Chapter 27: The Sweetest Gift (Scythe)

  Wind whistles from the top of the walls of Archana. The wall stretches the entire length of the borderlands of the nation. Standing 80 feet high and cut from pure obsidian, the wall stands without a gate, without an entry, without any opportunity for crossing for trade or merchants on the land border. Because of this wall, the lands are seen and often forgotten by the people outside of them. Houses and rural villages and farms exist in view of the nearby structure but see them much as they would a far-off mountain, a simple landmark.

  Scythe stands on the wall as he views the scenery. From his abode on the Remnant Isle, the quickest way to the capitol of Archana would be through the southern sea route. Yet, he cannot allow himself to avoid one of the most majestic views in the world of Weira. As he looks below, his eyes are always overjoyed by the beauty. The forests and rugged terrain all along the territory outer the wall. With small villages and people and trade lines. Yet, within the wall, the lands of Archana are plains, roaring plains with tall grasses, and calming winds. Lands with old trees and no building plots. This is the mystery and the secret of Archana. The nation that encapsulates so much of the South Eastern Peninsula of Wiera is an untouched walled-off wonder. A sanctuary. A silent refuge of calm and serenity. The walls themselves are unmanned. They alone are the defense of the nation. And yet, traders and vagrants and vagabonds do not come or even try to enter the holy lands of Archana.

  "The air is sweet here as always, just as she was," Scythe speaks as he takes in the view from atop the wall for another good breath. The height of the wall never meant any danger, not for him. Not for Scythe. He leans forward and lets the air embrace him as he drops to the ground below. There is no concern or fear for him, his motion is clean. He lands effortlessly on his feet on the ground below. While the walls of Archana were marvelous and guarded by a magic spell to keep people from being unable to cross more than once, Scythe being an immortal, an unending being. Was unaffected by this curse.

  As he lands a small patch of dust rises from the ground and is carried on south toward the one area of buildings in all the nation, Archon keep. Scythe sees the dust float and smiles as he knows the pure nature of the place has endured. In the distance, he can hear the running of a few animals far from easy sight and further still the calm and laborless movements of the few residents of the lands. Another secret of Archana is their small population which lives absent fear, concern, or strife. In harmonious peace with nature. Scythe calmly sprints toward the keep. The distance is far for a normal person, but Scythe is beyond man.

  …..

  “So you’ve come.” A voice calls from atop Archon Keep. The building is vast and grand, looking more like a temple than a castle. Carved from obsidian just like the walls, the keep is grand and empty yet, without injury from time or weather. The spoken words by the voice were not loud or booming and yet the calm of the land carried them so purely to the ear of the encroaching legend.

  "I'm surprised you didn't welcome me at the wall." Scythe grinned as he halted his running, now staring at the grand edifice. "Surely you were alerted to my arrival."

  “There was no need to hurry to your side. Besides I will not allow our conversation to injure the land.” The voice turned and walked inside the building. Scythe smirked as he entered the building through the front door.

  The hall was vast and empty. Perfect for their type of conversation. "Reto this place has never altered," Scythe called to the voice who took position at the end of the hall. The man he called Reto was the only person present in the building, save the swordsman.

  “I will always preserve her sanctuary.” He slams his Guan Do into the ground revealing the weapon to Scythe. The man is a titan. While only a few inches above 6ft in height he holds his guan do and armor with a great shield that he wields with pure ease. He is the seraphim of Kaya, Reto, the regent king of Archana. The other warrior in the songs and legends who defeated Iagus, the brother god of Kaya.

  "She really was the grandest thing to ever exist." Scythe touches the ground of the building as he knows what lies buried below. "My Anya."

  “You mean my Anya.” Reto’s voice is stronger with his response.

  “Are we still arguing this after all these years?”

  “If you are questioning my fathering of her then yes.”

  “Good Reto, you know Kaya bore her by my seed. It was evident from her grace and fragility, she never exhibited the raw strength that is associated with you, dear friend.” Scythe spoke talking points ancient and heard many times in these halls.

