The Guardian

  Seven clutched at his chest with shaking hands. A thick green ooze began mixing with his own blood from the protruding arrowhead that poked through his tunic, staining the pure white linen.

  Already he could feel the effects of the poison, his vision leaving a slight trail behind wherever he looked, his movements becoming sluggish and heavy.

  How had they found him?

  He knew the poison wouldn’t be lethal… would it? He was taller than most, that might slow it down, but his lithe frame would likely offer little resistance. Surely his assailants needed him alive for now, but Seven knew that death would be better than whatever was planned for him. He allowed himself a moment to breathe, to realign himself. He had undergone years of brutal, body breaking training to prepare for the unlikely event of such attacks. There had been times during his training when Seven had found himself wondering who could ever attack him, or why they would even want to. It seemed today that questions were being answered.

  It had only been minutes ago that he had been in his chambers communing with the others, a process that required him to be in a deep trance like state. They had spoken to him in fear, alerting him of their kind being hunted one by one. A moment of terror crossed his mind. Had he been followed between monasteries? Did they know about the tomes? The ramifications of what he was considering were beyond catastrophic.

  Seven leaned against a wall, gritting his teeth through the pain. He found himself thinking of his parents, of his brother. Attachments he had been forced to relinquish so many years ago. He glanced at the intricate patterns on the walls around him, how he had been so fascinated by their designs when he first arrived here. He took in the familiar scents of the evening air, now tainted by the foul stench of blood and death as the last of his protectors fought valiantly to give him any hope of escape.

  His home, a place of peace and learning, a sanctuary of enlightenment and discipline, now to be abandoned forever.

  With a groan, Seven brought both hands around the arrow and tugged feebly. He tried his hardest to snap the arrowhead but his body felt weak and broken. He exhaled sharply at the pain as his fingers slipped off the arrow’s shaft, allowing them to fall to his side.

  Sighing, he closed his eyes and concentrated. Slowly, wisps of blue light began emanating from his fingers leaving a smoky trail in their wake. And yet, something was off. The familiar warmth he felt when he tapped into the Eternal was missing, it felt almost hollow this time. Was it because he was near death? Was it the poison blocking it? So many questions.

  Seven brushed these thoughts aside. For now, he had been imbued with enough strength to do what he needed to. To escape.

  He clasped firmer hands around the arrowhead before reaching toward his back in resignation to the arrow’s point of entry. He gritted his teeth and yanked it backward through his chest. Seven screamed in agony, his eyes widening at the pain as the arrow tore through his insides.

  “Keep going.” He panted to himself as he felt tissue and muscle slowly trying to weave itself back together. “Keep going. Keep going.”

  He fumbled to a pouch at his hip, dipping in two fingers. They emerged covered in a powdery green dust; Catrine. Seven began drawing a series of runes on a large plant beside him then reapplied the dust before painfully replicating the symbols around his wound.

  He felt the effects immediately as the plant began to wither, but… something was wrong. The healing rune he had cast was simple, but extremely effective, yet something was prohibiting it. Had his assailants found a way to block runes?

  As if in answer to his question, the plant sprang back up unaffected as Seven noticed his wound reopening. This may be more dire than he first thought. Begrudgingly, Seven pushed himself off the wall. His body yearned to stay longer, to sit down and go to sleep, to let this be over. He considered for the briefest of moments then stumbled forward. If he stopped, the world ended.

  The mosaics on the walls around him were now dancing, becoming a blurry mess of colour, the pearly white floor tiles that had seen millenia, now rippling like a lake in a breeze. Seven blinked furiously, forcing his vision to comply. He needed to reach the bridge, if he could make it there then he might just have a chance.

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  He heard a shuffle behind him, spinning round just in time to see a figure rounding a corner and without hesitation throwing a dagger at him. It landed with a meaty thud in his shoulder, forcing a surprised cough from Seven.

  “He’s here! By the fountai-”, In a burst of speed, Seven grabbed the assailant by the face, his body now ablaze with a fiery blue glow.

  He drove the man’s head into the ground with a force that caused the tiles to splinter. He took a step back and righted himself as a second figure rounded the corner.

