The Second Guardian

The peace keeping of the world Kurok left to his ever faithful servant Guardian Bregdan, whom glided above tree- and housetop with wings of solid light and a horn of justice.

The unicorn enjoyed his position power and respect greatly. So different, it was, than the torment and abuse paid him as a lowly healer unicorn. Bregdan enjoyed being the single earthly outlet of the greatest of gods, Lord Kurok. The guardian enjoyed the way the mortals bowed as he approached, how they pulled him aside to ask that he grant them favour among the gods, how they gave him presents and groomed his already silky fur.

But as Bregdan mingled more and more with the mortals, his judgement grew soft. He became corrupted and blind to the evil acts of the most generous mortals. And the Guardian became lazy and indifferent towards the troubles of those who did not have gifts for him. Those mortals he was closest to manipulated him and bribed him to turn his head while they started wars and killed neighbours and children. And the unicorn did.

Kurok summoned Guardian Bregdan to the Gods’ Spring one day when he became aware of the out breaking chaos of Zylx.

“My lord, what is wrong?” Bregdan asked kneeling on equine knees before the god.

Kurok grabbed Bregdan by his flower entwined mane. “This,” spat Kurok. “This is wrong!”

“You don’t like honey suckles?” Bregdan asked shaken and confused.

“I don’t like your actions!” Kurok yelled and threw the unicorn to the ground. “You are a Guardian, not a mortal! You should only enter mortal sight when I say or when Zylx’s well being depends on it! You should not be taking bribes or having your mane braided!”
“I’m sorry My Lord,” Bregdan breathed as he lay trembling on the floor. “It won’t happen again. I swear it won’t…”

“I don’t trust such an oath, Bregdan,” Kurok said. “I’m going to find a more…righteous creature to keep you in line.”

…

The vampirian settlement of Daeninkur Likka, just four miles away from the mystic Junction of Realms, was a beautiful, sunny place. The buildings were built in a circle around the legendary Stone of Kraah Shohk. A clear and sparkling stream wound it’s way between the wooden buildings from the ocean and at night when the moon was full and round, giving its light and guidance to the vampires, they would meet in Daeninkur Likka’s centre and pray to Cykkus, their father (though none of them were old enough to be born from him, he was the root of their ancestry) and they would pray to Kraah Shohk, though he was past prayers. Then they would hold festivals in the gods’ honours.

All of the vampires enjoyed that day more than any other in the month, save the healer Kebrippah’s lazy apprentice Dokkarikhan. Dokkarikhan, who loved the sun in an unnatural way, fell asleep during his master’s lessons and even fell asleep on the streets during festivals.

“Dokkarikhan!” Kebrippah would scold him. “Why don’t you just keep normal hours instead of staying up late into the day?”

Dokkarikhan, much to his master’s annoyance, would only shrug and yawn.

It was at one such festival that the brutish centaurian tribe that inhabited the heavy forest attacked and pillaged Daeninkur Likka. They slaughtered every vampire in the village—save Kebrippah’s lazy apprentice who was overlooked as he slept, curled up, in an alley way.

Dokkarikhan was terrified when he woke to see the burned and ruined buildings, his friends and family dead and dieing in the streets, and he could hear the hoof beats as the centaurs galloped off back into the forest.

The healer’s apprentice just laid there terrified for an hour or so before slowly and quietly getting up. He walked through the streets, tears in his eyes, looking at the faces of the dead—faces he had known.

“I couldn’t have stopped them, I know,” Dokkarikhan said to himself as wiped the tears from his cheek. “But, I could’ve died with my kin. Death would’ve been better than this…this guilt of living.”

“Do--…Dokk….Dokkari--!” a weak voice called from behind him.

Dokkarikhan turned to see his master, blood running down his face, crawling towards him.

“Master Kebrippah!” Dokkarikhan exclaimed dropping down to his master’s side.

Kebrippah grabbed Dokkarikhan’s shoulders and pulled himself up so that his face almost touched his apprentice’s.

