Grand Game 242: The Guardian (Patreon)

Awakening guardian…

I stared at the Game message, aghast. Awakening—?

It was not the sort of response I’d been expecting. Not at all. My head jerked left and right, searching the walled compound for any sign of change. The long grass remained still, the mounds of white powder sat unmoving, and the crystal gate stayed open.

Nothing stirred.

Nothing except the statue.

My gaze returned to the giant figure looming over me. The statue had begun to shake, releasing bits of debris and small pieces of marble. It was a safe bet that it was the waking guardian.

I’d imagined that in exchange for relinquishing the amulet, I would be rewarded with a powerful artifact or perhaps find a second secret nether portal or, better yet, the entrance to another trial of the ancients.

What I’d not bargained on was awakening a sleeping giant.

Scrambling out of the hole I’d dug around the plinth, I drew ebonheart and set my stance. There was no telling how whatever I’d awakened would react. But while I was wary, I was not overly concerned.

It was obvious that both the statue and the carving at its base were connected with the ancients, and given my status as a scion, I didn’t think I had anything to fear. Then again… there was still much about the ancients I didn’t know.

Revival complete. Guardian awoken.

The crystal gate into the compound slammed shut.

Ignoring the ominous sign, I kept my gaze fixed on the statue. Its shaking had intensified, causing more stones to fall free.

Is it going to crumble?

Abruptly, the guardian’s trembling stopped, and his eyes snapped open.

Guess not.

Two pale orbs roved over the ground. They passed over me twice but, despite this, did not lock on my motionless form. “W-w-h-hoo… has… awoken… me?”

The voice brushed the edges of my mind, sounding so sad and forlorn that my trepidation eased. Whatever the guardian was, he didn’t appear a threat.

Sheathing my blade, I addressed the statue. “I did,” I said aloud.

The blindly searching eyes did not react.

I frowned. “I did,” I repeated, using mindspeech this time.

The statue’s eyes snapped back to me. “You? Who are—”

The guardian broke off, and when he resumed, his voice thrummed with new energy. “I know you.”

I blinked. “You do?”

“Your mind… it tastes of Wolf. You are of the House, correct?”

How had the guardian figured that out? My bloodline was supposed to be concealed. But I could see no benefit in attempting to deceive him. “I am,” I admitted.

The statue’s brows twitched. “You are young,” he pronounced. “Barely more than a babe. Why have your elders allowed you to contact me?”

Elders? I scratched my head. Was the guardian referring to the pack? But I was a pack alpha now and reported to no one. “I have no elders,” I said, straightening.

My response only seemed to confuse the guardian further. “Where is your Prime?”

I stared at the statue. How did he not know the fate of the ancients? “The Prime is dead.”

The guardian’s head shifted from left to right, releasing another puff of dust. The movement was tiny, barely more than a fraction of an inch. Nonetheless, the denial behind the gesture was unmistakable. “That cannot be. The Primes are eternal. When one falls, another rises. Always.”

“Uhm…”

Nothing about this encounter was going in the manner I expected. Since awakening, the guardian had plied me with questions, leaving me no space to voice any of my own, and I was tempted to let his latest utterance go unchallenged. But I couldn’t stay quiet—the statue’s unblinking stare demanded the truth.

I sighed. “House Wolf has not had a Prime in centuries, perhaps even longer.”

“Impossible!”

I winced as the statue’s denial rolled across my mind like thunder.

“Why have the other Houses let this stand?” the guardian demanded. “What of Wolf’s allies?”

I rubbed my temples to stave off the headache I could feel coming on. It was finally dawning on me that the guardian had been asleep for longer than I’d anticipated—placing me in the unenviable position of educating him on the Game’s recent history.

“They’re all dead, too,” I said, a hint of sympathy creeping into my voice. “The Primes are no more.”

“You lie!” the guardian growled.

“I do not,” I said softly.

The statue shook once more, releasing a violent shower of rocks. I was tempted to retreat from the hail of stones but stayed where I was, afraid the guardian might interpret the gesture the wrong way.

Finally, the guardian quietened. “We shall see,” he pronounced ominously.

My brows creased in confusion. What did that mean?

The light in the statue’s eyes dimmed.

Sensing an opportunity to fill some of the gaps in my own knowledge, I asked a question of my own. “Will you tell me what you are?”

The guardian deigned to answer.

“Guardian?”

There was still no response. My frown deepened. Had the guardian returned to his slumber? The cold, inert stone gave me no clues, and my mindsight remained adamantly empty. I took a cautious step forward.

The statue’s eyes flared.