  "And yet I stayed and raised her. I watched her grow, I held her in my arms as she blossomed and became the most beautiful person in this world." Reto then slams his pole into the ground. "I also was there as she diminished."

  “She was the fairest that ever was.” Scythe sighed. He then looked up to find Reto lunging at him. The two clashed their weapons with the purest of violence as the sounds echoed in the halls with a wail and a force unknown to the lands outside. The blows ricocheted and clanged hard against the walls of the keep. And while the force was contained to the inside of the hall the world outside remained the holy sanctuary it was claimed to be. Without the influence of the tools of mankind. Slashes and parries, the blows are all defended by both as the two are equally on offense and defense in their barrage upon the other. Before too long the hall is no longer an echo chamber but a constant sound. A continuous deafening roar.

  Pause.

  The two separate from their engagement, uninjured and without panting or any signs of their stamina being sapped by the encounter. "You didn't come all this way to cry about the sweet queen," Reto asks of the swordsman as they still stand relaxed and yet ready for further combat. Scythe stood with purpose, yet with only his right-hand sword out for action, while the left remained hidden and concealed by his cloak. Held in place by his left arm.

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  “Men came to my isle.”

  “You mean there are those on this world that still know about that little island far from the mainland?” Reto was puzzled.

  “It seems it is worse. They came thinking there would be a dragon in my halls.” Scythe chuckled as he was reminded of the incident.

  "A dragon would be far easier to handle." Reto smiled back at the swordsman. Both then noticed the vibration of the walls from their prior round of attacks had now settled. Scythe and Reto both moved their eyes slightly as they became aware and then lunged forward for their next round. Scythe took the offensive first, but despite his lightning-fast strikes, he was unable to get around Reto's massive shield. The Seraph then lunged his long polearm at the swordsman. Forcing Scythe to lay back and display his flexibility as the two continued onward. Blow after blow, not landing and yet strong enough and true enough to kill bystanders if they had been nearby.

  Pause.

  Reto and Scythe separate again. “So why does a band of men coming to your Island have you bothering me for the first time in over 100 years?”

  “They mentioned their lord, and how he was bent on taking over all of Weira. They informed me that I was to join them or be killed and have my body delivered to their necromancers and sorcerers for spellbinding power.” Scythe lowered his guard as he spoke.

  “So they seek ancient powers then.”

  "Yes, Reto. And if they came for me." He looked over at his friend.

  “You believe they’ll come for her.” Reto drops his guard. He understands why his old friend has come. “We can forgo the final round of our endless duel Scythe. We both know it will be a draw.”

  "As it has been for a long time," Scythe called as he sheathed his sword.

  "Only because you refuse to use both swords against me," Reto responded.

  "If I killed you. Then I go from being alone. To truly alone. Though I do doubt I could ever best you even with the aid of Darkness." The two are referring to their particular blessings and curses. Both were made immortal by Kaya herself during the Deity War, and both were given certain items. Reto had his armor, shield, and weapon made impervious to damage and wear. And Scythe was given the blade, darkness. A sword that captures light when in use, sucking all surrounding light sources and creating a dark void when used regardless of setting. Scythe never sought to unsheathe the blade and held it tightly under his cloak to avoid any chance of its curse being loosed upon the world. "Plus, if you die then, I am alone as the only one with memories of her." Scythe smiled.

  "Anya. My love for her is endless and while her life was brief, it was beautiful." Reto shed a small tear from his ancient but youthful eye. Both men in the hall were nearly 1000 years old, and yet neither looked beyond 30. Such was their grace. Such was their curse.