  Seven adopted a defensive stance as the newcomer drew a long slender sword from its sheath. The assailant moved first, lunging toward Seven with surprising speed. However, instead of stepping backward, Seven pushed forward into the attack with both wrists crossed before him. The sword struck Seven’s wrists and he allowed the tiniest moment of satisfaction at the assailant’s face as it bounced off with a vibrating twang.

  He felt a surge of adrenaline. Who did they think they were facing? The sheer audacity of attacking a Guardian. The adrenaline became rage.

  “It will take,” Seven screamed as he dipped down, grabbing his attacker’s legs, “an army to kill me!”. He heaved upward causing the man to fall to his back with a surprised grunt, then drove his fist through the man’s chest, feeling his knuckles cut on the shattered tiles beneath. Seven's muscles twitched. He stood upright, breathing heavily.

  No time to stop, keep moving.

  The bridge was on the other side of the courtyard that lay before him, situated in a small inconspicuous looking building. If he could make it there, this would be over. He just needed to keep moving, yet he felt his body beginning to falter. The rage he felt began washing away, being replaced with the now all too familiar fatigue and pain. Slowly, painstakingly, he crossed the courtyard toward the large circular building on the other side huffing and spitting, each breath causing bile to form in his throat.

  Hearing sounds behind him, he reached the building.

  Seven heaved open the heavy wooden door, revealing one large empty room inside. There was no lighting in here, no windows, and no other doors. The walls were stars and the deepest black, the ceiling a moon and clouds hanging lazily in a night sky. The room was impossible and yet, it lay before him like always, an endless expanse of beauty, reaching into infinity.

  This was the bridge, and it had always fascinated Seven.

  He spun around and grabbed the door with both hands, swinging it slowly closed with a satisfying thud, causing dust to spin up off the wall beside it. Seven strode into the centre of the room. He would need time to perform the ritual, time he didn’t have.

  He closed his eyes and concentrated, a faint blue aura emanated from his body before dissipating. The poison was too far gone, he would not have speed to assist him.

  Seven dipped his fingers into his pouch and began tracing runes onto the floor. He had to be careful, this had to be precise, this had to be perfect.

  There was a loud thud on the door behind him, a muffled voice began shouting before becoming multiple muffled voices, and the thuds became heavier and more consistent.

  “Ninth Hell.” He cursed to himself.

  Casting fate to the stars, Seven scrambled to his feet and unclipped the pouch from his hip before frantically pouring it on the floor into the shapes of the required runes.

  The thuds on the door became harder still causing it to groan and creak. Beads of sweat dropped down Seven’s forehead.

  I’m not going to make it, he thought. I need more time.

  As the powder came to an end, Seven cast the pouch aside before unclipping a second pouch and beginning to pour a deep red powder. He snorted, if his master could see him mixing Veltrix powder with Feridane to create transport runes, the lashings he would have received would have been legendary. Feridane was only ever used as a last resort for… Of course!

  Seven stumbled to the door and began drawing a set of runes using the Feridane powder which clung to its new surface eagerly. He drew the final few lines then hurriedly returned to the centre of the room to continue his task.

  This just might work.

  The door finally gave way. As it did, the runes ignited and caused an outward explosion, sending the door and anyone behind it cascading across the courtyard. Seven risked a glance.

  The first person to enter now lay in a smouldering corpse about twenty feet from the doorway, with a further five men on fire rolling around in an attempt to extinguish the flames.

  He stood up and applied the final set of runes to the ritual. It was done. It was done! Hurriedly he stepped toward the centre of the room, standing in the middle of the pattern he had created, then using the last of the red powder, traced a rune on his head and his chest.

  The room lit up a brilliant yellow as the runes came to life, swirling slowly around the room and becoming tighter and tighter to Seven’s body. He could see the men outside beginning to recover, their shouts of alarm ringing out as they saw him. Seven tried to control his breathing, his heart was beating so hard it felt like it might burst from his chest.

  He closed his eyes, the runes were now lacing his skin, taking him slowly away, away from here, to safety. He didn’t care which monastery the ritual took him to just as long as it took him away from here.

  He looked down, his feet had disappeared. His legs were slowly disappearing too, it looked like someone was wrapping an invisible bandage around his body, slowly removing him from sight. The spell made its way upward, his stomach now disappearing from view before THONK THONK, two spears embedded themselves into his chest.

  Seven spat out a gasp before disappearing.