I froze, but the guardian paid me no heed. “DEAD! They’re all dead!” he wailed. “No, no. NO! They can’t be. They mustn’t be.”

A guardian has injured you, inflicting psi damage.

I staggered back, feeling the force of the statue’s grief like a physical blow. Clutching the sides of my head, I threw up my mind shield.

It did me little good, though.

A guardian has destroyed your mind shield!

A guardian has injured you, inflicting psi damage.

In less time than it took me to raise them, my mental defenses were swept aside, washed away by the storm of the guardian’s despair. The worst part was I didn’t even think he was trying to hurt me. Indeed, caught in the midst of his grief, the guardian appeared oblivious to my presence.

“Guardian,” I called. “Stop!”

He failed to hear me.

A guardian has injured you, inflicting psi damage.

Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 20%.

I dropped to my knees, blood running down my nose. “Guardian…” I croaked, realizing I could die here.

Now, wouldn’t that be funny.

After surviving everything the dungeon could throw at me, it seemed cruel irony to die at the hands of a being who could very well be one of my few allies in the Game.

A guardian has injured you, inflicting psi damage.

Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 10%.

I coughed, expelling blood and bile. I have to get his attention and make him stop, I thought, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. How though?

The guardian still didn’t appear in my mindsight, and but for the wildly gyrating light in his eyes, he looked no different from an ordinary statue. That didn’t leave me many options.

I drew ebonheart.

If I was going to die, it would at least be doing something to try and save myself—no matter how foolish. Staggering forward with the bare blade in hand, I struck the marble figure with all my might.

The metal clanged loudly against the statue but barely marred its surface.

“STOP!” I yelled. I raised the blade to strike again. But before I could hit the guardian again, a fresh wave of anguish assaulted me, and I fell to the ground, overcome by a fit of coughing. “Stop… please,” I gasped. “You’re… killing me.”

Warning! Your health is dangerously low at 5%.

I pushed myself erect, ignoring the blood pouring out my eyes, nose, and mouth. I had to stop him. Clutching ebonheart unsteadily, I prepared to strike again. Then I realized something.

My mind had grown blessedly quiet.

