Trials Of Impending Night

Chapter 2: Confirmation

Chapter 2: ConfirmationIn a distant place that may as well have been a world away, water dripped from the roof of a gigantic cave, falling onto soaking trees below. The underground jungle was one of a kind, born and maintained by its mysterious Shaman protectors, endangered caretakers of the Earth. Access into the sacred land was unknown to all who lived above ground for most of time, but determination and the quest for discovery granted evil forces the knowledge to eventually enter. The Shaman Master had sensed the invaded privacy however, accompanied by large glowing spores distressingly illuminating the entire cave with yellow rays. With such light keeping shadows at bay, there still remained dark corners for raiders to advance through. “The plants grow weary, Master,” a young Shaman alerted. Their leader, Ckew'lon-Dem, had planted the first tree seed when he encountered the large refuge many normal lifetimes ago. Since then, he and his offspring had safeguarded their paradise in hopes to keep it an everlasting source of energy for the Earth, for when the day came that all life had dried up and dissolved, there would still be one unspoiled speck safe and sound below the rocks, for things to start anew. “They come to trample in my garden. We prepare for battle,” Ckew'lon-Dem huffed. His frail body still had the power to move quick and mystically as thick roots and vines weaved together to create fortress walls around him. His arms bent fluently like water, causing the spores to brighten. Shaman folk of varying ages walked along the wide tree branches as well as the muddy floor in hopes of spotting the invaders, though the air kept near quiet and their sights remained unspoiled of intrusion. Their foes numbers were unknown, but they were prepared for anything, even death. Nothing could be heard but the squeaking insects and drips of water, making the jungle defenders worry about the stealthy capabilities of their rivals. After a daunting wait, one tree scout hit the ground cold with an arrow perfectly through the heart. One by one, the unskilled defenders fell as the enemies advanced. Spores were burst by shadow archers, secreting juice and gasses, in turn destroying sources of light and making their attack easier as chaos ensued. Two Shaman stood back-to-back, shuffling in a circle with eyes fixed and bodies steady. “Did you see any?” one asked the other, but his friend shook his head. Soon enough, an arrow whistled through the air and penetrated both of their chests, making them fall to the side at the same time. Another tree scout controlled the vines below him, entangling the spotted bowman like a snake, preventing him from breathing – his exposed armour and colour revealed all that needed to be known, not to mention the iconic dragon branding on the back of the hand. “Slayers!” the scout warned. A woman with a book ran by Ckew'lon-Dem. It was evident she was no proper fighter, like most other Shaman, but she stood in the open completely prepared for conflict. “You knew of this day,” she said.

“You must leave. Take our secrets with you. This jungle will be no more by the time you-”. An arrow pierced through the book she held tightly against her chest, continuing through to her body. Ckew'lon's sentence was cut short like his daughter's life. “You have many children. Don't tell me you grieve so heavily for each and every one of them,” a sinister voice erupted from the bushes before the Shaman Master could cry out properly. He wiped his tears and pushed a wave of vines toward the archer responsible for his child's end, like the hundred tentacles of a sea monster. The Slayer quickly pulled out his twin blades in retaliation, cutting through the vegetation with ease, revealing a pale and bearded professional of death, sporting more gold and red colours than his fellow soldiers. He tilted his head up and sneered through his stray hair, eager to pounce. “Rowdun the Woundless! You will pay for this,” Ckew'lon-Dem growled, but before anything could be done, another prince in similar attire restrained the old man from behind, knocking him to his knees. “Take your hands from me, poison!”

“Just cease and we'll kill you quickly,” Ecklethorpe, youngest of the princes suggested. He had grown from a manipulated teenager into a deluded young man, though still shamefully lacking a subtitle next to his name. “We don't kill this one… not until he answers my questions,” Yewnin ordered, gently lowering himself from above like an angel, dressed in bright white robes with pale orange trims, glimmering as he levitated above the floor slightly. His eyes were darker and his body frailer compared to his first years connected to the Day Relic, but his passion and hunger had doubled to compensate. His face was still deeply scarred from Moon's claws during their conflict in the forgotten tomb of Lay-Vau, which hindered him not, so long as his body still worked correctly. Appearances were unimportant for a man focused far beyond such petty human woes.

“I peered to the future and I saw all of your spirits present at this moment… all except yours, Yewnin. There's something wrong with you, and it's far past troubling,” Ckew'lon warned.

“Your knowledge and restricted comprehension prevent you from seeing what I have become, so you choose to fear it – nothing new to me,” the sick zealot sniggered. Their conversation was halted as the Slayers had to fight a sudden wave of Shamans. “Although I saw this moment coming, I am still surprised at your sheer arrogance and audacity!” Ckew'lon yelled whilst summoning a sentient vine, yanking Eck backwards by the neck and allowing the Shaman to get back on his feet. Branches from nearby trees helped and joined the cause, sending the Slayer soldiers' broken bodies flying. Yewnin shot flashes of light from his fists which vaporised the wood and leaves instantly, as Rowdun cut Eck loose with a scowl on his face, prompting him to jump up and fight. As the battle escalated, the cave roof conjured steamy clouds, thickening the tropical air before releasing heavy rain. The surviving Shamans escorted their leader into the dense bushes, in an attempt to escape. “Track them,” Yewnin ordered the two princes. They both ran through what soon became a deluge. “Up,” Eck said quickly upon realising their feet were soon fully submerged. The two of them jumped high into the trees and strode from branch to branch in search of the runaways. The splashing footsteps remained unheard because of the constant rainfall, but the princes were born to hunt. It soon became an aquatic cat and mouse chase as the flooding reached the treetops. “I see them,” Eck said.