“Dokk—arikh—an…” he choked as blood poured from the corners of his mouth.

“Don’t speak Master…” Dokkarikhan reached to his belt and pulled up a small pouch. “I’ve still got some strong herbs—the Lepikkai ones you gave me, remember? Where’s your wound, maybe I can—“

Kebrippah shook his head. “Won’t…work…”

Before Dokkarikhan could inquire farther, his master released his shoulders. Kebrippah grabbed the heavy cloak he was wearing and pulled it away to reveal he had had his lower body completely severed.

“Master!”

“Dokk—ari…” Kebrippah breathed. “Take my…cloak…take the medicines…in it and…go do the world…some good…”

“Master…”

“Do it…go now…!” the healer wheezed.

Reluctantly Dokkarikhan took his master’s blood stained cloak and, wrapping it around himself, he trudged away from his home and into the still, but deadly, forest.

He came upon, soon, an injured gryphon with an arrow through each wing and its tail stuck through with a knife so it was bound to the ground.

“Was it the ruthless deep forest centaurs that got you, too, my friend of Tepprius’ domain?” he asked as he knelt beside the creature.

The gryphon cooed softly and nodded its great, feathered head.

“Poor gryphon,” Dokkarikhan murmured sympathetically as he checked the bird-lion’s wounds. “This is going to hurt, so please don’t maul me.”

The gryphon dug its claws into the ground as Dokkarikhan worked the arrows and knife out. He pulled from his master’s cloak a small vile and dripped it on the creature’s injuries. After a bit, the wounds no longer pained the gryphon so much, and it was able to trot off. Dokkarikhan waved after it as it disappeared into the thick brush, clucking softly its thanks. Despite everything, as the vampire watched the gryphon leave, he was happy inside. He had helped it. He had done something useful.

And so, he continued to travel the forest, helping sick and injured beasts wherever he found them. Word of his deeds spread to Kurok, mostly due to the gryphon telling Tepprius of the encounter. Kurok was impressed by Dokkarikhan’s caring soul. But, he noticed, the vampire had not treated any centaur. The god knew he had not come across any wounded centaur, but he was left to wonder if, even he had, would he treat them. He called Kaeriaht, god of fire, father of centaurs, to him.

“What do you desire, Lord Kurok?” Kaeriaht asked.

“There is a mortal who I must test,” Kurok answered.

“Test for what, Lord Kurok?”

“I need to see if he is capable of impartial mercy,” Kurok answered.

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me, Lord Kurok,” Kaeriaht said, confused.

“You will,” Kurok answered and swiftly thrust his sword into the equine lower body of the god of fire. Then, he kicked him down from the Gods’ Spring, onto mortal Zylx. Kaeriaht fell, stunned, and thudded upon the ground, unable to speak, blood gushing from his centaurian body. Dokkarikhan came upon him and, though the memory of what the centaurs had done to his friends and family was fresh in his mind, he did not even hesitate as he ran to the wounded centaur, not realizing him to be a god. Dokkarikhan aided Kaeriaht, fixing his wound. When he finished, Kurok appeared in the clearing, coming quietly from the trees.

Dokkarikhan bowed, recognizing the god at once. He breathed, “Lord Kurok!”

“Stand, Guardian Dokkdan,” Kurok commanded.

“G-guardian?” said the young vampire getting to his feet. “You mean I—“

“If you accept the terms of Guardianship—that you will repress your inherently evil nature and serve me as a keeper of the peace and a protector of justice,” said the Warrior God. “Do you agree to these terms?”

“I-I do, yes of course I do,” stammered the vampire.

“Then you shall, from this day forward, be gifted with the powers of the Shadow Pillar,” Kurok said and Dokkarikhan changed. His hair became shorter and darker and his skin paled. His wings fell away and disintegrated as his teeth grew sharper. His tail and the markings his village had given him disappeared. For a moment, he stood numbly, adjusting to the changes. Then he bowed deeply on one knee.

“I will not fail you, my Lord,” Dokkdan said and Kurok smiled so slightly that it was an almost invisible change.