were outside the western wall, with the dead and dying piled high.

Atock noticed Flare's confusion, “Some were killed by the giant's retreat but the rest we killed. We followed you through the gates, but I have never seen such total abandon when fighting. I thought that you were going to be killed several times, but when you were in danger, you simply attacked.”

Flare heard something in Atock's voice that bothered him, was that awe? He slowly walked, more like stumbled, back toward the fort.

The looks of the defenders scared Flare. They were looking at him with respect, doubt, and fear.

The body of Murleen was still lying on the ground. Flare started toward it.

“Flare, I'll take care of Murleen.” Atock said.

“No! I'll handle it.” Flare answered in a commanding tone.

He walked to Murleen’s body. He knelt down and scooped up his lover’s lifeless corpse. He almost cried right then at the way her head lolled. He hugged her to his chest as he walked to the temple. 'I failed you!' Tears welled up in his eyes. Callin's death had seemed like it crushed him, but it did not even begin to compare. He slowly carried her to the temple, ignoring the stares of the soldiers and townspeople alike. He placed her body next to Callin's in the temple crypt, and then he spent the night, beside her.

Aaron met Elona that night as he had promised. She seemed happy to see him, and he was equally pleased to see her.
The night before he had been surprised to discover that he actually enjoyed her company and their conversation.

They sat talking and laughing in the moonlight, the fighting a distant memory for now. Perhaps that was all that it was, but it was enough.

After a while, Elona moved closer and kissed Aaron. He seemed surprised but quickly returned the kiss with as much enthusiasm.

Distracted as they were, they didn't notice Dale watching from the shadows of the street.

The next morning was overcast, and the weather seemed to match Flare’s mood. It had been a long sleepless night for him, but he expected the day would be much shorter than the previous night. Once again he didn’t expect to live to see the sunset, and it seemed a comfort that the pain would soon be over.

He arrived at the western gates and surveyed the damage. He had not really paid attention to the gates or walls the day before, and now it was almost with amusement that he observed the damage. The gates were battered and beaten down, having been propped back up by the defenders. The walls weren’t much better; cracked and crumbling from the abuse of the past week.