The guardian’s wailing had stopped. “Thank you,” I breathed and sank back to the ground.

~~~

“Wolf child, wake up.”

The sound of another’s voice echoing through my mind jerked me back to awareness. Who is that? I wondered.

“Please. Time is short.”

It’s the guardian, I realized. Moaning, I pushed back my eyelids. “What happened?” I croaked, my thoughts still jumbled.

There was a pause. “I’m sorry, Wolf child. Your injuries are my doing.”

Memory came flooding back, and stifling another groan, I drew on my psi.

“You must heal yourself, or you will—”

“Shh,” I rasped. “I’m on it.”

The guardian fell silent, and left to tend to myself, I chain-cast chi heal.

You have restored yourself. Your health is now at 100%.

Expelling a relieved breath, I  rose to my feet and studied the guardian anew. But for the contrite expression on his face, the statue looked little changed.

“I’m sorry,” the guardian repeated. “My grief overcame me.” He sighed. “I’ve been asleep too long and forgot how fragile fleshlings can be.”

I chuckled tiredly. “Fragile. That’s one way to put it.”

“Please forgive me—” the guardian began again.

I waved off his apology. Whatever the creature before me was, he had clearly been asleep a long time and mourned the loss of the ancients as if it had occurred yesterday. “It’s alright. No lasting harm done. You stopped in time, and that’s what counts.” I paused. “I take it, you believe me now?”

“You were right,” the guardian agreed. “Mostly.”

My eyes narrowed. “Mostly? What was I wrong about?”

The statue’s expression did not change, but I got the distinct impression of shame. “My initial assessment was… hasty. Swayed by your words, I drew the wrong conclusion.” The guardian paused. “Not all are dead. One lives.”

I stared at the statue blankly for a moment before the sense of his words penetrated. “A Prime lives?” I asked slowly. “Is that what you mean?”

“Yes.”

“Who?” I demanded.

“That I cannot say.” The statue turned its head from left to right, seeming to taste the air. “I sense her presence. She is hiding. Where and why, I don’t know.”

My brow furrowed. What was the guardian that he could divine the presence of a Prime? And more importantly, could I believe him?

“But time grows short, and I have much to tell you.”

My expression cleared. “You said that before. What do you mean?”

“Your tithe,” the guardian said. “It can only power me for a short time, and I sense nothing else about your person with the energy to keep me awake longer.”

Power him? I wondered. “What are you?” I asked bluntly.

The statue craned his head downwards to stare at me. “You don’t know?”

I shook my head.

“Then what prompted you to awaken me?”

I shrugged. “I saw the engraving on the plinth, and I thought I recognized it.” I sighed. “I mistook it for a blood talisman.”

The guardian jerked forward, releasing another shower of stones. Startled, I jumped back. But the statue moved again, bending nearly ninety degrees to place his head inches above me. “You’ve awakened your blood?”

I nodded.

“You’re an anointed scion?”

“I have.”

The statue withdrew. “Then perhaps there is hope yet.”

Before I could ask what he meant by that, the guardian spoke again. “I am Kolath, a guardian construct created by the Primes millennia ago.”

I nodded, unsurprised. All signs had pointed to the statue being linked with the ancients, and Kolath’s words only served to confirm that. Yet, he had named himself ‘a guardian,’ not the guardian, implying there were more of his kind. “What exactly is a guardian?”

“We are the bastions of last resort,” he replied.

I frowned. “Bastions against what?”

“The void.”

I’d heard that term used before, both in reference to the aether and nether, but I was guessing Kolath wasn’t talking about the aether. “You mean the nether?”

“Some call it that.”

“What is it?”

“A rampant scourge. The antithesis of life. The death of everything if it is allowed to spread. We were charged by the Primes to guard against it.” He fixed his gaze on me. “The Primes of old may be gone, but new ones will arise.” He leaned forward, his mental presence thrumming with excitement. “Tell me, how many more of you are there? Which House’s scions are close to ascending to Prime?”

I bit my lip, realizing now the source of Kolath’s hope. He believes the Houses still stand.

I didn’t want to risk another wave of destructiveness from the guardian by telling him the truth, but I sensed that lying to him would be infinitely more dangerous.

“It’s been centuries since the last Prime died,” I began, ignoring for the moment Kolath’s claim of a still-living Prime in hiding somewhere.

The more I thought about it, the more unlikely the notion seemed. If a Prime lived, the new Powers would not rest until she was killed. No, the entire idea was too far-fetched and was more likely wishful thinking on Kolath’s part.

“As far as I know, there are no other living scions,” I finished.

Kolath stared at me. “None?”

I nodded somberly. “All the Houses have fallen.”

“Are you sure?” Kolath asked.

I opened my mouth to respond, but the guardian spoke again before I could. “No, of course, you are.” He bowed his head. “Then we are doomed. Without the Prime council, we are truly lost.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I said, trying to reassure him. “After all, the Primes have been gone a long time, and the nether has not triumphed. The players have been doing a good job of keeping it at bay.”

There was no response.

“Did you hear me, Kolath? Hope remains.”

Still, the guardian said nothing.

Trying a different tack, I changed the topic. “Are the other statues in the sector your kin too? Are they guardians like you?”

More silence.

Aargh. “I’m not the only member of House Wolf alive, you know,” I said, hoping that would kindle his interest. “An envoy of Wolf lives, trapped in one of Nexus’ dungeons. Do you know where I can find him?”

Resounding silence.

I ground my teeth in frustration. Kolath himself had said time was short, yet in his despair, seemed content to let it fritter away. I needed to get him talking again. “How can I help?”

No response.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Tell me,” I insisted.

The guardian’s head creaked upward, and he finally looked at me again. “You cannot help. Only the Primes can save us.”

I shook my head, stubbornly ignoring his despondent words. At least, Kolath was speaking now. “Perhaps if you explained why it is only the Primes that can help, we could figure out a solution?”

Silence.

As old as the guardian was, there was much he could teach me, but trying to get any information out of him was like pulling teeth. “There must be something I can do,” I growled.

“There isn’t.” The statue shivered, releasing another puff of dust. “There is nothing you or anyone else can—”

Kolath broke off.

“Yes?” I prompted. Dropping my hands, I leaned forward, sure something had occurred to the guardian.

“You cannot save us. Not as you are.” Kolath paused for a drawn-out moment that had me shifting from foot to foot. “But perhaps you can buy us time.”

“How?”

“My brothers and sisters… they’ve fallen silent and are not responding,” the guardian said.

“You’ve tried talking to them?”

Kolath nodded.

“When?” I asked. Never mind the how.

“Just now,” he said. “I’ve hailed them. Even asleep, they should hear my call, but they won’t reply.”

Alarm shot through me. “Don’t do that,” I hissed. “Someone else might hear you.”

Kolath blinked. “Hear me? Like whom?”

“The new Powers.”

The guardian stared at me. “Who are they?”

I waved aside his question. “Don’t worry about them. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

Kolath’s gaze bore into me. “Tell me,” he demanded.

I sighed, regretting having spoken up. Taking a deep breath, I told him what he wanted to know.