A Lore Guardian's Love

[FennWenn]

Being away from Myra’s stuffy cave was an immense weight off the tiny Fae’s shoulders. He could breathe freely now, and he did, enjoying the crisp winter air.

Fenn relaxed as his tall savior plowed swiftly through the snow, smugly reaching up to knock icicles off of the trees they passed under, the wind whipping his hair back from his face. Quite a bit of time was spent marveling at how queer the world looked from so high up. At first, the boy had been rather surprised to find himself lifted off of his feet and into a piggyback ride. Yet he was a bit grateful for the ride in spite of himself; snow was the best stuff ever right until it rose up to his knees. Breaker’s broad shoulders reminded Fenn a bit of John. He sometimes let the little sprite ride atop him, joking that he was Fenn’s new wolf.

If there was any advantage to be had from Fenn’s childish form, it was that people let him get away with stuff like this. Wheeeee!

It made him miss Daugi though. She was probably waiting outside Yutori right now, a sight Fenn could easily picture; sulky, growling at any who approached her, ears and eyes on guard for her boy-pup to finally appear before her. He hoped she’d forgive him quickly for being late.

Not having to struggle through the snow gave him some time to think.

Earlier, Fenn had felt something warmly ethereal emanate from Breaker as he had repaired the cage. Magic’s glow was unmistakable, a brilliance that radiated from the ice master out to the target. Still, Fenn hadn’t quite… “gotten” it. It seemed so effortless to the eye. Was it something you had to think through? Was that it? The boy typically just sort of did it, the way one might kick and toss in their sleep. Any time he tried to concentrate his way into controlling his magicstuff, it got away from him. He’s get annoyed, or stressed, or panicked, and it’d spiral away from him entirely. Fenn rested his chin on the top of Breaker’s head with a squeak of a sigh. Perhaps this was all more complicated than he had first hoped.

He was also more than a little curious about this town-attacking man they were meeting. Fenn huffed quietly, inclined to give this guy a piece of his mind for interrupting the festivities and prompting his abrupt kidnapping. Speaking of which… From somewhere up ahead, snarls and shouts shook the frozen canopy. Fenn’s ears twitched in the direction of the commotion. Leaning towards it, Fenn glanced down quizzically at Breaker.

“Sounds like we’d better hurry,” the godly man rumbled at him with a determined glint in his eye.

[Breaker]

After Breaker dispatched the first wolf, the second tucked tail and ran. Azaranth was slow to get to his feet, weary and clearly sore form the battle.

Josh lifted Fenn down from his shoulders and placed the Fae on the snowy ground.

"Myra will no longer be a problem," he glanced at Fenn, "for any of us."

"You mean she's dead?" The hunter gripped his long blade with both hands, knuckles white as snow.

"No," Josh admonished, "to kill a Lore Guardian would be a terrible thing. You would live to regret it in more ways than one."

"Perhaps I can live with regrets..." Anubis mused, swinging his sword down to plant the tip in the frozen earth, "but I owe Myra a debt of vengeance. And I still must make a living."

"I won't let you slay a caged beast." Breaker said. He stepped in front of Anubis, tall and broad shouldered, seeming to radiate might. The few winter-hardy birds stopped chirping in the trees. Squirrels did not skitter, and hares did not leap. Even the breeze stopped teasing the frosted treetops.

Azaranth's eyes blazed. Anger, hatred, greed, pain. Breaker had felt them all before. He empathized with the man more than anyone could understand, and yet he stood against him.

"Stand aside," Anubis warned, drawing his blade back for a great cleave, "stand aside, or-"

He raised his blade as he spoke, menacing the demigod.

Breaker slid forward like an eel shedding its skin. He turned and thrust out a straight side kick. The hard edge of his boot stopped a mere inch from the younger man's chin.

"This is a fight you cannot win," he said, leg still extended, "come with us. Return to the village."

For a moment the hunter wavered, and then he sheathed his sword and trudged around Breaker and Fenn, giving them a wide berth.

