The Iron Guardian's Return

The Iron Guardian’s Return

By

T.O.T.W.

 

The rain pounded against him as the sky roared above; the wind whipped his clothes like the breath of some great giant. He screamed into the face of that storm that fought to keep him from leaving. But its fury was nothing before his.

            “If this is all you have, you will never command me!”

***

            The sea was calm the day that went to seek him. The house had been built close to the cliff edge. A quiet symbol of how close he was to the edge of sanity. Though long ago his wife had loved the view. The closeness then had been no more than a symbol of how far they thought they could go without falling. How fast things can change, how quickly they could torn asunder. On most days now he was uncomfortable, but today he was disturbed and upset.

            “No.” they’d barely even sat.

            “I haven’t even asked anything of you, how can you say no to nothing. We may just be here to visit.”

            “You are the king and queen, I worked for you more than twenty years ago but people don’t change so much. You are here for something. The queen’s eyes are red and puffy and tearstains are on her face. Something has moved her deeply. You’re here to ask me to fix something. No.”

            “She’s our baby! How can you just say no! Don’t you know how it will feel to-“ the queen began.

            “Shut up! Do you dare to accuse me of having no heart. You! Of all people you should know better than to ever speak such words to me!” his rage was a terrible thing to behold. The guards reached for their swords but the king motioned them down.

            “Raise your blades to this man and all you will find is death. Only the ancient Guardian of Iron could defeat a man such as this.”

            “But she’s so young she’s only-“

            “Queen, you’ll get no sympathy from me. My heart has no love or care left to give. It died a long time ago.”

            “So you will not help us?” the King asked sighing.

            “No, because I hate you. I hate you all.”

            “Why?! Why do you hate us!” The queen shrieked in despair thinking of what will happen to her daughter should this man refuse to be their sword. The man moved to the window and looked out of it. He was silent for so long that the queen wasn’t sure he would answer. But slowly he began to speak.

            “It’s the screams. I do not sleep anymore you know. I cannot. When I try I hear her screaming. My wife, my daughter. I hear them scream as they are tortured. I hear them plead with me to protect them, to help them, to save them. I hate you because I swore my life to yours. I gave you my life to sacrifice as you wished and you took my family’s instead. I laid upon the alter for you to kill at your whim and you took that which gave me purpose, which gave me meaning.”

            “I don’t understand!” the queen screamed at him. He turned slowly, his face a calm mask.

            “I hate you most of all because you don’t understand why I hate you. I’m sorry, I’ll be of no use to you this day. Twenty years ago my family was murdered by your advisors, my daughter was the same age then as yours is now. Perhaps you will understand better what I feel, if you experience it yourself. Good day.”

            The man turned his back and the king and queen left. They would receive no help here. Not from him. This man was an empty vessel that had lost all purpose. He would work until he passed out honing skills with a rusted blade that was worthless. Honing muscled long since worth nothing. He was still the best. He would not wield his blade for the throne, never again.

***

            He coughed staining the virgin snow red. He tried to catch his breath and leaned against a tree. His blade was dripping with more blood than he had lost but he was in no shape to go on. His body would heal itself; he knew that already, it always had. It would take time though, time he couldn’t afford to waste. The goons weren’t just some two-bit bandits, they were pros. It would take a fine sword to be able to cut through his armor, specially treated hide with metal links hidden in it. The blades had cut through easily, but it would take more than that to put him down. They were foolhardy, thought first blood meant something. Only last blood counts in real battle; a fact any true warrior knows.

            He had never planned to fight for the throne and still wasn’t. He couldn’t let the little girl pay for the sins of her father however. The thought hadn’t bothered him until he stopped hearing the screams. Even the screams were more comforting than the silence. But the true breaking point was the dream. His wife and his daughter standing with their backs to him, they wouldn’t turn around no matter how he begged. That had done it. They’d stood as still and unrelenting as the Iron Guardian of legend. It was then he tracked the group of kidnappers. The King needn’t know he was on his way. The screams led him. His wife and daughter bringing him closer and closer to a girl who needed a sword to protect her. Towards a purpose to follow.

            He moved from tree to tree checking for scouts. None, they must have had real confidence in their guards. Too bad for them. The trail itself seemed familiar, not like a picture or a person, but like a things once glimpsed out of the corner of an eye. He shook himself back to reality knowing he needed to focus for this mission. He wasn’t sure if he could even been killed, though he did know that it was not a good idea to test that theory.

            The cabin was old, ancient even. Before it stood a statue made of iron. In it’s hand it held a lance beside it as if preparing to defend something. It was so familiar. The cabin itself had smoke puffing from its chimney. A guard could be seen in one of the windows. The iron statue hid him from view partially. He used this to his advantage sneaking straight up to the statue. He could use it to block himself and rush the house. That would be perfect; he could get it and take out most of them before they’d even have time to respond.

            He rushed to the statue and felt it pulse suddenly. He dropped to his knees as his legs gave out. He couldn’t catch his breath and his chest tightened. Suddenly he could taste the iron in the blood that coated his tongue. His wound poured out blood pooling around the feet of the statue. Bright light blazed from the iron as if it was in a forge. He couldn’t feel his body, not even the pain. It was as if he was suddenly floating above himself, out of himself. He suddenly saw through two pairs of eyes. One looking at the legs of the iron statue; one set looking down on himself. His flesh was rending, his body tearing itself in two breaking open to let something be born anew. Then suddenly he was the statue, he was the iron itself and he knew.

            Years long past he’d ripped himself in two giving up his place as the iron guardian to be with his wife. Yes, long ago he had an eternal purpose. And it was time to go home.

***

            The throne room was silent as the little girl rushed to her parents. Behind her came a moving set of armor. Inside was a man renewed. He moved forward and knelt to the king and queen.

            “I have come to return your daughter. I have done my duty, now I must return to my place. Be at peace.”

            The reunion was tearful and the man didn’t wait for a reply before he turned to leave. The King called to him before he could leave the throne room.

            “Please, is there nothing you want as a reward for this great deed?”

            “What have the immortal to do with the mortal?”

            “But, you’ve done for us what no other could. Surely there must be something you require!”

            “No, I need nothing.” And with that he was gone. The king sent through the land one message. The Iron Guardian has returned.

Author's Note

I don't think it's all that great. It's an earlier work. But still, some may enjoy it.