The Guardians of Celesk Part 1

Prologue

The Guardians dragged him like a beast, letting him howl for mercy as he was dropped time and again to his knees. His hands were restrained behind his head, and he carried a large harness, which kept him hunched over in agony as he was forced towards the gate. The villagers could only look on in horror as their brother was cast out into the wastelands for the last time. The gates opened but none of them knew the death and destruction he would bring them when he returned to the Sanctuary.

A woman started out after him, slipping over the bloodied path that trickled behind the man. A fellow Guardian halted her, but she pushed past in a last act of defiance. He continued to follow her, “You can’t bring him back.”

“This should not be his end.”

“He decided this. His actions!”

“At least let him walk out with some dignity.”

“He deserves nothing. You try and tell that to the body he left behind,” he said. She continued toward the gate, ignoring the glares of the community as she went to the side of the exile. In a surge of speed, she deftly cut at his restraints, watching as his harness fell to the floor. He looked back at her for the briefest of moments, as his harness became engulfed in flame, along with his body. He channeled the flames through his arms and set fire to the gates, causing his captors to falter, and allowing him a precious moment to escape out of their vision. When they steadied themselves, all they heard was a voice on the wind, firm and succinct, promising them that everything would burn.

Chapter 1: The Sanctuary

It came during the most desperate of times, after a reign of bloodshed. It thundered on in spite of terror, hopelessness, and the great chain of inequity. It shattered shackles and, in its momentum, gathered all in its wake. It was hope. In the new era, it rewrote the narrative and finally set the world free. The people who wrote the new laws and established the scrolls that all would live by were all long dead now, evolved to a new level of existence but in their place and in the multitudes of millennia to come, were their descendants who lived now in the place known to all as the Sanctuary.

The Sanctuary was, through no mere coincidence, at the centre of the world. It sat atop a modest mountain, flecked with greenery during the summer and enveloped by streams which ran from it like a system of arteries branching off from its beating heart of solitude. The Sanctuary boasted high walls with rounded points and was clad in a dark purple that glinted an eerie red at sunset. During winter, it would be blanketed by snow, but the rich cavernous hearths and the glowing rock walls breathed enough warmth and comfort to keep all the Guardians, the enlightened ones, in a state of serenity. This was highly valued in the world of Celesk; each society stemmed off its centre with invisible lines forking out across the realm that had once divided nations of people, but in the great era beyond the revelation, united them. There were no longer individual nations or races. Species were only classified by a brief physical description; however, this system was eventually disposed of, as discrimination started to become obsolete. In this perceived utopia all stood in equality, however, this would all eventually come to unrest just as a slack tide was broken by waves.

Such matters were not at the forefront of all citizens of the region of Mes-Celesk, such as those held by a person named Artreide. The only thing that had ensnared his conscious mind was the proximity of the wooden staff swinging towards his face. In a multi-second, he brazenly rotated his own weapon to meet it and in doing so, swatted back the ferocity of his attacker’s onslaught. The architect of this frenzied attack was his loving wife, Bohina. As he desperately parried her assault, she continued to exert her strength and stamina, directing her staff in wide arcs that ran in alternating circles which were aimed to disarm an opponent and make a sequence that would render their target immobile. As she started to run out of breath, he turned the tables and launched his own series of attacks, which she pre-empted and caught. Both their hands gripped firmly, letting their bleached white knuckles envelop the handles as they reached a stalemate. Hands still wringing from the vibrations, they looked directly in each other’s eyes and betrayed their deep-seeded affection for one another as they stared between the cross of staffs. Eventually both compromised and retreated backwards.“You are getting better,” she said.

“Thanks.”

They both bowed, replicating each other’s sentiments in mutual respect. “I honour you in this life.” She smiled, “and I honour you in the next.”

He smiled back at her, “we honour the way.”

They finished their sparring session as a dozen onlookers gave them a round of polite and respectful applause. Each of these children varied in age, shape and colour but were united in ability.Bohina addressed them eagerly. “Respect,” she said, “respect for one’s opponent during battle and after battle is just as important.”

A cheeky student interrupted, “What if one was trying to cut my head off? Do I respect him then?”

She could see he was clearly joking but couldn’t help lecturing the young Darctarian. “Of course, a savage opponent will almost certainly gain your respect and you should respectfully glean its head clean off before it comes for yours. Perhaps I should remove the head of a disrespectful student too?”

Artreide used his finger and cut an imaginary line across his throat. The student was shocked, and his mouth was agape. This was the moment that both husband and wife grinned back, reassuring the group of students.

“Relax Joran, I was joking…this time. Besides we have not had a murder here in an age and there would be no need for a blade in the first place.”Artreide gave her a strange look before interjecting, “besides we don’t use swords in our training. Swords imply death and that is not our way. This is why we use the staff: It is used for defence…”

He made another quick flurry before bringing it to his side and bracing it against his leg. “And it can be used to help old people walk.” He started to hobble along, which made the students laugh.

A shrill horn sounded in the background and another Guardian gave them the signal. “We’re sorry young ones. We have a meeting to attend to, which concludes our lessons for today.”The anticipation was still ringing in their hands, as each staff had knuckles tightly wrapped around each one. They walked off in an air of disappointment. Rokken- the art of the staff- was their favourite training. Like most young ones transitioning into their spring years, they were eager to shed some pent-up emotions and wreak havoc against one another, despite the urgings of their most senior instructors that Rokken was all about self-defence.

The council that formed was one of the largest gatherings of all time. The Great Circle-part hall and part amphitheatre- was often used for meetings or great theatrical performances. It was never a solemn place. Not even during the time of passing, as all who gathered round the bodies of the fallen ones would see into the mist and they would utter a short invocation before smiling up towards the great plains. This was the first time that heads were dropped, and mouths betrayed a sorrowful silence. Each of the Guardians took their place and focused their attention on the centre. Eondall was the mouthpiece of the Great Council, although he often had a reservoir of wisdom he would splash out at various meetings. His emotions were usually in check though he started with a pronounced waiver in his voice, “The fallen one has risen, and we are all in great peril.”The reactions on all their faces were astounding, Guardians encompassed a myriad of age groups, species, and ethnicities, each with their own set of facial features however they all looked melancholy.

“The Exile?” she asked.

“Indeed,” he said. He continued to address the audience, “we cast him out a long time ago. For generations we used his example as a way of scaring our children, but now it has come to pass that he will deliver his reckoning.”

“How do we know all this?”

“Scouts have reported back that he has amassed a great army and they advance upon us at this very moment,” he said.

His wife interjected at that very moment. This couplet in their community boasted another leader who formed part of their high council. Her voice boomed throughout the hall, “We need to muster all that we can and prepare for war. Send our students home, gather all your weapons and be ready to travel. We will meet our enemy before his prophecy can be fulfilled. You will have to forget about our peaceful ways for a spell. I know these are dark times, but people will need our light to see the way ahead.”

She turned to her husband, who replied, “The rest of you may go and await further orders. I ask all the high council to stay behind along with the instructors.” The council doors slammed shut as they prepared for a day of bloodshed.