“Let them drown,” Rowdun laughed.

“Yewnin demands their answers”. Eck jumped and began to swim toward the swimming Shaman, desperate to be victorious, but the vegetation below wrapped itself around his legs, dragging him down. The Woundless wasn't panicked, and instead opted to scoff at his brother's idiocy, unconcerned for whether or not he'd even resurface. He pulled his bow from behind and hit Ckew'lon in the shoulder, making sure not to kill him, followed by a cheerful Yewnin that flew in from behind. Whilst floating above the rising flood, he aimed straight up and blew a hole through the roof, vaporising the mile of Earth between them and daylight. As the water rapidly filled the entirety of the cave, Yewnin guided Rowdun towards the vertical tunnel. The prince dragged his wounded captive to the hole and waited for the magical water to rise all the way up to the surface with Yewnin flying just above them, somehow untouched by the rain. Whilst beginning their bottleneck ascent, Eck burst for air by their side, coughing and spluttering. “My, I thought you drowned!” Rowdun laughed.

“I got free… and I saw you taking your leave without me. Perhaps I should have continued to sink, but I wouldn't want you leeching on all the glory again,” Eck panted.

“Nice of you to join us, Ecklethorpe. You still have much to learn if you want to be as skilled as your brother,” Yewnin grinned, looking down at the three of them tread in the rising water. Eck wanted to remind him that Yewnin had no right to talk as though he was both a Slayer and King, but he knew his place annoyingly, preferring to be soaked only in rain pour, not blood as well. After a cold few minutes, they reached the surface, leaving the jungle to be submerged and forgotten. They spurted out of the hole, sending them up into the air several feet. Eck and Rowdun landed like nimble feline, but the injured Ckew'lon flopped hard onto the floor. The land was a surprising contrast to the world below them, as it was barren and cold. Yewnin looked down at the flooded hole, smiling at the success of his mission, only for the rocks around him to collect together and fill it like a cork on a container. “No one is to ever return to that jungle,” Ckew'lon coughed.

“And so, it will be a watery tomb for your lost children. Impressive last-ditch effort you had in place there, though it meant very little, for I only require your tongue, or more accurately, the words that roll from its tip,” Yewnin smirked.

“How does the old man control the rocks like that, as well as the vines?” Rowdun asked.

“Like all Shaman, he's instilled with the power of the Earth… more so the Earth Relic… but he does not possess it,” Yewnin sighed.

“Because I am one with the world. We are connected to it, no matter where it resides, unlike you!” Ckew'lon grunted. The Shaman didn't try to escape; his body was evidently damaged due to the blood pouring away from his shoulder. “You seek it don't you? Is one relic not enough?” he snarled.

“I want both. More precisely, I need both. So, tell me… where is it?” Yewnin interrogated, kicking the man's body to the floor. “Come on… where?”

“You know where it is,” Ckew'lon whimpered.

“But how do I obtain it?!” he screamed.

“You can't… and you know it. I know you know it… so why are you asking me?”

“I was just making sure”.

“You destroyed my home, my sacred land, to hear words you already knew to be true?”

“Not just that, no. You're going to tell me who is the one able to obtain it,” Yewnin crouched down by the man's bloody side. Ckew'lon smiled, knowing that his answer would create uproar. The princes both shot arrows into his hands, nailing him to the ground, causing a painful cry as life began to leave his shivering body. “A man in his youth… on the path destiny has paved for him… the one chosen to overcome the evil around him… the one chosen to inflict pain on… the Trepidator,” the shaman exhaled. Yewnin gritted his teeth, knowing the certainty of the answer, but still hoping for a different prophecy, like waking from a bad dream and the relief that comes with it. “Did he just say… the Trepidator?” Eck gasped.

“What? A Slayer scared of a beast?” Yewnin said.

“An invincible one”.

“Invincible to all but one. Your father and I have a lot to think about”.

“I don't believe that a beast can be struck only by a destined soul,” Rowdun chimed.

“Of course you don't. You can't accept there's a monster out there of which you are incapable of slaying,” Yewnin smiled.

“Don't tell me you and my father think this youth destined is… that boy, Wick!” Rowdun grunted. Yewnin ignored him due to the obviousness of what his response would have been and turned back to the old man to notice him unable to open his eyes, giving him the opportunity to taunt him further. “You're not used to the daylight, are you? You kept yourself hidden underground, like a coward”. The evil man's eyes glowed and his body brightened. “Allow me to show you the true power of daylight!” The shaman didn't have time to scream, as his body was turned charred-black, whisking away into pile of ash that blew away in the harsh winds. “Why did you do that? The Slayers could have used him for further insight,” Eck hissed.

“There was nothing more that soothsayer could tell you. His use is fulfilled,” Yewnin scowled. Rowdun salivated at the show of murder, then whistled for his giant Clawking dragon. The loyal beast quickly thudded to the ground as they prepared for their journey home to Emmrin-Rashmada, leaving behind a desolate land, and a pool of bodies deep beneath the world that no one would ever again come across, as though it had never existed in the first place.