"I came here to take those fangs," he said, "you'll have to kill me to stop me."

Breaker considered. The sun had already dipped below the treeline, and Dandelion's hoofprints were beginning to fade in the soft snow. He needed to hurry, if he meant to return by sundown with the steed as promised. Doing so with an unconscious Anubis over his shoulders would prove much more difficult.

"You're bound for death," Breaker warned, catching the hunter's eye one last time. "Myra will make dried meat of the likes of you."

"Let her try," was the only response as Anubis disappeared into the trees.

Josh took a deep, calming breath. Part of being Breaker meant he needed to realize he couldn't save everyone, but it still stung from time to time when he lost a good warrior.

"Well Master Fennik," Josh said, "will you help me find that horse and return it to old Gregor?"

The Fae nodded, and Breaker swept him up, racing through churned up snow again with Fenn atop his shoulders. They followed the hoofprints, scanning in both directions at once. After all, four eyes did better than two.

[Fez_The_Kid]

The path back to the cave where Myra had been caged was fraught with emotions. Hollow contentment proved a bitter sentiment, soured still by acute rancor and grief. The trio had all joined to conjure a single, powerful demon. A vain entity that would ever taunt him, that had taken up permenant abode in his mind’s eye. And the poison burgeoned with each stride he took, threatening to inflict him with eternal madness. Self-doubt would follow him into the upcoming fight, and, presumably, all the ones to follow in the course of his life.

It spoke of naught but tragedy. A hunt for precious canines quickly twisted into a confused massacre, where too much death happened on both sides. The situation had gotten messy, ran out of anyone’s control. Azaranth’s haplessness at the time lingered with him like a bitter aftertaste.

Would that he could sever his own tongue to stop them, those thoughts of poison. A lack of confidence meant a lack of finesse - perhaps that was partly the cause of his party’s unexpectedly sudden death - and to attack a monster without that overtly distinct quality no doubt invited a similar fate.

They had not grown all that familiar with him - but somehow, the remnant details filled by his imagination, their faces would ever remain a sour memory in his mind. Especially yours, Kyra.

He would avenge them all.

Verith, however, would not accept the act of merely killing the Saberlioness. To honor the late monster-hunter was to slay the monster. One on one. A tradition not uncommon among the numbered practitioners of the trade in the world. Meaning I’ll have to get her out of Breaker’s cage somehow. Put her down as Veirth and I had intended.

Retracing the maelstrom of footprints back into the wood, Azaranth came within view of the entrance.

Then halted.

“Didn’t expect you’d be able to free yourself," he mused. "At least not so soon.”

Still in her beast form, Myra’s huge head rose to regard him. Slit eyes narrowed in recognition. “You...”

“Yes, Myra. Me. Azaranth,” he introduced himself, not out of formality, but as to evoke the name of the one to finally put her down. “The hand behind the slaying of your entourage. I’ve come for you.”

A deep, reverberating snarl breached through rows of teeth. “The sight of you sickens me, hunter. Before I tear you apart - tell me one thing.” A step forward, eyes glittering with malice. “You want my skin, yes? Why, then, have you slain my followers? What value their deaths to you if you solely targeted my own?”

Azaranth’s answer came quickly, that even he was surprised by its readiness. “The same reason you slew my own, Myra.”

“Bastard! It was naught but self-defense—”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m a hunter, not an assassin. If I were to attack only you, your entire party would respond accordingly.” Azaranth paused. “Couldn’t risk that. Yet…”

“Your comrades all fell to their deaths anyway. Tragic. And idiotic. For now, you shall meet the same fate. Prepare to meet the afterlife.” Myra lowered her head, legs gathering behind her as she readied herself to charge.

A few heartbeats later and Myra's jaws were closing in on him, his silver sword raised to catch that savage bite.

And Azaranth would then remember nothing but those fierce, amber eyes that held him with an almost-primal intent. Even as the life left them.