The Guardians of Celesk

Chapter 2: The Battle beyond the Marsh

They had chosen their terrain well. Centuries of former battles filled stacks of rich leather-wrapped books in the Sanctuary library with the best methodology of war the educated could understand. To be perfectly clear, it was full of failure and mistakes that were more vital to their research than the artform of victory. Eondall and his wife Garwyn had peered over them countless times and each tidbit of information was seared deep within their memory banks as they sat in the centre of the muddied trench.

The scouts rushed back to the main information trench, leaping off their horses in a hurry as they were taught to do. Garwyn called to them: "What further news? And please speak quickly."

"My commander, they are only a short ride away- one turn of solus. They march quickly and number about 5,000. An assortment of cavalbeasts, Feoyn archers and Macrimancers, along with some giant artillery. I fear they are much greater than our offering of defense."

"I didn't ask you for your value judgments Scout, Just the report. You leave the odds with us. They've added to their ranks since your last report." The scout looked in earnest for the anticipated disappointment but all he could receive was an icy resolve and flames in her irises. The look matched her husband Eondall who was prepping Guardians in their high posts.

The thick swampy sludge emanated the dark earth among their feet. Their slithering reptilian feet still slid almost effortlessly over the harsh terrain with their riders confidently arching their backs to adjust. These were the cavalbeasts from the south. Their ferocity was only matched by their sense of smell as they vigorously sniffed the air searching for their enemy, allowing the sweet aroma of Guardians aura to envelop them. The problem was they were single minded and sometimes it took an enormity of strength to hold them back from stampeding towards the scent of human flesh. Each of them snarled enthusiastically and the riders circled them back towards the front line. The lead rider of the cavalbeasts addressed Carthage, the Bloody: the general overseeing this battle and the second in command only to Valezk, the exiled one. As he approached Carthage, he announced "They are within our grasp. Prepare the hordes my master."

Carthage enthusiastically replied "Excellent. I will inform our Grand Leader."

"He's not here?"

"No, he'll be along shortly. He has other business to attend to...

Once we're within range, start the onslaught."

The rider nodded and returned to the ranks. His beasts were hungry and would be soon yearning for some Guardian skin.

#

Each of them stood in a staggered but organised rank. The most powerful had made makeshift perches in the crook of trees and were silently meditating with a staff by their side. Eondall stood in the centre of a clearing and addressed those around him, with the rest he let his voice shift along with the wind and let the murmurs of each gust cast into their auditory receptors. Humans would know these things as ears, yet on most of their combined nations and species they were a delicate and elongated, thin flap of skin and cartilage either side. For the most powerful, these could receive words from a mile away. So citizens were wary of gossiping about a Guardian, for even the forests could hear.

"My brothers and sisters. We all know what lies beyond if death has a plan for us. There is another life and another path so we shall never fear death. Your bravery shall not be tested today for you having nothing to fear. What you have is an obligation to fight for our loved ones and for as many of you to stay alive and be here in the now. For this world and this life needs us now more than ever."

He paused and could see the respectful nods of the most elderly guardians.

"There are some of you who are fortunate enough to not realise true battle, and I'm glad for you but today I am asking you to put that aside and concentrate on those who want to take our lives and change our way of existence for ever. You owe those who cannot fight and to stand for those who cannot. Attack is our only defence today. When we win, and we will, you will no longer have to raise a staff or a sword in anger. Where every cast of 'Erto-en' is to heal and not to wound; till that time, there will be no dusk and no remorse for these 'Istentels'...Guardians, Do-den!"