  "Never has the world seen such a queen." Anya was a grand ruler and the first ruler of Archana. Though born of a goddess, she was not blessed with immortality. Something Scythe blamed Kaya for, and Reto blamed himself for. Each had their opinion on the matter but both missed the woman they believed to be their daughter. "I miss her too, every day Reto, that is why I avoid these lands.” He gazes around the halls and remembers all the grand days before her illness. “Yet, we must talk about this Chile Bruin, and plan how we can stop his plans, whatever they are.”

  "Come dine with me my friend, I need to hear all about this issue, tell me what you know and what we should prepare for." The fight was a fight. They do have their issues with each other. Yet they are friends with 1000 years of history between them. They had both known the flesh of a goddess, and both held a special place for their fallen queen, Anya. They would fight often and test their skills against each other but they truly held no real malice toward the other. They were in truth the best of friends divided by only two things, who was the father of their queen, and what the purpose of their futures were.

  Scythe desired death more than anything, he wanted to be killed so he could finally truly rest. While Reto sought only to protect the realm and the lands formerly under Anya’s rule.

  The two retired toward the dining hall to partake in a feast of food that Reto had left out for the past few days since he last procured food from the land. When he needed to hunt or draw water he would, as he still maintained a normal diet. While Scythe, embracing the truth that his body is immortal, allowed his digestive tract to rot, and rot to the core that he has in many ways forgotten the pleasures of food and flavor, or even the cool of water upon the throat. In this, they were also divergent.

  …..

  “So they will come here you think?” Reto asked as he finished devouring a bit of flesh, stripping it from the bone.

  “I would imagine so. There are only so many sources of power left in this world that one can obtain.” Scythe caressed his chin as he pondered further the assessment. “Also this man will no doubt seek out the remaining Naudiz, as they are worth more than the average Gebo .”

  "That would mean they go to the sands to find the beast tribe, they still have some numbers. The birds tend to stay past the sands near the border or Yannis, outside of them. Well, the bears never recovered from the Deity war against us, as well as the wolves, and rabbits. Yet there are a few." Reto replied.

  “The dragons we let live are deep in the snowlands to the North East. I don’t know how many there are since it has been so long but they will no doubt seek them since they sought me.”

  “That will just leave the peaceful ones. The tribes that sided with us, with Kaya.”

  "How many remain in your lands Reto," Scythe asks the regent king.

  "They honestly never recovered from the slaughtering of that war either. Maybe in the vast lands of this kingdom, I would bet there are maybe 100 total. And that is being generous."

  "We promised that their offspring would never know conflict as well," Scythe recalls the generation of the war, how before Archana was formed the lands were ruled by what they called the peaceful ones, Naudiz who even though having strength were never violent and wanted a harmonious life. They were decimated by the feral ones who sided with Iagus under the dragons.

  “Yes, and I have kept my promise to them, all bloodshed in Archana has been without them involved since Anya’s coronation. There are maybe 20 or so elephants, perhaps another 20 rhinos, and the rest are fragments of the other races, some truly lost. Though they are still trying to repair their bloodlines. However, unlike the feral ones who do still have long birthing cycles compared to us Gebo, these tribes are more like the dragons in their maternity cycles.”

  “So as long as they remain in Archana the enemy will have no chance of gathering the mastodons into their war effort.” Scythe chuckled a bit as he knew the raw power of the peaceful races even if they were long from warring.

  “WHHHHH!” a sound rode upon the wind, it was subtle and yet came rattling into the hall of Archon. When the land stands as silent and still as Archana does, the smallest of changes leaves a trail for the regent king to be aware of.

  "Seems you were right Scythe," Reto calls as he stands from his table and grabs his shield and lance. All movements are known to the regent king and this whistle from the wind to his chamber is foreign and different, it pesters, like a new soap used on the skin.

  "They're here then. Let us greet them, and be sure they do not get what they seek."

  “There are only so few things one could want in Archana. They either seek the land, the Naudiz, my power, or the remains of Anya.” He bites down so hard he draws blood inside his mouth. “And my daughter will never be disturbed.” Reto and Scythe are enraged as they exit the halls and move toward the echo’s origin.